Early the next morning, Joe tore across the circus grounds, Milly at his side. Ivan stopped them, asking if they'd had breakfast yet. It was sweet of Ivan to fret over them, but their dad was back now. Joe assured him they were fine and they scurried on their way to the elephant pens.

Mrs. Jumbo was in the ring practicing her act, so the little elephant was alone in a small enclosure. At the sight of them, he clambered to his feet and stumbled over to the fence, his ears trailing on the ground.

“Aww, look at him,” Joe said. “Those giant ears just weigh him down.”

“Hi, Baby Jumbo,” Milly said, setting down a covered cage to wave to him. “Welcome to the circus. We're all family here, no matter how small.”

She pulled back the blanket to reveal the miniature mouse circus cage. The three mice inside were already up and restless from the walk over.

“Umm, aren't elephants afraid of mice?” Joe asked.

“Says who?”

Her brother shot her a doubtful expression, and Milly continued. “That's why you experiment. Besides, someone needs to keep him company when he's not with his mom.”

Behind the fence, the elephant's eyes—or what they could see of them behind his ears—widened as he watched the mice run through their act. The ringmaster, Timothy, scaled a small ladder to a platform and slid across a tightrope to another. Below him, the other mice ran on a wheel—one on the inside and one on top. Boldly, Timothy leapt onto a net and then rolled to the ground, where he took a bow.

Milly dropped a peanut in for him as Joe clapped. The elephant let out a huff of air from his trunk, and the edge of his ear rose for a second.

“Look, he sees the peanuts.” Joe pointed at the baby, an idea sparking. “Let's give him one if he can lift his ears out of the way!”

As Joe swung the peanuts back and forth in front of the elephant, the animal stopped puffing air and instead stretched his trunk as far as it could go between the rails, grasping for the food.

“No, you have to blow. Like this.” Joe tried to demonstrate.

Milly laughed. “Good luck with that. Maybe you can teach him to juggle, too.”

Joe frowned, elbowing his sister in the side. He wouldn't give up that easily. His dad was a superb animal trainer, and Joe had watched him for years. There must be something else he could try. He took off his dad's cowboy hat to scratch his head, and then he saw it—a small black feather in the hat's band.

“Aha!” Joe plucked the feather from the hat and placed it over his own eye. “Okay, look, Baby Jumbo.” He blew air upward, lifting the feather to the side. “Now you try. You can do it—for the peanuts! Just do what I do. Blow!”

With a big puff, Joe sent the feather flying, and it drifted over the fence to land gently on Baby Jumbo's forehead.

“ Eeeeeuuugh !” The elephant scrambled backward in alarm, then eyed the feather as it drifted down to the hay.

Slowly, his trunk inched out, sniffing at the strange item in his pen. He let out a tiny chuff and the feather danced into the air before settling on the ground again.

“No, not the feather. Your ears, blow to lift your ears,” Joe coached.

But the elephant instead puffed out another burst of air toward the feather, launching it high in the air. It twirled back over the fence and landed at Joe's feet. The elephant almost seemed to smile at them.

Milly smiled back. “He thinks it's a game.”

Always willing to play, Joe dropped to his stomach and blew the feather back through the fence. Baby Jumbo wriggled happily and mimicked Joe—legs splayed out to get his belly on the ground. He puffed, shooting the feather back to Joe.

“Hey, let me have a turn,” Milly said. She plopped down next to her brother and sent the feather tumbling toward the elephant with a gentle exhale. As the baby puffed it back, Milly and Joe beamed at each other. They took turns guiding the feather back to the animal.

“Now stronger,” Joe said. “With all your might.” He sucked in a big breath and then whooshed it out to show the baby what he meant.

Baby Jumbo inhaled deeply, but to everyone's surprise, he accidentally sucked the feather toward him, and it shot up one of his nostrils. The elephant scrambled to his feet, hiccuping. His eyes and nose were twitching just like Milly's did when she dusted.

“ Ah-ah-ah-ah-chooooo !” the elephant sneezed. With a whoosh , the feather cannoned out of his nose and his ears unfurled like butterfly wings.

Baby Jumbo rose into the air.

And stayed there.

Five feet off the ground.

His ears flapped, and then he tumbled to the ground in a pile.

Milly and Joe leapt to their feet, mouths open wide. Even the mice stared out from their cage, awestruck. The kids looked at each other to make sure they'd seen the same thing.

“Give him the peanuts,” Joe said.

“You got it,” Milly answered.

She flung the whole bag over the fence, and they took off without a word. Their dad had to hear this!

* * *

Outside his family's tent, Holt was practicing with a rope lasso. He was lucky he was right-handed, he thought for the thousandth time since the war had claimed his other arm. Flicking his wrist, he sent the rope arcing through the air and noosed the toy he'd been aiming for.

“Yes!” Holt exclaimed, oblivious to the seething gaze fixed upon him.

Rufus lurked in the shadow of a nearby tent. He rubbed at his bandaged jaw and muttered. “Think you're still a big shot, huh? Got news for ya, cowboy. You're gonna be sorry you ever came back.”

Rufus spotted the short figure of the circus director headed their way and slipped off.

“Max, come here, watch this,” Holt shouted, waving Medici over. As soon as the circus owner was closer, Holt launched into his pitch. “Okay, forget the dozen horses. I figure all we need is one. I ride out and do some jumps.” Holt mimed galloping out and leaping over barrels. “And then all of a sudden—a stampede!”

Holt kicked over a crate that had been blocking his tent flap, and a herd of poodles bounded out, yipping like crazy. The cowboy spun his lasso and flung it toward one, but the dog slipped through the hole and darted away to join the others.

“Still working out the timing,” Holt said, turning back to Medici with a hopeful smile.

Medici's eyebrows quirked up. “Yeah,” he said indulgently, “it's coming along.” His expression shifted as he tapped the long box at his side. “Meanwhile, for when you lead out the elephants, I had Costumes make you something.” He offered up the box.

Swinging the rope over his shoulder, Holt flipped the box open. Inside lay a fake stuffed arm, complete with a flesh-toned hand with stubby fingers and a strap to attach it to his body.

“You really broke the bank with this one,” Holt joked. It would fool people from a distance, but it looked like a scarecrow up close, lumpy and uneven. It was slightly longer than his real arm, meaning it would hang an inch or two lower.

“There are a lot of kids coming to the show...” Medici trailed off.

“So I don't scare anyone. I get it,” Holt said with a nod. It would be bad for business if families stayed away on his account.

Just then, Joe's voice interrupted them. “Dad, it's Baby Jumbo! You have to come see!”

As his kids raced up, Holt jiggled the box so the top flipped closed. Joe tripped over the end of the rope and crashed into his father. The box crashed to the ground, spilling the arm out into the dirt.

Milly and Joe were too excited to notice, but Holt ducked down and gathered it up as his children chattered at him.

“He jumped in the air... with his ears !” Milly exclaimed.

“It was amazing!” Joe added.

“Guys, I said leave him be.” Holt's voice was gruff.

“But he was this far off the ground,” Joe said, pointing above himself.

“Yeah, I'll bet he was,” Holt drawled, rising to his feet, the box clutched to his chest. “He'll be tripping all over with ears like that.”

“Dad, really. We tried an experiment,” Milly began, but her father's cheeks were red as he spun around.

“This isn't a game! It's our livelihood. Stay out of his tent and leave the poor guy alone.” Holt shoved the box inside the tent.

Milly stood back, arms crossed, assessing her father. If that was the way he was going to be, there was no point sharing the miracle they'd discovered with him. Her spine was stiff as she pivoted to Joe.

“First rule of science: you have to have interest. Otherwise, you don't deserve to know.” Her dad had proved that he didn't even want to try to understand her, nor did he want to listen to them. Not even when what they had to tell him was the most incredible thing in the world. “Come on, Joe.”

Holt grimaced as Milly stormed away, her brother trailing after her.

“Hard months on her, Holt,” Medici said softly. “She's had to grow up way too fast.”

“Annie knew how to talk to them.” The cowboy slumped, deflated.

“Well. Can't fail until you start,” Medici advised in a rare moment of wisdom. He patted Holt's shoulder and then headed off.

Holt watched his kids disappear around a tent corner, wishing he knew how to be a better dad, wishing his wife were still there, wishing things were different. But there was no wishing away his problems. It was time to tackle what he could—he had to figure out how to hide that elephant's ears before the performance that night. 9RVYSszcwtfU2V8X/el5mB63V7rO084Dvh1FiC/TxciLqQc9oA2XpQjts0kDDjIV