and tapped his cigar into the ashtray. "I had a wonderful dinner this evening. Oh, not here--sorry to have missed the event. In Boston." His face fairly glowed for an instant at the memory. Suddenly, without warning, his eyes turned steely and his voice took an edge. "Dammit, Lotto, you haven't made money from this outfit in seven years--"
"Six," Gluck corrected him mildly.
"And you never toured the big gardens--why, you're not even in Boston Gardens tonight. You could have recouped some of your losses!"
Lotto's thick pale face assumed a look both wistful and proud. "For once I will tell you a trade secret, John. Madison Square Garden is a concrete nightmare. It is heated by steam and it is cramped and hard. The stalls down below are humid and the air is bad. There iss no room around the stage to walk the animals, and they musst all be brought up at the lassst minute, through many changes of temperature. My animals are like fine wines. If I had taken them in there, I would have lost all of them years ago--as you did, John. As you did."
North stood silent for a moment. "The Cincinnati fire in '42 took the better part of my dinos," he said quietly. "But I saw they were a lost cause even then. The public doesn't mind leaky canvas and buckets of rain, they don't mind dust and noise and mosquitoes, but . . . they hate to be eaten. They hate to be dinner. Havana was the real end. Bad news and disaster everywhere." North turned to Peter. "You aren't old enough to remember it all, boy. Some called it Challenger's curse. Preachers called the dinos abominations. It's bad press to claim Darwin is a fool and dinos and other extinct animals never existed, and then along comes Challenger . . ."
"Yes, yes," Gluck said. "Spare me, John. You smell money in it somewhere."
John Ringling North shook his head. "Lotto, I'll lose my shirt for at least two years. I've already got debts coming out of my ears."
"My life, my life," Gluck murmured, and delicately wiped a tear from one eye with a pudgy finger.
North admired this gesture with the proper respect: a parsimonious smile. "Final offer, old friend," he said.
"You will not have the beasts," Gluck said softly.
North's gaze sharpened. "Rumors . . ." he murmured. "True?"
"Except of course for old Baruma. She will stay in Tampa."
Anthony would not return Peter's look. Silence for several seconds, as North and Gluck stared at each other, one-time adversaries, as ruthless as they ever came; and then:
"What would I do with them, anyway?" North said, examining his cigar. "Put them out to pasture? Got enough horses and elephants freeloading already."
"One last thing," Gluck said, and stood.
"What?" North asked.
"You will park my Pullman permanently at the headquarters, and I will come and stay whenever I wish, for as long as I wish."
"Of course." North waved the cigar at this trifle.
"And you will listen to everything Vince Shellabarger tells you, about keeping Baruma alive and healthy. No touring for her, no Madison Square Garden, no steam heat--okay?" "Done." He waved the cigar again and winked at Peter.
"Then she is all yours: a dinosaur circus with only one dinosaur. And I keep my collection of memorabilia, of posters and artifactss, paintings and photo albums and costumes."
"It's a fine collection," North said. "I'd be proud to add it to my own. I'd even up the deal a little."
"I willkeep my collection," Gluck insisted.
North tapped his cane sharply on the floor of the railroad car, smiled like the very devil, and said, "Done."
Gluck and North shook hands.
Joey came out with a bottle and several glasses on a tray. North stayed for a few minutes to share a brandy with Gluck and Anthony and regale them all with tales of the fine dinner he had had.
Finally, after Gluck's brandy ran out, and Peter felt himself drifting into an exhausted gray haze, North left and he was able to climb into the made-up couch-bed. The couch's dark red tuck-and-roll leather squeaked beneath the stiff
"Six," Gluck corrected him mildly.
"And you never toured the big gardens--why, you're not even in Boston Gardens tonight. You could have recouped some of your losses!"
Lotto's thick pale face assumed a look both wistful and proud. "For once I will tell you a trade secret, John. Madison Square Garden is a concrete nightmare. It is heated by steam and it is cramped and hard. The stalls down below are humid and the air is bad. There iss no room around the stage to walk the animals, and they musst all be brought up at the lassst minute, through many changes of temperature. My animals are like fine wines. If I had taken them in there, I would have lost all of them years ago--as you did, John. As you did."
North stood silent for a moment. "The Cincinnati fire in '42 took the better part of my dinos," he said quietly. "But I saw they were a lost cause even then. The public doesn't mind leaky canvas and buckets of rain, they don't mind dust and noise and mosquitoes, but . . . they hate to be eaten. They hate to be dinner. Havana was the real end. Bad news and disaster everywhere." North turned to Peter. "You aren't old enough to remember it all, boy. Some called it Challenger's curse. Preachers called the dinos abominations. It's bad press to claim Darwin is a fool and dinos and other extinct animals never existed, and then along comes Challenger . . ."
"Yes, yes," Gluck said. "Spare me, John. You smell money in it somewhere."
John Ringling North shook his head. "Lotto, I'll lose my shirt for at least two years. I've already got debts coming out of my ears."
"My life, my life," Gluck murmured, and delicately wiped a tear from one eye with a pudgy finger.
North admired this gesture with the proper respect: a parsimonious smile. "Final offer, old friend," he said.
"You will not have the beasts," Gluck said softly.
North's gaze sharpened. "Rumors . . ." he murmured. "True?"
"Except of course for old Baruma. She will stay in Tampa."
Anthony would not return Peter's look. Silence for several seconds, as North and Gluck stared at each other, one-time adversaries, as ruthless as they ever came; and then:
"What would I do with them, anyway?" North said, examining his cigar. "Put them out to pasture? Got enough horses and elephants freeloading already."
"One last thing," Gluck said, and stood.
"What?" North asked.
"You will park my Pullman permanently at the headquarters, and I will come and stay whenever I wish, for as long as I wish."
"Of course." North waved the cigar at this trifle.
"And you will listen to everything Vince Shellabarger tells you, about keeping Baruma alive and healthy. No touring for her, no Madison Square Garden, no steam heat--okay?" "Done." He waved the cigar again and winked at Peter.
"Then she is all yours: a dinosaur circus with only one dinosaur. And I keep my collection of memorabilia, of posters and artifactss, paintings and photo albums and costumes."
"It's a fine collection," North said. "I'd be proud to add it to my own. I'd even up the deal a little."
"I willkeep my collection," Gluck insisted.
North tapped his cane sharply on the floor of the railroad car, smiled like the very devil, and said, "Done."
Gluck and North shook hands.
Joey came out with a bottle and several glasses on a tray. North stayed for a few minutes to share a brandy with Gluck and Anthony and regale them all with tales of the fine dinner he had had.
Finally, after Gluck's brandy ran out, and Peter felt himself drifting into an exhausted gray haze, North left and he was able to climb into the made-up couch-bed. The couch's dark red tuck-and-roll leather squeaked beneath the stiff
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