Will had purchased a small riding horse, Lyda, to complement his bigger work horses: Ted, Ned, Fanny Too, and Mabel. But without cows in his barn, he didn’t feel like a dairy farmer.
“McCarthy’ll be here today with our first cows,” Will said.
“That man gives me the shivers,” Mary said.
“He’s more flamboyant than we’re used to. He seems to know his business, though. He’s finding good cows.”
Will had just mopped the last bit of pancake syrup from his plate when he heard the truck coming down the drive. He stepped from the house and scanned his farmstead while he waited for McCarthy to back his old Dodge through the open gate toward the barn door. The large barn stood fifty yards from the house and was enclosed by a fenced barnyard. Will would milk his cows and house his calves and horses downstairs, and he’d store hay in the loft above. The barn, a chicken house, an open sheep shelter, a small granary, and a large machine shed formed a semicircle around the end of the driveway. A tile-sided silo stood alongside the barn. And a windmill guarded a large water tank on the far side of the buildings. The driveway that McCarthy had just driven down raced fifty yards from the main road to the railroad tracks, meandered another fifty yards northward, looped around his house, and stopped at the outbuildings.
Will could see the two big black and white cows through the truck’s openings. With the delivery of these first animals his vision was almost complete. When Finian jumped from the cab, Will couldn’t help but smile. The man hadn’t changed much, not even for a workday. Although he was a bit dusty, Finian was as bright as ever: his emerald green, swallowtail jacket was complemented by a plum purple fedora, a shirt the color of sweet cream, matching breeches, and buckle-top shoes.
Will helped unload the two Holsteins and inspected them closely before herding them into the barn. He liked their size, and their drooping bags promised high production.
“Do you have the records on these two?” Will said.
“Good cows,” Finian said. “Should give thirteen quarts or more per milking.” He handed an envelope to Will. “That’s what these records say. Says they’re healthy, too”
“Let’s see, you’ve got ten more to deliver. I could use another four. Do you know of any?”
“Fella’s selling down Cuba City way. I’ll be delivering a bull into Iowa next week. Why don’t you come along? You can take your pick of his herd.”
“Iowa?” Will thought about his mother’s message, about Heinzelman’s circus, about Jesse. “Is it anywhere near Cedar Rapids?”
“I’ll be going to Marion. It’s right next door.”
* * *
It was still dark when Will heard the truck backfire. He had said his goodbyes the night before, had been dressed for half an hour, and paced the entryway in anticipation. When he heard the engine’s chatter and the brake’s squeal, Will thought about his recent repair business. When he jumped into the cab, the sun’s first rays peeked through the window and lighted Finian’s attire, and Will forgot all else.
“Morning, Will,” Finian called. “Like to start early when I’m hauling cattle. Never know what the day will bring. Gotta drive slow with a load.” Gears ground as Finian forced the stick into first gear. “Can’t have them too bruised when I get there. Sure hate it when I have to bring them home again.”
Finian pushed the stick toward second gear, and Will winced at the sound of metal on metal. Finian clutched, hit the gas, let up, clutched again, and the gears meshed. “Old girl’s a bit touchy.”
“You shoulda brought her in before I got out of the business.”
“Oh, she’s good for another ten thousand. You said it’s more than cows taking you south this fine morning?”
Will told the story of his disinherited brother, and the irreparable rift that had created.
“So you’re going looking?”
“I want to help if I can. Though heaven knows, he tries my soul.”
“Never had a brother.” Finian pulled a huge hanky from his hip pocket and snorted into it. “Have you had breakfast, my man?”
“I didn’t want to wake the kids this early, so thought I’d go without this morning.”
“There’s a diner down the road, at Belmont. Fries a mighty fine egg. Toast and bacon, too.”
They bounded along at thirty-five miles an hour. It would be a long day. The bull staggered from side to side and blared his protests as he bounced off the panels, reminding Will that there were worse places to be than this smelly, uncomfortable cab. Will adjusted his vent so that fresh air whipped past his face. Finian was a likeable enough fellow, but there was more than his flamboyance that made Will a little nervous.
“Did you hear about Paddy telling that he’d killed his wife and buried her in the back yard?” Finian said.
“I can’t say that I have.”
“Well, at first, no one took him seriously. Then when they didn’t see the poor woman for a week, the constables began to search. After a day’s digging without finding a body, they gave up. At which time Paddy called his mother-in-law’s house and said to his wife, ‘Molly, I spaded the yard this morning. You can come home and plant those potatoes now.’”
“Only an Irishman. Did you hear about Father McCrery’s trip to Chicago?”
“I didn’t.”
“He visited the Archdiocese and saw this big, red telephone hanging from the bishop’s wall. ‘What do you use that for?’ he said.”
“‘Why, that’s a direct line to the Lord, but I don’t use it often. It costs a hundred dollars an hour.’”
“‘I’ve got one like it myself,’ Father McCrery said. ‘But in Ashley Springs, it’s a local call.’”
“You gotta get up mighty early in the morning to best Father McCrery,” Finian said.
“He’s a good man. Makes me wish I’d stayed with the church. He’s broad-minded about it, I must say. He admits I got a good woman.”
The brakes squealed and Will grimaced when Finian missed the entrance to the Good Morning Diner and the truck bounced over the curb.
“I can taste those eggs already,” Finian said. “I hope my favorite waitress is here.”
* * *
Will felt better with a full stomach. The morning inched along, speeded a bit by an endless telling of stories and complaints about politics, religion, and the economy. After stopping near Cuba City and selecting four prime Holstein cows, they agreed to stop back to pick up two of them on their way home. Finian would come back later for the remaining two. They drove on to Cedar Rapids. Finian dropped Will off at the southern edge of town where Heinzelman’s Circus was beginning to reach toward the sky. “I’ll be back in a couple hours,” he shouted as he ground the gears. “Tomorrow morning I want to visit Sykora’s at the Czech Village. My mouth has watered for a poppy seed kolace ever since I left Ashley Springs.” He waved as he eased his truck forward.
Will shrugged and walked towards the activity. A passel of workers pulled a huge canvas tent in preparation for raising it. Men and women straightened ropes, pounded stakes, and a man led a harnessed elephant across the open space toward the flattened canvas. A huge man wandered from one group to another, shouted instructions wherever he went. Will asked where he could find the owner.
“Mr. Heinzelman? He’s in that trailer over there.” He pointed to the far side of the grounds. “That’s his office.”
Will wove his way through the busy workers to the trailer, and pounded on the door.
“Enter at your own peril,” a gruff voice called out.
When Will slipped inside, he was greeted by a smile and a hearty handshake.
“Lookin’ for a job?”
“Not today,” Will said.
“How can I help you?”
“That giant out there said you’re the owner?” Will said.
“The Madagascar Colossus?”
“Is he really from Madagascar?”
“Naw. He’s from Peoria, but that won’t draw customers. He does command attention though. What can I do for you?”
“I’m surprised you’re setting up Saturday afternoon. I’d think you’d want the whole weekend.”
“This early in the year we’re not very efficient. Our new roustabouts haven’t learned the ropes yet. I knew we couldn’t set up in time to do two shows today, so we scheduled one tonight and two tomorrow. A trial run for the season.” Heinzelman took a pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket and shoved it toward Will. When Will shook his head, he flipped the pack upside down, tapped it against his wrist, and slipped a smoke out. “We’ll do better.” He dragged a match down his pant leg and raised it to his cigarette. “Either that or get a new crew.” He took a long draw on the cigarette. “How can I help you?”
“I hear that you have a maimed veteran working for you.”
“I did have, but that was a long time ago. Not anymore. Why do you ask?”
“He’s not here?”
“I’d rather not give information to just anyone.”
“He may be my brother.”
“Sorry about him.”
“Why’s that?”
“I let him go, but I shouldn’t have. I thought he was a child molester when, a few years ago, I saw him with a little girl back in Hinton. I was wrong.”
“What happened?”
“Three sisters. I thought I’d caught him red-handed. We’d had complaints. But it wasn’t him.”
“Those were my daughters.”
“Don’t blame me. The culprit’s in the state pen.”
“I think he’s my brother, Jesse. Jesse O’Shaughnessy.”
“He’s a bad one.”
“Bad one? I thought you said—”
“The other one. The one we caught red-handed.”
“But my brother?”
“He played the puppet man.” Heinzelman lowered his head. “My people miss him. He didn’t have much talent, but he was a likable guy. Tried real hard. The kids loved his show. He liked them, too. That worked against him, I guess. When I saw him with your little girl, I exploded. Kicked him out before we reached Lincoln. We’d had complaints, you know.”
“He was innocent?”
“As a newborn lamb. The weekend—if I remember right we were in Olathe—our bearded lady caught a roustabout with a little girl. Little weasel of a guy. He used his puppy to draw them in. She almost tore his eyes out when she caught him with that girl. Just a mite of a thing. He’d have lost his manhood if we hadn’t pulled her off.” Heinzelman shook his head as he got off his chair. “Shoulda let her at him. I felt terrible about Jesse.”
“Do you know where he went?”
“He probably picked up with another outfit.” Heinzelman opened the door. “I better check on the Colossus.” He led Will outside.
“Mind if I mosey ’round while I wait for my ride?”
“Go ahead. You might wanta talk with Mildred and Louise. They knew Jesse best.” He pointed toward a trailer at the edge of the grounds.
The trailer looked too small for two people. Then when Will entered, he saw that the two were one. Siamese Twins, joined at the upper torso. Will was startled at first, but he tried to not look surprised. “Hello ladies. I’m Will O’Shaughnessy. Mr. Heinzelman said I should talk to you.”
“I’m Louise,” one said.
The other said, “I’m Mildred.”
“Glad to meet you ladies. Mr. Heinzelman said you knew Jesse. The puppet man.”
“That was terribly unfair,” Mildred said.
“Unjust,” Louise added. “Mr. Heinzelman made a terrible mistake. Jesse didn’t do it. I knew he wasn’t guilty.”
“He was a kind man, one of the kindest I know, but fearful though,” Mildred said. “He didn’t want to make anyone mad. He took lots of abuse.”
“I knew Jesse,” Will said. “He was… was a friend.” Will wasn’t sure why, but he was hesitant to say brother.
“I’m so sorry,” Mildred said.
Together, Mildred and Louise reached for Will’s arm.
“Did he drink? I mean, did he take alcohol?”
“I don’t think so,” Louise said.
“You know that he used to, Louise.” Mildred frowned at her sister. “But not at the end. Most everyone carries a flask ’round here.”
“He tried to stay sober,” Louise said, “for the kids.”
“He loved the children,” Mildred said. “He learned all kinds of tricks to make them laugh.”
“Do you know where he went?”
“He didn’t say what he’d do,” Louise said. “I suppose he’s drifting.”
“I don’t think he went home,” Mildred said. “He hated his brother.” She looked genuinely sad. “He never said why.”
Louise winced. “That’s a bit strong, Mildred. I don’t think Jesse had an ounce of hate in him.”
“Well, he sure didn’t like him much. His brother must have been an awful man.”
Will turned toward the door and left without saying goodbye. He didn’t want the women to see the tear on his cheek.
He wandered the grounds, but spent most of the next two hours watching elephants raise the big tent. He marveled at their easy gait and obvious strength. Unlike his horses, they moved with a slow confidence, a quiet, persistent shuffle that yielded to no obstacle.
At six o’clock, Finian pulled up to the grounds, now emptied of workers but full of tents. “Hop in,” he said. “Let’s find some food. I’m hungry.”
“Do you know a place?”
“I’ve heard that Tiny’s, down on the river, fries a great T-bone. They say it’s reasonable, too. Let’s give it a try.”
Now free of its weight, the old Dodge truck bounced along the macadam road.
Tiny’s was a converted dining car anchored on a length of railroad track. When they stepped inside, Will saw a huge man at the cash register and supposed he was the owner. He didn’t know how the man could maneuver through quarters so tight. But when Tiny led them to their table at the end of the car, his agility surprised Will. For a man with a belly like a cow catcher, he moved like a ballerina. He barely acknowledged Will but seldom turned his gaze away from Finian. Will supposed it was the flamboyant clothes that caught his eye.
Tiny set two glasses of water before them. “What can I get you gentlemen?” he said in a gruff voice.
“I hear you cook a mean T-bone,” Finian said.
“Best Iowa beef available. Our specialty,” Tiny said.
“Then bring us two, with all the fixings.”
“No,” Will said, “I’m outta steak money nowadays. A slice of Iowa ham, if you will, sir.”
“Bring him a steak,” Finian said. “This one’s on me.”
Will began to protest, but Finian would hear none of that. “Don’t worry, my man, I’ll take care of it.” He snapped open his cloth napkin. “Worth the price for a day with a Wicklow man.”
The steaks, sizzling off the grill, overlapped their plates. “I’ll bring the baked potato right out,” Tiny said. “Sure you don’t want a salad?”
“No salad,” Finian said. “We’ll leave the greens for your Iowa steers.” He sliced a piece of meat, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed for a moment, then said, “This is pure corn-fed delight. Yes, siree. Might as well toss those greens. Cattle like this wouldn’t want them either.”
For the next fifteen minutes the only sounds heard were the clinks of metal against china, the chomping of teeth on meat, the smacking of lips, and a few oohs and awes. Will mopped up the juices with his last piece of bread. “It takes a good meal to silence two Irishmen for its eatin’,” he said.
Finian leaned his chair back and rubbed his ample belly. “A good Cuban cigar would hit the spot. Didn’t I see a box at the counter?”
“I’ll buy,” Will said as he pushed off his chair. He’d give his stogie to Finian.
“No, siree. I’ll take care of this. Just you watch.” Finian strolled to the counter. “Tell us the damage, my good man.”
Tiny stepped around the counter to face Finian, who had lifted two cigars from the tray. Will could see that Tiny was suspicious. “Be five dollars.”
“Would you throw in two good cigars?”
Finian started to shove the cigars into his vest pocket.
“For another fifty cents.”
“Two bits each? That’s highway robbery. I pay a dime back home.”
Tiny shrugged. “Two bits here.”
“Would you flip for them?” Finian took a coin from his pocket.
“What’ll you put up?”
Finian pulled the fob that looped down his leg and lifted a watch from his trouser pocket. “All I’ve got is this beautiful timepiece.” He turned it in his hand so that sunlight streaked off its surface and caused Tiny to blink. “Far more valuable than two cigars.”
“Nice lookin’ piece,” Tiny said.
“You like it? A fine watch, ten jewels. Tell you what.” He flashed the watch. “I’ll flip you for this pretty little pocket watch against two cigars and the steaks.”
When he held the coin out, Tiny grabbed it from Finian’s hand. “Let me see that.”
Will had a good look as Tiny turned the coin. One side showed a lady, her front as bare as the Venus de Milo with breasts every bit as perky. And when Tiny turned the piece over, Venus’s bare rear looked mighty attractive, too.
“It looks pretty good,” Tiny said with a smile that matched his ample girth. “Thought you had a two-headed coin. Everyone’s trying to weasel meals these days.” He scowled toward Will. “Makes me mad as hell.”
He turned back to Finian. “Against that watch, you say?” He leaned over to inspect the timepiece that Finian pushed toward him. “It’s a nice looker.” He held out his hand. “Okay, shake on it.”
“I’ll even let you call,” Finian said as he shook the man’s hand.
“Heads,” Tiny said.
Finian lifted the watch toward Tiny’s eyes once more, paused, and with his other hand flipped the coin high in the air. It bounced once off the counter, twirled for an instant, and then fell flat, the lady’s bare rear apparent to all.
“You lose. Sorry, my man,” Finian said as he snatched the coin off the counter. But it slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, right between Tiny’s two oversized shoes.
Finian grabbed for it, but Tiny’s foot was quicker.
“Let me see that coin,” Tiny said as he reached down.
Finian grabbed Will’s arm and edged backward toward the door.
Tiny turned the coin in his hand and saw a rear on both sides. “Hold on,” he shouted and reached behind the counter.
Will froze when he saw the gun in Tiny’s hand, but the cashier ignored him.
Tiny stared at Finian who, by now, moved fast in the other direction.
Will pulled a five dollar bill from his pocket and threw it at Tiny’s feet, and when Tiny stooped to pick it up, he turned and raced towards the door.
When he reached the opening, he heard a gunshot, and the doorsill exploded overhead, showering splinters down upon him.
Finian moved faster. For such a short-legged fella, he sure could run.
While Will circled the truck’s rear and raced around the far side, Finian dived through the open window.
Will grabbed the handle, but by the time his foot was on the running board, the truck lurched forward. There was no double clutching this time, just grinding gears and squealing tires. Will pulled himself into the cab, but before he sat down, he heard a metallic ping, and the back windshield exploded, leaving Will and the seat covered with glass.
“I don’t think that man likes us,” Finian said as he sped away.
“You could have gotten us killed!”
“The man holds a grudge.” Finian shifted into high gear. “Not much of a shot though. Glad he’s not shooting rock salt from a double barrel. That sure do sting.”
“I’ll never play cards with you.”
“Just a little sleight of hand.” He shook his head. “I never dropped one before. I shouldn’t have shaken the man’s greasy paw.”
“You tried to cheat him. You coulda got us killed.”
“Can’t cheat an honest man, Will.”
“I don’t think I’d want my honesty tested, not with you dealing. Let’s get away from here.”
“Glad you threw that fin. It gave me time to get out the door. I owe you.” He grabbed Will’s arm. “Some fun, hey?”
Will wanted to get away from town, to get away from Finian. But it was too far to walk, and he still had those cows to pick up.
“We’d better head for Wisconsin and get those cows,” Will said. “He may get the police out.”
“Can’t do that.”
“You can’t do that?” Will grabbed Finian’s shoulder.
“It’ll be dark soon and I don’t have headlights. I saw a lane outside of Marion that we can hide in overnight. We gotta get back here early, though, no later than five-thirty.”
“Back here? Are you crazy? We’ll head due east at sunrise.”
“After I stop at Sykora’s. If I don’t get there early, those poppy seed kolaces are bound to be sold out.”
He should have thrown the man out of his truck and driven north to get his cows. Finian may get his kolaces, but Will wished he’d stayed home. It was bad enough getting shot at, but worse still, where could Jesse be? He must be a desperate man in this land of despair.