Helmut, the elephant trainer, checked the heavy manacle around the punk’s leg.

His assistant winced to see that the metal had already chafed a raw spot on the young creature’s flesh. “Seems a bit tight,” he commented.

Helmut spit into the hay. “He’ll learn faster that way.” The trainer grunted. This new assistant—Jamie Doolan, was it?—had soft notions. These beasts responded best to fear, to pain, not to kindness. The sooner Jamie learned that, the better.

The Shubert brothers, owners of the Hippodrome, had noticed the immense popularity of the Powers’ elephants and decided to have an elephant for their very own. This infant male had come on the market and they’d snatched him up, named him Baby. Helmut was to teach him to pass out programs at the front entrance. Before learning any tricks, however, Baby needed to learn who was boss. Helmut would make certain of that.

The little elephant tugged and tugged but could not remove himself from the restraint. He sounded an alarm, struggling even harder. Helmut raised his arm, wielding the sharpened bull hook. Jamie Doolan flinched, turning his face away. He could not watch.

Already familiar with the punishment device in the head trainer’s hand, Baby stopped his struggling.

“See?” Helmut’s grin was more sneer than anything. “It’s the only thing the dumb creatures understand.” He tossed the bull hook to Jamie, who fumbled to catch it.

Jamie looked around the stall deep in the bowels of the Hippodrome. “I’ll muck this out then feed him, shall I?” He’d no experience with elephants, but had worked odd jobs at the Star stables uptown.

“Don’t you know anything?” The accusation exploded from the trainer. “No food for at least three days. He has to learn.” Helmut turned on his heel. “I’ll be tending to Jennie if you need help.”

Trembling in his too-large boots, Jamie watched the head trainer go. He’d thought he had it bad, back there in the state home for orphans. Despite the questionable quality of the meals, at least he got fed on a regular basis.

Baby blew a note through his trunk that sounded as sad as any Jamie had ever heard. He set the bull hook in the corner, then approached the cage slowly.

“Buck up, Baby.” He stroked the young elephant’s trunk. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” From each jacket pocket he pulled an apple, which the elephant dispatched with lightning speed. Then his talented trunk tapped at Jamie’s pants pocket. Jamie laughed. “You want more, do you? Greedy little thing.” He glanced around. Helmut was preoccupied with Jennie and her sisters.

“I’ll be back right quick,” Jamie assured the elephant. He slipped out the loading door and, there where he remembered it, he found the pushcart selling produce. Jamie haggled with the peddler and soon his pockets were full of bruised and rotting fruit, bought at bargain prices. Or so Jamie thought.

“Always glad to do business with a schlemiel.” The peddler tipped his cap.

“Good day to you, too!” Jamie replied, unaware he’d been insulted. He hurried back with his purchases. He’d have to be sly about feeding Baby, but Jamie was used to being sly. That was one skill he’d perfected in the orphanage. With luck, Helmut wouldn’t know a thing.

Baby downed the rutabagas and oranges and carrots with enthusiasm. Between each course, he exhaled happily, flapping his ears. Without even realizing it, Jamie sang “Hush Ye, My Bairnie” as the baby elephant ate. The tune came natural, it did. Though his da was Irish, his ma was Scottish. She was the one to sing lullabies to him. And it was with that song he used to lull his baby sis to sleep, before …

When Baby had eaten every last bit of flesh, seed, and rind, he wrapped his trunk around Jamie’s arm, as if to pull him into the cage.

“I’ll use that hook on him.” Jamie tossed his head in Helmut’s direction. “If he ever even thinks of taking it to you again.”

Then he grabbed a shovel and, whistling, mucked out Baby’s stall.