WATER FOR ELEPHANT [27]
“Jesus Christ!” I yell, looking in alarm first at the point where August disappeared, and then down at the bare coupling and ties that race beneath the cars. The train jerks around a curve. I throw my hands out to keep my balance, breathing hard.
“Come on then,” yells a voice from the roof.
“How the hell did you do that? What did you grab?”
“There’s a ladder. Just around the side. Lean forward and reach for it. You’ll find it.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then I guess we’ll take our leave, won’t we?”
I advance gingerly to the edge. I can see just the edge of a thin iron ladder.
I train my eyes on it and wipe my hands on my thighs. Then I tip forward.
My right hand meets ladder. I grasp wildly with my left until I ensnare the other side. I jam my feet in the rungs and cling tightly, trying to catch my breath.
“Well, come on then!”
I look up. August peers down at me, grinning, his hair blowing in the wind.
I climb to the roof. He moves over, and when I sit down next to him he claps a hand on my shoulder. “Turn around. I want you to see something.”
He points down the length of the train. It stretches behind us like a giant snake, the linked cars jiggling and bending as it rounds a curve.
“It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it, Jacob?” says August. I look back at him. He’s staring right at me, his eyes glowing. “Not quite as beautiful as my Marlena, though—hey hey?” He clicks his tongue and winks.
Before I can protest, he stands and tap-dances across the roof.
I crane my neck and count stock cars. There are at least six.
“August?”
“What?” he says, stopping midtwirl.
“Which car is Kinko in?”
He crouches suddenly. “This one. Aren’t you a lucky boy?” He pries off a roof vent and disappears.
I scuttle over on hands and knees.
“August?”
“What?” returns a voice from the darkness.
“Is there a ladder?”
“No, just drop down.”
I lower myself inside until I’m hanging by my fingertips. Then I crash to the floor. A surprised nicker greets me.
Thin strips of moonlight filter through the slatted sides of the stock car. On one side of me is a line of horses. The other side is blocked by a wall that is clearly homemade.
August steps forward and shoves the door inward. It crashes against the wall behind it, revealing a makeshift room lit by kerosene lamp. The lamp is on an upturned crate next to a cot. A dwarf is lying on his stomach with a thick book open in front of him. He’s about my age and, like me, has red hair. Unlike me, his stands straight up from his head, an unruly thatch. His face, neck, arms, and hands are heavily freckled.
“Kinko,” says August in disgust.
“August,” says the dwarf, equally disgusted.
“This is Jacob,” August says, taking a tour of the tiny room. He leans over and fingers things as he passes. “He’s going to bunk with you for a while.”
I step forward, holding out my hand. “How do you do,” I say.
Kinko regards my hand coolly and then looks back at August. “What is he?”
“His name is Jacob.”
“I said what, not who.”
“He’s going to help out in the menagerie.”
Kinko leaps to his feet. “A menagerie man? Forget it. I’m a performer. There’s no way I’m bunking with a working man.”
There’s a growl from behind him, and for the first time I see the Jack Russell terrier. She’s standing on the end of the cot with her hackles raised.
“I am the equestrian director and superintendent of animals,” August says slowly, “and it is by the grace of my generosity you are allowed to sleep here at all. It is also by the grace of my generosity that it’s not filled with roustabouts. Of course, I can always change that. Besides, this gentleman is the show’s new veterinarian—from Cornell no less—which puts him a good deal higher than you in my estimation. Perhaps you’d like to consider offering him the cot.” The lamp’s flame flickers in August’s eyes. His lip quivers in its shadowy glow.
After a moment he turns to me and bows low, clicking his heels. “Good night, Jacob. I’m sure Kinko will make you comfortable. Won’t