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You can enter to win a print copy of When the Flames Ravaged by Rhonda Dragomir, courtesy of the publisher. (US ONLY!) Enter by using the Rafflecopter link at the bottom of this post. (Contest ends March 29, 2024) Click To Tweet If you’re the chosen winner, I’ll contact you for your information to pass along to the publisher.
About the book…
Will Faith Perish in the Big Top’s Flames?
Evelyn Benson’s husband perished in the Bataan Death March but not her faith. The World War II Gold Star widow is taken in by her brother and soothed by the love of his wife and children. Evelyn refuses to cower to grief. She may not understand God’s mysterious ways, but she has never questioned Him—until the circus fire.
The Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus train chugs into Hartford, Connecticut, on a sweltering day one month after the Allies invaded Normandy. Among the roustabouts is a reluctant clown, Hank Webb. He may hide from his murky past behind grease paint as Fraidy Freddie, but God wants to offer Hank a chance to be found. Though first, what little Hank believes about God will endure a fiery trial.
On Thursday, July 6, 1944, a devastating blaze of unknown origins consumes the circus tent along with Evelyn’s hopes and Hank’s anonymity.
Excerpt…
Chapter One
A wiry roustabout removed his sweat-soaked cap and mopped his brow.
“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”
“Yep. She sure is.” Hank Webb didn’t know the man, but he shared the sentiment. His eight-man hammer gang had pounded on the tent stakes in perfect rhythm, each sledge landing one second apart. More than a square mile of canvas had been rolled out, its sections laced together with rope. Elephants, their ears flapping under the heat of the relentless July sun, had strained in their harnesses to pull up the big top. The Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus tent had risen to life like a hot air balloon shot with helium.
American flags topped each center pole and undulated in the late morning breeze, causing a lump in Hank’s throat. The 1944 outdoor season had started on June 6th, the very day Allied forces stormed the beaches at Normandy. Those men hadn’t sacrificed in vain because American life still thrummed. In Hartford, its heartbeat sounded like midway barkers, the laughter of children, and the trill of the steam calliope.
Hank ducked under the tent flap and inspected the aisle, normally used for patrons to enter and exit, where he and his propmen would deploy the animal chute for the evening show. If the lions escaped, people could die, and Hank didn’t need any more of that kind of trouble. He entered ring three and double-checked the fence that caged the big cats for Joe Walsh’s act.
A shout rang from above. “Look out!”
The warning came too late, and Hank didn’t have time to jump aside. A fifty-pound spotlight tumbled from the center pole and thudded in the sawdust at his feet. Broken glass shimmered and sprayed everywhere.
“Hey! You look out.” Hank sheltered his eyes with a hand and glared at Russell Segal, the klutz who descended from his forty-eight-foot perch. He stalked to the base of the ladder and confronted the newbie crewman.
“You could have killed me.”
Russell claimed to be eighteen years old, but Hank doubted it. The boy had giant muscles but a puny brain. He should have attached a safety line to the heavy unit while rigging it. A reckless, dangerous failure—and not his first. Halfway down the ladder, Russell called, “Sorry. It just got away from me.”
When the boy got both feet on the ground, Hank would wallop him good. But Eddie Vermeer—chief electrician and boss of the roustabouts—beat him to it, delivering the boy a sharp slap to his left cheek. Only two-thirds Russell’s size, Eddie more than made up the difference with orneriness. Russell massaged the reddening handprint but stood straight and narrowed his eyes. At least he was smart enough not to say anything.
One week—that’s all it had taken for Russell to exhaust Eddie’s patience. Most able-bodied men were overseas crawling through Normandy’s hedgerows and dodging Nazi bullets. Labor shortages had forced the hiring of townies who didn’t have a clue what they were doing.
Eddie was so hard-pressed he’d even hired a well-built teenager who didn’t have the sense God gave geese. Eddie jabbed a bony finger in Russell’s chest. “It don’t matter how strong you are, boy. One more goof and you’re out. That light was expensive,
and I’m deducting it from your pay.”
A group of men had huddled together to watch Eddie’s outburst with the enthusiasm of servicemen at a Rita Hayworth movie. One carped, “It’s the jinx, boss!”
Once the taboo on the forbidden sentiment was broken, others chimed in.
“Cursed!”
“Haunted!”
One crewman, his shoulders muscled from backbreaking work but his belly swollen by too much drinking, leaned against a quarter pole and pulled out a cigarette. “Anybody got a light?”
Russell whipped out his Zippo and sparked a flame.
Eddie knocked it to the ground and stomped the daylights out of it before the sawdust started to smolder. Gesturing to the group, he snarled, “All these accidents are caused by stupid people.” Pointing to the offender, who still had an unlit Marlboro between his lips, he said, “The fires in Providence and Portland should make you more careful, but you don’t think twice about smoking in here.” He drew himself up to his full height, which still didn’t put him at eye level with Russell. Evenly, but with menace, he said, “There’s no such thing as a jinx.”
Russell replied, “But we had to cancel the matinee.” The boy had been talking too much with the sideshow folks, who couldn’t help telling tall tales. Fear was their currency, and profits were up.
Eddie leaned in so close that droplets of his spittle landed on Russell’s cheek. “Our train was side-railed because of this infernal war, and we arrived in Hartford late. There wasn’t time to complete our setup. That’s it. No curse, no gremlins, and no boogeymen.” Swiping off his well-beaten fedora, he slapped it against his thigh. “This jibber jabber about a jinx sets everybody’s nerves on edge, and I want it to stop. Now.”
With the precision of a military officer, Eddie turned on his heel, strode toward the bandstand, and shouted over his shoulder, “Get back to work.” Tension rolled off him like thunder after a lightning strike, and everyone heard the rumble.
About Rhonda…
Rhonda Dragomir is a multimedia creative who treasures her fairy tale life in Central Kentucky, insisting her home is her castle, even if her prince refuses to dig a moat. She is an award-winning author with published works in several anthologies and periodicals, and she co-wrote numerous Bible studies used weekly by more than 20,000 women worldwide.
Barbour Books will release her debut novel, a historical romance, March 1, 2024. She is often invited to speak at writers’ conferences on topics related to technology and graphics. To learn more about Rhonda’s writing career, visit her website at rhondadragomir.com.
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What an interesting idea for a book. Sounds fascinating.
I agree. The whole series looks to be interesting. Good luck, Vickie!
I have heard of circus fires and the tragedies that ensued. I’m not sure if I’ve heard about this particular one though. Sounds like a very interesting read!
I wasn’t familiar with this one either. Good luck, Candice!
I have not heard of this event before.
I’d never heard of it before either. I enjoy learning something new when I’m reading for entertainment. Good luck, Maryann.
It’s new to me.
Me, too. It seems to be something not many people have heard of before now. Good luck, Nancy.