“She’s gonna be buck nekkid on top of that elephant,”
Billy Malone said.
She ain’t either, it’s aginst the law to go around without clothes,” Steve Holt replied. “She didn’t have no clothes on when my brother seen her in Peoria. They change the laws when the circus comes to town,” Billy said. We ran around back of the stock barns to sneak in the County fair grounds. Folks came to the fair from miles away to see the horse races and show off their best animals and home produce to win a ribbon. It was the best time of the year and a week long holiday. “It’s just like Christmas and the Fourth of July,” Billy said.
I was taller and skinnier than the others and slipped under the wooden picket fence like a snake. We had already dug a hole under the fence so we could sneak in and save a nickel so’s, we could spend more on the shooting gallery and the baseball throwing contests. Just as Steve wriggled under the fence, Murphy was takin’ a leak behind a tree. He was so close, you could see tin deputy badge. He spied us kids even before he got his pecker back in his pants. “Hey! You can’t sneak in the fair. I’m gonna catch you little bastids and whip your ass.” He grabbed a handful of Steve’s hair before he got through the fence and was twistin’ his head back. We paid up our nickels but I smoldered with hate for that man.
“Don’t let me ketch you little bastids agin. The next time one of you will get a slug in the seat of your pants,” he said.
We lit out for the main fairgrounds. “Someday, I’m going to get even with that sumbitch,” I said.
The crowd milled around, waiting for the circus parade, but the exhibits, the shooting gallery and the circus tents were already open. In a few minutes, the calliope and the big drum started a rousing tune. People waiting outside the gate yelled. “It’s a comin’, it’s a comin’, the circus is a comin’.”
She was ridin’ on top of an elerphant but wore spangly tights with an American flag draped around her shoulders. Every so often, the flag dropped to show a little bare skin. We were all powerful disappointed.
“Dang, din’t I tell ya, she would be wearing clothes,” Steve said.
“Don’t make no difference, she’s gonna take it all off on the last night of the show,” Billy said.
A team of black horses pulled a wagon with a fellow dressed in black clothes and a top hat follered the elerphant. Next came the clowns and a juggler, the fat lady, a two-headed goat and a wagon with a caged lion He was supposed to roar and show his teeth, but he just laid on his belly like he was bored. The circus folks went to their tents, which the roustabouts had set up the night before. We loafed around while farmers took hogs and cattle to the livestock pens for judging. I hoped to see Rachel, but there was no sign of the Amish folks. I guess they thought the fair was wicked or something.
“Let’s go to the food tent,” Billy said.
The Episcopal ladies wouldn’t give us a sample of pie so we ran to the big Presbyterians tent. “Aunt Alice, kin we boys have a piece of pie or one of those choklit cakes?” I asked.
“Shoo, get on out of here, less’n you got money,” she said.
Grooms lead horses around the track getting ready for the races and the stands selling cotton candy and popcorn were open. Everyone was excited and happy. The farmers didn’t even complain about low prices or the weather.
We drifted into the crowd to hear speeches in front of a big tent with a sign.
MARSHALL COUNTY REPUBLICANS
PARTY OF LINCOLN AND GRANT.
Murphy was inside the tent with a bunch of deputies and Sheriff Calvin Brewer. . Mr. Farnum inside at a table, looking out over the grounds with a satisfied expression on his face. Two wagons filled with darkies came through the gate and kept on toward the stock barns. No one said a word until Mr. Farnum pointed a pudgy finger.
“They don’t belong here,” he said. Murphy with his Henry rifle and the deputies swaggered toward the wagons.
Young Isaiah drove the first wagon. His wife wore a big yellow hat and in the back, there was a fat, good looking hog that would for sure win the first prize. Folks said Young Isaiah was uppity on account of he had his own land and a gold tooth. Isaiah’s other sons, Jebediah and Obadiah, were in the second wagon with their wives and kids. One of the girls held a big green watermelon that was about a yard long that be in the running for a blue ribbon.
Sheriff Brewer and the deputies surrounded the two wagons. The sheriff spit a stream of tobacco juice at the front wheel of the first wagon and stood with his coat open and his hands under his suspenders. He had a cold, mean hatchet face and didn’t like for people to give him sass. Most folks paid no attention to the darkies, but a few men surged forward around the sheriff.
“We don’t allow no niggers on the fair grounds,” he said.
“We been comin’ to the fair last every year and there ain’t never been no trouble. We got as much right to be here as anyone,” said Young Isaiah
“Boy, don’t give me no mouth. Turn the damn wagon around and skedaddle back where you belong. We don’t want you or those damn pickaninnies on this side of the river,” the sheriff said.
“We own land and pay taxes just like everyone else. We got rights.”
“You ain’t got nothin’. You just squattin’ on Miz Trimmer’s land.”
“We worked fur it and Captain Trimmer give it to us. We got papers that says the land is our’n,” Young Isaiah said.
“Trimmer was a damn fool and he’s dead. Those papers don’t count fer nothin’.” Time you niggers went back south and squat on that plantation land. I ain’t got time for no talk. Now git your black ass outen of here.”
The sheriff dropped his right hand to the butt of his pistol. A rock sailed out of the crowd and hit the lead mule on the flank. The gang of men around the sheriff threw more rocks and rotten tomatoes. It was like, they had been waiting to cause trouble. “Git the damn niggers, kill the bastids,” they yelled
Young Isaiah and his brothers sat very straight with their heads held high as if to say they were above the white trash. When Young Isaiah opened his mouth and flashed the gold tooth, the crowd got madder and madder. The darkies didn’t flinch. Young Isaiah flicked the reins and the mules started forward toward the stock barns.
The sheriff pulled his Colt pistol, cocked the hammer and aimed at the slicked-up fat hog. Young Isaiah stood up from the wagon seat and flung himself toward the sheriff, but was in mid-air, when the sheriff shot the hog in the gut. The black man let out a terrible cry and the hog screamed like a human. The sheriff cracked Young Isaiah on the head with the butt of his pistol. The black man crumpled in the dirt. The hog screamed and screamed and bled all over the back of the wagon. Murphy slammed his Henry rifle into the big watermelon. Juice, seeds and the pink flesh flew all over the little girl who held the broken melon in her arms.
More men surged toward the wagons, like they were going to grab the women and children. “Lynch the bastards.”
Young Isaiah with a bloody head got back on the wagon and tried to turn the mules but the rowdies wouldn’t let him go. I got close enough to kick Murphy in the behind hard enough that he sprawled forward and fell down. I ran zig zag through the crowd.
“Get that kid,” the sheriff yelled.
Billy flung a rock with his sling shot that hit the sheriff on the back. We ducked and ran to the circus tents on the other side of the grandstand. The deputies followed and fired two shots. I tripped over a tent peg and went flat on the ground. In about a second, I was up and running again, sobbing real tears and even praying. The fence was a million miles away. The crowd around the wagons broke up but Murphy gained on us at every step.. We musta thought about it at the same time cause us boys dove under a tent.
We tumbled into the tent like a bunch of baby rabbits in a hole. The lady who rode the elerphant was on a chair in the middle of the tent with a bottle of whisky.
“You boys get your tail ends out of here. You can’t sneak in and have a peek before the show,” she said.
I got up on my knees, like praying in church. “Please, ma’am, those men will kill us.”
She was wearing a big, flowing purple skirt and a loose shawl. She wasn’t all that young, but was purty as a picture. Her titties were perky and looked soft as melting butter. She took a healthy swig from the bottle and belched. “What you boys doin’ here?”
“The sheriff and deputies are chasin’ us. We din’t know you was in here,” Billy said.
“A likely story, run home to your mothers,” she said.
“Please, I ain’t got no mother, she died when I was little,” I said.
“How old are you?”
“Fifteen. Please, you gotta help us,”
Her face softened and she took a closer look.
“My boy would be about that age now. He died of typhoid.”
A gruff voice came from the front of the tent. “We are comin’ in.”
“One of you boys climb inside that trunk and another crawl behind it. You get under this chair and hide behind my skirt,” the lady said.
I scrunched down and she adjusted the skirt so I was all covered. When deputies came trompin’ into the tent, I peaked under her skirt and seen three pairs of boots covered with horse-shit.
“Well, now, what can I do for you handsome law men. It’s a little early for the show,” she said.
“We seen boys come in here.”
“I don’t allow boys in my tent.”
“They are hell-raisin’ little bastids standin’ up for the niggers. The sheriff told us to beat the livin’ shit outten of them.”
I thought sure they would hear my heart beating and I had to stuff a hand in my mouth to keep from breathing loud. A strangling sound came from the trunk.
“Sheriffs deppities always like a drink,” the lady said.
“Well, as a matter of fact, chasin’ those boys did raise a thirst.”
The bottle gurgled three times. Billy Malone sneezed.
“Hey, what’s in that trunk?”
“Ain’t nothin’ in that trunk but clothes for my show.”
“You ain’t s’posed to wear no clothes.”
“Them’s my teasin’ clothes. Men always like to imagine what’s under all that frilly lace and ribbons and garters. I learned about teasin’ in Gay Paree.”
The men shuffled their feet and the bottle gurgled again.
“Ah choo.” The sound was muffled, but came from inside the trunk.
“Damned if you ain’t lying. I’m opening that trunk,” Murphy roared.
I plumb stopped breathing and got ready to run, but the woman screamed. “Help, murder, help, murder!”
A bunch of roustabouts with sledgehammers barged into the tent. The deputies got out fast. The woman giggled until I thought she was goin’ to fall off her chair. “It’s OK boys, you can come out now. Beat it,” she said.
We went out under the back of the tent and took off for the front gate. The deputies were too busy to notice and we made it out of the grounds without more trouble. Folks had gone off to see the races and the darkies were out of the fair grounds and on their way to the ferry landing.
I kept lookin’ back over my shoulder and ran downtown through alleys. Mr. Birt was at his desk in the newspaper office. “Tom, glad you dropped by, been meaning to talk to you.”
“The Sheriff and his deputies drove Young Isaiah and his family off the fairgrounds. Murphy threatened to shoot us boys when we stood up for the darkies,” I said. Mr. Birt fiddled with a pencil and looked towards the wagon shop. “Nobody has sympathy for the darkies. A lot of people blame the freed slaves for taking land. The Klan wants to scare them into going back south,” said Mr. Birt. “Can’t you do something?” I asked.
“Not likely. They are going to build a bridge and a lock and dam so steamboats can go all the way to Chicago. Farmers will be able to get their produce to market a lot easier. The price of land will go up,” Mr. Birt said.
He shuffled papers. “I’ll keep my ears open and see what happens. Oh, did you know Dr. Steele is going to Chicago in a few days?”
“Gee, is that so? I figured he would stay and work with Doc Evans,” I said.
“Sandy Ford is too small for a man like him. He will be a professor some day,” Mr. Birt said.
I slouched on home, kicking leaves and feeling bad. With Dr. Steele leaving there wasn’t much chance to see Rachel.