The Medicine Show

Professor Barnabas Bones and Esmeralda

The Astounding, Incredible, Unbelievable, Traveling Patent Medicine Show

I checked my railroad watch and waited until it struck the top of the hour. I carefully tucked the watch back in my vest pocket, pausing to touch the ornate silver key at the end of the chain fob.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Ladies and Gentlemen! Gather round, gather round!"

I stepped forward from the edge of the gold-trimmed brilliant scarlet wagon, letting the tails of my long blood-red tuxedo coat billow, just a little. I cocked my fine black bowler slightly forward over my right eye for that proper rakish look. For the ladies.

I straightened up, hooking a thumb in my gold brocade vest. Always look the crowd in the eye. For the men.

The crowd stood almost dead silent while I paused. I could hear the discordant call of a lone crow off in the distance.

"I am Professor Barnabas Bartleby Bones, purveyor of fine nostrums: liniments, salves, tonics and tinctures.

"A wide array of patent medicines for every possible illness, flux or pain.

"Rheumatism, Lumbago, Dyspepsia, Ladies' complaints and..."

Out of the growing crowd, I picked a slightly spinsterish woman in a blue dress, homely enough to almost certainly be single, but not so far gone as to know it. I made eye contact, slightly pinched the end of my thin waxed mustache, smiled a little wider and sent her a wink.

I lowered my voice slightly and arched one eyebrow. "...hysterias."

She flushed bright red and dropped her eyes. Perfect.

I swept the cloth-of-gold curtain back from the un-shuttered side of the wagon.

"Behold! From every dark corner of the globe. Distilled from the mysteries of lost civilizations and secrets of savage tribes! Obtained at great personal risk from the brutal Apache and the cannibals of Darkest Africa."

Row upon brilliant row of tiny clear glass bottles filled with a rainbow of tinted liquids shining like jewels in the rays of the late afternoon sun. Mostly alcohol, mostly–I hoped–harmless.

I continued through the patter, running down the various cures and their fictional proveniences, words flowing through me naturally in a constant stream. I wasn't even listening to myself, just scanning the crowd.

I didn't have to guess when my partner slid around the other side of the wagon; I instantly turned invisible to the crowd. Men sucked in their breath, while women blinked in shock.

"Ladies and Gentlemen: The Amazing Esmeralda de Moliere; Princess of the Gypsies, Seventh Daughter of the Seventh Daughter, Guardian of the Hidden Mysteries of this Vast Starlit Cosmos."

Smoky-eyed and dusky, with the unblinking stare of a rattlesnake and sinuous movements beyond even theirs, she slithered forward, smooth and liquid until she stood next to me. Her dark red shoulder-baring dress showed more of her than would ever be considered proper outside of a saloon, more even than most saloons would allow, but a Gypsy Princess and Seer was naturally given a little more leeway by the crowd.

I let them drink her in for a long few seconds, just until wives recovered enough to start taking side glances at husbands. Couldn't let that go on too long – jealous enough to want to look like her is fine, husband-glaring angry is not.

"Before you, we are Science and the Mystical, working together to provide you with some light entertainment and healing and comfort of Body, Mind and Soul!"