quickly disappeared behind the backs of other men.
There must have been some vicious kicks inflicted on him because he was in obvious pain when he got to his feet, tenderly holding his hands over his ribs in a crouching position. I rushed him once more but he saw me coming and butted his head hard into my stomach knocking all the breath out of me. A strong blow to the side of my head finished me off and I fell painfully onto the ground. He was on me in a trice pinning my arms against the cobble stones as he sat astride me. He started to butt my face with his forehead, but ceased almost immediately when someone pulled his head back by the hair. His bucking up and down like a horse trying to unseat its rider brought forth roars of laughter from the crowd.
I didn't know what was happening but the 'Bruiser' seemed to know what was going on because there was a big grin on his face.
I could see a way out of my predicament as my mind began to clear. The next time he bucked I brought my knees up sharply under him and had squirmed out from underneath him and onto my feet before he realized what was happening. I could now see why the 'Bruiser' was bucking up and down. Dara had come to my rescue by jumping onto him and pulling his hair. Her skirt had ridden up onto her back and, each time the 'Bruiser' bucked, her round pink buttocks rose, bringing into view the dark hairs between the top of her thighs. A girl upended is not showing herself at her best but the view can send men mad with desire. With her bare haunches getting an airing it was pandemonium as the men scuffled with each other to get a better view. It was a disturbing and enticing sight to many of the men. One of them was slapping her bare rump and another, with raw lust in his eyes, was pulling one of her legs and I had to lean over and punch him in the face before he would release his hold. As soon as he did so, I pulled Dara off her perch and onto her feet. I didn't know what to do next as all round us were men just aching to get their hands on her. It was at that very moment that the 'Bruiser' was rising from the cobble stones that I spied Vladimir forcing his way through the crowd. Thankfully, I pushed Dara into his arms.
Turning quickly I was just in time to take some vicious punches from the 'Bruiser' on my arms. Sparring watchfully, I took him by surprise with two lightning blows on his sore ribs. Eluding a swinging right aimed at my head, I ducked under his arm and ran across to the other side of the ring for a breather. There were yells of derision from the spectators for what they thought was my cowardice. What little strength I had in me was draining from me fast. Fearing those boots kicking me senseless, I was desperate to finish the fight and an idea as to how this might be done came into my head. I was banking on him rushing at me as he had done when he fell into the crowd. Sure enough, he did just what I hoped for; shouting, 'Come out and fight like a man,' and letting out a hoarse deep roar he charged across the ring. I went out to face him with my arms hanging by my sides. Ducking down swiftly I grabbed his ankles and, with my head between his legs, tipped him arse over head. He landed with a sickening thud behind me.
The back of his head must have hit the cobbles for he lay like someone dead. I was whacked out and, as I staggered back and forth with exhaustion. I hardly had the strength to wipe the blood from my face. The blows I received on my ears had deafened me, leaving only a muffled roar in my head. My eyelids were closing into thin slits as the bruises around them swelled. I had reached the limit of my endurance and my knees were buckling under me when hands grabbed me and lifted me shoulder high to carry me like a conquering hero around the yard.
Too tired to raise my chin from my chest, I felt like a cloth doll as I was swung around on the men's shoulders and, when they tired of their rejoicing at the defeat of the 'Bruiser' and brought me down again, I collapsed in a crumpled heap onto the cobble stones. I have no memory of what happened next but it seems that Vladimir, with Dara's help had carried me back to our room and washed and anointed salve to my wounds. Dara coaxed spoonfuls of brandy between my swollen lips. Then Vladimir undressed me and put me to bed. And there I stayed for two days, blind, deaf, aching all over and unwilling to move.
On the third day, after a good night's sleep, the bruises ached less and I was able to see and hear Dara a little as, with big anxious eyes, she clucked over me like a worried hen. She nursed me back to my normal healthy self with tender cuts of meat and thick chicken soup. In less than a week I was on my feet and ready for work again.
On our next visit to 'The Dog's Head' some days later, we learnt that my opponent, like me, had also taken about a week to recover from the fight. It was thought that the 'Bruiser' had cracked his skull when he fell onto the cobbles, for he lay in a coma and no one could get a word out of him for nearly five days. He was a shaken man when he did eventually get out of bed and, within a few days, had left for Philadelphia. No doubt he was too shamed to face the scorn of the men of Chicago. What was more important to me was that my employers gave no sign that they had heard anything about the fight with the 'Bruiser'.
Some weeks later Vladimir introduced us to a Dr Lionel Shepherd. A tall, thin man with light grey hair that hung down to his shoulders like a lion's mane. We were having a drink in 'The Dog's Head' at the time and I gathered from the conversation which followed that the doctor was about to open a health institution on Lakeside nearabouts where Vladimir had his fruit and vegetable stall.
He was an impressive figure, wearing a white shirt with a high-winged collar that rose up from a dark blue cravat and a black tail-coat. His deep rich voice, elegant manners and scholarly appearance commanded respect and attention from all who were in his company.
On learning that I was in the soap business, he asked if he could call on me as he had something of importance to discuss that might prove profitable to both parties.
Eager, curious and excited, Dara and I sat in our room the following evening awaiting the doctor's call. That's the effect he had on most everyone. You couldn't help feeling, in his presence, that every time he was about to speak you would hear something of grave importance.
When he did arrive, he got down to business straight away. He had, he said, a formula for a medication soap that was an excellent remedy for many skin complaints. The ingredients were a mixture of common herbs that could be obtained without any difficulty. Would my employers, James S. Kirk amp; Company, be prepared to manufacture the soap according to his formula under contract, he asked, and confine the supply of this soap to him alone?
I agreed to put the proposition to my employers and added that, provided the order was large enough, I could see no problems which were likely to arise in the execution of such an order under contract. He thanked me most politely, impressing on me the need for secrecy in this matter, then invited Dara and me to join him in a drink at the tavern.
As I had thought, my employers were only too pleased to enter into a contract to supply the doctor with his medication, the first delivery to commence after a month, by which time the doctor estimated he would be ready to open his health institution. I was not to see the opening of the institution because, a week before it was due to open, I received an urgent message from my mother calling me home as my father was seriously ill. Although I dropped everything that I was busy with at the time and set off immediately, my father was dead before my arrival at the farm.
The shock of my father's death so numbed my brain that it was only during the funeral did I appreciate that his passing was going to completely change my life from then onwards. I would have to take over the farm, finish my work as a salesman for James S. Kirk and, what was more important than anything else, say goodbye forever to Dara. And what's more, do all of these things within a few days as it was impossible for my wife to cope with all the work of the farm.
After informing my employers that I couldn't continue my work as a salesman, not even for another day, I made my way to the rooming house at Lakeside to spend my last night with Dara. I shall never forget the look on her face when I told her what had happened to bring about the utter finality of this last time we could be together.
All the colour went out of her face as she put her hand to her mouth. With wide-open eyes she just stared at me as if she was unable to comprehend what I was saying. I tried to look away but that wide-eyed stare of hers brought my words to a stuttering halt and held me spellbound. She swayed and I brought my arms around her and held her close.
It seemed as if eons of time went by before she pulled away from me saying, 'Well, if this is going to be our last night together, let's make it a happy one-something to remember. We won't talk about you going.'
She came back to me and, putting her arms around my neck, looked up at me. 'Elmer, darling, don't say goodbye in the morning. Get out of bed while I'm still asleep and just go.'
Her mood suddenly changed. 'What would you like to eat? We have got chicken and slices of cooked beef. While I'm preparing the meal, go out and get a bottle of wine.'
After our supper we talked for hours about all sorts of things, never once touching on my departure in the
