The Bridge Read Free

musicians sitting on top, playing a lively tune.
    Virgil shook his head a little.
    “Don’t that beat hell?” I said.
    “Does,” Virgil said.
    Leading the wagon was a single rider on a tall horse. Behind the wagon with the musicians playing music on top were other wagons trailing behind, six wagons in all.
    “That’s that troupe was up in Yaqui, no doubt.”
    “What troupe?” Virgil said.
    “Beauchamp Brothers Theatrical Extravaganza, they call it. A traveling group from New Orleans,” I said. “They go town to town doing dramatic shows, dancing, magic, got ’em a sharpshooter and clairvoyant fortune-teller, that sort of thing. Allie’s been talking about it for weeks. Said it’s been all the talk at the ladies’ social.”
    “She never said nothing to me,” Virgil said. “First I heard of it.”
    “She talks to me, Virgil.”
    “Talks to me, too .”
    “I listen to her.”
    “Well, hell, Everett, I listen to her.”
    “Not when she’s just going on you don’t.”
    “Well, sometimes she talks just to listen to herself speak, Everett,” Virgil said. “More than sometimes. You know that.”
    “I do.”
    I got out of my chair and called into the house, “Allie.”
    “What?”
    “That Beauchamp Brothers bunch is coming into Appaloosa.”
    “What!” Allie exclaimed. “Really? My goodness.”
    She came running out of the front door, taking off her apron. She rolled it up and threw it in Virgil’s lap. A puff of flour dust exploded up in Virgil’s face as Allie leaned over on the porch rail and looked in the direction of the music.
    “They weren’t supposed to be here until next week,” Allie said. “Oh my goodness, my goodness, my goodness. Isn’t this exciting, Everett?”
    “Is, Allie.”
    “Help me up, Everett?”
    I held on to Allie’s hand so she could step up on the rail for a better view. Even though Allie was no longer a spring chicken, she still had a youthful beauty about her. Her agile body was firm, her eyes sparkled, and her skin glowed like that of someone half her age.
    “Careful there, Allie, you don’t slip and hurt yourself,” Virgil said, as he bullwhipped the apron, freeing it of flour.
    “Oh, Virgil.”
    Folks started to gather in the street, looking in the direction of the Beauchamp Brothers Theatrical Extravaganza as they entered town. Now that they were closer, we could clearly see musicians playing banjo, trumpet, trombone, and tuba as a set of cymbals clanged together.
    The single horseman leading the way held up his hand like he was a chief quartermaster halting his cavalry.
    The musicians climbed down from the painted wagon and formed a line behind the horseman, never missing a beat.
    “That must be him,” Allie said. “That must be Beauregard Beauchamp leading the way.”
    “Everett said this extravaganza is the Beauchamp Brothers,” Virgil said. “Might well be the other brother.”
    “Oh, no ,” Allie said. “Boudreaux was killed a few years ago by a tiger.”

— 4 —
    B oudreaux?” Virgil said, looking at me.
    “A tiger?” I said.
    “Yes,” Allie said. “Isn’t that the awfulest thing? He was the tamer, and the tiger got mad or hungry or something and attacked him, chewed him up.”
    Allie focused on the lead horseman and smiled.
    “That must be Beauregard,” Allie said, as she worked pieces of her hair back into place.
    At that moment somebody scurried from one of the wagons and handed the rider a long megaphone.
    He moved his horse on into town. The band followed, playing as they marched behind him. He called out into the megaphone.
    “Hello, Appaloosa. My name is Beauregard Beauchamp.”
    “You were right, Allie,” Virgil said.
    “We are the Beauchamp Brothers Theatrical Extravaganza and we will be in your fair city of Appaloosa for a full week. Offering you nightly entertainment. A new and exciting show every night. The whole family is invited, young and old alike will find something that will make them laugh, warm their