Cover-Up Story by Marian Babson

moment, returning as a soft baby blue spot centred on Lou-Ann’s head and shoulders. You were only vaguely aware of the Cousins in the background, going through their accustomed gestures of derision.
    But the laughs had stopped coming, and it unnerved her. She kept singing, but her eyes shifted restlessly. It didn’t matter to her that the audience had been laughing at her and not with her. What mattered to her was the laughter, and that was gone. She wilted without it. Luckily, that didn’t do the song any harm. Without knowing it, she had accomplished something I’d be willing to bet she had never done before. She had the audience in the palm of her hand as she finished the number.
    She looked bewildered as the full spotlight came back to her and the applause broke loose. She bobbed a curtsy, swiftly, awkwardly, still glancing around like a wild, frightened thing. Then she dashed offstage.
    The amplifiers went on, the beat loud, solid, hypnotic, for Black Bart’s entrance.
    â€˜Homesteader, Homesteader,
    â€˜Ridin’ alone ...’
    His face was black and thunderous as he strode on. She had killed his entrance, and he knew it. There could be only one sad and lonely principal in the act. She had stolen the mood and part of it had exited with her.
    Once again, there’d be hell to pay when the public performance was over. No wonder she had wanted to stick to comedy.

CHAPTER V
    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.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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