At least the goat wasn’t the only thing Theresa had brought. She set two small decorative wooden boxes in front of Lydia.
“This is the best I could find,” Theresa said. “Will they help?”
Lydia pulled one closer. “It’s not much, but I guess we’ll see.” She sucked in her stomach and jammed the box into the narrow space between herself and the canvas. With some effort, she forced it onto its tallest side. It only created a couple more inches, but every bit counted. After turning over carefully, she worked the other box into place.
Perfect. Now she just had to wiggle inside without her rear end knocking the boxes over. Maybe they’d get Tipsy out without being caught after all.
“Stop!” A man bellowed the order from outside the tent.
Of course. She should’ve known better than to even think they might succeed.
Well, if she was going to be caught, it wouldn’t be with her body half outside. She rolled onto her stomach and kicked toward Theresa.
Before she could maneuver herself fully inside, a slippered foot landed on the back of her calf and rolled off. She winced, and the person who’d stepped on her grunted. Seconds later, the full weight of their body crashed atop her legs. Once again, she was pinned partially outside the tent.
Really, God?Was this punishment?
Unable to move, she listened as multiple sets of feet pounded closer.
“I’ve got this one, you grab the other,” the same voice yelled.
The person on her legs scrambled to get up, and the pressure on her legs lifted. Using her elbows as leverage, Lydia attempted to pull the rest of herself through the tent’s makeshift opening. She managed a couple of inches, but with a painful jolt, the weight on her legs returned, heavier this time, almost as if a second person had joined the first.
A scuffle ensued, and the weight shifted. “Don’t be getting any funny ideas,” the pursuer growled. “You’re under arrest.”
Great. Just what they needed. The police. But they hadn’t been shouting at her. They were after someone else, and that person was now writhing around on her legs. Unfortunately, once the officer removed his quarry, he wasn’t likely to miss her legs sticking out from the tent. If she and Theresa didn’t disappear posthaste, Papa would hear of her escapade within the hour and make her a cadaver for the morgue’s collection.
Lydia stretched her arms toward Theresa. “When I saynow,” she hissed, “pull!”
Theresa looped Tipsy’s lead to a wheel’s spoke on the next wagon over, then planted her feet and leaned forward enough to avoid the tiger’s reach.
The clink of iron outside the tent indicated the application of handcuffs. A moment later the weight on Lydia’s legs lifted.
“Now!”
She pushed with her feet. Theresa heaved.
Her hips cleared the opening, and Theresa tumbled backward.
Lydia jumped up, only remembering the tiger when its paw swiped at the hat still tied to her head. She shrieked. The hat came loose and flew through the air, bouncing off poor Tipsy’s face. The goat scrambled awkwardly to the end of its lead and bleated with the volume of a fire bell. Then, as if that weren’t enough, the tiger roared.
“By thunder! What was that?” the officer outside exclaimed.
Uh-oh. Time to make a swift exit.
Lydia bent to retrieve the borrowed hat. A man’s face peered through the still-propped-open space at the base of the tent. The dome-shaped hat strapped to his head left no question that they’d just been caught by the police.
“Hey, you!” the officer called. “Stop right there!”
Theresa tugged Tipsy’s lead free, grabbed Lydia’s hand, and dragged them through the narrow space between the tent and wagon wheel.
“Hall! There’s two more of ’em inside! Yount! Slide through and corral ’em.”
And now there was to be a chase too? Had God decided to bring one of her books to life? She glanced back in time to see a twig of a man in an officer’s uniform slide through the opening with far more ease than she.
Theresa took the lead, slowing only when her three-legged goat couldn’t keep pace. Without any discernible logic, she cut between the wagons and temporary pens. Camels spat in their direction. Elephants trumpeted at them. A trio of black-and-white monkeys jumped and screeched inside their short red cage wagon like they were vicious and rabid. One reached out and tried to grab Lydia as she passed.
Enough was enough.
