Carnival Cowboy

Chapter 1-2

Hearing a noise, the man in the bloomers and corset turned suddenly. There, lying in the mouth of the tent, he saw a stranger dressed in nothing but black from head to toe. The first thing he did was pull him inside and over to a less traveled area where he could loosen his clothes, and see how badly he was hurt. Even though he was looking right at him, the unconscious man’s face was full of shadows, but he recognized him. He could tell he’d been running, and it made sense that he might be a member of the Desperado Gang that had robbed the bank. When he looked at his face he got an impression of strong, stubborn male beauty as his hair wafted around his head like black smoke, its tendrils curling and moving as if it shifted in a nonexistent wind. Madness seemed to lurk in his face. Not an insane madness, but a quieter madness, somehow. He had an animal savagery about him, mixed with a great amount of humanity. He could tell that this man felt deeply, and countless expressions had passed across this handsome face in his lifetime. For some reason he wanted to get to know this stranger, to see each and every one of those expressions grace his face. Fear, anger, sadness, surprise, love, and yes, even hate. All of them, even now, seemed to stir just beneath the gleam of the sun’s rays.

Suddenly he looked up when he heard the sheriff’s voice calling out.

“Frenchy!”

He moved quickly, grabbing a blanket, and getting the stranger covered up just in time to see the sheriff stick his head inside the tent. Quickly shifting into his female guise he jumped up, and ushered the sheriff back out while making a joke. “Are you trying to ruin my reputation, sheriff? This is my dressing room. It wouldn’t be ladylike to allow a man in here.”

The sheriff chuckled. “Sorry, Frenchy. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re forgiven. Now, what can I do for you?”

“Well, we just got back from chasing after the Desperado Gang. They robbed the bank, you know.”

“Yes, I heard about that. How much did they get away with?”

“Right now we’re thinking it was in the neighborhood of ten thousand.”

“Oh, my, that’s a lot of money.”

“Yeah, it sure is. They got away from us when they headed down toward the Badlands, but they won’t be able to hide among those buttes and canyons very long. It ain’t a place for man nor beast. I’ve heard it said that they’ve found the skeletons of three-toed horses and saber-toothed cats up in those pinnacles and spires. How the hell anybody thinks they’ll come out on the other side of that maze of rocks is beyond me. But we’ll be waitin’ for them when they decide to give up. By the way, one of them is still around here somewhere. I thought my bullet killed him, but he’s gone, so he must be hidin’ out. I just came by to ask you to keep your eyes open in case he shows his face around here. A sideshow tent might look awfully inviting to him. Lots of places to hide, you know.”

“Sure, sheriff. I haven’t seen anyone yet, but it’s like a grave around here until show time. A lot of the performers are still asleep. You know, work all night, sleep all day.”

“I guess it is about that time, ain’t it?”

“Another few minutes yet. There’s makeup to put on, costumes to…well, you know the routine.”

“Sure, I know. Okay, well, be seein’ you then,” he said as he touched the rim of his hat like a gentleman, and nodded.

Frenchy watched the sheriff until he got off the sideshow grounds, and then turned and went back inside the tent, and to the black clad desperado he was hiding.