Joplin's citizens crowded through the gate as soon as the circus opened that night, eager to finally see inside. Barely anybody noticed the bucket with a roughly painted sign reading MEDICI HORSE FUND. ONE HORSE ONLY. DONATIONS WELCOME! And anybody who did see it didn't drop any money in—they were saving it for the food and wonders within the circus.

Along each side of the pathway booths were set up with magnificent posters unfurled behind the stages for each performer in the show—from a gentleman juggler to tightrope walkers.

Joplin's citizens crowded in front of a tank holding a genuine mermaid! People gawked at her emerald tail and craned their heads to look for gills. Miss Atlantis twisted and kept her movements fluid, so it would seem as though she was moving through the water that was actually trapped in the double-paned glass of the tank.

“Look at that!” someone cried, pointing at the next booth.

A miniature stage had been set up and standing on it was a real live monkey holding up a tiny skull. From the side, his back to the crowd, Puck squeezed the concertina and recited the lines for Barrymore.

“ ‘To be or not to be, that is the question!'” Puck exclaimed. Before he could continue, Barrymore tossed the skull away and plunked a blond wig on his head. Puck switched over to Romeo and Juliet , doubting that anybody in the audience would recognize it. But at least a monkey in a wig got some laughs.

Opposite him, the Rubberband Man was twisted, his head between his legs. The next booth over was the strongman's.

Rongo hefted the fake barbells over his head, grimacing in pretend exertion. Only a handful of people clapped. The Joplin crowd was lackluster.

“Rongo, let's go,” Medici hissed from behind a banner.

Sighing, the strongman dropped the weights and followed Medici to the Big Top, where the main show was about to start. There were still some ticket buyers taking in the performers, though, including a crowd around the snake charmer.

Pramesh sat cross-legged on a pillow, playing his pungi, gently coaxing one of his snakes up from its woven basket just a few feet away. Arav hovered nearby in case he was needed.

In his audience, a group of teenaged boys jostled to the front.

“That ain't no snake,” one of them shouted, convinced it was all a trick. “It's just a ding-a-ling on a wire. Heck, I could do it.”

Pramesh calmly stopped the music and faced the impertinent youth. “As you wish,” he said, inclining his head.

With his foot, he tipped over the basket, setting free his smallest cobra. The snake hissed and slithered across the small stage away from Pramesh—and toward the crowd.

“Uncle!” Arav raced to scoop it up as the crowd shrieked and fled in all directions.

Pramesh sniffed. “When I was young, we believed.”

Luckily, a drumroll from the main tent signaled the start of the big show, and most people headed toward it. Arav seized the cobra behind its head and eased it into the basket, firmly shutting the lid on it again.

“Uncle, please.” His eyes implored the older man.

“Okay, fine, I'll behave,” Pramesh muttered. “But in India we raise our children to respect their elders. And we know there is more to the world than what the eye can see. Americans are too quick to doubt.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Arav said. “Much in America is not what we expected.”

Pramesh harrumphed as he watched the circus attendees file into the main tent.

* * *

Inside the Big Top, Joplin's citizens settled onto the tiered seats and gazed at the empty ring. Two curtains hid corners of the tent, and a slit in the back served as the entrance for the performers.

From the far end of the bleachers, Rongo tapped grumpily on a xylophone, then switched a stick for the beat-up trumpet and blasted out a few toots. The cymbals were next; he stomped on a pedal to knock a drum at the same time.

From his place backstage, Medici shot Rongo a look, wishing the man would play with a bit more enthusiasm. The music sounded different when Rongo was in a good mood. Shrugging, Medici squared his shoulders, smoothed down his red coat, and strode out into the spotlight.

“Welcome, Joplin, Missouri! Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” he boomed out, from the center of it all—the ring. It was a smaller crowd than he'd have liked. Where were all the people? Didn't anyone come to the circus anymore? “I am your master of ceremonies, the one, the only... Maximillian Medici!” He paused, but nobody clapped, so he quickly went on. “And now I give you the artistry of the Medici Brothers' Circus!”

He swung his arm wide to signal the rest of the troupe.

Clowns in animal costumes, Ivan and Catherine, and the acrobats burst into the ring from the back flap, cartwheeling and throwing confetti. There was a smattering of applause in the crowd. Medici hid a grimace as he ducked off to change his costume. These folks were hard to please.

Backstage, Holt scratched at the straps holding the fake arm onto his shoulder. He stooped down to make sure the little elephant's ears were tied up well with the big blue bow the costume crew had given him. The little guy squirmed a bit. Holt felt a pang. I know how you feel , he thought.

Aloud, he said, “Okay, little guy, let's put on a show.” Holt turned away to make sure the other elephants were set. Mrs. Jumbo, who would not be going out until after the trapeze act, reached forward and caressed her baby, who was drinking in all the sounds from the ring.

Onstage, the clowns pretended to wobble as they carried out a large box labeled DYNAMITE! HANDLE WITH CARE! and set it down center-ring. With a boom , the box's sides flew open and a cloud of smoke filled the air.

Medici stepped through it with a flourish, only now he was decked out in a blue jacket, wore a black wig, and had pasted on bushy eyebrows and a mustache. When he spoke, he coated his words in a thick pretend Italian accent. “Friends, I am Giuseppe Medici. My brother and I are honored tonight to introduce to you, making his worldwide debut, first-ever baby elephant born right here in America! Please welcome the pride of this circus, our dear Baby Jumbo!”

Rongo squeezed the accordion under one arm while blowing into the trumpet (which was propped up on a stand), banging the drum with his foot and clanging the cymbals together.

Right on cue, Holt led Goliath and Zeppelin into the ring. Banners of storks draped their sides, and two acrobats perched on top of them, holding blankets bundled to look like babies. Holt eased the elephants into a walk around the ring, keeping the fake arm on the side away from the audience. Not five steps in, he heard a man call out.

“Isn't that Holt Farrier? The Stallion Star? Ain't you Holt Farrier?”

Holt ducked his head, gritting his teeth. “He died in the war,” Holt said flatly.

As Zeppelin lumbered forward, the rope tied to his tail tugged a blue bassinet into view. The crowd let out a collective “aww” as they caught sight of the baby elephant inside, a giant pacifier gripped in his mouth. Baby Jumbo swayed on his feet, eyes wide at the lights and colors and people all around. Inching forward, the parade passed a beautiful pink-feathered hat. Baby Jumbo perked up.

Dropping the pacifier, he turned his head to track the hat as the performers went around the ring for a second time. As the bassinet drew closer, he leaned against the side, reaching his trunk through. But he missed the hat.

“What's he doing?” Milly asked from behind the curtain.

Joe peered out as well. “Saying hi to the lady.”

“No. It's her hat! He's reaching for the feathers.” Milly shot Joe a horrified look. “He thinks that gets him peanuts.”

Milly ducked into the tent and crept forward, trying to stay low. “Dad,” she whisper-called. “Keep him back from the side—”

But Holt didn't hear her. The elephants circled again, and this time the baby leaned as close to the audience as he could and sucked the feathers up. Unfortunately, the hat came with them... as did the blond wig of the woman who'd been wearing it.

“Aaaah!!!” The woman shrieked as others in the audience laughed. The woman's husband rose with a roar, pointing at the offending elephant.

Medici, in the midst of a backstage costume swap, froze as he spotted the baby. His nose—plugged with feathers—was twitching uncontrollably.

“ Ah-ah-ah —”

“Oh, please, I beg of you, no!” Medici cried.

“ Chooooo!!!! ”

Blown backward by the force of his sneeze, Baby Jumbo flew out of the bassinet, losing his diaper and bow in the process. He landed on his bottom in the center of the ring, his ears slowly floating down to join him like two giant quilts. Everyone froze, stunned into silence for a moment.

“ Ah-choo .” Baby Jumbo snorted out two last feathers.

Zeppelin and Goliath were the first to react. Shying backward, they trumpeted in alarm.

“Whoa, easy now,” Holt called, reaching out to steady them. “He's an elephant, same as you.”

“That ain't a real elephant,” someone in the crowd called. “Those ears are fake!”

“What did you do to that thing?” someone else cried.

Medici burst out from backstage. “Why, Missouri, this is astonishing. A rare curiological oddity. Giuseppe, where are you? Come see!” He spun in a circle, pretending to look for his brother and gesturing at his troupe to do something—anything!

The crowd erupted in boos and hisses. Baby Jumbo spotted Milly and Joe. He blew his ears up and onto his back. His trunk poked at one of the feathers that was now drifting through the air, and he puffed it toward Goliath, trying to start a game.

The other elephants reared up, sending the performers on top of them tumbling down to the ground. Holt sprang forward to grab hold of Zeppelin's trunk.

“Look, the other ones are scared of it, that's how you know it's fake,” another heckler called.

“No, no, he's real! He's just a freak,” Medici cried. He leaned toward Holt and hissed, “Get those ears off the stage.”

Baby Jumbo flopped forward, eager to get closer to fellow elephants, but somersaulted over his ears. People started laughing. Then someone noticed the sign over the bassinet had been rearranged in the chaos. The D from DEAR BABY JUMBO had fallen off to hook over the J; the sign now read EAR BABY DUMBO.

“Dum-bo! Dum-bo!” the crowd chanted and hollered, hurling food at the ring. Hot dogs and popcorn rained down on the baby, who used his ears to shield himself.

Backstage, Mrs. Jumbo paced anxiously. Rufus stalked up, whip in hand. He sneered at her, smiling maliciously and cracking the whip at her feet. “Hear 'em making fun of your ugly baby? Who is gonna help him now?”

“ EEEEAAAUUUGGGGHHH!!!! ” Mrs. Jumbo trumpeted loudly. She fled into the main ring.

Rufus followed her in, his face plastered with fake fear. “Stop her! The beast's gone mad!” he yelled. Then he slyly cracked the whip again before ducking under the seats to watch the spectacle.

Performers scattered as Mrs. Jumbo rumbled through the tent, head swinging back and forth in alarm, ears flapping wildly. Spotting her baby just as a bucket of popcorn hit him in the face, she charged toward him, quickly placing herself between him and the stands in a protective stance. The ground shook as she raised her front feet and brought them down with a boom .

Screams filled the tent; the audience stampeded for the exits.

“Everyone out,” Medici cried. “Get to safety.”

Milly and Joe dove under the tiered benches to avoid getting trampled by the mob as Ivan, Catherine, Rongo, and the clowns helped guide people out. Onstage, the baby elephant hid behind his mother, whose ears were flared in anger.

Pramesh rushed into the tent to help Holt guide Goliath and Zeppelin away from the madness. Once Pramesh had the male elephants outside, Holt raced back inside to soothe Mrs. Jumbo.

He eased closer, hand out low. “No one's going to hurt your baby. We're here to protect him, just like you.”

Mrs. Jumbo huffed, swinging her trunk. But she stopped trumpeting and peered at Holt's outstretched hand.

Crack! From underneath the benches, Rufus cracked his whip again.

Startled, Mrs. Jumbo backpedaled into one of the tent's support poles. Her weight crashed into it, splintering it in two. She darted to the side, ushering her baby with her, as the top half of the pole broke off and plummeted down toward the benches.

“Milly, Joe, watch out!” Holt yelled as he ran toward them.

Scrambling, he pulled them out just as the pole crashed into the seats. Rufus was not as lucky; the benches crushed him to the ground.

Billows of red-and-white-striped fabric surrounded the Farriers as they struggled free of the tent.

After a few long moments, the dust settled and the circus quieted.

Outside, the Joplin crowd had fled, but the troupe stood in a circle, faces somber. Now that the chaos was over, Mrs. Jumbo was gently nuzzling her baby, patting him all over to make sure he was okay. Holt and Pramesh herded the rest of the elephants back to their pens and locked them in. Then, at Medici's direction, they quarantined Mrs. Jumbo in an old lion's cage. Her baby circled around the outside, poking his trunk through the bars to reach his mother.

“What happens now?” Joe asked Holt once he returned.

“Don't worry, we'll be fine,” Holt said, pulling his kids in for a hug.

Milly stepped away, her eyes on another family. “He means to Mrs. Jumbo.”

The mother elephant was pressed against the bars, her trunk wrapping her baby's ears around him to keep him warm. She tucked him against the cage, as close as she could get to him. The baby elephant looked up at her happily, but his mother's eyes were troubled.

Milly's father had no answer. In the distance, police sirens wailed, en route to the circus. Several men carried Rufus's lifeless form out on a stretcher.

A grim Medici moved among his troupe, making sure everyone else was safe, before going to greet the police. It would be a long and difficult night. x2sCd8q4HOIFBm7A7mup334qiP8QWlAe0NmdSOBakRWCf7Hg73TKeV4vE0qTQuxo