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Description

Twelve or thirteen months had passed since Opal was last in these parts. As the trucks rumbled into place, she stared at the dusty fields and overhanging cumulus clouds. To the untrained eye, it appeared that a hell of a storm was in the making. But Opal knew that these clouds wouldn’t bring much rain. Not enough to save this year’s crop at any rate.

And so what? Why should she care? Opal had left that life behind. Whatever they were doing at the farm was not her concern.

“What’s on your mind, zuckermaus?” Ordinarily show people don’t pry into each other’s business, but Herr Laufer was her partner and trust was their watchword. And besides, Opal couldn’t resist when he called her “zuckermaus.” She knew it had something to do with the German word for “sugar,” but he always said it so that it sounded like “sucker mouse.”

Opal gave the wolf a wan smile. “Aw… ain’t nothin’ – Jes’ the blues. It’s the road, I reckon.”

Herr Laufer gave her a speculative look. “The road… For us it always goes in a circle. We are close to your home, ja?” Opal nodded mutely. “Do you want to go there?”

“No!” Her response was vehement, angry.

“OK then … I will ask no more.”

The young doe bowed her head and screwed her eyes shut, hoping that no tears would escape. After a few seconds, she looked up. Herr Laufer stood there motionless, his expression full of compassion.

“You know something,” he remarked, “I have had many assistants over the years and some of them were very good. But you… you are the best. I throw the knives at you and you smile like it’s Christmas. You are strong. Don’t forget it.” And with that, the veteran messerwerfer withdrew a silver flask from his vest pocket and offered it to Opal.

“Thanks,” she replied simply.

“Any time, zuckermaus.” The ghost of Opal’s stage smile flitted across her features then. The show, after all, must go on.

Description

Twelve or thirteen months had passed since Opal was last in these parts. As the trucks rumbled into place, she stared at the dusty fields and overhanging cumulus clouds. To the untrained eye, it appeared that a hell of a storm was in the making. But Opal knew that these clouds wouldn’t bring much rain. Not enough to save this year’s crop at any rate.

And so what? Why should she care? Opal had left that life behind. Whatever they were doing at the farm was not her concern.

“What’s on your mind, zuckermaus?” Ordinarily show people don’t pry into each other’s business, but Herr Laufer was her partner and trust was their watchword. And besides, Opal couldn’t resist when he called her “zuckermaus.” She knew it had something to do with the German word for “sugar,” but he always said it so that it sounded like “sucker mouse.”

Opal gave the wolf a wan smile. “Aw… ain’t nothin’ – Jes’ the blues. It’s the road, I reckon.”

Herr Laufer gave her a speculative look. “The road… For us it always goes in a circle. We are close to your home, ja?” Opal nodded mutely. “Do you want to go there?”

“No!” Her response was vehement, angry.

“OK then … I will ask no more.”

The young doe bowed her head and screwed her eyes shut, hoping that no tears would escape. After a few seconds, she looked up. Herr Laufer stood there motionless, his expression full of compassion.

“You know something,” he remarked, “I have had many assistants over the years and some of them were very good. But you… you are the best. I throw the knives at you and you smile like it’s Christmas. You are strong. Don’t forget it.” And with that, the veteran messerwerfer withdrew a silver flask from his vest pocket and offered it to Opal.

“Thanks,” she replied simply.

“Any time, zuckermaus.” The ghost of Opal’s stage smile flitted across her features then. The show, after all, must go on.