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(The Wild West Show of Shows)
We were only about six days out of the east Nevada desert when we ran into an assortment of wagons, buckboards, and even some personalized stagecoaches that were jumbled together like matchsticks just marking time in the open plain. A whole gigantic circle of tents had been erected in the middle of nowhere with colorful signs that advertised it as “The Greatest Show on Earth!”
Our entourage of railroad workers, happy-time girls, gamblers and land salesmen ground to a halt right there in the desert with the steel ribbon stretched out behind us like the tail of an invisible dragon with no train visible in the immediate area. We had our own long line of wagons and support transport to assist the construction but the sight of this odd combination of tents in the wilderness gave pause to our single-minded pursuit of meeting a daily quota of track building and we decided to see what the show was and why so many people had gathered to take a look-see.
There was an entire line of mobile cages on one side and the stench from the animal dung was enough to lay you flat on your back if you didn’t squeeze your nostrils together and tried not to breathe. I saw tigers, lions and even a huge bear that looked like he wanted to sleep forever paying no attention at all to the curious patrons that huddled close for a good look at his half-shut eyes.
The biggest tent had a huge sign that said, “Colonel Parker’s Wild West Show” right over the entrance.
An Indian of some indeterminate tribe was dressed in a long trailing headdress of feathers and buckskin breeches sporting a pair of tomahawks on his belt like reminders of a dangerous confrontation on a lawless frontier.
A brace of mustached gunfighters stood back to back with twin handguns strapped low and tight on their slender hips ready to draw on any sightseer with the look of a dangerous opponent. Some of the cowboys just inside the entrance were twirling their lariats with a flair for showmanship making goo-goo eyes at the young girls flouncing excitedly in their ankle length Sunday dresses and button holed shoes.
We merged into the crowd but stood out because our workers were dressed for hard labor on the track building project and our females were all gussied up for getting the slackers into the drinking tent and flat on their back in one of the private rooms for some mid-day relaxation exercises that would spice up the day considerable.
I overheard a couple of eastern businessman types telling my line boss, “This is just a practice run for us. We are putting on two shows here and another one near Salt Lake City to commemorate the building of the transcontinental railroad and then we will head straight to Omaha to put on a whole week of shows with our Indians, cowboys and the animals that always get the audience to sit up and take notice.”
There was no doubt that the pair were big city types and had no frontier experience but they seemed committed to presenting the adventure of the frontier in a show of this sort and I have to admit that even in the middle of the frontier itself, the entire ensemble was exciting just in the viewing.
I was plumb floored with agitated interest when a string of half-dressed females came running past me to do a hoochy-coochy dance inside the tent with a lot of suggestive gyrations that should not have been seen by children of either sex. It reminded me of the sordid shows back on Broadway that made a mockery of feminine mystique and accented the down dirty side of love-making that females liked to call simply “Love”. At least in this instance, the promoters were attempting to present it with a sense of humor and some of the routines did bring a smile to my face at the risqué aspects with a complete lack of shame or guilt.
I could easily see how such a show would be like budding flowers to a bee looking for the ingredients of some fine-tasting honey that would go down the throat with a sweet sugary taste so easy to digest and with a memorable aftertaste that tickled the taste-buds of the brain.
One of those “Ladies” bumped into me without any word of apology and I have to admit it was a nice bump because she was not wearing any corset or underwear of any sort underneath her flimsy wrap that barely covered her breasts and her nicely curved buttocks. She did glare at me with a sharp look that aroused me beyond belief and stirred my loins into an unmistakable flagpole of obvious depraved intent. The girl looked down at my shame and smiled in a way that made me even harder and I knew right away that she was one of those females that liked to tease and torment a man until he couldn’t stand it any longer and just left her to her own devices while he found a more cooperative and compliant female to bring his ardor to the final stage of completion without delay.
It had happened to me before and I was not in the least bit upset because a little motivation was not something to be regarded with suspicion in a time of limited female companionship on the rough frontier.
The track boss came down to the tent city and rousted out all of our workers including me and we had to go back to the encampment to start the day’s labors without further delay. The promise of an early finish in the afternoon and an opportunity to avail ourselves of the delights of the “Biggest Show on Earth” that evening was all it took to send all of the workers to the end of track with enough enthusiasm to lay the track faster than usual for that entire day.
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