Kiss an Angel(13)

“All right.”

Her palms had begun to sweat from proximity to the horse, and she pressed herself closer against the trailer. “Is he yours?”

“Yes. Perry Lipscomb takes care of him for me. He has an equestrian act, and he hauls Misha in the trailer with his own horses.”

“I see.”

“Go on in and watch the show.”

He flicked the reins, and she stepped back quickly, then gave a hiss of dismay as what was left of her cigarette burst into flames.

“Will you stop that!” she screeched, batting at her clothes and stomping out the burning embers that had fallen to the ground.

He looked back at her, and one corner of his mouth lifted. “Those things are going to kill you if you don’t watch out.” With a low chuckle, he returned to take his place in line with the other performers.

She didn’t know which she found more discouraging, the fact that he’d destroyed one of her cigarettes with his theatrics or the knowledge that he seemed to have bested her in every encounter today.

She was still stewing as she took the long way around the animals and slipped in through the back entrance. She found a seat on one of the wooden bleachers. It was hard and narrow, with nowhere to rest her feet except between the fannies of the people in the next row, but she quickly forgot her discomfort as she enjoyed the excitement of the children around her.

She loved children. Although she’d never told anyone, her secret ambition had always been to teach kindergarten. Even though she couldn’t imagine the dream would ever become a reality, she liked thinking about it.

The lights dimmed and a drumroll built to a crescendo as a spotlight came up on the ringmaster standing in the center ring. “Laaaadeees and gentlemen! Children of aaaaall ages! Welcome to the thrills and chills of the twenty-fifth edition of the Quest Brothers Circus!”

Music broke out, played by a band that consisted of two musicians with drums, a synthesizer, and a computer of some kind. They launched into a lively version of “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing,” and a white horse ridden by a showgirl carrying an American flag came through the back entrance. Performers holding colorful banners followed, smiling and waving to the crowd.

The Brady Pepper Acrobats appeared, three good-looking men trailed by Heather, attired in gold spangles, shiny tights, and full makeup. A rhinestone and ruby tiara with a soaring comet at its center was mounted in her hair, now softly curled. Daisy had no difficulty picking out Brady Pepper from his sons. A muscular man of medium height, he reminded her of a street tough grown older. The acrobats were followed by a group of equestrians, clowns, jugglers, and a troupe of performing dogs.

Alex came into the arena on his ferocious black horse, and he alone of all the performers didn’t wave and smile. As he circled, he appeared as aloof and mysterious as his Russian heart. He acknowledged the presence of the crowd but somehow set himself apart and gave a strange kind of dignity to the garish display. The crowd cheered as the elephants ended the parade.

The show began, and as the acts progressed, Daisy was surprised by the high caliber of talent. Following a trio of Rumanian trapeze artists called the Flying Toleas, the lights dimmed and the music faded. A pinpoint of blue light came up on the ringmaster, who stood alone in the center of the darkened arena.

“You are about to see a performance presented nowhere else on earth but at Quest Brothers Circus. But first, I’m going to tell you an amazing story.” His voice grew dramatically hushed, and a haunting Russian folk tune began to play in the background.

“Almost thirty years ago in the frozen wilds of Siberia, a wandering tribe of Cossack bandits stumbled upon a very young boy, wearing nothing but rags and a priceless icon hanging on a leather thong around his neck. The Cossacks took him into their community and taught him the skills they had learned from their own fathers. But only the icon he wore offered any clue as to his true identity.”

The eerie strains of the Russian folk song blended with the ringmaster’s hushed voice, and as the light grew brighter, the audience listened, spellbound. “Over the years a legend formed around this man, a legend his rescuers insist to this very day is true.”

The music grew louder.

“They believe that he is the only direct descendent of the murdered Czar Nicholas II and his wife Alexandra.” His voice grew louder. “Ladies and gentlemen, that would make the man you will see here tonight . . .” A drumroll. “. . . the heir to the imperial crown of Russia!”

Daisy felt a shiver of excitement, despite the fact that she didn’t believe a word of the story she was hearing.

The ringmaster’s voice boomed through the tent. “Quest Brothers Circus is proud to present . . . the incomparable Alexi the Cossack!”

The lights came up, the music grew fierce, and Alex charged dramatically into the arena, his black horse at full gallop. The sleeves of his white shirt billowed, and the jewels encrusting his sash blazed like bloodred droplets. The mighty horse reared. Defying gravity, Alexi raised his arms far above his head, staying mounted only by the pressure of his powerful legs.

The horse came down, and Alexi disappeared. Daisy gasped only to see him reappear, dangling gracefully from the saddle. As the mount galloped around the arena, he performed a series of skillfully executed feats that were both daring and dramatic. Finally swinging back up into the saddle, he took the bullwhip that had been hanging from the pommel and cracked it in a great arc over his head, the sound so loud that the people in front of her jumped.