Packy sighed and shook his head. "Are you still alive?"
The boy got up on one elbow, reached two fingers into his mouth, and withdrew a tooth. Bullhook Willy laughed. "Packy, I'll be damned if we don't have a dentist in the show now."
Willy pushed himself up from the floor, picked up his bull-hook, and walked until he stood directly in front of Ming. He swatted her cheek with the bullhook and commanded: "No." He reached out a hand and stroked her trunk. "This is what we should be doing, babe. I don't want to hit you. But you have to behave. If we don't get along, you'll be cut up and fed to the cats. Let's go."
Ming again swung her trunk, bowling Bullhook across the floor and into a wall. Again, Packy shook his head. When the kid stood his face dripped red. He returned, stood before the pachyderm, wiped the blood on his sleeve, lifted his stick, and swatted her cheek with it. "No, babe. Don't do that."
The pachyderm stood quietly. Willy turned away then came back carrying another load of hay. Ming studied it, then reached out her trunk. She took the hay and allowed Bullhook to stroke her trunk as she ate. After stuffing in a load of hay, she slowly raised her trunk and wrapped it around Bullhook's shoulders, then his waist.
Packy got to his feet. A trunk around his waist, then the bull pulls you between its front legs, then it begins to work on you with the ivory. But this bull was not preparing for a gore job; she was sniffing her new master. The kid didn't tremble, and he kept his gold-tipped bullhook in plain view. Ming eyed the stick, then let her trunk drop to pick up some of the hay that was in front of her.
Bullhook Willy went back to get some more hay. As he stooped down, Packy let out his breath. "She's yours, Bullhook. She's all yours."
"Yeah." There was a glistening of tears on the kid's cheeks. "Yeah." Bullhook Willy picked up the hay and returned to his elephant.
But that was a lot of years ago.
And the first sunset was dying on a strange planet.
And Madman Mulligan was Ming's bullhand, now.
The survivors were setting up housekeeping in grass shacks and caves. Packy felt a chill, climbed down from the fence, and looked toward the rough long house that had been put up as a makeshift infirmary to house the injured. Somewhere in there, fighting for her life, was Little Will, Bullhook's twelve-year-old daughter. Footsteps came from the direction of the still-smoldering shuttle. It was Pony Red Miira, the boss animal man.
"Packy?"
"Yeah?"
"You're boss elephant man."
"I don't want the job, Pony."
"Who asked you?" Pony Red climbed the fence, went over the top, down the other side, and continued toward the white lights. Mange was still working on Queenie.
Packy glanced at the final red of the sun against the sky, then looked down at the gold-tipped bullhook in his hands.
"Yessir, pig-headed, bull-happy, and dead,"
He began walking toward the infirmary.
FOUR
Little Will held herself motionless in the dark. She knew that all she had to do was to open her eyes, and the blackness would go away. But then would come the hurt.
She smelled wood smoke, heard a fire's quiet crackle, then noticed that someone was holding her left hand. The hand holding hers was large, warm, and gentle. She cautiously rose from the blackness, just a little, ready to recoil if the pain returned. Her head ached, but that searing, shattering bolt of agony that had always waited for her to open her eyes appeared to be gone. She let more of that cotton of blackness drop from her and opened her eyes to tiny slits.
Above her were poles and thatch. They seemed to move in the flickering yellow light. She turned her head slightly to the left. A shadow hovered over her; a shadow and half a face. The face was familiar. Wispy gray hair, long face. She opened her eyes the rest of the way and tried to call out to the man with her thoughts.
The man's eyes were closed, his face relaxed. Little Will tried to project her thought into the man's mind as Nhissia had trained her to do. She frowned as the thought refused to form. She tried harder, and then gasped as the pain returned. She gripped the man's hand as she covered herself with the blackness.
In her dream she looked for another face; another man. The one who had deserted her. So long ago. Long before she could speak.
In the brightly lit hotel room, she sat on the big man's knee, his arms around her resting on the edge of the table, his large hands holding four cards. She looked into his sad face, then turned to see the man on the other side of the table. He was dark and was also holding four cards. His face was also sad. "Your draw, Bullhook."
The large man reached forward, picked up a card from a stack of cards, looked at it, then tossed it upon the table.
The dark man frowned as he drew a card. The dark man put the new card into his hand and hesitated.
"Throw anything you want, Waco. Anything at all."
The dark man raised his eyebrows without looking away from his cards. "You sound awfully smug for a man with bull plop for brains."
"Sticks and stones, Waco. C'mon."
The dark man touched first one card, a second, then pulled out and discarded a third. "Chew on that, Bullhook."
The big man put down his cards next to the dark one's discard. "Ain't they pretty? How many did I catch you with?"
The dark one tossed his cards on the table. "I'm over. That's game."
The big man wrapped his arms around her and jiggled her on his knee. "How about that, Little Will? Your old man just whipped the drawers off that hose merchant over there."
She giggled.
The dark one gathered up the cards. "Another game?"
The big man shook his head. "I can't. I have to go soon."
"Do you think you'll have much trouble rounding up the bulls?"
The big man shrugged. "Can't tell, yet. Eco-Watch doesn't want to let anything off of Earth—officially."
The dark one leaned back itThis chair. "Unofficially?"
"Money talks. I'm supposed to come up with around two hundred bulls. I'll probably be away for two, three months." He mussed up her hair. "I sure hate to go right after you and me found each other." He kissed her cheek, then looked back at the dark one. "Waco, how come she doesn't talk? I thought kids this age could say at least a few words."
"It takes some kids longer than others."
The big man shook his head. "I wonder if it's that genetic thing. From the war. There was a problem."
"Bullhook, it takes some kids longer than others. Don't go looking for trouble." The dark one nodded his head toward the hotel room's outside glass wall. "What were you doing out in the cold cruel for the past two years?"
"Wandered around. I saw a couple of planets; Mendik and Ourylim. Handled some animals there." He pushed a lock of black hair from the little girl's eyes, then he looked back at the dark one. "I went back to the foster camp—except it's not a foster camp anymore. You remember the place I told you about?"
The dark one nodded. "I remember."
"Old Doctor Mentz is dead. The camp is just a regular school. Atabi is the school district superintendent. I talked to him." The big man shook his head. "He's a lot different than I remembered."
"Did you ever find what you were looking for, Bullhook?"
The big man studied her, and then hugged her again. "I think so." He looked back at the dark one. "How come you came back to the show, Waco? Ssendiss sounded like snake heaven."
The dark one laughed, then sipped at a cup of herb tea. "Bullhook, I was a flop as a teacher. My course on Earth snakes bored my students stiff. The trouble with telepaths is that they have some rather startling ways to let you know that they're bored. I can tell you that the novelty of juvenile telepathic pranksters wears off quickly."