Chapter Text
Jared had again been lulled to sleep by the steady rock and sway of the train as it passed through the seemingly endless fields of the plains and into the prairie as miles of wheat gave way to corn and beans punctuated by farmhouses and barns and the occasional small town. The train’s whistle snapped him to wakefulness, and he ran a hand over his face wondering how much farther he had to go.
“Blainesville, Iowa,” the conductor called as he entered the car. “This is your stop, I believe, young man,” he said to Jared.
“Yes, thank you, sir,” Jared replied. He looked out at the early morning sun slanting across the fields. It had been a long three days on the train, and he was anxious to get out and stretch his legs. He wondered how far he had left to travel and if he could walk it. As the small frame houses on the outskirts of Blainesville came into view, Jared rose and took his case and hat down from the rack before moving down the aisle to the carriage door.
He stood in the doorway between the cars as the train slowed and the station came into view. It was a white frame building with a wooden awning over the platform. A young couple with two small children stood there, but they weren’t waiting for him. No one was waiting for him. As the train came to a jerking halt with a screech of brakes, he stepped onto the platform and put his hat on. An elderly woman stepped from the train one car down and the boy and girl launched themselves at her. Jared smiled at the memory of visits from his grandma. How long ago and far away that seemed now – long before the academy and college.
He looked around with some anxiety that he might have missed the very thing he was there for but was quickly reassured when he saw another train parked along the siding. There was a long string of flatcars and passenger carriages painted bright blue with Harker & Benz World Exhibition & Circus painted on them in yellow.
He crossed to the ticket window where a middle-aged man in a green visor and red suspenders over a crisp white shirt read the morning paper.
“Excuse me, sir,” Jared said. “When did the circus get to town?”
The man looked up over half-moon glasses and lifted an eyebrow. “’bout three a.m.”
“Thank you,” Jared said nodding. “Could you tell me where I could get something to eat?”
The man smiled then. “Why sure, café just across the street serves a real good breakfast for thirty-five cents.”
“Thanks,” Jared said. “Thanks a lot, sir.”
Jared strolled across the dirt street, skirting occasional puddles. The sky was heavy, and he hoped he could get where he was going before the rain started again. The buildings of this block were two-story, brick, and like the streets of small towns in his native Texas, they sat on wide sidewalks abutting a broad thoroughfare. He’d been out East once and was surprised at how narrow and hemmed in the streets were.
He pushed open the door of the small café and was met by the smells of coffee, bacon, and biscuits. His stomach grumbled. He’d had only sandwiches, apples, and cookies that his mother had sent along with him on the train, and his body was craving hot, rich food. He took off his hat and nodded at the waitress behind the counter as he sat down on a stool being careful to fold his long legs to avoid bruising his knees. He pulled his case as close as possible under the stool to avoid tripping anyone.
“Coffee?” the waitress asked.
“Yes, please,” he said.
She set a cup and saucer in front of him and poured the dark, rich brew. She had the figure of a young mother, and her face was unlined surrounded by dark hair and set with startling blue eyes. She wore a faded blue shirtwaist dress that was clean and pressed but had been mended one too many times. “Today, we’ve got hot cakes or biscuits, gravy, sausage or bacon or ham, and eggs,” she said.
Jared was stumped for a moment. He really wanted it all. “The gravy’s good?” he asked.
“The best,” she said with a grin. “My mama makes it.”
Jared smiled. “In that case, biscuits and gravy with sausage.”
“Good choice. Eggs?”
“Yes, three, over easy.”
“All right, honey. It’ll get that right up for you.” She turned and went into the kitchen.
Jared sipped his coffee and thought of what was ahead. He wasn’t relishing the coming days, but he wasn’t one to avoid responsibility or hide from unwanted tasks. Better to get it over with, he figured. He was an optimistic guy and assumed that everything would turn out for the best.
The waitress returned with a plate piled high with biscuits drenched in thick gravy, three sausage patties and eggs cooked crispy on the edges. Saliva flooded his mouth at the sight.
She leaned over the counter and said, “I got you an extra sausage patty, you bein’ such a big boy and all.”
“Thank you,” he said with a blush. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that. I’ve been on the train for three days.”
“What’s your name, honey?”
“Jared.”
“I’m Sally, and this is my family’s place. So, where’d you come from, Jared?” she asked.
“Texas,” he said before taking a big bite of biscuit and gravy. “Mmm, your mama and my mama must have gone to the same cooking school.”
She grinned and let out a little laugh. “Your mama’s a good cook too, huh?”
Jared swallowed the huge bite of eggs, he’d been chewing. “The best.”
“Well, I’m sure she had a lot of practice with you,” she kidded.
He just nodded as he shoveled down eggs.
“So what brings you to Blainesville?” she asked.
He waved his fork as though the gesture would explain. “The circus.”
The smile fell from her face and she straightened up from where she’d been leaning her hip on the counter. “You’re with the circus?”
Jared knew he had to be careful about this. He’d discussed it with his dad. People didn’t trust circus folks, with good reason, they figured. They were a lot like gypsies after all – shiftless without any community loyalty. They provided entertainment but couldn’t be trusted not cheat locals out of hard earned money.
“No, not really,” he answered. “The circus owner died. I’m an accountant – just here to check over the books before it’s sold.”
“Oh,” she said, and seemed to relax a little. “’xcuse me.” She moved down the counter and waited on a man who had just sat down. Jared finished up his meal and sipped coffee until Sally came back.
“That’s thirty-five cents, honey,” she said as she refilled his cup.
“Sure, listen thanks a lot. I haven’t felt this good for days,” he said. She smiled again as he placed a quarter, a dime, and a nickel on the counter.
“You’re welcome, honey,” she smiled.
“Could you point me in the direction that the circus is setting up and where the telegraph office is?”
“Telegraph is to the left a block down and then just follow the main road a couple miles out of town to where they’re settin’ up, but you be careful out there, okay? Those circus folks … well, just don’t trust them.”
“I’ll be real careful. Thank you, ma’am, and you tell your mama those were the best biscuits and gravy I’ve had outside my mama’s kitchen.”
She smiled broadly. “I’ll do that, Jared. You take care.”
“You too, ma’am.”
There was a fine mist in the air when he stepped onto the sidewalk, and he was glad for his jacket and that he didn’t wear his good hat or shoes. He stopped at the telegraph office and sent a message home as he’d promised that he’d reached Iowa and he was fine.
Before he’d even reached the outskirts of town, the mist had turned to a sprinkle, and he picked up his pace. As fortune would have it, not more than five minutes later a farm wagon pulled along side him.
“Would you like a ride, young man?” the farmer at the reins asked.
“I’d be much obliged, sir,” he said touching the brim of his hat.
The wagon came to a stop and Jared tossed his case in the back before climbing aboard.
“Come on Bess, Bobby,” the man said with a couple shakes of the reins. The mules slowly started the wagon moving again. “Aaron Johnson, pleased to meet ya.”
“Jared Padalecki, sir. I really appreciate the ride,” Jared said, eyeing the clouds.
“Yup, looks like it’s about to let go, Jared. Where can I drop ya?”
Jared gave the farmer the same story he’d told Sally, and Aaron accepted it without comment other than it wouldn’t be much of day for the circus if it didn’t clear off. “You never know this time of year,” the farmer said. “Could clear off this afternoon and be clear as a bell or it could keep this up all week. No way to tell.”
The two rode in silence for some time before the farmer gestured to their left. Through the gray mist Jared saw the outline of a white canvas tent being lifted on the horizon.
“The fairgrounds,” Aaron explained. “You sure you’ll be all right out there?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine,” Jared replied as the wagon came to a halt. “Thanks, Mr. Johnson.” Jared jumped out of the wagon and grabbed his case.
“Call me Aaron. I’m barely older than you are,” the blond said, smiling for the first time.
“Thanks, Aaron. Hope you make it home without getting drenched.”
“Yup, Bess and Bobby’ll get me there.” With that, the farmer moved off down the road, and Jared started up the muddy track to the most daunting task of his life. As he approached, he could see people scrambling everywhere – men directing the elephants who were pulling the big top posts into position, others positioning colorful facades along the midway, or putting up smaller tents, driving bright blue wagons into position or setting up booths.
Jared had to keep an eye out and an ear open as he drew closer to avoid being run over by a circus wagon or running roustabout. He expected to be stopped but wasn’t for some time. Finally, what he thought at first to be a boy with a ponytail, but turned out to be a girl in dungarees, stopped him.
“Hey there, where do you think you’re going?” the petite blond asked.
“I’m looking for Mr. Arneson,” Jared answered.
“Oh yeah?” Her brows pulled down, and she squinted at him.
“Yes, it’s about Mr. Harker,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “Oh,” she said. “Well, I guess we best get you to Mr. Arneson then. Come on.” She turned on her heel and started for a long, low tent that workers were placing brightly colored pictures on. One was a man with snakes wrapped around his limbs, another showed two girls sitting under one skirt with only two feet beneath it. The sideshow tent, he supposed. He’d only ever seen one from the outside when he was twelve. His mother wouldn’t let him go in.
“So are you a shyster?” she asked and blew her bangs out of her eyes.
“A lawyer? No, I’m more like an accountant.” That wasn’t really a lie. He had had accounting classes. Jared had a degree in finance and was planning on going into banking like his dad.
“Oh,” she said and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “Is the circus in trouble?”
“No, not that I’m aware of. That’s why I’m here – to go over the books.”
“I see. I hope …” She bit her lip before continuing. “I’m K.C., by the way.” She held out her hand to be shaken but kept walking. Jared took her hand briefly.
“Casey?”
“No, K. C. the initials.”
“Oh, okay, I’m Jared.”
“Here we are,” she said, pulling a tent flap back. Inside countless people bustled around. Some clearly workers, others in the midst of putting costumes on – to the extent they had costumes. A woman covered in brightly covered drawings wore nothing more than what amounted to panties and a brassiere. Jared wondered if that was even legal. A dark-haired man with bulging muscles wore nothing but skin-tight black pants. Jared thought they were surprising until a fine-boned man turned his head to reveal lipstick and elaborate eye make-up on the other half of his face. He, she, smiled and got up from the make-up chair, and twisted long red hair hanging over one shoulder around a finger. K.C. stopped with a smirk as the person approached, and Jared was just tongue tied.
“Hello, K.C., who do you have here?” the person asked with a tilt of her, his head.
“This is Jared,” K.C. said. “Jared this is Laurencia.”
“The Most Beautiful He/She in the New World,” Laurencia said with a smile.
“I can see that, ma’am,” he said, and was met with an even bigger smile.
“Call me Laurnie.”
“Sorry, but he’s here to see Mr. Arneson. If you’ll excuse us.”
“Don’t miss the show, Jared,” the performer called after him.
K.C. just shook her head. “Honestly.”
“Is he, umm, she really …”
“Yes, both,” K.C. said as they made their way around a partition.
“Should I say, you know, he or she.”
“Generally, she prefers to be referred to as female,” she stopped and looked at him. “You’re a smart guy. Thanks for asking. A lot of folks don’t. Oh shit … I’ll be right back.”
She headed off across the tent to where two girls with their arms around each others waists were arguing with a man wearing a snake around his neck.
He looked around in amazement. There was something electric and kind of infectious in the air. Everyone was so busy and seemed to know exactly what they were supposed to be doing. All of it was with the same goal, like bees in a hive.
He glanced back at the trio K.C. had joined. She had a hand on the shoulder of one of the girls and the other hand on the man’s arm right next to the snake. Having grown up in rattlesnake country, he’d never dream of getting that close to a snake. Brave girl, he thought.
He sighed, resigned to waiting awhile when he noticed a gap in a drape beside him and pulled it back. It was quieter and with just the soft glow of the rainy day coming through the tent roof. In the center of the small space was a raised platform on wheels, and on top of it was a large glass case. He couldn’t tell what was inside; so he approached what appeared to be an animal. He was just inches from the case, when he recognized the sleek, tawny fur of a thigh, not unlike a mountain lion’s fur, but as his eyes traveled upward he saw glistening iridescent scales reflecting gold and green and amber along the curve of a backbone.
His eyes flicked back downward to the fur. It didn’t make sense – scales and fur, reptile and mammal. The animal moved then in a languid stretch and the curve of its spine arched back as it twisted a scaled shoulder toward him, and he recognized the curve of the shoulder, the swell of buttock. But it made no sense. As the stretch continued, his eyes swept back along the spine, nape of neck to … feathers, a crest of feathers in downy cream close to the scalp, golden pin feathers, and then an amazing show of long black spikes and longer draping feathers in emerald and indigo.
Jared didn’t know what he was expecting when the animal turned its head, but he wasn’t expecting intelligent green eyes, fringed by long lashes, freckled cheeks and full, entirely human lips, which it licked as it met his gaze. He stepped back onto K.C.’s foot with a gasp.
“Ow!” she cried out.
Jared stumbled forward again with an apology, and he as he glanced back at the case, he’d have sworn he saw a smirk on the animal’s, no, person’s face.
She steadied herself with a hand on his arm as she pulled her loafer off with the other and rubbed her toes. “I see you’ve met the Prince,” she said.
“The what?” he asked in confusion.
She scoffed. “Jexmarrah, Prince of the Amazon – that’s his stage name. His name’s really Jensen. I don’t know where he’s from, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t the Amazon.”
“Is he … is that ...”
“Real?” she laughed. “Come on, you sound like a rube.” She put her loafer on and pulled him back into the main part of the tent where the performers were preparing. “Here’s Mr. Arneson. Hey boss, got someone here to see you.”
Arneson turned out to be a small, wiry man with graying hair and the nervous habit of running his fingers through it until it stuck up like a cock’s comb.
“Damn it, K.C., I ain’t got time for no shit.”
“Ignore his language,” she said too low for Arneson to hear. “He always talks that way.” She patted his shoulder. “You’re on your own now.” She took off toward the tent entrance.
“What do you want, kid?”
“I’m Jared Padalecki, sir. Mr. Harker’s nephew?” Arneson showed no sign of recognition. Jared pitched his voice low and leaned toward the man.”He left the circus to me in his will.”
The small man leaned away from and stared up at Jared in obvious surprise. Without another word, he turned and ducked out of the tent. Jared followed as the smaller man rushed around the tent and behind a wagon before turning on Jared with a scowl.
“You own the circus?”
“Yes, sir,” Jared said. He didn’t think Arneson was any happier about it than he was.
“How old are you, kid?” Arneson took some rolling paper out of his pocket and filled it with tobacco from a pouch. He glanced up at Jared expectantly.
“Twenty-four, sir.”
“Twenty-four,” the man said with a look like he’d just smelled manure on his shoe. “Have you ever been to the circus, kid?”
“Once,” Jared said with a sigh.
“Once? And you think you can run a circus?” Arneson licked the edge of the paper and rolled the cigarette closed before sticking it in the corner of his mouth and producing a wooden match from apparently thin air.
“No, of course, I don’t,” Jared said with vehemence. “I just want to go over the books and figure out how to sell.”
Arneson’s hand froze in mid-air. The lit match was no more than an inch from the end of the cigarette. He stared hard at Jared until his fingers were singed, and he dropped the match with a curse.
“You what? Sell? To who?”
“I don’t know. Ringling. Carson & Barnes. A private investor, maybe.” Jared felt like there was something going on he didn’t understand, but before he could ask, Arneson grabbed his arm.
“Did you say you were going to go over the books?”
Jared nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“You know about that shit?”
“Yes, I have a degree in …”
Arneson had already turned away and started around the wagon. Spotting another man, Arneson called out to him.
“Jake, come here.”
A young dark haired guy trotted over. “Yeah, boss?”
“Jake this is Mr. Padaleski.”
“Padalecki,” Jared corrected.
“Padalevksy. Take him back to the Mr. Harker’s car.” Arneson clapped Jared on the shoulder then with a grin. “He’s going to work on payroll.”
“Really?” Jake asked. “That’s great. I really need to get some new socks.”
Jared’s mouth dropped open and before he could object, Arneson slapped his shoulder again and took off toward the big top at a trot.
Jake grinned at him. “We can take this wagon over here, Mr. Padalevsky.”
“Just call me Jared, okay, Jake?”
“Sure, thanks, sir.”