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right, but Ari’s retired.” Turning, Jo indicated the large male lion dozing in a cage. “He travels with me because he always has, but I don’t work him anymore. He’s twenty-two, the oldest. My father kept him, even though he was born in captivity, because he was born the same day I was.” Jo sighed, and her voice became softer. “He’s the last of my father’s stock. I couldn’t sell him to a zoo. It seemed like shoving an old relative into a home and abandoning him. He’s been with this circus every day of his life, just as I have. His name is Hebrew for
lion.”
Jo laughed, forgetting the man beside her as she sifted through memories. “My father always gave his cats names that meant lion somehow or other. Leo, Leonard, Leonara. Ari was a first-class leaper in his prime. He could climb, too; some cats won’t. I could teach Ari anything. Smart cat, aren’t you, Ari?” The altered tone of her voice caused the big cat to stir. Opening his eyes, he stared back at Jo. The sound he made was more grumble than roar before he dozed again. “He’s tired,” Jo murmured, fighting a shaft of gloom. “Twenty-two’s old for a lion.”
    â€œWhat is it?” Keane demanded, touching her shoulder before she could turn away. Her eyes were drenched with sadness.
    â€œHe’s dying,” she said unsteadily. “And I can’t stop it.” Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Jo moved away to the main group of cages. To steady herself, she took two deep breaths while waiting for Keane to join her. Regaining her composure, she began again. “I work with these twelve,” she told him, making a sweeping gesture. “They’re fed once a day, raw meat six days a week and eggs and milk on the seventh. They were all imported directly from Africa and were cage-broken when I got them.”
    The faint sound of a calliope reached them, signaling the opening of the midway. “This is Merlin, the one I ride out on at the finish. He’s ten, and the most even-tempered cat I’ve ever worked with. Heathcliff,” she continued as she moved down the line of cages, “he’s six, my best leaper. And this is Faust, the baby at four and a half.” The lions paced their cages as Jo walked Keane down the line. Unable to prevent herself, Jo gave Faust a signal by raising her hand. Obediently, he sent out a huge, deafening roar. To Jo’s disappointment, Keane did not scramble for cover.
    â€œVery impressive,” he said mildly. “You put him in the center when you lie down on them, don’t you?”
    â€œYes.” She frowned, then spoke her thoughts candidly. “You’re very observant—and you’ve got steady nerves.”
    â€œMy profession requires them, too, to an extent,” he returned.
    Jo considered this a moment, then turned back to the lions. “Lazareth, he’s twelve and a natural ham. Bolingbroke, he’s ten, from the same lioness as Merlin. Hamlet,” she said stopping again, “he’s five. I bought him to replace Ari in the act.” Jo stared into the tawny eyes. “He has potential, but he’s arrogant. Patient, too. He’s just waiting for me to make a mistake.”
    â€œWhy?” Keane glanced over at Jo. Her eyes were cool and steady on Hamlet’s.
    â€œSo he can get a good clean swipe at me,” she told him without altering her expression. “It’s his first season in the big cage. Pandora,” Jo continued, pointing out the females. “A very classy lady. She’s six. Hester, at seven, my best all-around. And Portia; it’s her first year, too. She’s mostly a seat-warmer.”
    â€œSeat-warmer?”
    â€œJust what it sounds like,” Jo explained. “She hasn’t mastered any complicated tricks yet. She evens out the act, does a few basics and warms the seat.” Jo moved on. “Dulcinea, the