Read Online The Nine Pound Hammer by John Claude Bemis - Free Book Online
Authors: John Claude Bemis
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Where was Peg Leg Nel? Hadn’t it been half an hour? Ray walked around, but saw nobody but Ma Everett, washing the plates with a long-handled brush. “Missus Everett, have you seen Mister Nel?”
“No, dear. Probably getting ready in his car.”
“Which one is that?” Ray asked.
“You’ll get oriented to the train soon.” She pointed to the first car after the locomotive and tender. “That’s the sleeping car, where you’ll stay. Next is the mess car—the kitchen, dining room on the go, and storage. I leave out snacks there, in case you’re hungry before supper. After that one’s Buck and Nel’s car. Head on down there. You’ll find him.”
Ray nodded a thank-you and walked down the gravel right-of-way beside the train. When he reached the mess car, he hopped up the steps on the vestibule and went in. On a normal passenger train, the car would have had tables for riders to sit and eat. This one had been modified for the
Ballyhoo
. The stationary tables were removed to make room for the show’s supplies. There was a cast-iron potbelly stove mounted to one wall and a simple wooden table, with biscuits and leftovers from lunch laid out on tin plates. Shelves were covered in jars of pickled vegetables and various preserved fruits. Several salted hams andstrings of sausages swayed from the ceiling. The room smelled sweet and sticky with wood smoke and grease.
Nobody was there, and Ray passed across the vestibule to the next car—Nel’s car. His was another sleeping car that had also been altered. There was a short hallway with two doors and then an open area where the rest of the carriage rooms had been removed.
This was obviously Nel’s workshop as well. In cabinets and shelves, filling crates, and hanging from pegs in the ceiling were the supplies for the medicine show’s tonics. Coils of dried snakeskins. Wide-mouthed bottles filled with earthy-brown roots. Tins holding various claws and teeth. Strings of fragrant herbs. Jars of bleached bones. Powders and liquids in a rainbow of colors. A table sat in the middle of the room, covered in all manner of bottles from tiny droppers to gallon-sized flagons.
Ray knocked at the doors—calling out Mister Nel’s name—but got no reply. He crossed the vestibule to the next car and found the door locked. As he walked down the steps and continued around the side of the train, he reached a boxcar. The side was open and most of its contents emptied—apparently already set up for the show.
Voices came from the opposite side of the boxcar. Nel was speaking to someone. Ray climbed up onto the vestibule connecting the locked car and the boxcar. As he came down the other side, what he heard gave him pause.
“How’s our new arrival?” Nel asked.
“Needs more time,” a hoarse low voice replied.
Peeking around the side of the train, Ray saw that Nel was talking to Buck. Buck’s head nodded and turned in small loose motions. His eyelids were parted slightly, and Ray saw the ghostly white encompassing the iris, the pupil nothing more than a pinhole spot.
Nel’s voice cracked with worry. “What if he finds … ?”
“He won’t. He has no idea I was there or where we went. He’s still searching the Terrebonne wilderness, I’m sure. Why would he look on a train—and with a medicine show? He’d never suspect it. We’re safe for now. I’m certain.”
“I’m not exactly comfortable with this, Buck.”
“What would make you comfortable?” Buck’s voice was brisk and gravelly. “To let the Enemy have—?”
“No, but I’m … we’re entertainers! Businessmen. Not …”
“Not what?” Buck snapped. “Ramblers? When are you going to accept that he’s still out there and growing more powerful every day?”
“Look, Buck. I’ve purchased the car just as you asked. It’s protected as best we can manage. If I’d known that’s where you were traipsing off to all those times … What will you have me do?”
“Just the medicines for
Where was Peg Leg Nel? Hadn’t it been half an hour? Ray walked around, but saw nobody but Ma Everett, washing the plates with a long-handled brush. “Missus Everett, have you seen Mister Nel?”
“No, dear. Probably getting ready in his car.”
“Which one is that?” Ray asked.
“You’ll get oriented to the train soon.” She pointed to the first car after the locomotive and tender. “That’s the sleeping car, where you’ll stay. Next is the mess car—the kitchen, dining room on the go, and storage. I leave out snacks there, in case you’re hungry before supper. After that one’s Buck and Nel’s car. Head on down there. You’ll find him.”
Ray nodded a thank-you and walked down the gravel right-of-way beside the train. When he reached the mess car, he hopped up the steps on the vestibule and went in. On a normal passenger train, the car would have had tables for riders to sit and eat. This one had been modified for the
Ballyhoo
. The stationary tables were removed to make room for the show’s supplies. There was a cast-iron potbelly stove mounted to one wall and a simple wooden table, with biscuits and leftovers from lunch laid out on tin plates. Shelves were covered in jars of pickled vegetables and various preserved fruits. Several salted hams andstrings of sausages swayed from the ceiling. The room smelled sweet and sticky with wood smoke and grease.
Nobody was there, and Ray passed across the vestibule to the next car—Nel’s car. His was another sleeping car that had also been altered. There was a short hallway with two doors and then an open area where the rest of the carriage rooms had been removed.
This was obviously Nel’s workshop as well. In cabinets and shelves, filling crates, and hanging from pegs in the ceiling were the supplies for the medicine show’s tonics. Coils of dried snakeskins. Wide-mouthed bottles filled with earthy-brown roots. Tins holding various claws and teeth. Strings of fragrant herbs. Jars of bleached bones. Powders and liquids in a rainbow of colors. A table sat in the middle of the room, covered in all manner of bottles from tiny droppers to gallon-sized flagons.
Ray knocked at the doors—calling out Mister Nel’s name—but got no reply. He crossed the vestibule to the next car and found the door locked. As he walked down the steps and continued around the side of the train, he reached a boxcar. The side was open and most of its contents emptied—apparently already set up for the show.
Voices came from the opposite side of the boxcar. Nel was speaking to someone. Ray climbed up onto the vestibule connecting the locked car and the boxcar. As he came down the other side, what he heard gave him pause.
“How’s our new arrival?” Nel asked.
“Needs more time,” a hoarse low voice replied.
Peeking around the side of the train, Ray saw that Nel was talking to Buck. Buck’s head nodded and turned in small loose motions. His eyelids were parted slightly, and Ray saw the ghostly white encompassing the iris, the pupil nothing more than a pinhole spot.
Nel’s voice cracked with worry. “What if he finds … ?”
“He won’t. He has no idea I was there or where we went. He’s still searching the Terrebonne wilderness, I’m sure. Why would he look on a train—and with a medicine show? He’d never suspect it. We’re safe for now. I’m certain.”
“I’m not exactly comfortable with this, Buck.”
“What would make you comfortable?” Buck’s voice was brisk and gravelly. “To let the Enemy have—?”
“No, but I’m … we’re entertainers! Businessmen. Not …”
“Not what?” Buck snapped. “Ramblers? When are you going to accept that he’s still out there and growing more powerful every day?”
“Look, Buck. I’ve purchased the car just as you asked. It’s protected as best we can manage. If I’d known that’s where you were traipsing off to all those times … What will you have me do?”
“Just the medicines for
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