Heart of Ice (Deadman Series Book 6) Page 4

  “What? Are you snoopin’ on yer betters?” she snarled, both angry and frightened by what the little freak might have overheard.

  Lenny stammered, “I was caught in the privy, ma’am, that’s all. I’m late, though…gotta go!”

  He took off and disappeared behind the burlap curtains masking the stage as Lenore stared after him with malice in her heart.

  Chapter Six

  Ousted!

  Lenny shivered. He had been listlessly stirring the pot of flesh-flavored broth while trying to decide whether he should eat the brew or not. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help but think of the young man who had died to supply this meal and found himself compulsively picking the boy’s body hair out of the soup.

  Although it felt like his belly was in close contact with his spine, Lenny’s appetite was ruined… all he wanted to do was sleep. He had been thinking about that old rug he bought two years earlier, back when he was a renowned actor and living in high-cotton.

  Groaning, the dwarf stood up and bent over the old soup pot. Knowing he couldn’t eat his hard-earned meal and sickened by the smell of it, he wrapped his coat sleeve around the handle and carried the simmering concoction down to the river.

  He poured the contents into the water, rinsed the pot as well as possible and put it down in the snow to cool. Remembering the fishing line he had poked into the river a few hours earlier, he walked over to where the stick still lay in the hard-packed snow. Lenny noticed that it was in a different location from where he had left it.

  Heart pounding in excitement, he grasped the stick to pull it out and met resistance. Jerking with all his might, Lenny grinned fiercely as a shiny brown trout flopped onto the shore; he picked up an ice-encrusted rock and pounded its head in. After gutting his catch, he refilled the cook pot and went back inside his ice-cave to cook dinner.

  It took all the patience he possessed but Lenny managed to cook the raw out of the fish meat, then set to eating it with gusto. He tried as hard as he could to save part of the treat for later but the trout was too small and he was so very hungry. He ate every morsel, drank part of the broth and then forced himself to cover the pot and stash what was left in a snow bank.

  He was extremely tired but he threaded a little more gristle from the remaining thigh bone on his fishing line and poked his pole back under the shelf of ice in the river.

  Then Lenny walked back into his little cave, pulled his one blanket up to his chin, fell back down into a heavy doze… and dreamed.

  *

  Two and a half months had passed since Lenny overheard Lenore and Jim Bantam plotting murder but, so far, all was well. The circus had completed its tour of the Chicago area and was now making its cumbersome way toward Little Rock.

  As usual, while on the road, Lenny was helping Hildy with Alex the lion, Daisy the bear, a disgruntled black and white pony named Pincher for its habit of biting the humans who fed it, two chimpanzees, and their small troupe of dancing dogs. He enjoyed feeding the bear, the pony, and the dogs; he rather liked the chimps but not their tendency to throw their own waste at him when he least expected it.

  While he loved the old bear, Lenny had never gotten over his fear of the lion and had yet to gather up the nerve to feed it. He felt its wild golden eyes following him intently and cringed in horror when its long, pink tongue lolled out of a fang-filled maw, curling sensuously with saliva whenever he drew near.

  Under normal circumstances, Hildy took pity on him and fed the lion herself but this morning she was lying abed, having wrenched her back bucking straw bales the previous evening. Lenny didn’t mind; he figured he could stand far enough from Alexander’s cage to throw the lion its daily share of raw meat without risking a claw or fang’s fiery kiss.

  Whistling as he fed the dogs, the bear and the grinning chimps, Lenny was thinking about what Eddie and Niles had told him earlier at breakfast. Speaking softly so as not to be overheard, Eddie had leaned in close and whispered, “Sounds like the old man is fading fast…”

  Lenny frowned. “What old man?”

  “Why, Billy Bantam, of course!” Eddie huffed. “Looks like the old Lunger is breathing ’iz last.”

  “Wonder if the Trollop is up to ’er tricks,” Niles added.

  They looked over at Lenore Mendoza sitting close to Jim Bantam, eating the toast and scrambled eggs the cook had fixed for the crew.

  Much to Lenny’s dismay, Lenore seemed to feel their collective gaze; looking up from her plate, her heavy gaze met theirs with defiant hostility. Ever since Lenny had overheard Lenore’s murderous intentions, he had kept a careful watch on Mr. Billy’s health. Unfortunately, Lenore had kept her watchful eye on him as well.

  Lenny sat back with a sigh. He had never really thought about how old the brothers were but, thinking about it now, he realized that William must be in his late fifties, at least. His younger sibling wasn’t quite as old as Billy but he was no spring chicken either.

  The crew knew that Bill Bantam had been sick for a long time but hearing Eddie’s news made Lenny’s heart weigh heavy in his chest. He knew that William Bantam treasured his acting talents but he also realized that Lenore had managed to turn Jim’s admiration into mistrust and dislike.

  Lenny wondered if he should leave the Bantam Brother’s Circus after all and join up with the London Playhouse; an offer of employment had been extended one night while they were still performing in Chicago. Much to Lenny’s amazement, a dapper gentleman in a black, silk suit had handed him an engraved invitation to join the Shakespearean acting company based in New York for a prolonged engagement.

  He hadn’t given the offer a second thought at the time but now, seeing the evil gleam in Lenore’s eyes, he thought maybe it was time to take his leave, especially if his friends’ intelligence was true.

  Continuing his chores, Lenny gave the bear its usual gruel of meat and oats, threw the horse some hay, filled the dogs’ buckets with last night’s scraps from the kitchen, and fed the chimps some leftover, slightly rotten fruit.

  Now it was time to feed Alexander, the “Not So Great.” The cat had climbed to its feet in anticipation of feeding time and it chuffed in impatience at Lenny’s timid approach. Keeping his eyes on the big cat, he grabbed chunks of meat from the metal pan in his left hand.

  Cooing softly, Lenny whispered, “Here kitty, kitty. Be a good kitty…now, for your dinner.”

  Suddenly, the smell of lilacs and licorice overwhelmed his senses as he was seized from behind in a strong grip. A bag was dropped down over his head and he wriggled and screamed out loud in terror as he heard the gate latch on the lion’s cage screech open.

  “Hurry up before they catch us!” Lenore hissed.

  His hands were pulled behind his back and bound with a scratchy piece of rope. Lenny screamed in horror, then felt a heavy fist clip him hard across the face and he tasted blood in his mouth.

  “Help!!” Lenny yelled frantically as he was tossed onto the wooden floor of the lion’s cage and the iron-barred door slammed shut behind him.

  “Let’s see you blab now, you little monster!” Lenore growled and then he was left alone with the man-eater known as Alexander.

  Lenny whimpered in fear. He was alone with the lion but he had no way to see where it was or find an escape with his head in a bag and his hands tied. Fearing that, at any moment, he would feel the beast’s deadly fangs latch onto his head or buttocks, Lenny howled in alarm.

  Hungry drool suddenly issued from the lion’s mouth, an instinctual response to the death cries of any small animal when faced with a predator such as it. Alexander reached out and swiped one paw across the small creature’s back, licking its chops as the little figure screamed in fear and pain.

  Lenny knew this was the end. Because of their smell, the animals were always kept as far away from the rest of the circus as possible so Lenny knew he could scream his head off but no one would hear him. He wept in anguish.

  The lion had hit him a glancing blow, more in curios
ity he thought than actual aggression, but one of its claws had found its mark on Lenny’s lower back. The long scratch was bleeding freely and he knew that the smell of his own life juice would soon send the lazy lion into a feeding frenzy.

  Fortunately for the dwarf, Hildy had heard Jim Bantam and Lenore as they passed by her wagon; she had been lying on her cot, listening as they made their last minute plans. Getting out of bed—wincing as her back muscles screamed in agony—she hid behind the chimp’s enclosure, watching as Lenny was thrown into the lion’s cage. A moment later, the couple hustled away giggling like naughty children.

  Hildy sighed. Although the lion was known as a man-eater, Alexander was also very old… and lazy. Most of the “mean” had been drummed out of him by now, but still Hildy thought she should hurry up as there was no telling what the beast would do with live bait so close at hand.

  Lenny was screaming so loud that he didn’t hear the cage door open or the full bucket of raw meat placed just behind the distracted lion. So when his arm was seized in a gentle grip, he squealed in panic. Then he was hauled, none too gently, out of the cage and the hood was pulled away.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!” he sobbed. “Hildy, you saved me, thank you, thank you… Oh my God!”

  Hildy looked down and gestured for him to follow her into her wagon. She lifted him up, stepped inside, and closed and tied off the back flap. Lenny was still shaking like a leaf, wiping snot and tears off his face, but he stared about at the animal-keeper’s wagon with interest.

  The place was as neat as a pin and smelled of wildflowers; a large, cracked vase held a bouquet and filled the air inside the stuffy enclosure with an astringent yet sweet odor.

  Hildy poured Lenny a cup of strong black coffee and then sat down at her little table and began scratching out words on a piece of paper. Lenny sipped his coffee, watching and trying to settle his nerves after his scare.

  He was angry. Knowing just how far Lenore and, apparently, Jim Bantam would go to take over the circus, he feared for the older brother’s safety. Suddenly convinced that Billy was in mortal danger, Lenny said, “I need to go warn William.”

  Hildy looked up and put one long finger over her lips, then started scribbling again. Finally, just as Lenny was about to take his leave, she finished her letter and handed it over for him to read.

  Lenny, she wrote.

  Listen careful. People think cuz I can’t talk that I don’t hear nuth’n neither, but it ain’t so. I got my ear to the ground—always.

  You need to leave now, k? Here is some cash for ya, sorry, but I don’t got no more than this. I know that, by now, your wagon has been pilfered and is locked up tite. You can’t go back there —never agin.

  Old Billy is all but dead. His brother and that trollop done killed him, and now they’re after you, too.

  Yer a good man and don’t need to die—not for a los cause like this un. Here me?

  Now go, Lenny, go afor they kill you!

  Fondly; Hildy

  Lenny looked up from the hastily-scrawled letter and studied the old animal-keeper’s face. For the first time, he realized just how smart Hildy was and that, although she was old and beat up, she must have been beautiful in her youth.

  She stared into his eyes, handed him two pieces of gold - approximately 20 dollars’ worth - and tossed her head at him to leave.

  When he hesitated, she stood up. Lenny saw that it took a tremendous amount of will power on her part, but Hildy pointed to the back flap and said, “NnnggO! OW!”

  Lenny fled.

  Chapter Seven

  Let Us “Prey”…

  Lenny was lying half awake, gazing at the orange glow the coals in his little campfire cast on the walls of his ice-cave. He was remembering his mad dash away from the circus and the people he had thought were his friends.

  When he first left Hildy’s wagon, he had run down the road as fast as his feet would carry him; then he paused and looked back. He had a little cash in a money-belt wrapped around his belly, along with the bit of gold Hildy had just given him. But all the rest of his hard-earned gold and silver was in a strongbox in his wagon.

  If he were to start anew, he needed that cash. If he could get his hands on it, he would be able to ride a coach to New York and have enough left over to set up house close to the theater. Or maybe even go and visit with that fella, P.T. Barnum, who had started up a show of oddities known as The American Museum.

  Looking around at the aspen, birch and alder trees that grew in abundance along the road, he headed into the thick undergrowth and made his way back to where the traveling circus was stopped in the middle of the road. Keeping low, Lenny peered through a thicket and saw that his wagon was in the process of being ransacked.

  Just about everyone was in on it, including his friends Eddie, Niles and Roxanne. The back door was wide open and all of his earthly possessions—his lovely bedspread, his table, his silk curtains, his teapot, even his mirror—were being carted off and distributed amongst the members, circus style. Lenny saw Marty Wilson, the costume designer, carry out an armload of his beautiful new clothes and he saw two of the stagehands get into fist-to-cuffs over one of his top hats.

  Lenny’s heart sank. He didn’t know what kind of explanation Lenore and Jim Bantam had given as to his own sudden disappearance but—as the owners always said “the show must go on” —Lenny’s prized possessions were now community property.

  Lenny scratched at a tingly bite on his upper arm and grimaced at a new crop of fleas that had taken up residence on his person. Although Hildy did a pretty good job keeping the animals clean, it was a known fact that there were twice as many fleas as animals in the circus and he had proof of that fact.

  Sighing in rage and mourning, Lenny slunk away. He hadn’t gone too far when he heard a distinctive whistle; the circus was on the move again.

  Knowing he didn’t have nearly enough money to make it to New York, Lenny eventually bought a donkey and made his way back to Kansas City, Missouri. He had seen the flyers plastered all over town before the circus left: Wagon Trains, Agents, Teamsters, Oxen and Mules available for hire or lease! CALIFORNIA OR BUST!

  And now, here he was… stuck with what was left of the Donner/Reed party, about to starve to death. Sitting up suddenly with a thrill of alarm, Lenny strained his ears. Holding his breath, he listened intently, hearing the sharp crack of a branch and a flurry of whispered conversation.

  Knowing that the worst was about to happen, Lenny reached down and grabbed the small travel bag he kept at the ready. Sticking his head out of the small enclosure, he peered about and saw that, although the sky was clearing, the latest winter storm had buried the landscape in another five or six inches of new snow. His heart felt pinched with fear. He knew that snow would slow him down but, then again, maybe it would also slow his enemies as well.

  He skidded down to the water’s edge and made his way as quickly as possible to an ice-covered log that had fallen across the river. Lenny straddled the log and scooted his body across the long tree trunk. Five times he came to a needle-covered branch and had to hold on for dear life while he navigated around it, but he was almost to the other side when a pack of teenaged boys showed up by his camp.

  He paused for a moment, watching, as they stuck their heads inside the ice-cave and then milled about the little beach. He saw one of the boys pick up his cook pot and knock the frozen chunk of fish broth out onto the ground with the butt of a gun.

  Lenny’s belly convulsed wretchedly in fear and hunger. That was mine, he thought angrily. I worked hard for that fish! Then he saw one of the boys point in his direction and shout, “There he is! Come on, let’s get that varmint!”

  The kids saw the log he was perched on and took off running as Lenny crawled as fast as he could to the other side. He lost his balance about three feet shy of the opposite beach but managed to make it to shore even as the boys slowly gained on him.

  Groaning as the shock of the cold water penetrated his clothes and
skin, Lenny grabbed a hold of roots and branches to haul himself up into the woods on the other side of the river. He stumbled through the snow and ice, gasping out loud in agony but, despite his haste, he heard the youngsters shouting behind him.

  “There he is! Shoot him, goddammit!”

  At the same moment, a tree trunk shattered into bits right in front of his eyes; he jinked to his right but he was too slow. The next instant, he felt as though he was slugged by an inhumanly strong fist and the back of his thigh went numb. Lenny realized he’d been shot.

  The pain that came then was so strong it took his breath away. It rose in hot waves, turning his guts to jelly and making his head feel as light and insubstantial as the clouds that sailed across the pale blue sky above his head.

  He tried to run but his lower body seemed to be rooted in place. He bent at the waist and vomited even as the boys who hunted him drew closer. They were hushed in awe of what they had done but one of them giggled shrilly. “Looks like there’s fresh stew on for dinner, boys!” he said but the other teens were staring past Lenny with their eyes open wide in fear.

  “Shut up, Oscar,” Miles Manning hissed. “Say… what is that?”

  Lenny felt the dire need to lie down in the snow and sleep but the alarm in his attacker’s voice caused him to face forward and peer into the icy thicket of fallen branches, shrubs and dead trees.

  Grimacing, Lenny knew he must be out of his mind with the pain of his gunshot wound for he saw something approaching that his brain could not comprehend. A tall figure—so tall it dwarfed old Tom Kidwell—was slowly making its way through the frozen underbrush. It was as tall as a tree and as thin as a stick—no creature alive could be so narrow; it defied common sense.

  It carried a vast array of antlers on its head and its long arms hung like gnarled branches past its knees. However, all of those impressions faded away in Lenny’s consciousness because of the creature’s eyes; they shone like two ungodly lanterns filled with the brightest fire, smoldering in shades of orange, ochre and blood-red. Those huge lamp-like eyes were so bright they cast lurid light onto the snow below it and painted the surrounding forest scarlet.