The Six Messiahs - Mark Frost [151]
"And then?..."
Jacob turned to her and smiled. "Please, my dear, a little forbearance; I'm having to improvise here."
"Sorry," she said, striking a match and lighting a cigarette.
"Part of my training; I like to have all my lines before I walk out on stage."
"Perfectly understandable."
"And him," she said, nodding toward the rocks where Kan-azuchi had disappeared. "What about him?"
"I assume our mysterious friend will proceed along similar lines. We know he's left his weapon here in the wagon; at some point, he'll certainly come back for it."
"We can't very well sit in the wagon all night waiting for him...."
"If he needs us for any reason, he seems more than capable of finding where we are."
Eileen inhaled deeply, let out a cloud of smoke. The guardhouse less than fifty yards off, white shirts fanning out to meet Bendigo in the lead wagon.
"We could die in there," she said.
"The thought had occurred to me."
"It feels sort of ridiculous under the circumstances. Even more than usual. Putting on a play."
"One could also die in bed tonight or have a horse fall on him, or God forbid be struck by lightning from a clear blue sky," he said gently. "That doesn't mean we shouldn't go on living."
She looked at him, chucked her cigarette away, and put her arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder. He touched her hair tenderly. She liked the way he felt and wanted to cry but fought off the tears, reluctant to appear weak.
"Don't go and die on me just yet, all right?" she said. "We've only just met, but I'm growing rather fond of you, you old bag of bones."
"I will try to cooperate. But only because you insist," he said with a laugh.
The wagons ahead slowed to a stop; Rymer, standing up and waving his hat, had a brief exchange with the guards before the gate was raised and the wagons waved through.
"You're supposed to be sick," she reminded him.
Jacob handed her the reins and took his place in the rear before they reached the gate. Eileen returned the enthusiastic waves of the smiling guards as they passed under a sign that read WELCOME TO THE NEW CITY.
"Hello. Hello," she called to them, then muttered through her dazzling smile, ' 'Nice to see you, too, you right bunch of sods. Keep smiling, that's good, you deranged pack of prairie weasels."
The troupe drove through no-man's-land and down Main Street. Facades of all the buildings flanking them sparkled with fresh coats of whitewash; bright flowers in boxes underlined every window and chintz curtains softened their interiors. Plain well-crafted signs announced each building's purpose: dry goods, dentist, silver- and blacksmith, hotel, variety store. Smiling citizens stood outside each establishment on the scrubbed, planked sidewalks and waved happily to the passing wagons. Their shirts gleamed an immaculate white; they all looked healthy and clean.
Ahead on the left a crowd had gathered under a marquee outside the opera house, where a banner read: welcome penultimate players. A joyful cheer went up as the wagons rolled to a halt next to the theater entrance and the ovation continued as more people ran down the street to join the throng, all wearing wide grins and the same white tunics.
Bendigo Rymer stood up again on his perch, waved his hat all around, and bowed deeply in every direction.
The sot's convinced they're all here to welcome him, thought Eileen. Like he died and went to heaven.
"Thank you! Thank you so much," said Bendigo, unheard above the cheering, his eyes awash in tears. "I can't tell you how much you're being here to meet us means to me: such a wonderful, generous reception."
"I don't believe that I have ever seen a man so desperately starved for affection," said Jacob with quiet wonder.
"Count that as a blessing."
The rest of the players were poking their heads out of the other wagons with similar confusion; so far all they'd done was drive into town; what would this crowd be like when they actually gave a performance?
The cheering died instantly as a huge man in a long gray duster, the only person they'd