It had been almost an hour since the last act finished up and people were still milling about.  Stragglers had always bothered Frank, Millie his daughter loved them but Frank saw them for what they were People who weren’t going to spend any more money.  Frank stepped from the giant circus tent and started towards the ticket booth a near frigid breeze rolled across the field.  As the cold seeped into Frank’s small body he tried hard to remember why he kept the ticket booth so far from big top.  The big top, Frank chuckled to himself he hadn’t called this place the big top in years at least not since Millie was a little girl.
Tiny shoes made a distinct sound in wet grass, Frank turned to see a little girl no more than nine standing before him.  She was a few inches shorter than Frank with a round face framed with strawberry colored ringlets. She smiled and stared for a moment.  Frank knew what was coming but smiled and did his best to keep the look of a jolly ringmaster, “What can I do for you young lady?”
“Are you a Hobbit?” Frank tried not to be angry, he tried to remind himself that she was just a kid and more important a customer.  He was about to say something when the father, at least he assumed he was the father, grabbed her arm with a terrified look on his face.  He mumbled a weak apology before dragging the girl away.
Another gust reminded Frank how cold he was and he continued his trek towards the ticket booth.  The booth was locked once the show started and Frank was the only person with the key. He fished it from around his neck - that was one of the problems with flashy stage clothes no pockets and unlocked the door.  Normally Frank would have had the money counted by now but the drunken moron that called himself a Ringmaster had passed out before the show.
Stepping inside the ticket booth Frank flipped the light switch and the single bulb flickered on.  The booth was wide enough to allow two people side by side to take tickets, of course these days they could only afford one person.  He grabbed the lockbox, tucked it under one arm, flicked off the light and stepped out. Outside he looked about for Louis. Louis had been the foreman for about ten years. He had turned breaking down the tents and equipment into a precisely timed science.
“Louis, Usted puede empacar fuera la taquilla.”  Frank stood for a moment to make sure he was heard and when Louis waved back he continued on.  The wind had died down a bit and Frank was doing his best to hurry before it picked back up.
Tonight was the last show before moving on to the next town.  The last night was usually a drunken party, but the cold would probably keep most everybody in tonight. He was halfway to the trailers before the signs of life started again.  The clowns had washed off their make-up and were chasing each other around with water bottles, at least he hoped it was water.  A few weeks back they had used vodka then passed out in the trailers.  It took some ducking but he was able to avoid the revelers and the added chill.
Frank’s trailer was one of the oldest in the fleet if you could call a dozen RV’s and a tractor trailer a fleet.  He had thought of getting a new one a few times but always gave it instead to the talent.  Now he was barely keeping the place afloat let alone buy some new equipment.  The beige paint was peeling and the tan stripe down the side had faded to near the point of invisibility.  Light was coming from the frosted plastic window in the side door and Frank got a little nervous.  It seemed like these days the only people who came to see him after shows wanted something.
With one foot on the step Frank leaned to the side and turned the door knob and took another step in.  The light wasn’t as bright as he thought. Whoever it was had only turned on a small light above the table.  They had also turned the heat on giving the room a hearty feeling after the frigid wind outside.  Frank pulled the door closed and set the lockbox on the counter before removing his heavy wool coat.
For reasons beyond his explanation Frank reached into the top draw of the counter and retrieved his fathers old chrome switchblade.  Tucking the lockbox back under his arm Frank made his toward the back of the RV. His thumb drifted to the knife’s release and frank gently applied pressure.  Stepping through the small hallway Frank was relieved. Sitting at the table with a half empty bottle of whiskey was Mickey Doyle, or as he was known under the big top, Gregor the Fearless.
Frank tossed the box down on the table and continued past to the small dressing area in the back. He was careful when removing the Ringmaster costume it had belonged to his grandfather and was one of the only things Frank had to show of his family’s circus heritage.  He pulled on an old worn pair of jeans and heavy flannel shirt. Once he had counted down the night’s take he would need to go out and survey the trucks before getting a few hours of sleep.  As he was pulling the shirt on Mickey began calling back to him in a thick Russian accent, “Come and drink good friend, we have narrowly survived another day.”
Frank sighed and finished buttoning the shirt, Mickey Doyle as you could tell from his name was not Russian. Mickey grew up in Boston, whether it was north or South Boston depended on how much Mickey had had to drink. Frank slipped on a pair of work boots before making his way back. “Madam Curie throw you out again?”
The accent was different when Mickey yelled back “Yeah, she says I’s makin eyes with some broad in the stands.” Mickey turned and nodded as Frank entered and for the first time Frank noticed Mickey’s left hand was bandaged.
“What happened?” Mickey raised his hand and made a feeble attempt to wiggle his fingers before grabbing his glass and taking a drink.
“Sasha, she got a bit spooked and tried to take a chunk of my hand.”  Mickey stared at the pitch black window for a moment before speaking again “She is getting old, too much longer and we won’t be able to work with her anymore.”
Frank stepped into the RV’s Kitchenette and grabbed a glass for himself.  He set it on the table and once more fished the key ring from around his neck.  Grasping the smaller of the two he opened the lockbox tossed the keys to the side.  The box looked light and Frank wished he could scream about someone skimming, but he knew the truth.  He looked up to Mickey and then to the scotch.
“How bad is it?” Mickey’s voice was quiet.  He was one of the few people that knew how bad it had gotten in the past few years.
“I’m not sure but at a glance we should be able to make it to Tulsa and get set up.”  Mickey poured Frank a drink and topped off his own.  The two sat in silence for the first count, it wasn’t till half way through the second that Frank spoke again “This keeps up one of us is going to have to retire.”
“What if we sell one of the horses,” Frank looked up from the money, and took a drink “Isn’t that Medieval place in Orlando always looking for trained horses?”
“I thought about it but they don’t want anything over three years old.”  Frank returned to the money and a silence fell over the two once more.  Frank was running the numbers in his head they had enough to get to Tulsa and keep the show going for a night or two.  Hopefully the people in Tulsa were Circus people.  As he finished the second count there was a little knock at the door.   
Mickey’s eyes bugged slightly and he looked to Frank. Madame Curie was the show’s magician and her greatest trick was finding Mickey after he stormed off. “If it is Frannie don’t tell her I’m here.”
Frank chuckled as he walked to the door and cracked it open. It wasn’t Frannie outside it was his beloved daughter Millie. A sweet smile crossed her face and she tilted her head to the side and as she did her hair slid off her shoulders revealing the gold pendant her mother wore.  His eyes fixed to the pendant and then moved to her face reminding Frank how much she looked like her mother. “Dad, Louis’ crew is finished since it is the last night I wanted to give him some cash to go get’em a drink… Can I have some cash?”
Millie was always looking out for the crew. Frank nodded and stepped back in without saying a word.  Her taking care of everybody like they were family reminded Frank how good she would have been if she had been given the chance to run this place. Millie followed him in and gave Mickey a soft smile, “How is the hand?”
Mickey waved it off and offered her a drink, which was shot down with a glare from Frank.  Twenty was pulled from the lockbox and handed over.  He closed the box and after locking it again returned the key around his neck.  The springs on the door snapped closed and Frank realized that he hadn’t said anything to Millie for a moment he wanted to go out the door after her. He wanted to tell her how well she had done tonight. Millie’s mother had trained her in the trapeze, and when she passed, Millie took over the act.  Her mother came from a long line of Russian performers and had trained her daughter well.
A couple of times scouts from Ringling Brothers had tried to steal her away. They offered money and fame but she turned down both.  Frank had practically begged her to go but all she would say was that she was a Morgan and Morgans stuck together.  It was probably Frank’s proudest moment as a father and here he was now.  The circus was close to bankrupt and he was failing her. Frank turned to Mickey and the two stared for a moment before Frank motioned to the lights “Turn’em off when you leave… I need to go check the trucks we are rolling out early tomorrow.”
Frank stepped from the RV, the flannel shirt kept his body warm but a cold breeze brightened his cheeks.  The festivities had gotten underway. As Frank crossed the field to the loaded trucks he was forced to dodge drunken clowns and tipsy acrobats.  Louis and his crew were gone but a quick glance showed the trucks had been loaded.  All Frank had to do now was glance in and make sure it was all tied down tight.  As he approached the trucks a tall woman in a deep blue gown approached.  She kept her face taught and her back straight as she approached Frank.  Frank couldn’t help but smile.
Most anyone who looked upon her assumed she was royalty of some kind, to keep the façade going she spoke as little as possible in her act.  Her assistant did most of the talking, her accent was better.  She stopped directly in front of Frank and her taught face curled to a sneer, when she was angry it was harder to hide her deep southern twang “Where is he, Frank?”
“I don’t know Frannie, I promise.  Did you check with the Clowns?”  Frank knew the question would send her over the top but couldn’t help it.
“He ain’t with the damn clowns and you know it.”  Frannie stormed off in a huff making a line for the animal trailer.  Frank watched her leave, the heavy dress dragging through the grass.  
The moment and the smile it brought stayed with Frank as he checked the trailers.  Louis had done an expert job as always everything was down tight and ready for the move.  Frank left the trailers and moved to the only group not partying tonight, the drivers.  The circus had six full time drivers they handled the big rigs while the performers would switch out driving the RV’s.  The drivers would usually crash out early before a move and try to get on the road ahead of local traffic.  A few of the drivers were still awake and they waved as he walked past.
With everything checked Frank started back towards the RV hoping for a few hours of sleep in a warm bed.  The clowns were still running about half in costume and half in street clothes.  Sweet voices called back to him to come and play voices that reminded Frank of the sea nymphs in old sailor stories. He turned to see the young woman calling out to him, waving him back to play. “Not tonight ladies, in fact you should get some rest too we have an early day tomorrow.”
The cold air was starting to get to him as he neared the RV. The light was still on but he hadn’t expected Mickey to remember to turn it off.  As he opened the door a gust of warm air rolled over Frank.  Stepping in quickly, Frank closed the door behind him. Mickey had passed out on the table.  He debated waking him but decided to let him sleep.   Besides once he turned the heat off the room would chill pretty quickly.  He turned the switch on the small space heater to off and flipped the lights.  Mickey grumbled something undecipherable but never woke.
Sleep came quick for Frank. It had been a long day with another one he thought just around the corner.  Frank was a heavy sleeper and the old RV was practically a matchbox.  An old frayed wire started the blaze but there wasn’t enough left for anyone to figure that out.  Within six months most of the performers had left and Millie was selling what little still held value.   Millie tried to keep the circus running but having lost both her parents, her heart just wasn’t in it anymore.