Freak

18.

It was hard work and she wishfully dreamt of the calm nights around the campfire.

It was only 10 minutes past 8 in the morning and she had already taken care of the horses, practiced her performance, helped set up the posters and decorations, made sure everyone had been fed properly and gone into town to run errands for Mr. Bank. He'd had some letters he wanted posted, but what Mr. Bank didn't know was that amongst those letters were four extras, two for Mr. Tacitus Kilgore and two for Archibald Smith.

***

Arthur's knees popped uncomfortably as he squatted down over the dead boar, his knife gliding swiftly over its bulging stomach, letting its contents spill out onto the ground. Cursing to himself he saw some of the blood splattering onto his new pants and wiped at it with his thumb, only managing to smear it in, ensuring a good stain. He was tired and hungry and for a moment he entertained the idea of eating the meat himself but he knew he couldn't. They hadn't had any meat in camp for over three weeks now and it made people grumpy. It wasn't for the lack of animals but rather the lack of opportunities. A robbery-gone-wrong had forced them into hiding, the kind of hiding where even hunting was dangerous. Eventually, however, he and Charles hand been sent out for food. They'd gone their separate ways some hours ago and after struggling through the dense woods he'd finally managed to catch something.

Heaving the animal over his shoulders he slowly made his way back to where his faithful horse awaited him. He wasn't young anymore and the animal weighed heavily on his shoulders and back, making them ache worse than normally. He grumbled to himself about how he was 'too old' and he shouldn't be doing 'this shit' anymore. He was 45 years old but he swore it felt like at least 70 when he got up in the mornings and 82 when he went to bed at night.

Tying the animal onto the back of his horse he made his way back to their small camp.

It always amazed him how little had changed in the gang, some people had come and gone but the core was the same as always. Mary-Beath fell in love with, and married, some man who joined them a few years back and they had left together one day that spring, Lenny found honest work up north and Molly up and left in the middle of the night a few summers ago, other than that there really wasn't much difference, except that they were all older.

And of course, there was no Blue.

The thought of her confused him. The memories he had of his daughter were mostly happy and gave him comfort but the uncertainty of what happened to her broke his heart. He didn't know where she was or if she was even alive, did she remember him or was she blissfully happy somewhere where she didn't have to think about her old life? Honestly Arthur didn't know which one he preferred, that she remembered or not?

The sun was setting when he dropped the pig at Pearson's feet. Rolling his aching shoulders' he aimed for the gun-wagon and his bed.

"Arthur, come here boy" Dutch's voice rang through camp, as strong as always. Sighing Arthur looked at his bed longingly before turning towards the older man's big tent.

Pushing the flaps of fabric aside he entered, finding Dutch and Hosea at the small table. The oldest of them half lying on the others bed, breathing heavily, probably recovering from another coughing fit.

"Come look at this!"

On the table laid a letter, splayed open and pressed flat against the rough wood. Dutch motioned for him to read it.

TO; Mr. Archibald Smith.

On the behalf of Mr. Griffiths and Mr. Bank you, and your choice of companion, have be invited to attend the WORLD RENOWND Griffiths & Bank's Travelling Circus.