Free Bringing Ezra Back by Cynthia DeFelice Page A

that’ll make people come to us from miles around.”
    The other mumbly voice asked a question, sounding irritated.
    â€œWhat, have you gone dim-witted? Why, Amelia alone is eating up half our take every night. We get rid of her and some of the others, we’ve got fewer mouths to feed. Less expense, more profit.”
    I was real interested and wanted to listen more, but I was getting nervous. What if they looked out and saw me, or threw open the wagon flaps sudden-like and found me there? I decided I needed to speak up and state my business, especially since it appeared they planned to head off as far as South Carolina.
    I cleared my throat real loud and said, “Pardon. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for Mr. and Mrs. Trask.”
    The wagon’s canvas door flew open, and a woman peered out. She looked at me narrow-eyed and suspicious. “Who are you?” she asked. “And how long you been standing there? Don’t you know better than to sneak up on folks?”
    I took off my hat and held it in my hand. “Hello, ma’am. My name is Nathan Fowler and I wasn’t sneaking, only wanting to talk to you.”
    When she kept scowling at me without speaking, I hurried on. “I mean to say I wanted to talk to Mrs. Trask. And Mr. Trask, too.”
    I stopped as a rifle barrel appeared, followed by another face, this one a man’s. He didn’t speak, either, just stared at me like I smelled bad. Maybe I did, at that, but he hardly seemed close enough to tell. Anyhow, it wasn’t what I’d call polite, even though he did lower the rifle after a minute or two.
    Finally he said, “I’m Trask. We’re not hiring, if it’s a job you want.”
    â€œNo, sir. I’m not looking for work. I got a farm to get back to. A friend of mine is part of your show here, and I came to get him and take him home with me. His name’s Ezra Ketcham.”
    The woman, who I figured for Mrs. Trask, said, “There’s no one here by that name.”
    â€œWell, I reckon he didn’t give his name, seein’ as he doesn’t talk and he’s shy of folks for the most part. But he’s the one you call the White Injun,” I said, pointing to the side of the wagon with the writing on it.
    Mrs. Trask let out a little gasp, and Mr. Trask glared at me hard. Then Mrs. Trask spoke again. “You say you’re a friend, not kin, is that right?”
    I nodded. I was about to add that the only kinfolk of Ezra’s I knew about had been killed by Weasel, but something stopped me. I wasn’t going to tell them Ezra’s business when they hadn’t told me a darn thing so far.
    â€œWhere is he?” I asked. “I’d sure like to see him.”
    â€œWell, dearie,” began Mrs. Trask, “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
    All of a sudden she was smiling and her voice had changed, too. It had a tone to it I recognized, though it took me a minute to figure where I’d heard its like before. It was the way Beckwith talked when he was trying to sell something to somebody.
    â€œWhy ever not, Mrs. Trask?” I asked.
    â€œYou call me Lovey, now, won’t you?” she said, again with that smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “And this here’s Hiram.”
    I didn’t say anything to that, not being accustomed to calling grown ladies by their first names. Lovey didn’t strike me as a proper name, anyway, and it surely didn’t suit the hard edges and sharp eyes of Mrs. Trask.
    â€œYou see, Mr. Ketcham has left us. We’re good friends of his, too,” she went on, “so when we saw an opportunity for him to rise in the world, we encouraged him to take it. As I said to Hiram, we could probably have talked Ezra into staying with us, but we knew he could make a lot more money if he traveled to the big cities with that other outfit. We didn’t want to hold him back, the