Free Ralph Helfer by Modoc: The True Story of the Greatest Elephant That Ever Lived Page A

explosive, throat-wrenching attack. Finally the cough subsided. Father and son talked of many things, all mundane, avoiding the more important issues. When they finished, Bram leaned over to kiss his father good night. Josef wrapped his arms around Bram and held him close. He was trembling, and his tears wet Bram’s cheek. Josef’s voice was that of an older man than was lying in the bed.
    “You are special, Bram. You and Modoc. You were both born on the same day, at the same hour—for a reason; you and she are connected for that. You must take care of Mo, Bramie,” he whispered. “Promise me, you will. She loves you and you her. Together you will find a way.”
    “I will, Papa, I will.”
    Bram left the room. He didn’t…he couldn’t look at his mother. He ran to the barn, closed the door, and cried. He cried for his father, cried for Mo, and cried for his own unhappiness

9
    W HEN B RAM ARRIVED at the circus grounds it looked as though a tornado had come during the middle of the night and taken it away. All the circus equipment had been packed in big cargo crates, stamped across the front in ten-inch red letters: DESTINATION U.S.A. The big top had been taken down and packed, most of the vehicles had been sold, and the calliope was being readied for shipment. The fairways had been dismantled and lay on the ground, ready for packing. Only the menagerie tent still stood. Jake was repairing an elephant harness when Bram walked up.
    “Morning, Jake, how’s Mo this morning?”
    “Hi, kid. Jumbo is fine. Look for yourself.”
    “Jumbo?”
    “Yeah. That’s her new name. Better for advertising.”
    “But won’t it confuse her, having two names?”
    “She doesn’t have two names,” Jake answered irritably, “anddon’t let me catch you using Mo or any other name anymore. You hear me, kid?”
    “Sure, Jake, I hear you.”
    Mo was nibbling her hay when Bram entered the tent. She gave him a low rumble of affection and a hug with her trunk. Bram grabbed an ear and, pulling it down, whispered, “Hi, Mosie.”
    Spring was fast approaching. The melting snow had filled the rivers, days were becoming warmer, and beautiful flowers filled the hills and valleys. It was on such a day that a car, horn honking, sped into the circus grounds and headed straight to the menagerie tent. Curpo sat next to the driver. Both jumped out of the car and approached Bram. After talking a minute, the three quickly got in the car. With a cloud of dust kicking up behind it, the car raced out of town to the Gunterstein farm. Josef had taken a turn for the worse.
     
    The spring sun cleared the ridge as the procession slowly wound its way up the dirt road to Grenchin Hill Cemetery. It was named after Mr. Meister’s daughter, who had lost her life falling from her horse on the very spot where the cemetery was located. She was the only one buried there until Meister died. Since then, a few had chosen this lovely spot to sleep their longest sleep. It overlooked miles of rolling green hills that eventually melted into the great mountains to the north. Grenchin Hill itself was quite steep, and the graveyard had room for only a few dozen. Josef had known the family since childhood, and when Meister died, he left two sites for Josef.
    On a nearby hill, silhouetted against the sky, Bram and Gertie sat atop Modoc. They looked unrelated to what was happening down below, as if they were from another time. The trio watched the serpentine line of cars make its way up the hill. Some of Josef’s friends came in trucks, others arrived in family cars. A nearby neighbor drove his tractor directly from the plowing field. Bram pointed out the Tall Man, the Seal Man, Little Marigold, the Fat Lady, and the rest. They’d all arrived by one means or another. Curpo and some of the roustabouts—unbeknownst to the new circus owner—had loaded the calliope on a flatbed truck and drove it to the cemetery, parking it near the gravesite. It was the best way they knew