Free Cold Steel and Hot Lead [How the West Was Done 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Karen Mercury Page B

fetching lady. Even the “spangled beauties of trapeze and limb” stared at Alameda in curiosity and envy. Perhaps envious that Alameda obviously wasn’t part of the performing life—yet. “It will be an exciting change from my life serving patrons at the Cactus Club.”
    “Say, Cannonball,” said Rudy. “Is Antonio Franconi performing in this play?”
    “Why, yes,” said Cannonball. “He’s playing the part of Count Wolfenstein.”
    Perfect . It would figure that such a culprit would play the part of the evil count. Perhaps whoever played the innocent girl would be his next target, if he was one of those fellows incapable of keeping make-believe separate from reality.
    “Can you point him out to us?”
    Franconi stood twenty feet away, arms held out at his sides so a costumer could stitch him into a nebulous black robe. He was a rather handsome fellow of about Derrick’s age, although he sported those ridiculous muttonchops that Percy favored. He read aloud from a small book, and Derrick inched closer to hear the dialogue.
    Franconi recited, “‘And how fares your lovely charge? But the fair Amina? Begone, sirrah!” Franconi looked around. “Wufgar? Where is my Wufgar?”
    Some woebegone fellow shuffled out from behind a wooden piece of scenery being painted to resemble a Roman coliseum. Or the inside of a barn, Derrick wasn’t sure which.
    Franconi commanded, “Track yonder knave and seize him!”
    “Aye-aye, sir,” said Wufgar unenthusiastically.
    “No ‘aye-aye’!” bellowed Franconi. “I’m a count, not a sea captain!”
    “I have no script!” wailed Wufgar.
    “We only had so many copies!”
    Cannonball had eyes only for Alameda. “And who is this luscious bite of chocolate? Why, she looks as though she could melt in your mouth. Did you bring her to perform as Stalacta, Fairy Queen of the Golden Realm?”
    Derrick asked, “Is the part of Amina filled already?”
    Alameda clutched Derrick’s arm. “I would like to be the Fairy Queen,” she whispered. “I can see just as much that way but maybe have fewer lines to memorize.”
    Cannonball said, “Rudy, remember that dear sweet trapeze girl, Temperance Somebody-or-Other? Her father plunged to his death when the folks holding the net beneath him failed to hold it.”
    “I recall her. How awful,” murmured Rudy.
    “Yes,” said Cannonball. “The net-holders were distracted when a clown’s pants split. I suppose they thought that laughing was more important than preventing an acrobat from splattering all over the grass. One must always be vigilant in this business! So we have given the part of Amina to Temperance.”
    Alameda shoved forward to shake Cannonball’s hand. “I will take the part of the Fairy Queen. What do I get to wear?”
    “This is Deluxe Dora,” said Derrick, recalling the name Percy wished her to use.
    “We have a most splendid costume for the Fairy Queen,” said Cannonball. He looked Alameda up and down with wiggling eyebrows. “I do hope it will be, ah, large enough for you.” He gestured for a gal to whisk Alameda away.
    “She will be safe,” Cannonball assured them. “I don’t allow any hanky-panky in my acts. And you fellows! Rudy, I have to thank you for taking care of Montreal Jed. That crowd was becoming very unruly and would have thrown him a necktie party for sure when that girl disappeared. Besides, he is much too weak for the showman’s life. Even while manipulating the little people, he passes into a dead swoon from apprehension. He is overly concerned with dirt, and that is one thing you cannot avoid in this business.”
    Curious, Derrick wandered over to where a carpenter was constructing a mirrored box of some kind. What caught his eye was a small pot of vermilion paint, he assumed of the kind Jeremiah had accused Franconi of stealing from him. The carpenter had evidently been using the paint for highlights in the flaming scenery, perhaps the set for the act where the poor artist is lured