The Mercenary's Kiss. Pam Crooks

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      Elena pulled her own eyes away. She was accustomed to men staring at her—women and children, too, of all ages. It was part of performing in front of a curious public. She had learned to distance herself from it.

      “Your cape, Elena.”

      She turned and glanced at Toby, the freckle-faced young man who worked behind the scenes to help keep the show going smoothly and on schedule. A ventriloquist and a song-and-dance team would perform after the jugglers. She had some time yet before she’d take her turn in the ring.

      She smiled as he settled the satin fabric around her shoulders. She was inexplicably glad for the covering—not that she was shy wearing her red-spangled costume, which conformed to the shape of her body like a second skin, enabling her to move freely during her trick-riding routine. She still had the uncanny feeling the Mexican watched her. “Thanks.”

      “Good crowd tonight,” Toby commented. He removed his cap and ran his shirtsleeve over his sweaty forehead. He always labored hard for the show. Pop was lucky to have him.

      “Yes. The take will be high, I think.”

      “High enough for Doc?” He grinned, his expression teasing, but knowing.

      Her mouth softened. “Is it ever?”

      Pop’s obsession to sell his precious elixir, cases of it, was common knowledge among the troupe. The more money they took in, the happier Pop would be.

      But then, everyone knew their expenses were formidable. If Doc Charlie’s Miraculous Herbal Compound didn’t sell, the troupe didn’t eat. Their debts always came first.

      “Be careful out there, Elena.” Serious again, Toby pulled his cap back onto his head.

      She gave him a confident wink. “I always am.”

      He moved away from her, to the next chore that awaited him. Elena turned back to the ring, her fingers fastening the cape’s clasp. Only minutes to go.

      The first wave of apprehension went through her, as it always did before she performed. Even though she was only eighteen years of age, Pop considered her the show’s top act—the final one before his pitch. He depended on her to leave the audience so thrilled, so awe-struck, they were compelled to buy his elixir out of sheer gratitude for the pleasurable entertainment he’d given them.

      At last, it was time. Toby led a pair of white horses into the ring, both unsaddled and wearing red-feathered ornaments on their heads. Elena swept off her cape with a flourish, bowed, then bounded onto the lead horse’s back. With an ease she’d earned from countless hours of practice, she performed her routine of splits and cartwheels, tail and shoulder stands, until the crowd cheered in delight. She slid into the grand finale—a breathtaking choreography of somersaults and back flips on a half-dozen matching white horses.

      When the routine was complete, she dismounted in one fluid leap. The applause increased to an even higher crescendo. Exhilarated, she sank into a long, deep bow of acknowledgment.

      “Yes-sir-ree, ladies and gentlemen!” Pop’s booming voice soared over the applause. “An extravaganza the likes you’ll never see again! Doc Charlie’s Medicine Sho-o-w-w!”

      After another rise of cheers, the clapping gradually quieted. The audience knew the show hadn’t ended yet, that there was more to come. No one understood better than Pop that the townspeople had gathered under the tent not only to be entertained but to be cured of their ills, real or imagined.

      “Now, you fine folks realize that Doc Charlie’s Medicine Show has to move on. By dawn’s first light, we’ll be on the road west. So tonight is your one and only chance to be healed.”

      Cheers erupted again. Clearly Pop held the crowd transfixed.

      “I don’t claim that my elixir is a cure-all for everything. But I’m telling you true, Doc Charlie’s Miraculous Herbal Compound is made right from the secrets of the ancients.” He held up a bottle for them to see. “This elixir is good for three things. The kidneys, the stomach and the liver. And any singular disease rising there-from!”

      Elena had slipped from the ring with the horses to allow her father the audience’s complete attention. From her vantage point near one of the tent’s entrances, she watched him. She was proud of his honesty, his forthrightness. The people looked to him for hope. And health.

      Pop couldn’t afford the national advertising many of the patent medicine companies used to sell their products. He had only himself—and the herbal compound he had created—to draw in customers. Thus, his pitch had to be sterling and straightforward.

      Riveting.

      The audience was indeed riveted to his oratory about a man cured of tapeworms from Doc Charlie’s Miraculous Herbal Compound. Pop always gave specifics. He revealed the man’s name, his occupation, his hometown. Even the number of children he had.

      And the crowd believed.

      “Again, I tell you true, ladies and gentlemen. There is not a greater pain remedy on earth than my herbal compound. There is no sore it will not heal, no ache it will not subdue. Why, you can even use it to treat your horses and cattle!”

      A collective murmur of surprise rippled through the tent.

      “Yes-sir-ree! One dollar for a bottle. That’s all, ladies and gentlemen. One dollar. Isn’t that a sweet price to pay for an elixir this miraculous?”

      Men dipped into their pockets. Women reached for their handbags.

      “You won’t have a chance to buy this wonderful cure ever again. No-sir-ree! We’ll be gone by dawn, so stock up now! Buy two bottles. Three or four, if you please.”

      Along with the show’s other performers, Elena took her place at a tent entrance, cases of Doc Charlie’s Miraculous Herbal Compound stacked at her feet.

      “Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! One dollar a bottle! That’s right. Just one dollar!”

      The rush of footsteps drowned out Pop’s voice. The wooden benches cleared and the aisles filled with people eager to buy their own supply of elixir. Elena had all she could do to keep up with the stream of customers, each waving dollar bills in her face.

      Pop had done it again.

      Toby dropped the last of the leather bags into the heap piled in Elena’s arms. Her muscles strained with the weight of the night’s take, but it was a strain she gladly endured.

      “Sure you don’t need some help, Elena?” Toby asked, picking up scattered crates once filled with elixir.

      “No, thanks. The show ran long tonight, and you have plenty of chores to do yet.”

      “All right, then. See you in the morning.”

      Giving him an answering smile, Elena stepped from beneath the canvas into the night. Pop was busy with the crew as they labored to take down the tent; he wouldn’t be free to count their money for another couple of hours yet.

      The crowd had long since headed for home. The field where they’d staged the show was empty except for the pieces of trash СКАЧАТЬ