Untamed Read Free Page A

wrong.”
    â€œDuffy.” Her lips curved into a smile. “Just because I like to read Shakespeare doesn’t mean I can deal with Keane Prescott. Even thinking about him makes me furious. How will I act when I meet him face to face?”
    â€œWell.” Duffy shrugged before he pursed his lips. “If you don’t think you can handle it . . .”
    â€œI didn’t say I
couldn’t
handle it,” Jo muttered.
    â€œOf course, if you’re afraid . . .”
    â€œI’m not afraid of anything, and I’m certainly not afraid of some Chicago lawyer who doesn’t know sawdust from tanbark.” Sticking her hands in her pockets, she paced the length of the small room. “If Keane Prescott, attorney-at-law, wants to spend his summer with the circus, I’ll do my best to make it a memorable one.”
    â€œNicely,” Duffy cautioned as Jo moved to the door.
    â€œDuffy,” she paused and gave him an innocent smile. “You know what a gentle touch I have.” To prove it, Jo slammed the door behind her.
    ***
    Dawn was hovering over the horizon as the circus caravan drew up in a large, grassy field. Colors were just a promise in a pale gray sky. In the distance was grove upon grove of orange trees. As Jo stepped from the cab of her truck, the fragrance met her. It’s a perfect day, she decided, then took a long, greedy breath. To her, there was no more beautiful sight than dawn struggling to life.
    The air was vaguely chilly. She zipped up her gray sweat jacket as she watched the rest of the circus troupe pouring out of their trucks and cars and trailers. The morning quiet was soon shattered by voices. Work began immediately. As the Big Top canvas was being unrolled out of the spool truck, Jo went to see how her lions had fared the fifty-mile journey.
    Three handlers unloaded the traveling cages. Buck had been with Jo the longest. He had worked for her father, and during the interim between his death and Jo’s professional debut, he had worked up a small act with four male lions. His shyness had made his retirement from performing a relief. To Buck, two people were a crowd. He stood six-feet-four, and his build was powerful enough for him to pad the sideshow from time to time as Hercules the Strong Man. He had an impressive head of wild blond hair and a full, curling beard. His hands were wide, with thick, strong fingers, but Jo remembered their gentleness when the two of them had delivered a lioness of a pair of cubs.
    Pete’s small frame seemed puny beside Buck’s. He was of indeterminable age. Jo guessed between forty and fifty, but she was never certain. He was a quiet man with skin like polished mahogany and a rich, low-pitched voice. He had come to Jo five years before, asking for a job. She had never asked where he had come from, and he had never told her. He wore a fielder’s cap and was never seen without a wad of gum moving gently in his teeth. He read Jo’s books and was the undisputed king of the poker table.
    Gerry was nineteen and eager. He was nearly six feet and still carried the lankiness of his youth. His mother sewed, and his father was a souvenir salesman, or a candy butcher, as circus jargon had it. Working the big cage was Gerry’s dream, and because it had been hers, Jo had finally agreed to tutor him.
    â€œHow are my babies?” she demanded as she approached. At each cage she paused and soothed a nervous cat, calling each by name until they had settled. “They’ve traveled well. Hamlet’s still edgy, but it’s his first year on the road.”
    â€œHe’s a mean one,” Buck muttered, watching Jo move from cage to cage.
    â€œYes, I know,” she replied absently. “He’s smart, too.” She had twisted her hair into one thick braid and now tossed it to her back. “Look, here come some towners.” A few cars and a smattering of bikes drew into the