Read Buttercup for Free Online Page B

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    Now we get us some Buttercup. She might even let you sniff it!” he chuckled.
    Jelly paled.
    Silvio hooked his arm around Jelly’s neck and yoked him forward, forcing him to walk at his side. They moved through the pinned back fold of the tent. The place was filled with others. Rickety foldout chairs offered a place to squat, but most men preferred to stand. If anything, they wanted to see who would replace Lady Joyce.
    A tall Indian, with shoulders about a foot wide, collected coins in his hat. Silvio dropped in a folded bill. The Indian looked at it for a moment, and then his eyes flipped back up at him. Dark and mean, they narrowed on Silvio before he offered change. It wasn’t a look that Silvio took kindly. He knew a shake down. If he and Jelly were pegged as marks they would have an even harder time trying to tag on with the carnies out of the county. He pushed Jelly to the front, keeping an eye on the Indian who just stared after them.
    “We shouldn’t,” Jelly protested. He stumbled awkwardly over his feet. Silvio forced him down in a seat.
    “Take a load off. Either way, it’s coming out your half.” Silvio slapped him on the back and plopped down in the empty chair to his right along the front row. He’d seen a couple of girlie papers but not a real live show. It would be a good way to pass the time until Tuck and his men called off the hunt. But even more interesting was the money they collected at the door. He wondered about what a night’s take in a hoochie-coochie tent would bring. Just as quickly, he set aside the thought, though his pistol was down in his knickers pocket pressed into his thigh. Not even Jelly knew he carried it. He looked back for the Indian. There were two other men with him at the back of the tent, all staring. Things could get interesting.
    The dwarf was lifted to the podium. He walked along with the aid of a gnarled wooden stick, eyeing the crowd.

    “Where she at!” one fella yelled.
    “Pussy better rain gumdrops for a damn quarter!” another threw out.
    Silvio rocked back on the shaky legs of his chair. He chuckled. How special could some gal be in a dusty ole carnival like this, he wondered.
    The dwarf favored them with a toothless smile. “Not gumdrops, fellas.
    More like rose petals. The sweetest little flower you’ve ever seen. Not like the ones you got home waitin’ on ya, if’in you do.”
    Tiny was his name. He gave a bow-legged waddle over to the phonograph player’s crank, winding it up. Out of the curtain came a scraggly looking woman. Some laughed. Others snickered. Silvio just frowned. The old hag in a dress, a size too big, danced the Charleston.
    “Trixie, boys!” said the midget.
    She was quite pathetic, panting, gyrating her hips at one man then the next. And when the clothes slipped off, Silvio wished he hadn’t chosen the front row. He noticed that Jelly kept his eyes down. He elbowed his friend in his fat belly. “Look at it. Hooch is right. Need an entire bottle to want some of that.”
    Jelly shyly looked up. Trixie tried her best, coming out of her dress, her skin all wrinkly with moles. “Her teat’s look like Maxine’s…our cow,”
    Jelly said.
    Silvio let go a laugh. He laughed so hard he nearly fell back in his chair. Shaking his head, he decided it was a quarter well spent. And most there felt the same, laughing and pushing at each other as the poor creature gave it her best. Then she went for the stealer. It started with knee knocking, and hands pressed under armpits while her arms flapped in a chicken-like dance.
    “You like that, boys?” the barker yelled out.
    “Hell no!” several yelled back.
    “If I wanted to see a dead chicken, I’d stayed back on the farm!” one man snorted. The others roared. Jelly finally laughed too. Silvio was glad to see him loosen up. The barker walked over to Trixie and gave her a pat on the backside to move it along. He waited for quiet. “Are you ready?”
    “Where’s Lady Joyce!