34 - The Rodeo Clown

Anthony "Tiger" Franks sat in his trailer applying his signature face paint before the rodeo in Medicine Hat. He'd pulled his trailer up to the rodeo grounds the night before in an effort to escape the tension at the Bogs. He thought of his cousin and the sadness that had settled in his heart because of the harsh words of a woman in pain.

Earlier that afternoon he'd checked the equipment they'd been using in the practice run to make sure there was nothing faulty. His partner was an alcoholic daredevil of a man who was nearly ready to retire but Tony had a hard time trusting any of the younger men they tried. He painted in the bright orange tiger stripes: he needed to be extra careful tonight, his heart was with the man and woman he'd left behind at the Bogs and a distracted clown was a dead clown.

Like all rodeos, Tony looked around, this one was noisy, dusty and full of cocky cowboys, and large well treated animals who were bred to do specific tasks. As if on cue a bull bellowed from somewhere in the pens, a challenge to every other bull and rider there. The stands were crowded with families who'd come to see the chuck races or the bull riding. Bronc riding had happened the night before and barrel racing would be the next day.

The energy, the crowds, the smells, it was all Tony knew other than what he'd experienced at the Bogs. He turned back to his mirror and scrubbed at a splash of paint in the wrong spot. The events since he'd arrived at the Bogs had dredged up some old memories he'd wanted to forget. He could see the beat up old Chevy Silverado in his mind, towing a small trailer that had seen better days: the roof vent was covered with a garbage bag that flapped noisily in a wind, the windows leaked and you had to hit the propane valve with a wrench in order to get the gas to flow. He shuddered remembering the terrible smell after the explosion that had killed his mother and get latest in a string of abusive boyfriends: he was grateful for electrical hook ups in his new trailer. He refused propane and had installed solar panels and a generator for when he couldn't plug in.

Maisey's eye had echoed the haunted look in his mother's grey blue eyes. Always fearful, always waiting for the next slap. He pitied his cousin, and envied him. Brett had landed, a beautiful woman and a home: Tony looked around at the "freedom" of his trailer and gave himself a mental head shake: now was not the time for melancholy and memories.

Finished with the last bit of orange and touch ups Tony looked into the mirror and saw Tiger, the fiercest rodeo clown. He chuckled and grabbed his hat: time to walk the pens and get his head in the game.

He greeted other rodeo staff and families as he wove through the field that had turned into a trailer park, recognizing most of the old crew and making a mental note of new faces.

The pens were full. Chains of gates clanked. Hooves stomped. Animals snorted and slammed against the walls. The smells were terrible: sweat, shit and blood; they made him think of his job. He stopped to greet some of the horses and riders as he wandered through the aisles. He stepped around a kid throwing manure into a wheelbarrow and waved when someone called out to him.

A wrong move in the arena could mean death.

Applause and cheers echoed through the building and he could hear the announcers commentating for the chuck race. He soaked it all in, pulled every noise and smell into himself and wrapped it around himself like armor.

Finally the chuck races were over, it was time to play his role: it was time for the bull riding.

As Tony and two other clowns took to the arena the crowd cheered. Cowboys tipped they hats in silent gratitude for the jobs they did, the other clowns danced a silly pantomime for three entertainment of the crowd: Tony waited patiently for the bull. Two linemen were ready. 8 seconds was all it took but the bull controlled whether you lived or died.

The buzzer went and the first bull shot out of the shoot, Black Beauty was its name. Black Beauty was bucking and performing and elegant dance of furiousness to dislodge the rider on his back. Tony moved to stay out of the animals' line of site and then the cowboy popped out of the saddle.

The linemen rode in, the clowns got between rider and animal, dancing with death. And then before he knew it Black Beauty was in the shoot and the cowboy was dusting his pants. It was a disturbing routine but Tony settled into it.

To a rodeo clown, when the bull was in the field that was all you could focus on: the noise of the crowd faded to nothing, the arena and even the linemen went fuzzy, all you could see was the bull--until the rider was down and then everything else came into focus. He worked with four bulls before he tapped out for a break and let the second team have their shot: there were twenty six bulls to go. When he stepped off the arena the smells of the pens wasn't as bad anymore, he'd become used to it. He accepted a bottle of water from one of the star struck teenagers that was volunteering, eyes wide with adoration looking past him at the bull riders.

Two rides into his break, Tony was called back in. One bullfighter limped off while another was strapped on a backboard and taken out of the arena. He tossed the empty water bottle at the teenage and went back into the ring.

He ached when he was through: he'd been bumped, pushed, thrown to the ground, stepped on and was ready for a long, hot soak in the shower and his bed. As his trailer came into view he was brought up short by the guest sitting waiting--more pacing than sitting. "Cousin," Tony shook Brett's hand, "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to stay close to Maisey?"

"I had to get out," Brett put his hands in his hair and pulled with frustration, "I don't know what to do Tony, she has moments she's lucid and reminds me of the woman I've had around these past months and then suddenly she's cold and distant and bawls and bawls and bawls. I can't seem to get through to her."

"Since you're here, fire up the grill and make us some steak, let me get cleaned up and then we'll talk." Brett nodded but his green eyes were dark with the fear of losing someone you love. "We'll find a way," Tony told him, "But not while I have tiger stripes on my face."

Brett's mouth turned up at the corners.

"Do you remember my momma?" Tony came out of the trailer as Brett was taking the steaks off the grill. He shook his head. "The last few days at the Bogs brought back a lot of memories for me," He started to cut into the steak, "Daddy just about killed her with hitting her and pushing her around, he'd knock her around every time he didn't do well in a ride and when he did well, that was almost worse."

"I don't remember that," Brett admitted.

"That's probably because they didn't come to the Bogs much back then. He was obsessed with the rodeo and she was a groupie. After he up and left, she went from man to man, bed to bed and always came home with bruises when she did come home at all." Tony had a far away look in his eyes. "That year I spent with you and Junior at the Bogs was the year she died. There was an explosion because of something that was wrong with the propane, but the autopsy...funny thing about autopsies, they show the truth. From what the doc could tell, she was dead before the explosion, he'd strangled her to death while screwing her because that's how he got off." Brett shuddered.

"She tried to stop a few times, tried to get free of the abuse, but she couldn't. It was like daddy told her too many times that she was only good to get beat." He chewed for a minute in silence. "Maisey's not like Momma," he said finally. "She got out, she found a place where she could really be free of what happened, but then something happened in her safe space and now her memories are taking over, and she's not able to escape them, not even here."

"She won't try." Brett's voice was tired, "Man, I haven't left her side in all of this, I knew there was something special, but now every time I come in the room she loses her mind, it's like she thinks I'm him."

"Maybe she does." Tony said after a while, "Has she ever called you by name? Ever truly recognized who you were?" Brett thought and shook his head, "She could be stuck in a living nightmare: reliving every time her ex came in the room, every time that paramedic looked after her, every bad thing that ever happened." Brett's shoulders sagged, "You have to realize that she's trapped in a situation where she has just been stripped of her control: control was the only thing she had left."

"Oh my gawd," Brett breathed, "The doctor telling her she could only have bedrest and us bringing in that horrible bed without talking to her, not giving her choices, you're saying that could be a part of this?" Tony shrugged, "I'm an ass, I can't believe I didn't recognize any of that before!"

"A little hard to see what's in front of us when we're trying to do what's right for the ones we love sometimes." Tony smirked. "So now that you know, what will you do?"

"I'm going to start by sending Anna home."