The first season after Big Burl’s sudden departure from the world, Ruby and Willie join the Reginald “Doc” Davis show; but it isn’t long before Willie’s mishandling of gate receipts gets them booted. It’s on to another traveling show after that. That first season, they are in so many shows, Ruby can hardly keep count. She should have inherited Big Burl’s show, but it’s obvious now that Willie Fortune ran the show into the ground, damn you! Damn you! she screams at him.
When she gets into these screaming jags, Willie gives Ruby laudanum to calm her down. Ruby is up to four teaspoons per day of the brownish-red liquid and it’s all she can do to keep her act up. She can’t function without it. Last month, they pulled up stakes again and traveled through scrubland, sparsely-treed bosque territory, pebbly malapais, and wide, fertile bottoms all over Hell and gone in search of another outfit, Divina keeping watch over Ruby, and Willie’s friends Slim and Red trailing Willie like dogs.
They have signed on with Johnny “Captain Jack” Grinnell’s show now. Divina asks for two bits a day, seeing as she’s more nimble with a needle than any other seamstress. A day doesn’t go by before Divina has heaps of new costumes to repair, ragged sleeves of a cowboy or sequins off the big boss’s vest. Rips in trousers and buttons—so many buttons—on coats. And beads and feathers galore. How Divina gets through all those repairs in record time is another of her secrets.
So far, there’s been no scandal on Willie’s account. Ruby breathes a sigh of relief. It’s hard to get close to anyone when you move around so much, but she’s taken a shine to a young sharpshooter, Esther Lemon. Keeps Ruby sharp, Esther does. They practice together, afternoons, the loser paying up. Ruby never loses. Plus, Ruby’s got someone to empathize with. Esther is Johnny Grinnell’s girl, and she’s not much past sixteen. There are secrets to be shared, and not just about firearms. Massage. Pennyroyal. Fellatio.
The next summer, Willie gives Ruby a ring. Willie and Ruby have been living as man and wife for a year now since Big Burl’s heart gave out. Common law marriage is legal in Texas, where Willie and Ruby first hitched up. After seven years living as man and wife it’s as good as God Himself put His stamp of approval on it. And you don’t even have to go to church, which is the best end of the bargain. Ruby has six years to go before husband means husband but it looks feels seems like Willie Fortune is her husband, for good or for ill.
“Don’t want anyone thinking you’re anyone else’s girl,” Willie says. “I see the way Grinnell looks at you.”
So much for love. Ruby twirls the penny-sized ruby on the fourth finger of her left hand. She doesn’t know how to say thank you and wonders if she’s ever thanked Willie for anything. Not that she’s never thankful. He’s handsome and charming and brings in more cash Ruby ever thought possible. Their tent is a veritable traveling hotel room, complete with copper tub. And what he can do to her in bed. Ruby wonders where Willie learned to take a woman to such heights and then drop her down again and then up, up, up, flying, like a new-fangled roller coaster, but made of desire. She doesn’t care where he learned it, as long as they can do it every day. Or twice a day.
And with Willie, there’s never a shortage of laudanum. Has Ruby ever thanked Willie for that? One thing Ruby is grateful for is the stirrings in her womb. She’ll tell him tonight, in bed, after the coupling. Ruby is starting to show now, and doesn’t want anyone suspecting or commenting before she gets the chance to tell Willie properly. Won’t he love a baby? Especially if it’s a boy?
Day in, day out, more crowds. The traveling show has camped in Durango today, five hundred men, women, and children packed into the hastily constructed arena.
“Now’s the time you’ve all been waiting for,” Willie Fortune barks to an adoring throng.
Who wouldn’t be attracted to Willie Fortune? Slick dresser, smooth talker, thin hips and slim legs. Handsome beyond handsome (and knows it), with a smile to light up every town in Colorado. And those boots! Turquoise with steel tips, can you imagine? Ruby sees all manner of women smiling at Willie, and he knows how to woo them.
“Who here thinks they can match Ruby Fortune shot for shot?” Willie hollers. “She’s the best shot in the West, so think twice whether you’re up for the challenge.” He surveys the crowd and picks his target before the man even raises his hand. “Winner takes home fifty dollars!” The crowd erupts. Willie turns slowly to assess the horde. “You there!” he points to a tall man in a blue vest in the third row of the bleachers. It’s Slim. He always picks Slim, keeps money in the show.
Slim swaggers to the table and chooses a piece. It’s all part of the show: guns, whips, knives, ropes. Ruby keeps pace with Slim in the shoot off, her eye quick and her hand quicker. She’s done this trick more than a thousand times and ten times out of ten she wins. In Bisbee, Slim edged her for the prize, and Willie yelled so loud God probably woke up from the ruckus.
“You’re worthless, Ruby! Worthless!”
Worthless worthless worthless. The words pounded inside her head. She almost believed it.
Tonight, late (thank God she beat Slim today), Ruby lowers her robe and stands naked in the flickering light of the oil lamp. She’s filled out in all the right places. “Willie?”
Willie sits on a stool and removes his boots. “Shut it.” He doesn’t raise his head.
Ruby moves to stand behind him and runs her fingers in his hair. “I’ve got a secret.”
“I said, shut it. I have things on my mind.”
Ruby swats his head.
Willie whips around, his fists clenched. “I’m warning you, Ruby.”
The next day, Ruby can’t keep breakfast down so she skips the dinner meal before the show. She loses her concentration worthless worthless worthless for a split second and misses the final target. A gasp emanates from the crowd.
“Let’s let the little lady have another chance, shall we?” Willie glares at Ruby. He whispers in her ear as he passes her. “See that you don’t miss, Ruby.”
Ruby steadies her hand and nails the last target. The crowd cheers. She exhales sharply. After the competition, and fifty dollars pocketed by Willie, Ruby ambles at the periphery to watch the rest of the show. She’s nauseous and unsteady on her feet. The heat saps all her energy, anyway. All eyes are rapt on the spectacle. Doesn’t matter what show you attach yourself to, the finale is always the same, everyone in the stands cheering like they’ve just won the goddamn lottery.
Later, while undressing back in their tent, Willie lets loose on Ruby. “What the hell was that about?” he fumes.
“I tried to tell you last night.”
“Tell me what?”
“I’m in the family way.”
“You better not be.” Willie smacks Ruby across the mouth.
Ruby swipes at her lips and tastes blood. “Who the hell do you think you are, cuffing your wife?” She dabs at her mouth with a handkerchief.
“Jesus, Ruby. You should know better. This will tank gate receipts. You’ll be in the saddle until you fall off. Lady sharpshooters don’t grow on trees.” He thrashes around the tent. “As if I don’t have enough to do, now I’ll have to take out a notice in all the papers, do the interviews. Hire another girl. Or two. Maybe steal that Annie Oakley right from under Bill Cody. Show him. And show you now that you’ve gone and gotten yourself knocked up.”
“And who got me knocked up?” Ruby ducks to avoid another clap to the side of the head. “And what’s all the fuss about? You’ve still got Esther. She’s as good as I am.”
“She’s nowhere as good as you are. And nowhere near as pretty. That nose could point the way to Texas all by itself. Don’t go getting any ideas about missing even a day.” Willie comes up to Ruby and stabs her nose with his forefinger. “Until I find another girl, you’ll do what you have to do. The whole show depends on it. And there’ll be no more laudanum.”
“You can’t.”
“I can, and will. You’ve gotten sloppy, Ruby.”
Ruby beats on Willie’s chest. “Give it to me!” Her hair is matted from the heat, her eyes crazed. A large welt swells on her upper lip.
“No more, Ruby. Look at you. You’re a disgrace.”
Ruby fidgets all night, never finding a comfortable position. When she is sure Willie is asleep, she rifles through his trunk. No laudanum. Her hands tremble.
Ruby turns to others in the entourage for the bitter brown drug. She does it on the sly, away from Willie’s hawkish eyes. Slim has a stash in his tent; she meets him there twice a day. It’s all she can think about, when will she get to Slim’s tent next. Ruby can shoot just fine, even better when she’s juiced. She just can’t have Willie finding out. She trades at first with trinkets and loose coins. When she runs out of options, she offers sexual favors, Slim’s warm cock in her mouth.
A month later, after a catastrophic show where Ruby misses the final mark, despite being given two extra chances, Willie stomps into their tent. Ruby’s morning sickness still hasn’t abated and she’s weak from the heat. Where is Slim? She’s looked everywhere for him and she’s got the shakes.
“That lying, cheating sonofabitch.” Willie is fuming. “Double-crossed me, he did. No man’s going to do that to Willie Fortune.”
“Who? The big boss?”
“No, Slim. Of all people. I loaned him half a grand and now he’s gone.”
Ruby tenses. Gone? Slim is gone?
“Red, too. So much for loyalty.” Willie throws his pistol down on the bed, hitting Ruby on the knee. “We’ll have to default on that loan, Ruby.”
“What loan?”
“Borrowed a thousand dollars from the big boss to front Slim. Slim knew he’d have to pay a sharp interest. But now Slim’s gone and I got the big boss’s henchmen breathing down my neck.” He sits on the trunk and rubs his knees. “With you in that condition, money’s not coming in like it used to. Give me the ring, Ruby.”
The color drains from Ruby’s face. She slips the ring from her finger into her pocket. “I can’t find it.”
“What do you mean, you can’t find it? I saw it on your finger this morning.”
“Maybe it was pinched. There are rat bags in this outfit. Slim being one of them, as it turns out.” Her hands tremble. What will she have to do now for laudanum?
Willie turns his head in a flash of anger. “Do you know how much I paid for that ring?” He stands and advances on Ruby. He cups her chin a bit too tightly. “Find it.” He juts her chin to the left a little too harshly, picks up his pistol, and leaves the tent flap swinging as he leaves.
Ruby reaches into her pocket, curls her fingers around the ring. It’s hers, not Willie’s, bruises be damned. A rush of cold blood jolts her. What can she do? Where can she go? She rises from the cot. Light is draining fast from the day and she needs to find someone—anyone—with laudanum. She’s past caring how she has to pay for it. She’ll sell the ring if she has to.
Over the next days and weeks, fear creeps in, unbidden. Before now, Ruby has been fearless, if you don’t count the time about the rowboat.
“IN YOU GO, RUBY,” BIG BURL had said. “Big Burl don’t raise ’fraidy cats.”
Ruby had never seen a lake before, or a boat. They were somewhere in Colorado, although Ruby can’t remember where. She remembers it was hot (it was always hot).
“C’mon, Ruby. You got to trust me.”
After considerable cajoling, Ruby stepped into the rowboat, not knowing if it would float. She settled her behind on a narrow wooden thwart at the front of the rowboat and reached for both sides to steady her as her pop lumbered in and rowed away from the shore with wide, slapping oars, him singing and Ruby’s breath trapped in her lungs so long they hurt. When she finally exhaled, all her bottled-up dread came out in a rush of relief. That a boat could float on top of the water—and with Big Burl in it—was the first of many wonders Ruby can remember.
In the middle of the lake, Ruby joined in with Big Burl’s songs, “Oh, Susannah” and “Goodbye, Liza Jane,” their voices carrying across the water. When Ruby and Big Burl got back to shore, Divina splashed into shallow water to steady the boat. Ruby grabbed the side of the rowboat as Big Burl lumbered out. Big Burl lifted Ruby over the gunwale then and plopped her down next to Divina as he pulled the boat onto shore.
“And how did you like that, Pip?” Divina asked.
“I loved it more than anything, except maybe my birthday.”
“That’s my girl,” Big Burl said, as he swept Ruby up in his arms and tossed her into the air. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” Ruby felt weightless, so happy her heart could burst.
Never again did Ruby see a lake as large. The closest she came to seeing anything as vast is the desert, and she knew without asking that she’d never need a boat there. If a puddle lasts ten minutes after a monsoon, it’s a record. Any other “lakes” are mirages, and dry as dirt.
But George “Big Burl” Burlingame Barstow was no mirage. Larger than life, he was. He turned the lights on in every place he stepped foot in when the Triple B Traveling Carnival and Wild West Show came through town, back in its heyday. Showman, horseman, and crack shot, Big Burl. And the best pop any girl could ask for. Wasn’t a day went by that Big Burl didn’t say Ruby was the best thing that ever happened to him. Then again, he was the world’s greatest storyteller or liar, Ruby never figured out which, though she chose to believe him every time. And now, she misses her pop more than sun on a rainy day.
RUBY GAUGES WILLIE’S MOODS: blowhard, she pretends to be agreeable; hell bent for revenge, she tiptoes at the edges of his temper. She kowtows to Willie’s whims to forestall the back of his hand. But then a certain comment, or a certain look—and sometimes, for no apparent reason at all, down comes his fist like lightning and her back takes a blow, a mirror image of a large man’s hand imprinted there, edges ragged and tender. And does it hurt, inside and out. Why, why, why does he hit me? What have I done? Something? Nothing? She wonders who stares back in the mirror, eyes dulled and hollow.
Ruby gets better at play-acting to avoid beatings. But it’s not failsafe. Whatever ignites Willie Fortune’s belly runs in a direct line to his hands before it reaches his head. And it’s become so frequent, it’s hard to get through a day unscathed. Of his heart, Ruby is convinced now he doesn’t have one. If he’s got it in him to wallop her, there’s nothing to stop him short of a bullet.
But now she’s carrying his child. If there was a way out before, there’s no exit now, is there?
A few months after the first lip-splitting incident, Ruby claws up an incline behind the tent city, her mouth filled with grit and dried blood. Her head throbs and her bones ache. How long has she been out here? She’s seven months along now, her good dress ripped. A bloody trickle runs down her legs. Ruby cradles her midsection, as if holding it from the outside will protect what’s within. The last thing she remembers is Willie’s arm coming down hard on her head with the full force of an ax swing as she inched through the arroyo.
Wasn’t it bad enough to find Willie in bed with her friend? As she lifted the tent flap, Ruby had stopped short. “What the hell?” Her mind was swimming with laudanum, bought with bills she swiped from Willie’s billfold while he slept. Laudanum can’t be good for the baby, can it? But a day off it, and she’s jittery, irritable. It’s got to be better for Baby Willie if she’s not so anxious, right?
Willie bounded off the cot, his prick swinging. “Get out!”
Esther Lemon? Captain Jack’s girl?
“This is my tent, damn it.” Ruby stood still as a stone, taking in the accoutrements of the tent, as if in a photograph. No one, save Big Burl himself, ever outfitted a tent as lavishly as Willie Fortune. Underfoot, a Persian rug, centered under the massive feather bed. A clothes tree overloaded with belts, trousers, vests, and shirts. Next to Willie’s desk and chair, the remnants of a woman’s clothing, and a trail of water from Ruby’s copper tub to her bed.
Willie covered himself with a blanket and advanced on Ruby. “I said, get out,” he yelled, shoving Ruby out of the tent. She half ran around to the backside of the outfit, away from the other carnival tents, and stood there, numbed. Damn you, Esther, in my tent and in my bed. Not a minute later, Willie rounded the corner and pushed Ruby, hard. She fell forward, hands clenched on her enlarged stomach.
“Who do you think you are, Willie Fortune? Whoring around again?”
Willie kicked dirt into Ruby’s face. “Who did I find whoring on the night your pop died? Answer me that. Teapot calling the kettle black, Ruby. I should’ve known better. Women are only good for one thing. Once you’re hitched, all the fun goes out of it. Especially when you’re the size of a goddamn whale.”
“Is that what this is all about, Willie? You liked me fine when I wasn’t knocked up. Making you all that dough.” Ruby scrambled to get up, but Willie clamped her down with his boot. He reached down and grabbed her hair. Prickly pear gouged Ruby’s bare legs and a sharp rock scraped her shins as Willie dragged her down the incline. A faint trail of blood leached out behind her.
“Willie! Stop it!”
“Shut it. Walking in on a man like that and not saying you’re sorry.” At the bottom of the rise, Willie let go of Ruby’s hair and stepped into the shade of a small shrub to light a cigarette.
Ruby clambered to her knees and crawled away from Willie to avoid more blows. “Say sorry to you? You’ve got that backwards, Willie Fortune.” Ruby would regret talking back, or not getting far enough away before she said it. Willie threw the cigarette to the ground and arced his arm over his head. When the blow hit, Ruby wobbled under the impact and dropped back into the dirt, her head cracked open like a melon.