The Circus Pig and the Kaiser by Carolyn Kay Brancato

Author:Carolyn Kay Brancato [Brancato, Carolyn Kay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Station Square Media
Published: 2019-04-19T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The afternoon sun is bright in the cloudless Prussian-blue sky. Durov and Sasha are in the pig corral practicing the new Ich will den Helm helmet trick. Durov is anxious to finalize everything—just as soon as he can get hold of a helmet. He hasn’t felt this energized since he took his family’s colt to train in the field, all those years ago. The helmet act will be his salvation, the redemption of the honor of his family he’s craved all these years. He chuckles to think he will be the sensation of the circus and the children will be absolutely delighted. More than that, everyone will know how expertly the Durovs train their animals—without harming them in any way. We will revolutionize how people treat animals all over Europe!

He dances a little jig, his thick body surprisingly light and balletic, as he prides himself on how wonderful it is to have the gift of imagination. That’s what the circus inspires. And the gift of artistic freedom to create something unique and worthy of applause—and respect. Finally, Natasha is certain to admire him too. Maybe she’ll even come to care about him . . .

Well, at least he’ll be making her money.

As he watches from behind the fence, Boris shields his eyes from the piercing sunlight. Durov boasts what an expert animal trainer he is, as he makes sure to tell Boris the details of his methodical technique. After she performs exactly as he asks, he says, “Now all I need is a helmet.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Boris reaches deep into a pocket in his robe and brings forth an actual, real German helmet.

Durov is ecstatic. “How did you get this?’

“I could tell you I materialized it, but really, I lifted it from some soldiers marching by. I had to offer them copious amounts of vodka. Apparently they’re only used to drinking beer—which, you know, has a much lesser alcoholic content.”

“Yes, yes. Tell me, how did you get the helmet?”

Boris waves his hands about, with his magician’s flourish. “Patience. I’m coming to that. As they slept off the vodka, I secreted one of their helmets into my father’s magic box.” Boris gleefully rubs his hands together, then spreads them wide in a theatrical fanfare. “When their superior officer came by and saw them sleeping, he yelled at them. They awoke with a start, searched for the helmet, but had to scramble back to their barracks without it.”

“A very clever disappearing act, Boris. I owe you some vodka.”

“Copious amounts.”

Durov reverently takes the helmet and starts to train his dear Sasha. She dutifully steps on the helmet with her hoof and flips it up onto her head. Durov feels so proud he could kiss her. In fact, he does just that, each time she flawlessly executes the maneuver. It’s a bit tricky because of the pointed top; but she manages it with the proper spin, so it lands correctly between her ears every time. “That’s it, my intelligent piggala. Wait till they see you

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