Carnival Cowboy

Chapter 1-3

Minutes, or maybe hours had passed, and when the man woke up, he found himself lying on a pile of hay, and heard a soft, lyrical voice singing in the distance along with what sounded like a crowd of people. He turned and looked, but all he saw was an occasional shadowy form passing by the mouth of the tent, and a lot of activity and laughter outside. He could also hear music coming from the next tent, and carefully turned, reached over and subtly lifted up the tarp to see what was happening. His eyes widened. There he saw the woman—or was it the man he’d seen earlier? He was dressed in a gaudy costume full of flounces, and in his hand was a fan of feathers, and he was singing in a kind of falsetto voice. The room was set up much like that of a saloon with men sitting at the tables and drinking whiskey. As he sang, he went from table to table, using his feathered fan to stroke the men’s faces as he teased them with the lyrics of his song. Feeling a wave of weakness, the injured robber let the tarp fall, and lay back. He closed his eyes, bearing the pain while darkness swirled in his head until he passed out.

The next thing he knew he heard the voice he’d heard before, and again it sounded light, lyrical, and smooth. When he opened his eyes, he found himself looking up into the gaudily made up face he’d seen earlier. At first glance it looked like a feminine face, but as he stared he could see another face beneath all the makeup. He was so stunned he couldn’t speak.

“Hello there,” he said with a gentle smile. “I’m glad to see that you’re all right.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Frenchy Starr, but you can call me Frenchy.”

“Frenchy?” the man repeated. “Where’s your accent…Frenchy Starr?”

“I’m not French, it’s just a stage name. But Starr, in case you’re interested, is spelled several different ways, so depending on how you spell it depends on where it originates from. Actually, the name Starr is a fusion of two different cultures. English and Irish.”

“A fusion?”

“You know. A mixture or a combination of two—”

“Are you a mixture or a combination of…two…?”

When his smile dropped, so did his voice. “If you’re thinking I’m some kind of nut, or that there’s something wrong with me, you’re mistaken. I’m fine. I just do what I have to do to make a buck.” He put his hand underneath his back, and tried to help him sit up. “Now, if you can sit up a little, I’ve got some soup for you. It’s hot, and it’ll make you feel better. And then, when you’re a little stronger I’ll take that bullet out.”

“I’m sorry…about what I said.”

“It’s okay. We’ll just forget it.”

While taking a sip of the soup, he said, “About the bullet, can you do that? I mean, you’re not a doctor, are you?”

Frenchy laughed lightly. “Not unless you measure a doctor’s skill by how many bullets you’ve taken out of people in your lifetime. If you do, then yes, I’m a doctor.”

“Then I’m going to be all right?”

“You are if I can get that bullet out. It’s hard to tell just how much blood you’ve lost. You seem to be as weak as a kitten, and I don’t dare go digging into you with a knife until you get your strength back. So, if you want that bullet out, you’d better do what I say. Now, eat the soup, and don’t stop until it’s gone.”

“You didn’t ask me my name, or what happened to me.”

Frenchy had a wise look on his face when he said, “It would take an i***t not to know who you are. The bank was robbed, and a man who’s the spittin’ image of Johnny Redd runs into my tent with a bullet in him. I think I can add up two and two. By the way, the sheriff came lookin’ for you right after you showed up. He knows you’ve been wounded, and can’t get very far. If I know our sheriff, he’ll tear this town apart until he finds you, so it’s best that you stay out of sight for a while.”

“Damn. What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him a thing, so don’t worry.”

“You think he’ll be watchin’ the place?”

“I don’t think so. By the way, what happened to your partners? Why did they leave you?”

“I don’t know. They might have thought I was dead, but if it was to get their hands on my share of the money, I’ll kick their asses from here to the moon.”

“It’s over, cowboy,” Frenchy said as he took the soup away. “You might as well kiss that money goodbye.”

“No way. If they think I’m dead, let them think it. I’ll come back as a friggin’ ghost, and take my share out of their hides.”

“Well, that’ll be a while, so for now just lay back and rest.”

Day after day Johnny lay on that hay pallet eating, resting, listening to Frenchy’s smooth falsetto voice, and looking at the gaudily made up face of a man who spent his life masquerading as a woman. He saw all the acts that Frenchy put on for the men in town, and decided that he was damned good at what he did, but if they all knew what he was, why were they interested? He got the answer to that question one night when he heard something, crawled over to Frenchy’s tent, and saw him screwing one of the men.

“Oh, God,” he mumbled, and pulled away.

Frenchy Starr was a w***e.

He couldn’t believe it. In the time they’d been together he had learned to like Frenchy, and even found himself taking him into his confidence many times. Although Frenchy never told him anything about himself, he just assumed that he lived and worked at the sideshow, and that was the beginning and the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Now, thankful that he hadn’t been seen, he managed to crawl back to his corner, and had been there for several minutes when he saw Frenchy come out with a roll of bills that would choke a horse. As he punched it down into his built up bodice, he turned and looked at Johnny.

“Why the hell were you spying on me?”

“I…d-didn’t…How did you know?”

“I saw you, dummy, and it’s a good thing I did. If Jess had seen you, you’d be dead right now.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just heard something, and went to investigate. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“Not that I have to explain anything to you, but this miserable side show doesn’t bring in enough money to feed a stray cat. I have to do something, so when I find someone that likes men, I give them what they want.” He smiled sarcastically. “For a price, of course.”

“I thought they all liked men. I mean, they all seem to like your show.”

“Not all of them. Some of them just come to make fun, or see the spectacle of a man making a fool of himself.”

Johnny’s gaze sharpened as he looked at Frenchy, and said, “Don’t you ever take that damned stuff off?”

“Not as a rule. I get company sometimes unexpectedly. I have to look the part at all times. Besides, if I took my makeup off you’d know what I look like.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Maybe I don’t want you to know what I look like.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want any of these clowns to know what I look like. Think about it. If I ever decided to change my way of life I’d have to take the makeup off. I keep it on to stay nameless.”

“A woman without a name. Kind of sad, isn’t it? Hiding behind a mask.”

“All right, so I hide behind it. Don’t tell me you don’t hide behind something.” He reached out and tugged on the kerchief around Johnny’s neck. “A kerchief, for instance? In a bank? Full of money you won’t ever get your fuckin’ hands on?”

“You’ve made your point.”

Frenchy looked at him for a moment, and then he said, “Want to sample the merchandise?”

Johnny felt a sudden heat begin in his groin, and get hotter and hotter. “I…I d-don’t think so.”

“If you change your mind let me know.”

“I couldn’t afford you. Especially now.”

“Sometime I do it for fun,” he said, and winked in a flirtatious manner.