Go here for part 1
The carnies chased out the last of the kids while the boxer watched, smoking a cigarette. His handler had left him alone.
“Hey, Mick,” yelled one of the carnies to him, “We’re going to the saloon, wanna come?”
Ghosts of the past, of the war, were going to keep him up. Who was that man, he thought. He wanted to find out who it was, and maybe he’d overhear something in the saloon.
Some of the carnies had already started drinking. The group of five of them stopped by the manager who gave them all a draw. The boxer had almost a dollar in his pocket.
They all piled into one of the sprung carts. He’d tell Audran that he would be back later…when he got back. He smiled to himself as he thought that Audran would be a little upset at him.
“He doesn’t say anything,” said a new roustabout with the group.
“He can’t talk, Mase. Got no voice box,” said Curly, one of the carnies.
He raised his head, though they wouldn’t be able to see the scars.
“Lost it in the war, I guess,” continued Curly.
He nodded.
The roustabout looked him over. “I could take him. He’s old.”
The boxer snorted and turned away from the man. Curly and most of the men there chuckled. “No, you don’t wanna get him mad.”
“He is like a bull,” said Jaques, driving. “We call him Mick or Bull.”
The boxer opened his mouth and tried to say his name, but it came out as a long, “Aaaahr!” The men laughed, and the boxer shrugged, knowing that wouldn’t have worked out.
The town was a bit away from the carnival set up, as the preacher there didn’t want them too close to the town. The group of men could hear the saloon before they got to it.