"Ah-h-h," Lord Bowler wiped the beer foam from his lips with the back of his hand. "Nuthin' like a beer to cut the road dust, eh, Brisco?" The bar in Sonora was dark and pleasantly cool. He and his partner leaned against the bar, mugs of cold beer in their hands. Bowler was about to speak again, but realized that his partner had suddenly gone very still beside him.
"Bowler," Brisco County Jr. said softly, "Look in the mirror." Bowler peered into the huge mirror set in the ornate wooden bar back. "See that guy sitting back there? The one with the goatee, dressed like a professional gambler?" "Yeah," Bowler started to look behind him, but Brisco hissed at him not to turn. County fought the same impulse to look at the dandy behind him. "Shave off the beard and take off about five years," he mused. "Do you recognize him?" "No," Bowler muttered, squinting at the mirror. "And you're the one who reads wanted posters in his spare time," his partner chided under his breath. The face finally clicked for Bowler. "Frederick Orsini." "Yup." "Wanted in four states for bilkin' little old ladies outta their life savings." "Strictly small time," Brisco agreed. "Until he conned $500,000 out of the governor's mother. Got any idea how to catch him?" Bowler thought a moment. "Lemme go outside and around back and you chase him out to me." "Better think of another idea quick," Brisco saw the con man's eyes widen in surprise. "He just made us." Both men turned as Orsini tipped over the table and bolted for the door. The flying poker chips created enough of a distraction that nobody in the bar except Brisco and Bowler thought to chase him. They barreled through the swinging doors and out onto the street, guns drawn. Both skidded to a halt when they realized that their quarry had vanished. They split up, Brisco going left and Bowler going right. Twenty minutes later, they met again at the saloon doors. "How could he have disappeared that fast?" Bowler demanded. "I don't know," Brisco answered, exasperated that their search hadn't turned up Orsini. **************************************************************** Pete Hutter strolled down the circus midway, eating cotton candy. It was hard to portray a menacing gunslinger while holding a pink boll of cotton candy, but Pete figured that if he glowered at passerby, they'd be suitably frightened. He passed a sideshow tent with a huge banner proclaiming, "Malvolo the Magnificent". "Just two bits, folks!" the barker shouted. "A mere two bits to see amazing feats of prestidigitation and mind control!" Mind control? Pete paused, a chunk of cotton candy halfway to his mouth. This might be interesting. He paid the barker and entered the tent. Pete sat up front, eagerly anticipating the show. A sudden puff of smoke made everyone in the audience jump. A man appeared within the smoky column, swirling a large green cape around him. His goatee and arched eyebrows gave him a malevolent air. "Ladies and gentlemen!" the man announced. "I am Malvolo the Magnificent! Watch and be amazed!" The magician performed several tricks. Pete watched Malvolo cut his beautiful blonde assistant in half, then put her back together again. He then put the blonde into a wooden crate and stuck it full of swords. Pete watched in awe, clapping wildly after each act. Malvolo stepped to the front of the stage while his assistant placed three wooden chairs in a row behind him. "My friends," the magician said. "I will now amaze you with powers of mind control greater than any you have ever seen! But first, I need a few volunteers from the audience." Malvolo leapt from the stage, eliciting gasps from the startled audience. He fixed his eye on a plump, matronly woman. "Madame," the magician bowed, offering the woman his hand. "Would you be so kind?" The woman blushed and simpered, but allowed Malvolo to guide her to the stage. The magician then selected a muscular farm hand and pointed him towards another chair. Finally, the magician stopped in front of Pete Hutter. This one fancies himself a gunslinger, Malvolo thought, taking in Pete's pistol and the glove on his gun hand. After seeing Brisco County Jr. earlier, he could be just what I need. "Would you be so kind, sir?" Back on stage, the magician reached into his coat and produced a shiny metal disc on a chain. "Now, my brave volunteers. All I ask is that you watch this coin. Release all other thoughts from your minds." His voice took on a mesmerizing quality. "You are entering a stage of supreme relaxation." The audience leaned forward in anticipation. "Your eyelids are becoming heavy, too heavy to stay open." Malvolo glanced at the three volunteers. "Good," he purred. He whirled to face the audience, causing everyone start in surprise. "And now," Malvolo announced. "I will whisper a suggestion into each volunteer's ear." Swirling his cloak about him, Malvolo stalked to the plump woman. He whispered in her ear. The woman stared straight ahead, seemingly unaware of the man at her shoulder. Malvolo then moved to the farm hand and whispered in his ear. The crowd murmured among themselves. The magician repeated the process with Pete Hutter. "And now," Malvolo shouted. "Watch and be amazed!" He took the woman's hand and gently pulled her to her feet. "Madame," he said. "I must say you are beautiful." At the word, "beautiful", the woman tucked her hands into her armpits and began to cluck, flapping her arms like a chicken. The audience roared with laughter. Malvolo moved to the farm hand and said, "You're a strong lad, aren't you?" At the word, "strong", the farm hand dropped to his hands and knees and began to meow. The audience laughed louder. "And now, kind sir," Molvolo touched Pete on the shoulder. "I thank you for your cooperation." Upon hearing the word, "thank you", Hutter began to crow like a rooster. The audience rose to their feet, applauding like mad. "Thank you, thank you!" Malvolo basked in the applause. He waved to the three volunteers with a flourish. "And now, my friends. You will now awake with no recollection whatsoever of the previous minutes." He clapped his hands, and the three volunteers blinked rapidly as though coming awake. They stared stupidly at the laughing audience. The magician helped each volunteer step down from the stage as the audience filed out of the tent. Malvolo clasped Pete Hutter's hand and stopped the gunslinger. "Brisco County Jr.," he said. "Yeah?" Pete eyed him warily. "What of him?" "I need your assistance," Malvolo said, using the activation word he'd whispered in the gunslinger's ear earlier. Pete's eyes glazed over. "You will kill Brisco County Jr.," the magician purred. "Yes, sir," Hutter answered in a monotone voice, his face gone slack. "Good man," Malvolo said, clapping the gunslinger on the back. Pete left the tent, moving like a sleepwalker until he disappeared into the crowd. ************************************************************************ Although they hated leaving without their quarry, the bounty hunters were due in San Francisco in three days to meet with Socrates Poole about another mission for the robber barons. Since the circus was in Sonora, all the hotel rooms were booked, so they decided to ride until dark. Brisco and Bowler didn't mind sleeping under the stars. In fact, they often preferred it to sleeping in flea-infested hotel rooms. Tired after a long day in the saddle, the two friends curled up in their bedrolls to sleep. Comet sensed somebody approaching. He stepped to where Brisco slept and snuffled the bounty hunter's hair. "Dixie," Brisco sighed, a dreamy smile plastered on his sleeping face. Comet huffed a little harder. "Dixie," Brisco murmured. "You little. . ." The frustrated horse bent over and whinnied in his ear. Brisco sat bolt upright. "What the?" He looked at the horse. "Comet! What'ja do that for?" he demanded. Comet's answer had Brisco reaching for his gun and jumping to his feet. "Someone's here? Who is it, Comet?" Opposite the campfire stood Pete Hutter, pointing his arm at Brisco as if he had an imaginary gun in his hand. Brisco gaped openmouthed at Hutter. Pete's gun was still in the holster at his side. Out of the corner of his eye, Brisco noticed that Bowler's bedroll was empty. He could only hope that his partner was somewhere behind Pete. "Pete Hutter," Bowler sneered, appearing behind Hutter and sticking the muzzle of his sawed-off shotgun under Pete's jaw. Hutter didn't even flinch, just stood like a statue, staring straight ahead. Bowler reached over and pulled Pete's gun from the holster. The partners were astounded at Pete's reaction---none. "Something's wrong with Pete," Brisco said. "The guy's loco," Bowler growled. "Other than that, Bowler. Pete's not upset that you have his gun." Brisco gestured to the gun stuck in Bowler's belt. "You know he goes nuts any time someone touches his piece." County cautiously waved his hand in front of Hutter's face. Pete stared back, unblinking. "It's like he's in a trance or something." "Well, what're we gonna do about him?" Bowler demanded. "Professor Wickwire's place is on our way. Maybe he can tell us what's wrong with Pete. If nothing else, we can drop Pete off at the next town with a jail." "Okay," Bowler agreed grudgingly. "But I still don't trust him. Maybe we should tie him up or somethin'." "Good idea," Brisco said. "You got any rope?" "Yeah." Bowler moved to his saddle and rummaged through his saddlebags. Brisco turned to Comet. "Can you look for Pete's horse?" Comet whinnied a reply. "Thank you, Comet." Pete's rooster crow had both bounty hunters drawing their guns on him in surprise. "What'n the hell he do that for?" Bowler demanded, keeping a wary eye on the now impassive Pete Hutter. "I don't know," Brisco said. "All I said was thank you." Pete crowed again, making the partners flinch. "Uh, I think we'd better get him to the Professor's," Bowler suggested. "You'll get no argument from me," Brisco agreed. ************************************************************************ "Brisco! Glad you could stop by," Professor Wickwire said, finding the bounty hunter at his door. "Come over to the workshop. I've got something I think you'll find very useful." As the two men crossed the farmyard, Bowler hauled Pete off his horse. "Lord Bowler," Wickwire nodded. "Pete." The professor skidded to a stop and turned to Brisco. "Are you three suddenly getting along?" "Well, no sir," Brisco replied. "But Pete seems to be having a problem. We were hoping you could help us out." "Certainly, my boy! Just bring him into the workshop." Wickwire and Brisco entered the converted barn, followed by Bowler, who propelled Pete into a chair. The professor picked up a fork from the workbench. "This is my latest invention!" he announced. "A fork, sir?" Brisco exchanged a questioning look with Bowler, who shrugged. "Not just a fork." Wickwire pulled on the handle, twisting slightly. The handle seemed to grow longer and longer. As he swung around to the bounty hunters, both ducked. Brisco felt the fork whistle past his head. Wickwire, oblivious to the danger in his hand, reached into a paper bag on the workbench, plopped a marshmallow onto the tines, and lit it on a nearby Bunsen burner. "It's a handy toasting fork!" he said, blowing on the burning marshmallow. "Uh, it's sure to be the coming thing," Brisco said warily. Professor Wickwire rubbed his hands together. "So what's wrong with Pete?" Brisco scratched his head. "He seems to be in some kind of trance." The professor walked around Pete, who sat impassively. "Has he said anything?" "Well, uh, not quite." "Let me, Brisco," Bowler said eagerly. During their ride that morning, Bowler had said thank you to Pete about every fifteen minutes, just to hear the gunslinger crow. Brisco rolled his eyes and gestured to his partner to proceed. Bowler leaned close to Hutter and said, "Thank you." Pete, predictably, crowed. "Heh-heh-heh," Bowler laughed. "I just love that." "Fascinating," Wickwire waved his hand in front of Pete's face. "And that's the only reaction you can get out of him?" "Yes, sir." Brisco answered. "If I didn't know better," Wickwire mused. "I'd say Pete's been hypnotized." "Hypnotized?" Bowler said. "What's that?" "It's a way to access a person's subconscious. You can tell a hypnotized person to do something, and he'll do it." "Really?" Brisco's eyes widened in curiosity. "Do you know how it's done?" "Certainly! Why, I learned how to do it from a belly dancer that I met in a saloon over in Gold Gulch." Wickwire stuck his thumbs in his suspenders and rocked back on his heels, smiling wistfully. "Ah, the things that gal made me do under hypnosis . . ." "Uh, Professor," Brisco wasn't a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but he stopped Wickwire's musings before he got off track. "Can you bring him out of it?" "I can try." The professor pulled open a drawer in the workbench and rummaged through the junk inside. "But mind you, usually the only person that can undo the hypnosis is the one who began it in the first place. Ah, here it is!" He held up a shiny medallion on a string. Wickwire dangled the medallion a few inches from Pete's eyes. "Now, Pete, look at the medallion. See how shiny it is? Just watch it move back and forth, back and forth." Brisco and Bowler watched the professor with interest. Wickwire's voice was soothing. Brisco caught Bowler's face out of the corner of his eye and realized that his friend's eyes were growing heavy. "Hey!" he said softly, smacking his partner in the chest. Bowler blinked rapidly and shook his head. "I don't wanna have to drag two of you around in this condition." "Now Pete," Wickwire said. "Can you hear me?" "Yes" Hutter droned. "Excellent. Can you tell me who hypnotized you?" "Malvolo the Magnificent," Hutter replied in a monotone. The bounty hunters looked as each other and shrugged. Pete's face remained as impassive as ever. "Ever heard of him?" Wickwire asked. "No," Brisco said. "Ask him to describe this Malvolo." Prompted by the professor, Pete described the magician. "A snappy dresser with a goatee." "Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Bowler muttered. "Orsini," Brisco nodded. "Yup." "Professor?" County asked. "Ask him where he found Malvolo." "At the circus." Hutter replied when asked. Bowler snickered and shook his head in disbelief. "I jus can't picture Pete at the circus. Hey, Pete!" he said, leaning over the gunslinger. "How come you was at the circus?" "I wasn't allowed to as a child." Pete replied. "My momma thought I shouldn't see elephants and camels and such, being as they're from heathen places. I--" "Pete," Brisco cut him off. Pete's ramblings were almost as bad as the professor's. "What did this Malvolo tell you to do?" "Kill Brisco County Jr." Bowler, Brisco and Wickwire looked at each other in surprise. "If I were you," the professor suggested. "I'd keep Pete tied up." "It's the perfect murder," Brisco mused. "Get someone else to kill your enemy. He doesn't remember doing it, and you get away free." "I suppose this means that we gotta go back to Sonora to find the circus," Bowler growled. "No need," Wickwire said. "The circus is in Riverton today." "That's just up the road," Bowler was pleased. "We could still catch up with Orsini." He grabbed the shoulder of Hutter's shirt and hauled him to his feet. "C'mon, Pete." Brisco thanked the professor and whistled for Comet. Bowler got Pete back into the saddle, double-checking the rope that tied his wrists together. Hutter wasn't bright enough to dream up a plan like this, but Bowler wasn't about to risk his friend's life to find out if Pete was playing possum. ************************************************************************ Once in Riverton, the bounty hunters left their horses at the livery stable, thinking their mounts would be more comfortable as far from the circus elephants as possible. Bowler clamped a hand on Hutter's shoulder and led the stringy gunslinger through town. Just inside the circus grounds, Bowler said, "What are we gonna do about Hutter?" Brisco rubbed his chin and looked around for some place to tie Pete. Two small boys barreled past them, brandishing slingshots. County suddenly had an idea. "Hey, boys!" he called. The boys trotted back to the bounty hunter. "Uh, Bowler? Why don't you stand Pete in front of that oak tree." Bowler complied, wondering what his partner had up his sleeve. Brisco squatted until he was eye-level with the kids. "So," he said. "You boys pretty good with those slingshots?" "Yes, sir!" "Good." Brisco pulled some coins from his pocket. "I need you two to do me a favor. See that guy over there?" He pointed to Pete. The boys nodded. "He's a wanted criminal. My partner and I need to go after another criminal and we need someone to keep and eye on this guy." He held up two quarters. The boys' eyes widened, and Brisco almost laughed out loud. I'll bet they're trying to figure out just how much candy this buys. "I'll give you each a quarter now to watch him and another each when we get back. Can you do that?" The boys nodded vigorously. County gave each a coin. "Thanks, mister!" the boys said, running over to Pete and holding their slingshots at the ready. Brisco stood and joined his friend, who was shaking his head in disbelief. "You are one crazy son-of-a-bitch, County," He laughed. "You'd better hope Pete don't find out you paid two six-year-olds to hold him hostage with slingshots." Brisco's grin was unrepentant. "I don't plan to be anywhere near." "D'you think those kids are gonna be safe?" Brisco stopped and turned. "Boys," he called. "If he moves, run." "Okay, mister." The boys resumed their vigil. Brisco and Bowler found Malvolo's tent among the sideshows and entered cautiously. The tent was empty. The partners circled the stage, empty except for a large wooden crate in the center. At the backstage curtain, Bowler jerked his head, indicating that he was going through. Brisco nodded, and the two leapt backstage. A blonde woman in a spangled costume screamed and ran out of the tent. A crash from the stage stopped both men in their tracks. "Go that way," Bowler gestured to the stage with his shotgun. "And I'll see if I can find her." He disappeared through the tent flap. Brisco cautiously retraced his steps. He could have sworn the lid on the crate had been closed a minute ago. Why would Orsini choose to hide in the crate? It seemed like a dead end. County climbed onto the stage and approached the box. It was empty. He leaned over the side, but the box was too large to allow him access to the bottom. Checking around him, Brisco stepped into the box. He got down on all fours and ran his hand along the bottom of the box, looking for the seam of a trap door. A creak made him look up in time to see the lid slam down on the crate. "Hey!" Brisco yelled, pounding on the lid. He looked out of one of the narrow slits in the box, just in time to see Orsini aim the tip of a sword at that very slit. Brisco flattened against the bottom of the crate, just as the sword split the space he'd just occupied. He right ear began to burn; he touched it and felt blood. The sword must have grazed his ear. Brisco heard Orsini line up another sword in another slit. As he tried to flatten himself against the bottom of the box, he inadvertently hit the release mechanism. Brisco fell through the stage, hitting the grass below and spending precious seconds scrabbling in the dark for his gun. Bowler gave up on the woman and returned to the tent. As he entered, he saw Orsini run the second sword through the crate. Bowler knew who had to be in the box, and fear gripped his heart. With a roar, he leaped onto the stage. Orsini turned, only to be flattened by a pan-sized fist. Bowler pulled the sword stuck through the hasp and slid it under the corner of the lid. He paused, afraid to open the crate, afraid of what he would find. "You got him," Brisco said at his shoulder. Bowler yelped and dropped the sword. "County! I thought you was in there!" He lifted the lid and took in the empty box, criss-crossed with swords. "I was," Brisco admitted, touching his stinging ear. "I fell through the trap door in the bottom and crawled out from under the stage." He looked into the crate and shuddered at the sight. The bounty hunters hauled Orsini to his feet and made their way back to where they'd left Pete. Brisco paid his helpers, who ran off to the midway to spend their newfound wealth. He untied Pete's hands, using the rope to tie the con man's wrists. "Kill County!" Orsini screamed, seeing Pete. "I command you!" Bowler silenced him with an elbow to the gut. Pete slowly raised his arm, again pointing an imaginary gun at Brisco. "Pete," Brisco faced the stringy gunslinger. "Say 'bang'." "Bang." County crumpled over as if shot and fell to the ground. "What'd you do that for?" Bowler demanded, leaning over his friend. "Look," Brisco pointed at Hutter. Pete was shaking his head like a dog emerging from a pond. Brisco rose and asked Bowler for Pete's gun. He broke it open and emptied it of bullets. Pete, who'd been patting his face in bewilderment, ran his hands down his sides and realized his holster was empty. "My piece! Where's my piece?" he shrieked. Brisco held out the gun, butt first. "Welcome back, Pete," he grinned. Hutter snatched the gun from Brisco's hand. "M-m-my piece! Y-y-y-you touched my piece!" he sputtered, cradling the gun to his chest. He glared at the two bounty hunters, opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and left. Bowler and Brisco heard him cooing to his gun as he walked away. "Daddy's here, baby. I'll take care of you. I'll clean you up nice, give you a coat of oil, and . . ." "I don't understand," Orsini said as the bounty hunters turned back to town to find the jail. "Why didn't he kill you?" "He did kill me," Brisco replied. "Well, at least he thought he killed me." "You picked the wrong person to kill Brisco," Bowler growled, shoving the con man toward town. "You needed someone with brains in his head, not marbles." Brisco followed his friend. "You mean Pete qualifies for marbles?" he laughed. ************************************************************************ "Think about it," Brisco said later, as the partners rode out of Riverton. "I don't wanna think about it," Bowler grumbled. "It's too hot to think." "They could use hypnosis on guys in jail," County mused. "So when they got out, they'd wouldn't return to a life of crime." "Then we'd be out of a job." "True," Brisco conceded. They rode in silence for a bit. Bowler hoped it was the end of the discussion. "Suppose they had some guy stand in a box," Brisco said. I knew it was too good to be true, his partner sighed. "And just have his face showing, like this." County mimed a box with his hands, extending from his collarbone to the top of his hat. "And he could tell people what to do and how to act." "D'you really think people are gonna let some fellow in a box tell them what to do?" "In the future, they might." "Never happen'," Bowler snorted. He opened the bag slung across his shoulder and looked inside. "What'cha lookin' for?" Brisco asked. "Somethin' shiny," his friend muttered. "I'm gonna hypnotize you and tell you to shut up for the rest of this trip." "Okay, okay," Brisco laughed. "I'll shut up." Bowler didn't believe him for a minute. When he had an idea, County was like a dog with a rat. Bowler could practically hear the gears turning in the younger man's head. "Bowler," Brisco said finally. "What if---" "Comet," Bowler interrupted. Brisco's horse chirruped a reply. "Why don't you dump this fool and make him walk for a while? Then, maybe he'll shut up." Brisco opened his mouth to protest, but Comet started to crow-hop. "Easy, Comet. I know when I'm outnumbered." He shot an annoyed look at Bowler, who chuckled and touched his spurs to Banshee. "C'mon, County," he grinned. "Let's ride."