BACKSTAGE, after the house had emptied, the atmosphere was about as I had expected. I pasted a bright smile on my lips, prepared to congratulate and then sidestep any members of the Troupe I was unfortunate enough to trip over. I simply wanted to collect Penny and Gerry before they got caught in the crossfire and, incidentally, exchange a few words with Sam, if possible. By this time, I wasn’t sure whether I really had anything to say to Sam or not. It was the challenge of the whole thing which had roused my sporting blood.
I might have known Penny and Gerry wouldn’t have been where I left them. Gerry had a fine nose for trouble. Where else would he be, then, but in the star dressing-room, watching the fray with interest – and with Penny? I was surprised, however, to find Sam there, too. I had thought he possessed a finer sense of self-preservation.
Lou-Ann was on the carpet – almost literally. She was crouched beside Black Bart’s chair. Another couple of inches and she would have been kneeling.
‘Bart,’ she pleaded, ‘honest, Bart. I didn’t tell them to. I didn’t know what was going to happen until they did it. Bart – you ain’t mad at me?’
Why should she be any different? It was easy to see that Black Bart was mad at everybody. He had a fine line in sulks, and this was the most impressive I had yet seen. The black scowl on his face, the rigid line of his lips, the way his arms were tightly folded across his chest – they were all effective, if reminiscent. He was every outlaw in every bad Western you had ever seen, brooding until sundown, when he was going to stalk down that empty dirt road and kill himself a lawman. It was just as well that Black Bart had no gun, and that the nearest Sheriff was 3,000 miles away.
‘Please, Bart,’ Lou-Ann said. ‘Tell me you ain’t mad at me.’
Black Bart looked over her head impassively. I had a momentary hope that he was never going to speak again.
‘If you want to take it out on anybody, Bart –’ Sam, too, was tight-lipped and white-faced – ‘take it out on me. I gave the order for the big spot to be killed and the baby blue to be used.’ I’d never realized Sam had this insane death-wish. He’d never shown any signs of suicidal tendencies when I’d known him in the States. ‘Furthermore, it’s going to stay that way from now on. It’s right for the act.’
That brought Black Bart to his feet, quivering with fury. Sam went whiter than white, but stood his ground.
‘What did you say?’ Bart demanded dangerously.
‘You heard me.’ Sam’s voice was almost steady. ‘I told you before that that number shouldn’t be played for laughs. Now I’ve proved it. From here on in, she warbles it straight. And the devil with the laughs.’
‘Maybe you still ain’t got the picture,’ Black Bart said softly, still dangerously. ‘She’s here for laughs. Look at her – you think any man’s gonna look at her and not laugh?’
Lou-Ann rose, with terrible eagerness. ‘I told him, Bart. I said I didn’t want to do anything that wasn’t funny.’
‘You want the song to stay in –’ Bart ignored her, still glaring at Sam – ‘then I’ll sing it. It goes better with my image, anyhow.’
‘I don’t know.’ Maw Cooney seemed to be tired of living, too. She came forward slowly to face Bart. ‘The audience liked it. ’Course, they always go crazy for Lou-Ann, but this was something special. They –’ she lowered her voice into an awed, hushed tone – ‘they really loved her. Maybe we ought to keep it in like that.’
There was a slight scrabbling noise, like rats abandoning ship, as the Cousins edged back against the wall. Bart took it quite mildly, for him. ‘You think so, huh? Who told you you could think? I built this act, what I say goes. Just remember – none of you would be nothing, if it wasn’t for me.’
‘I don’t know about that.’ Maw Cooney’s jaw set in a stubborn line. ‘You just remember a few things, yourself. Lou-Ann was pretty famous before you ever came on the scene. So you needn’t think you’re the big shot who’s done it all. I tell you, you wouldn’t be where you are today if you’d had to play the Nashville Circuit all by your lonesome. An’ that ain’t all –’
‘Maw, Maw.’ Lou-Ann was tugging at her sleeve anxiously. Perhaps she really loved the old bat – the silver cord was a wonderful thing. At any rate, she seemed concerned to stop Maw Cooney’s tirade before Black Bart reached out those big hands that were twitching at his side and knotted them around Maw Cooney’s neck. ‘Let it go, Maw. Just forget it.’
‘I ain’t gonna forget it.’ But Maw Cooney let herself be pulled back a couple of steps. ‘You’re too easy-going, my girl, that’s your trouble. I don’t know where you’d be, if you didn’t have me to look out for your interests.’
‘Better off.’ But I was the only one to hear Sam’s low murmur. Black Bart, head turning restlessly from side to side, had spotted a new vent for his anger. Uncle No’ccount and Crystal were trying to slip out of the door before he got around to raging at the rest of them. They didn’t quite make it.
‘You come back here,’ he yelled. ‘Where in hell do you think you’re sneaking off to?’
‘Nowhere, Bart.’ Crystal halted in the doorway, hovering there. ‘Just thought we’d like a little breath of fresh air, that’s all.’
‘There’s plenty of air right here. Get back and sit down.’ He glared at her while she came back into the room. Nasty grins broke out like a rash across the faces of the Cousins.
Uncle No’ccount still hovered in the doorway. ‘I oughta go get some work done,’ he said. ‘You don’t want me, do you, Bart?’
‘Hell, I don’t want none of you,’ Bart snarled. ‘But I’m stuck with you.’ He swung back suddenly and caught up his big sombrero from the back of the chair, then grabbed Crystal by the wrist and thrust her towards the door.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I’ll give you some fresh air. Come on, we’ll walk back to the hotel.’
There seemed to be a lot more air for the rest of us, and a lot fresher, too, once Bart had left the room. The Cousins gave it a count of ten, then slithered out of the door themselves. That improved the atmosphere, too.
Sam crossed over to Lou-Ann and Maw Cooney, speaking to them in a rapid undertone I could not hear. Not that I was interested.
By that time, I had met Gerry’s accusing eye. ‘You should have told me,’ he said reproachfully. ‘You’ve let me go on living in a fool’s paradise, when I should have been crawling on my hands and knees to the hyphenated-hag and trying to get back into her good graces – at least long enough to get us paid.’
‘I don’t know,’ Penny said thoughtfully. ‘He was super out on the stage, wasn’t he? Maybe he’s just tired after the performance. I’ll bet he’s awfully high-strung.’
‘Child, child.’ Gerry patted her head gently. ‘Keep your youthful illusions, but don’t let them run away with you. If ever I saw a prize candidate to join the Great Unmentionables at an early date –’
‘Did you get some good shots?’ It was an unnecessary question, I just threw it in to cheer him up.
‘I got some magnificent shots. Far better than any of them deserve.’ He glanced across the room thoughtfully. ‘You know, that girl has a wonderful bone structure. Why doesn’t she try to look like a member of the human race?’
I knew what he meant. None of Gerry’s birds would have been caught dead in last year’s Quant, last season’s restaurant, or last month’s hairstyle. Lou-Ann, on the other hand, would have died before abandoning her ‘comedy costume’. Somewhere, there must be a happy medium.
‘...I don’t care.’ Maw Cooney’s voice rose abruptly. ‘He ain’t been treating my Lou-Ann right for a long time now. I’m gonna go after him and give him a real good piece of my mind! ’
‘Maw! –’ Lou-Ann caught at her elbow as she tried to leave. ‘Just cool off, Maw. It’s all right, honest –’
‘There ain’t nothing right about it! He should remember your position. He thinks he’s the Great I-Am, and nobody else counts for nothing. Well, it’s high time he learned different, and I’m gonna –’
‘Okay, okay, but not just now, huh? We need you here.’ Sam glanced over at me, signalling desperately. I was interested to find that he could remember I existed – when he needed me. ‘Doug, bring the photographer over here, will you, please? We want to get some good shots of Lou-Ann, while we’ve got a clear field.’
Nothing else could have brought Maw Cooney to heel so quickly. ‘Oh, well now, that’s a real good idea,’ she said, all the fire dying away. ‘It sure is nice to know we’ve got a Road Manager who knows his onions.’
Sam winced. ‘Thanks.’ He turned to Lou-Ann briskly. ‘Now, we’ll just get rid of that –’ He yanked off the appalling hat.
‘No, give that back!’ Lou-Ann clutched for it.
‘Take it easy. We just want a couple of straight shots,’ Sam held the hat out of reach. ‘Be a good girl and get into your street clothes, will you?’
He should have known better. In the short time I had had to observe her, even I had realized that the one thing calculated to throw her into a blind panic was any suggestion that she come out from behind the mask of comedy and look or act like a normal human being.
She fought like a wildcat, or whatever the local fauna was in the territory she came from. Sam tossed the hat away and used both hands to defend himself. He wasn’t doing too well. Maw Cooney circled them like a stray bitch, watching her chance to get in there and sink her teeth where they’d do the most damage.
The best idea I could come up with was to throw a bucket of cold water over them, but there was no water in the room. Only a half-empty bottle of bourbon, and I couldn’t bring myself to waste it.
Gerry stopped them. The flash of light from the camera halted them all. They blinked, and separated, dazed. Then Gerry stepped into the breach. He gave Lou-Ann his warmest smile. I had seen Gerry in action before. I could never copy his technique – I still didn’t believe it. But it worked every time.
They have laws to protect poor fish. Dynamiting trout is illegal in all civilized countries. When civilization reaches a more advanced stage, they may get around to protecting people from onslaughts of sheer concentrated charm. (Or perhaps television will eventually prove an immunizing agent.)
Meanwhile, there is no defence. I watched Lou-Ann smooth her hair, pull down her jacket, and generally prove that a rag, a bone, and a hank of hair has the same reactions, no matter where in the world it originated. She gave Gerry a shy, hesitant smile.
‘I got some splendid shots during the performance,’ he told her. ‘But now I’d like a few relaxed, natural pictures, for my own scrapbook – if nothing else.’
Lou-Ann still looked doubtful, but Maw Cooney dealt herself into the action at this stage.
‘It can’t do any harm,’ she advised Lou-Ann. ‘You jes’ let the nice gentleman take any pictures he wants. After all –’ she simpered at Gerry, who didn’t turn a hair – ‘even if he takes them, that ain’t to say he’s going to pass them around, is it?’
‘Assuredly not.’ Gerry nearly bowed. ‘I shouldn’t dream of doing anything that didn’t have your full approval.’
He had Lou-Ann’s plaits piled coronet-style on top of her head by that time, and her jacket off. ‘Suppose we just try this,’ he murmured. He turned the jacket back to front and swathed her in it, hiding the awful blouse.
Sam watched him with narrowed eyes. Maw Cooney’s eyes were narrow, too, but I thought I recognized the look in them. I had seen it before, in other hopeful mothers mentally measuring Gerry for a wedding-ring. That was always before they knew him very well.