How the Stars did Fall Page 17

  “I don’t believe you,” the colonel said.

  “That’s the truth. All of it is the truth.”

  “Son, my men stopped you on the road to San Francisco accompanied by a pair of Indians. Did you see any regular citizens traversing that road?”

  “No.”

  “Of course not. Because we’re in the middle of a war. It follows that only participants in that war would linger around the environs of the battles. And since you and your companions are not part of my regiment it is perfectly within my right to detain you under suspicion of abetting the enemy. A suspicion any judge of this land or any other would corroborate.”

  “You may be right.”

  “Damn right I’m right. But your problems are only compounding. What that man in San Francisco is doing is high treason and the order has come down from the President himself that he ought to be hanged for his crime, him and all who help him. Now if you follow my reasoning, that means I have every right to strap you up to a tree before the day is over. God knows my men could use the distraction.”

  Faraday thought for a moment about what dying hung from a platform would be like. What that darkness would feel like as the last breath of his life escaped him. Who would come to find him on the other side? Which direction would he be taken? Up towards some apical God sitting straddle-legged on a throne of light or down towards the freezing nether regions of the universe where all light is consumed and thought destroyed. While Faraday sat pensive, the colonel uncorked a bottle of whiskey and poured some into a glass.

  “Drink this.”

  Faraday took a swig without even looking up at the colonel as if all earthly concerns no longer troubled him.

  A quail bird that had been roasting over the fire finished cooking. The colonel took the meat and placed it over a cutting board, and taking a bowie knife from his belt he cut the bird up until it lay all lacerated on the cutting board, no longer looking like anything that had ever lived. And he offered some of the meat to Faraday, who took it gladly, licking his fingers after every morsel. The meal ended with Faraday brought out of the lodge in handcuffs by the colonel and told he would be hanged by the end of the week.

  Faraday was taken to the little prison that Moon and Tenhorse already occupied. Together they retreated to the back of the cell, where the hay piled up high and a smell of rotten fruit clung to the air. They sat in the dark with only the sunlight coming through a hole in the door to mark the passage of time.

  At night after all the lights had been blown out the whole fort lay in a deathly silence, as if all life for a moment had paused to countenance itself. To take a measure of its own worth. Then a wailing broke the silence. Anguish of the maimed. What began as one scream became many as the injured moaned and squirmed atop their cots, the morphine no longer able to mask their pain. The wailing woke the doctor, who now made a midnight round, administering further doses of morphine to those in pain. After a while of the doctor moving about, the wailing subsided and Faraday found he could sleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was moving day. The storekeeper, whose name was Jason, had made all the preparations. A wagon loaded with provisions waited for them outside the store and all the girls had already climbed onto it. Olivia smoothed her dress with her hand and looked back at the store. Inside she could see Jason gesticulating at his brother-in-law, explaining this or that about the management of the store. Olivia had pressed Jason about who had said she would come but his answer had been for her to wait. That she would see. The most he had revealed was that this person had once worked in a carnival to the south and that he could take them there. And he promised he could get Olivia and her friends all the work they needed once they got to the carnival.

  So far, Jason was living up to his promise. He took care of the girls, giving them food and shelter and now procuring transportation. What surprised Olivia was that he had not demanded an explanation for the floating glass. Had not even asked. But when Olivia volunteered an answer anyway, stating emphatically that it was only a trick her father had taught her, Jason took it as an offense. That was no trick, he said. Then he walked away. He drove the wagon himself, sitting atop it like the protruding uraeus of an Egyptian monarch.

  They found the carnival straddling a little agrarian town midway between Los Angeles and San Diego. The whole thing consisted of a few wagons strewn about, painted on with symbols and advertisements. Jason parked the wagon and climbed down from his perch.

  “I’ll do the talking,” he said to all of the girls at once.

  “Not sure I trust that man to speak for us,” Molly said.

  “He knows these people. Just wait.”

  So they remained in the wagon, fidgeting in their seats, the space cramped such that each girl could smell the sweat of the other, their shoulders and thighs touching. Then came a knock on the side of the wagon. Olivia opened the door and came down, holding on to Jason’s hand for balance.

  “Luke, this here’s Olivia,” Jason said.

  Luke, the circus master, was a clean-shaven man with a gentle demeanor. When he saw Olivia he bent forward and took her hand, holding it for a moment.

  “The pleasure is mine,” he said. “Jason tells me you have a unique talent.”

  “I believe I do,” Olivia said.

  “Will you show me, then? That tent over there is all yours if you can do what Jason just described to me.”

  The tent in question was a flimsy green thing, like a great nose rag. It still bore the marks of its previous occupant. Symbols painted onto the tarp. An eye wreathed in feathers on one side and on the other a pinecone attached to a staff, and in the middle, in grand lettering, his name and seal. H.R. Mecklenburg.

  “You can change all that if you’d like,” Luke said, referring to the signage.

  The tent was empty but Luke had a few of the workers bring in furniture and other accoutrements. They carried in on their shoulders a square table of dark mahogany and matching chairs and panels of polished oak and one strange contraption Olivia had never before seen though it looked vaguely like a photograph machine.

  “Is that a camera?” Olivia asked.

  “Oh no. That’s a magic lantern. You’re free to use it if you’d like. Now, what is it that you want to show me?”

  All exited the tent except Luke and Olivia.

  “I need a glass…”

  “Of course,” Luke said, “hold on.” He went out and brought the glass of water himself and set it down on the mahogany table. Olivia performed her trick just as she had done for Jason. The circus master sat incredulous at the spectacle before him. After Olivia released the cup, Luke got up and felt out the shape of his chin with his hand, the skin smooth and baby-like.

  “How’d you do that?” he asked.

  “I cannot say,” Olivia said.

  “If you want to work in my carnival, you can.”

  “Alright. Very fine strings.”

  “I didn’t see you putting up any strings.”

  “That’s the secret.”

  “Huh. Keep your secrets, then. It’s a good trick, I’ll give you that. I reckon these other girls come with the package?”

  “They do.”

  “Sixty percent is my cut. That’s a little higher than I would usually take but that’s a lot of mouths to feed and they’ll have to work, too. Board is included.”

  “We’ll take it.”

  Jason showed Olivia and the girls to the place where they would sleep. Another tent, this one packed with beds and little cupboards and chests and unlit lanterns and all of the personal belongings of the carnival workers. They walked on over to a section of the tent that had no beds in it. An empty space.

  “Hold on,” Jason said.

  The girls stood uneasily waiting. Jason returned moments later with other boys, pulling more beds into the tent and placing them side by side with the others. Then they brought bedsheets and blankets and fastened them to the mattresses.

  “We don’t have anywhere for you to pu
t your stuff. Gotta buy your own dresser or the like. But the beds aren’t bad for sleeping. Not bad at all.”

  “I thank you,” Olivia said.

  Jason tipped his hat and began to remove himself from the tent when he turned back.

  “Dinner’s at two,” he said. “Supper at nine. Breakfast at ten. And if you need anything, just holler.”

  During dinner the whole carnival ground to a halt and everyone found a seat for themselves at one of the long tables. Then they formed a line for the hot food that had been prepared and set down on the ground in enormous steel vats. Enough stew for a battalion. Each person ladled out their own food into their own ceramic bowl and took a slice of bread from a basket. It was a noisy meal. The workers spoke loudly to each other in groups of four or five. Little pockets of conversation, islands separated by gender, rank or trade. Then she heard someone call her name. A man’s voice. She looked up and saw Luke waving his arms about at the other table, summoning her. Olivia did not want to sit with them so she pretended for a moment that she did not understand the gesture.

  “Go on,” Molly said.

  So she did, making the journey over to the other table and finding that a seat across from Luke was empty, and there she sat with her bowl, studying the men’s faces as intently as they studied hers. Jason was there and Olivia felt slightly comforted at that.

  “I just told these fellas about what it is you do,” Luke said. “They don’t believe me.”

  “They can come over to our tent later and see for themselves.”

  “Aye, they will. It is a better act than Mecklenburg ever put on. Should be a hit.”

  After that remark the table was silent as if someone had mentioned a dead family member, the men taking a sudden and intense interest in their bowls and their cups. Jason broke the silence.

  “So Olivia, where’d you learn how to do these tricks? You look real young.”

  “Where does it matter where she learned them?” Luke asked. “You needn’t answer him. Everyone here has something in the past they don’t want to talk about.”

  “It’s alright. My father taught me.”

  “He was an illusionist?”

  “Yes.”

  “And where is he now?”

  “Dead.”

  “How’d he die?”

  “That’s enough out of you, Jason. Leave the girl alone. In fact, you can go on and finish your soup by the stables, where you ought to be working.”

  Jason stared for a moment at Luke, then he picked up his bowl and walked away.

  “Careful, boss,” one of the men said. “He might run away again you talk to him like that.” They all laughed at that.

  “That’s not proper talk at the table and with a guest no less. It’s time we stop coddling him for fear of him disappearing again,” Luke said.

  “He disappeared?” Olivia asked.

  “More than once. Just vanished. Comes back a few months later looking like some dirty wild thing. Never gives us any explanation. In fact, he refuses to speak of it at all. Doesn’t even say sorry. But he’s a good worker when he’s not mouthing off or disappearing.”

  After dinner Olivia took a piece of paper and wrote out those things she required for her act and handed it to Jason, who read it and dutifully went off to procure the items. Olivia spent the rest of the evening holed up in Mecklenburg’s old tent with Molly. The two of them ruffled through a storehouse of things that had been left behind. In one chest, she found various curious utensils. A silver paten, a bronze triquetra, a knife with a black handle, a wooden chalice leafed in gold on the inside, and a white-handled sickle, its sharp edge still carrying a strong smell of herbs and soil.

  “I’ve seen things like this before,” Molly said.

  In another chest they found many pieces of rectangular glass, each one bearing a hand-painted illustration. All kinds of things were depicted on these slides. Grotesque monsters, horned demons, skulls and crossed bones. A few of them had whole scenes painted on of men in wigs and old-fashioned dress in front of some palace or other. Very French. Deep in the chest Olivia found a few that bore images of women naked and in baths and a few that showed these women together embracing as lovers. Then in a drawer she found a few black-and-white photographs and daguerreotypes the same size as the slides. Real photographs of people and places far from the West. Of cities Olivia could not identify and beaches and the inside of a restaurant, the diners frozen eternal, their forks still hanging in midair. These slides Olivia carried over to the back of the tent, where the magic lantern had been set up. She examined the machine. A white piece of cloth had been hung from the tent to serve as the screen onto which the lantern would project its image. Olivia positioned the machine such that its aperture lined up with the screen, and taking one of the scariest slides she could find she inserted it inside. And while she stood over it, she realized that no light source had been provided and the lantern could not be turned on.

  By nightfall Ah Toy and Molly had come into the tent and helped to clean the place up and it was now almost ready for opening the next day. When Jason arrived laden with those things Olivia required, she exhaled in relief.

  “I want people to feel like they’re stepped into a different world, almost. Or at least a place of mystery and antiquity.”

  She wanted the tent partitioned in three. Visitors would move through each partition in order, starting with the one where Molly would welcome the visitors and act as their guide. After that they would move into the middle section of the tent, where the magic lantern would be put to work. And for the final act, they would enter into the sanctum sanctorum, where Olivia would levitate the glass and leave the guests terrified and ecstatic and happy to part with fifty whole cents for the experience. Everyone thought the plan brilliant, but they did not know how to get the magic lantern to function.

  So Jason went out and returned with a Drummond light that he attached to the machine. Then he asked that all of the candles be blown out and when he turned the thing on it was pitch black in the tent and the incandescent brightness of the Drummond light brought to life the shimmering image in the slide. An apparition of waves and mist, an eyeless face, ancient in its bearing as if it had not been born from the imagination of man but carried up from the vents inside the earth, a terrible and malicious vapor.

  This vision made Ah Toy and Molly and even Olivia shield their eyes for a moment in fear despite knowing the apparition’s origin and unreality. The novelty of the machine was such that it made Olivia believe for a moment that the thing was not a trick of light but something real ventured over to this realm from another. It stood over them for only a few moments before Jason turned the Drummond light off and the whole tent fell into complete darkness.

  That test finished, everyone went about their business. Olivia had a quick supper and then retired to the sleeping quarters. On the way she passed by other tents, other laborers making their own preparations. In one of these three women walked sultry upon a stage and grabbed on to a pole that had been erected there. They wore little clothing, only a few straps of satin covering their most intimate parts. Olivia paused to admire their graceful movement but soon noticed that another person looked on at the same sight through a flap on the opposite side of the tent. Olivia squinted and could just make out Jason’s face. Then he saw her too, catching her eyes in his and withdrawing in embarrassment.

  All through the night, rain fell in torrents upon the tarps, waking Olivia, and for a long while she lay with her eyes closed, listening. It sounded like many pebbles being thrown down from the sky. Soon the repetitive sound became familiar to Olivia, and her mind ceased to regard it with interest and she fell back into sleep. But her sleep was not peaceful, for she shook in bed and then she dreamt. Nightmares out of the deep. A leviathan she saw, hideous and vast, breaching the skin of a sea and rising, borne up by a pair of wings that threatened to block out the sun. She screamed at the sight, a high banshee’s call that woke the whole tent. After that, Olivia could not
return to her slumber. She feared what other visions awaited her once she closed her eyes.

  “Have an anodyne to help you sleep,” Ah Toy said. “You will feel your mind numb and you will forget what it is to dream.”

  The medicine resided in a little opaque bottle and Olivia took it and uncorked it and let the liquid fall into her throat. It tasted bitter yet fresh like biting into a piece of raw endive. At first she felt nothing. Then a sort of lightness propagated up from her spine into the base of her head and her extremities tingled a bit and she began to blink rapidly, until she could no longer hold her eyelids up and sleep conquered her completely.

  When she awoke, she felt as if she had been out for only a moment, such was the stillness of her slumber. But her eyes contradicted her, for the tent that had previously been dark but for the light of a few candles now could not contain the sunlight outside. The flaps that guarded the entrance into the tent had been fixed open and it shone brightly. Olivia had to shield her eyes for a moment, giving her pupils time to recalibrate themselves. Once the light no longer smarted her eyes, she let her arm fall to her side and sat up on the bed. The tent was empty save for the person that sat next to Olivia, a girl in a dress, holding up a newspaper that covered half her body.

  Olivia audibly cleared her throat. The girl folded her newspaper. It was Molly.

  “By God, you’re awake,” Molly said.

  “What time is it?”

  “Half past eleven last I checked. We thought you were out for good. Well, some of us did. What did Ah Toy give you, anyway? I think you best not take any more of her tonics. The woman’s old and raving.”

  “Whatever it was seems it did its job. At the same time I don’t feel as though I slept as much as I did. In fact, I feel as if I hadn’t slept much at all. I should get up and have some coffee, see if I can get the lethargy out of my limbs.”

  “I believe you. It’s unnatural, to sleep with the help of these tonics.”