Previously in the book: West Texas farmboy Harley Sadler left the farm, joined a tent show, married a pretty girl, built his own show and made plans to take on the big city of Dallas.

A few weeks later Harley, Billie and Gloria drove to Dallas to find a venue for the Alamo spectacular which would join the panoply of entertainment during the Texas Centennial. They inspected several buildings. Some were too small, others too large, most were too expensive and the cheap ones gave Billie and Gloria the creeps.
The last stop—the final available space in town—was the Sportatorium, a ramshackle warehouse south of downtown and its tall office building and ornate hotels. When they stepped from the car Billie was sure she smelled excrement but she didn’t know if it were human or animal. Gloria giggled nervously. Harley and Charlie the bookkeeper pretended they did not smell a thing.
Inside the building, the odors intensified with the sweat of fat, hairy wrestlers as they practiced their grunts and holds. The building manager, chomping down on a big cigar, marched up to Harley and Charlie, briskly shaking their hands.
“Welcome to the beautiful Sportatorium, home of Texas Championship Wrestling! You can’t find a better facility for your Alamo Spectacular anywhere in Dallas!”
Before Harley could answer, Billie tugged at his sleeve. He turned to see her crinkle her nose and shake her head. He smiled with amusement and resumed his attention to the manager.
“Um, well, yes. Now the way we work is we pay rental from the receipts, after the run.”
The manager narrowed his eyes in skepticism. “After the run? We usually get a deposit on rentals like this.”
“Oh, you can trust us,” Harley replied with a grin. “We always pay our rentals.” He looked over at Charlie and whispered, “Did you get that check off to San Angelo this month?”
Charlie nodded.
“Yes.” Harley smiled with confidence. “We always pay our rentals.”
“Well, I know you’re a big name out in West Texas.” The manager scratched his head, then extended his hand. “I guess I can take a risk.”
Harley shook his hand vigorously. “You won’t be disappointed. We always pay.”
Billie looked down at her diamond rings. “One way or the other.”
The deal was done. “Harley Sadler’s Own Show” intensified its efforts in creating spectacular backdrops of early San Antonio and the Alamo. Mexican army uniforms were sewn to exact specifications. No detail was overlooked. Finally the storage trucks were loaded and were on their way to Dallas. The Sadlers motored up in their own car. Harley could hardly contain himself anticipating a victory denied to Jim Bowie, William Barrett Travis, David Crockett and the others. They checked into one of the nice hotels downtown and rested before a grueling rehearsal schedule began.
***
Gloria and Louise convinced their parents to allow them to share a room during the Centennial engagement. Billie knocked at their door.
“You girls all right?”
“Yes, Mama,” Gloria replied. “Good night. Say good night to Daddy and Mama Lou for me.”
“I will. Good night.” Billie walked away.
Both girls were in their nighties. They ran giggling and jumped in the double bed.
“Oh, you should have been there that day at the arena. I thought Mama was going to die,” Gloria said.
“Is it really awful?” Louise asked.
“The building isn’t really that bad,” she conceded. “What made Mama squirm were the wrestlers in the ring.”
Louise’s face brightened. “Were they good looking?”
“They were fat, old and grunted a lot.”
“Ugh.” Louise made a face.
The girls giggled again, although afterwards Louise turned serious. “Oh, I’m so nervous playing Dallas and—and the play isn’t going too well, you know, in rehearsals.”
Gloria fell back on her pillow. “I don’t worry about it. What’s the worst thing that could happen? We close after one night, and Mama hocks her jewelry to get us out of town.”
“You’ve been around show business so long now, it doesn’t excite you anymore, does it?”
“I don’t know.” Gloria sighed. “The tent show makes Mama and Daddy happy, but I want something else.”
“Hollywood?”
“Oh no.” She shook her head and laughed. “People are always thinking I want to be in the movies.”
Louise leaned forward and wrinkled her brow. “Well, what do you want?”
“I want—“ Gloria paused as her eyes sparkled in anticipation of experiencing a new and exciting world. “I want to be a mother. I want to be happy.” She giggled mischievously. “I want to die before I’m old and ugly. There in a coffin with my hands gracefully folded with a lily at my breast.”
Louise threw a pillow at her. “You silly goose!”
***
Opening night at the Sportatorium arrived, and the audience began to trickle in. These were not the usual customers. Most of them arrived with their own beer bottles and wearing old, dirty torn shirts and trousers. Not many women joined them, but those who did smoked cigarettes and wore dyed rabbit fur coats. They looked at the programs and saw names like Santa Anna, Jim Bowie and Davy Crockett. Who the hell was this Harley Sadler? Was he the new Hillbilly Bruiser who was supposed to drive the Yankee Slicker out of town?
The curtain rose to a light mixture of applause, foot stomping and hooting. A gasp of recognition rolled through the room, which was not even half filled. It was the Alamo. They had seen pictures of it in their junior high school Texas history books.
Each time a familiar character from school class entered they gave a big round of applause. They saved the loudest ovation for Harley who was dressed as Davy Crockett, though the reaction was aimed at the funny coonskin cap on his head.
Toward the end of Act One, Santa Ana and his army marched ominously through the audience waving the Mexican flag and pounding on snare drums. Such a martial display usually stirred patriotic emotions resulting in scattered applause, until someone realized the guys at the Alamo flew the Texas flag, which supposed to have made them the good guys. A few murmured among themselves about why nobody was waving the American flag. It did not seem right.
The people were so confused that during intermission half of them went home even though there was some nice singing and dancing on the stage.
Toward the end of Act Two Sam, dressed as a Mexican soldier, crawled along in front of a wall. Behind it a loud explosion created a generous puff of smoke but destabilized the wall so it began to lean forward. Sam did as much as he could to straighten it before climbing over. The audience found this quite amusing and chuckled. On the other side Sam crumpled down beside Burnie who was terribly embarrassed.
“I used too much gun powder!”
“Sshh!” Sam put his fingers to his lips.
The audience still tittered as the next round of fake Mexican soldiers approached the wall.
“Was that funny?” Burnie whispered. “It wasn’t supposed to be funny.”
The next evening fewer people fought tickets and by curtain call, more people were on stage than in the audience. So few tickets were sold for the third performance it was canceled and money refunded. Harley made the tough decision to close the show, and the action on the stage that third night was the crew striking the set. When they finished, the cast and crew stood in the arena as Harley, in his best business suit, stood on the bare, starkly lit stage with Billie by his side.
“Well, the Alamo has fallen and so have we.”
Weak laughter greeted his joke. Harley took a deep breath. He had never been so close to real tears before on a stage.
“That was the past.” Harley stopped abruptly when he heard his voice crack. “I plan to send Gloria home to Sweetwater with her mother and Mama Lou. Then I will go down to the Valley around Brownsville and McAllen to see how Toby does down there.”
Sam shouted from the group, “That’s what this show needed. Toby!”
Everyone laughed and applauded.
“I tell you what,” Harley replied slowly, “from now on, I won’t go anywhere unless Toby tags along.”
They laughed again.
“If I can get the money together—“
“That’s when you get the money together,” Billie corrected him.
All their friends erupted in support of the theater family. Harley smiled and took her hand to squeeze it. He frowned a moment and looked down. Her rings were missing. She shrugged.
“I hocked them this afternoon and paid off the house,” she whispered to her husband. “Even had some left over.”
“I stand corrected.” He grinned. “When I get the money together, we’re all be back on the old circuit in West Texas.”
Their spirits lifted, the employees cheered.
“And don’t worry about getting out of town. I’ve sold everything from this show and hocked a little bit more, so everybody will have gas money.”
The last of the company left the Sportatorium parking lot. Harley and his family slowly walked to their car. The cares of the day lay heavily upon them. Mama Lou and Burnie crawled in the back seat. Harley, Gloria and Billie were in the front.
“That was the hardest thing I ever had to do,” Harley said with a sigh.
“I know, dear.” Billie reached across to pat his shoulder.
“I hope I gave everybody enough gas money,” he muttered as he inserted the key into the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened. He tried again.
“You think something’s wrong with the car?” Billie asked.
Harley looked at the fuel gauge which sat on empty. “Nothing that a tank of gasoline wouldn’t fix.
“I’ll go walk for the gas,” Burnie offered.
Billie looked back at her brother. “Before you do let’s see if we have any money.”
Harley opened in his billfold and grimaced when he saw it was empty. He held it up so Billie could see.
“You mean we are sitting in a car without gasoline at midnight in the most disreputable section of Dallas, and you have given all our money away?”
Harley opened his car door. “I think the manager’s still inside. Maybe he would lend us—“
Billie kissed him. “You’ll never change, will you? And I’m so glad.”
Gloria turned to smile into the backseat. “Isn’t love grand?”
“Yes, it is,” Mama Lou replied sweetly.
“Sure is.” Burnie grinned, showing a toothless mouth.
Lou looked at him and frowned. “Please, son. Put your teeth in.”