Bringing Ezra Back by Cynthia DeFelice Page A

grown over by weeds and vines, and made a nice little hiding place. I leaned against its side and went over and over my plan. I figured that Trask couldn’t hurt me as long as plenty of townsfolk were there watching.
    The sun got low and I put on my hat. I felt for my knife. Leaving my pack under the cart, where it would be safe and dry, I headed toward the Trasks’ wagons. When I drew close enough to see what was going on, I hid in a clump of scrubby brush.
    Right away, I saw how the setup for the show would work. Hiram Trask was tying ropes between the wagons and onto nearby trees. Then he hung blankets and sheets of canvas on the ropes so the area between the wagons and the river was closed off from view. People who wanted to watch the show would have to pay before they could step through a flap in the canvas and into the clearing.
    It wasn’t the way I’d imagined it in my plan, and I had to think fast about what to do. I had what was left of my half eagle, so I had more than enough money to get in. But the Trasks would surely recognize me when they counted out my change.
    Folks began to come, gathering outside the half circle of wagons and waiting to be let in. Soon there was a pretty big crowd. Then Hiram Trask swept aside the canvas flap in a gesture so grand you’d have thought President Martin Van Buren himself was about to appear.
    â€œLadies and gentlemen!” he called. “Step right up for admittance to the strangest collection of human oddities, curiosities, and monstrosities ever assembled in history! Be reminded that this show is only for the stout of heart and strong of stomach! Ten cents will get you in the door. After that, brave ladies and gentlemen, you are on your own. Step up now, and have your money ready!”
    There was a general commotion as everybody moved forward together, hoping to get to the front of the line. To my dismay, Lovey Trask joined her husband at the entrance, and they began taking folks’ money. I’d never get past both of them.
    When everybody was inside, Lovey Trask stayed by the doorway, her eyes darting back and forth from the lighted area around the wagons into the deepening shadows outside. I thought she looked right at me, though I knew she couldn’t see me where I hid.
    An idea was forming in my head. The only way to view the goings-on and get to Ezra was to sneak in under the wagon closest to where I crouched in the brush.
    I heard Hiram Trask bellow, “The first attraction tonight is an example of Nature at her most peculiar and mystifying. I present to you, for your edification and contemplation, a person female in most characteristics, yet with the mustache and whiskers of a man. Ladies and gentlemen: Bearded Betty!”
    Trask’s announcement was followed by loud toots from a tin horn, then gasps of amazement and horror from the crowd. Lovey Trask turned her head to look inside. Before I could think too much about it, I scurried across the open area, flopped onto my belly, and, stealthy as a wildcat, crawled under the nearest wagon. My hat hit the underparts and fell off my head. I lay still between the wheels, my heartbeats pounding in my ears, waiting. Would there be an outcry from someone who’d heard or spotted me? Or would a face—followed by a rifle barrel—appear beneath the wagon bed?
    Nothing happened. I could see the shoes and boots of the folks watching, and that was all. Hiram Trask’s voice droned on as he invited someone from the crowd to step up and feel Betty’s whiskers to prove they were “no trick, but the genuine article.”
    I reached for my hat. Snakelike, with the hat in one hand, I slithered on my belly to where I hoped to see the action. Between the shifting legs and bodies of the crowd, I was able to catch glimpses of the platform where Betty stood, her mustache and beard dark brown next to her pale skin, straw bonnet, and yellow dress.
    I reckon I was staring as much as