where the broken limbs had been. Looking around, he saw another one farther away, on the edge of the cornfield near the tent.
“What are those poles?” Ray asked Conker over the clank of silverware and loud conversation swimming about the table.
“Hmm? Oh, bottletrees,” he murmured.
“Salutations to our bear-rider,” Peg Leg Nel called from down the table.
Conker whispered, “Think Nel’s got you in mind for performing. What do you think of that?”
“I think he’s mistaken,” Ray said, noticing that Si was listening discreetly. “I’m no showman.”
Si glared at Ray from the opposite side of the table, sitting between Ox and Ma Everett. She sneered and lookedaway when their eyes met, returning to a book she was reading by her plate. Ray felt distinctly that she had something against him, but he wasn’t sure why. His eyes shifted to her hands, which he noticed were covered with red silk gloves.
With a quick scan, Ray realized that the blind cowboy, Buck, was not there.
A straw-haired boy sat down in the empty seat next to Ray, followed by an Indian boy with two sleek braids draped over his shoulders. Both wore dusty wool trousers and loose cotton shirts not much different than Ray’s, although theirs were less threadbare.
“Heard you were practicing a hootchy-kootchy routine for Marisol,” the straw-haired boy said, drawing snorts from the Indian boy at his side. “I should warn you we don’t have a burlesque act in this show. We’re wholesome entertainment.”
“Leave the boy alone,” Ma Everett said sharply.
“Just ribbing him, Ma,” he said. He gave Ray such a big smile that Ray decided it was best to laugh along. The boy snapped his fingers. “You’re all right. Ray, right? I’m Seth.”
Ray nodded, reaching to shake the boy’s hand and then leaning over to the Indian, who said in a soft voice, “My name’s U’melth Hamatsa-Xalmala, but it’s too hard for most to pronounce, so everyone just calls me Redfeather.”
“Where are you from, Redfeather?” Ray asked, taken aback by the incomprehensibly long name.
“The northwest coast of Canada—a village off Vancouver Island,” Redfeather said, drooping his head so that his braids nearly fell in his food. “I’m Kwakiutl, although here I’m just the Fire-Eater.”
“Yeah, I saw your picture on Conker’s sign. Are you the sword swallower?” Ray asked Seth.
Seth snapped his fingers again and pointed at Ray. “That’s right. The star performer,” he added with a smug smile.
“More like star imbecile,” Si muttered.
Seth opened his mouth to reply, but Ray quickly asked, “How did you all learn to do these things?”
While Seth glared at Si, Redfeather answered in his soft voice, “Some things you’re just born with.”
Then Seth added, smiling churlishly at Si, “And some of us work hard to be this amazing.”
Ray knew he was going to have a hard time remembering everybody—all these new names and strange faces. It seemed that the medicine show was made up of two groups. There were the performers: The pitchman and root doctor, Peg Leg Nel. The blind sharpshooter, Buck. Conker, the strongman, and Si, the escape artist. The snake dancer, Marisol. The two boys—Seth, the sword swallower, and Redfeather, the fire-eater.
And then there was the Everett family: Ox Everett, the engineer. His wife, Ma Everett. Eddie, the fireman, and his older brother, Shacks, the brakeman. They operated the
Ballyhoo
, fixed meals, and helped to assemble the show, as well as providing music.
The meal was unlike any that Ray had ever shared. In the breeze under the oak, Ray could scarcely finish his plate for simply enjoying the sense of being a part of something he could not quite name. What was it when people laughed and ate and shouted across the table to one another?
“Where are you from, Ray?” Ma Everett called across the din. “Not from around here, I can hear.”
The meal was slowly coming to an end and many of the
“What are those poles?” Ray asked Conker over the clank of silverware and loud conversation swimming about the table.
“Hmm? Oh, bottletrees,” he murmured.
“Salutations to our bear-rider,” Peg Leg Nel called from down the table.
Conker whispered, “Think Nel’s got you in mind for performing. What do you think of that?”
“I think he’s mistaken,” Ray said, noticing that Si was listening discreetly. “I’m no showman.”
Si glared at Ray from the opposite side of the table, sitting between Ox and Ma Everett. She sneered and lookedaway when their eyes met, returning to a book she was reading by her plate. Ray felt distinctly that she had something against him, but he wasn’t sure why. His eyes shifted to her hands, which he noticed were covered with red silk gloves.
With a quick scan, Ray realized that the blind cowboy, Buck, was not there.
A straw-haired boy sat down in the empty seat next to Ray, followed by an Indian boy with two sleek braids draped over his shoulders. Both wore dusty wool trousers and loose cotton shirts not much different than Ray’s, although theirs were less threadbare.
“Heard you were practicing a hootchy-kootchy routine for Marisol,” the straw-haired boy said, drawing snorts from the Indian boy at his side. “I should warn you we don’t have a burlesque act in this show. We’re wholesome entertainment.”
“Leave the boy alone,” Ma Everett said sharply.
“Just ribbing him, Ma,” he said. He gave Ray such a big smile that Ray decided it was best to laugh along. The boy snapped his fingers. “You’re all right. Ray, right? I’m Seth.”
Ray nodded, reaching to shake the boy’s hand and then leaning over to the Indian, who said in a soft voice, “My name’s U’melth Hamatsa-Xalmala, but it’s too hard for most to pronounce, so everyone just calls me Redfeather.”
“Where are you from, Redfeather?” Ray asked, taken aback by the incomprehensibly long name.
“The northwest coast of Canada—a village off Vancouver Island,” Redfeather said, drooping his head so that his braids nearly fell in his food. “I’m Kwakiutl, although here I’m just the Fire-Eater.”
“Yeah, I saw your picture on Conker’s sign. Are you the sword swallower?” Ray asked Seth.
Seth snapped his fingers again and pointed at Ray. “That’s right. The star performer,” he added with a smug smile.
“More like star imbecile,” Si muttered.
Seth opened his mouth to reply, but Ray quickly asked, “How did you all learn to do these things?”
While Seth glared at Si, Redfeather answered in his soft voice, “Some things you’re just born with.”
Then Seth added, smiling churlishly at Si, “And some of us work hard to be this amazing.”
Ray knew he was going to have a hard time remembering everybody—all these new names and strange faces. It seemed that the medicine show was made up of two groups. There were the performers: The pitchman and root doctor, Peg Leg Nel. The blind sharpshooter, Buck. Conker, the strongman, and Si, the escape artist. The snake dancer, Marisol. The two boys—Seth, the sword swallower, and Redfeather, the fire-eater.
And then there was the Everett family: Ox Everett, the engineer. His wife, Ma Everett. Eddie, the fireman, and his older brother, Shacks, the brakeman. They operated the
Ballyhoo
, fixed meals, and helped to assemble the show, as well as providing music.
The meal was unlike any that Ray had ever shared. In the breeze under the oak, Ray could scarcely finish his plate for simply enjoying the sense of being a part of something he could not quite name. What was it when people laughed and ate and shouted across the table to one another?
“Where are you from, Ray?” Ma Everett called across the din. “Not from around here, I can hear.”
The meal was slowly coming to an end and many of the
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