“Yes,” Max shouted back, automatically gripping his bull hook and lifting it from his arm. Cooper said that if Old Mom came to expect extras, she would be upset when she didn’t get them-and the other elephants were often affected by her moods. Even when there were extra apples, it’d be wrong to give her more. She crunched the fruit contentedly, and Max was sorry he didn’t have a second apple to give her-but he knew Mr. Old Mom waited until he held out the apple on his palm, then whisked it into her mouth without touching his hand with her trunk. When the next three tableau wagons had gone by, Max reached into his pocket. Max reached up to stroke Old Mom’s wrinkled skin, rubbing gently just above her trunk, where she liked it best. Old Mom had not liked the cape at first, but she had gotten used to it. With Jodi’s long hair and her satin cape billowing out behind her, it was a striking parade stance-the crowds always cheered. Jodi’s training as an equilibrist made it easy for her to stand on the howdah platform, balancing against Old Mom’s swaying gait. Cooper had put Jodi up on Old Mom to add a little more flair to the parades. Jodi Jamison had played the part when Max had first seen the Hamilton-Shaw Railroad Circus in Hermosillo a year ago, but another girl did it now. It depicted the story of Sleeping Beauty. The metallic clanking of the crossover plates came closer, and Max watched two more tableau wagons roll past. The farmer had been furious, but as upset as he was, he had kept his distance from Old Mom while she sidled and trumpeted. Startled, she had lifted her trunk only once, the motion so swift that Max had not had time to react in the instant it had taken for the two hundred pound pig to crash to its knees, its neck broken. The squealing animal had escaped from a farmer’s wagon, then run past the elephants, blundering into Old Mom’s leg. He no longer flinched when she was affectionate, but he could never forget how strong she really was. Old Mom lifted her trunk and touched Max’s cheek, then his shoulder. They would be surprised when they were unhitched at the lot instead of being plumed and garlanded for a parade. The heavily muscled horses walked steadily, their heads high. The first tableau wagon, with its fanciful carvings of angels and cherubs, rumbled past, drawn by a hitch of six Percherons. He saw the ticket wagon go by, then the office wagon. Max talked to Old Mom in a low, comforting voice.
Grayson was already gone, working his way down the line of boxcars. “Hickory’s uneasy, but I think he’s okay.”
She loved apples and she knew that standing still and being patient would be the price of this one. She also knew she wouldn’t get it until the train was half unloaded. With her trunk, Old Mom nudged the bull hook to one side, then pushed gently at Max’s jacket pockets. It wouldn’t be long before the wagons at the front of the train were hitched, one by one, to the pullover teams, and unloaded. He could hear the clanging of the crossover plates as they were shoved into place. Through the frame of the open doors, Max saw the cookhouse wagon roll past. Hickory finally stopped his noise, subsiding into a raised-trunk whuffling sound. Cooper never showed any sign of fear, not even when he was working the big cats. Cooper would be watching him, and Max was determined to prove himself. The idea of being in a boxcar with seven unruly elephants scared Max, but only a little. If they did, he would be expected to try to calm them. Max put his fingers in his ears, his eyes moving from one huge animal to the next, alert to any sign that the elephants were about to act up. Hickory began trumpeting, a sound that ricocheted deafeningly off the boxcar steel. “I’ll make sure you get a good bath.” She reached toward him with her trunk, fluttering a breath over his face. “I’ll give you a scrubbing today,” he promised her. With the bull hook swinging from his arm, Max rested his hand lightly on Old Mom’s shoulder. Trilby and Norma were still sleepy, their massive heads low and their tails and trunks motionless. Next to him, Donner, Front, and Big Girl were half turned to look outside. Hickory didn’t like the train, and he could sometimes be hard to handle if he got impatient enough. He was chained nearest the door so he could be unloaded first. The gray light silhouetted Hickory’s sloping back and enormous ears. Max tried to recall the last Sunday he had spent anywhere but aboard a moving train. Today was Sunday, so there would be no performance. The train master was walking down the line, shouting orders. Old Mom was anxious, and Maximo fit his bull hook over his forearm, freeing his hands to rub her leathery skin. The wide doors stood open on the elephants’ boxcar.
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