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of a hard-earned nickel,” a man coming out of the freak tent blared loud enough to be heard by everyone nearby.
    Jonah remembered Rafe’s advice about soothing disgruntled customers and beckoned the man over. “I wouldn’t want anyone to leave our show dissatisfied. Unfortunately I don’t have the authority to refund your money. But let me give you a free pass to another sideshow. There’s a caged lion or some amazing acrobats”—he paused—“also a dancing girl.”
    “Dancing girl?” The man’s interest was piqued.
    Jonah had no ticket to give the man, so he jumped down from the platform. “I’ll take you there.”
    As he led the man through the crowd, Jonah thought of procurers and prostitutes. He wasn’t certain he was entirely comfortable taking this man to gawk at a nearly nude lady while she shook her assets. Besides which, he hoped the customer wasn’t equally disappointed in the dancer, who must be well over fifty.
    Finished with his knife wielding, “Signor Signortori” had changed out of his costume and was selling some of Parinsky’s tonics as well as directing customers inside the girlie tent to see the “shimmering loveliness of a spring day.” The coupling of patent medicine sales with a nearly topless dancer wasn’t as odd as it might sound, since Henry Fisher assured his strictly male audience that the “restorative, invigorating, and strength-building tonic” would give “increased stamina.” Likely many of these men, aroused by viewing a belly dance, would turn to their wives tonight with renewed and ardent vigor.
    Jonah explained the situation to Fisher, who scowled but let the customer in, then Jonah started back toward the freak show yet again, walking slowly, as he was exhausted and in no hurry to get there.
    “You. Johnny Hayseed.”
    A hand grabbed his elbow, and Jonah realized the words were addressed to him. He instinctively flinched away from the hand and turned to face a slender woman with long golden ringlets framing her face. Miss Jamie, he guessed, although he’d not been introduced to her yet.
    “Where’s Grimstone? I need to speak to him.”
    “I have no idea.”
    “You’re staying with him aren’t you? In his trailer.”
    “Not anymore. I’m with the rest of the rousties now.” And the ground was much harder and colder than Grimstone’s floor had been. He’d thought of the warmth of that snug little trailer as he tried to sleep last night while listening to Crooked Pete’s whistling snore.
    “If you see him, tell him Miss Jamie would like a few moments of his precious time if he can be bothered.”
    “Yes, miss.”
    She started to turn away, then stopped and looked him in the eye. “You should know that Rafe Grimstone has a short attention span. He likes new things but doesn’t stay interested in them for long.”
    She walked away, her bottom swaying. From her tone of voice, it sounded as if she was speaking from personal experience—and as if she still had a strong dose of Rafe Grimstone in her system. She was evidently infatuated with him.
    In a flash, Jonah’s perceptions shifted. What did this mean? Did the carnival owner play games with all his employees—or at least the young and fairly attractive ones? If he’d been with Miss Jamie, it meant he liked both women and men. Giving and taking physical pleasure was only sport to him and meant nothing. Which he’d made perfectly clear when he’d fastened his fly and left Jonah standing with his trousers around his ankles.
    Jonah really was a hayseed, a wet-behind-the-ears child, to imagine there’d been anything more than a bout of pleasure between them. Just as with Rev. Burns, he was allowing his feelings to take over and tell him lust was something deeper and more profound. Sex was sex. That was all.
    Fool. Naive idiot. Well, people could change, and he’d grow out of these romantic illusions if it killed him. He’d run to the carnival to escape his past and reinvent himself. So he