Lady Gypsy

by Crooks, Pam

  She saw her chance. Without another thought, she stepped around the quilts and made her escape.

  “Where's Liza?” Reese asked sharply.

  Bram frowned. “Gone, obviously.”

  “Jest like them Gypsies to sneak away like that,” Jack muttered. Reassured that Maudeen's burn had proved minor, he seemed more concerned with the damage done to the cabin's roof than Liza's disappearance. “Can't trust 'em for nothin'.”

  “Why do you speak of her so unkindly, Jack?” Maudeen asked, taking their pink-cheeked baby son into her own arms again. “What has she ever done to you?”

  Reese didn't wait to hear Jack's reply. He hobbled outside and searched the yard, then the road leading back into Niobrara City. He finally saw her, the gold-and-crimson kerchief drawing his eye as her form grew steadily smaller in the distance. He headed for the lean-to.

  Bram followed. “What're you going to do, Reese?”

  “Go after her.”

  “Why? What's the use--damnation! What’d you do to your leg?”

  “Twisted it.” Reese hefted the saddle onto the sorrel and tightened the cinch.

  Bram dodged a pile of broken boards. “Why aren't you taking the stallion?”

  “He's lame.”

  “Lame? What happened?”

  “I'll explain when I have more time.” Reese mounted the sorrel and shot a glance down the road. Liza had all but disappeared from sight. “I'll get my horse later. Tell Jack and Maudeen I'll be in touch.”

  Bram swore and snatched the sorrel's chinstrap. His eyes met Reese's.

  “You're wasting your time on the Gypsy girl,” he said in a snarl. “I don't know what all went on the past couple of days between you two, but I strongly suggest you forget her. You've got Rebecca Ann to think of.”

  “Liza and I have unfinished business.” Reese fought irritation at Bram's interference. “Leave me alone, Bram. I know what I'm doing.”

  “I hope to hell you do.”

  Bram released the strap and stepped back. The sorrel cantered out from under the lean-to toward the front of the cabin, taking Reese past the buggy as they headed toward the road.

  Rebecca Ann still waited on the driver's seat. Odd she hadn't left the rig, if for nothing more than to see to Maudeen's welfare--or his own, for that matter. Maybe she hadn't wanted to sully her kid leather shoes in a mud puddle.

  The notion annoyed him. She glanced his way, a pout on her ruby lips. With his mind focused on Liza, he struggled to re-track his attention to managing a few civil words with Rebecca Ann.

  He lifted a finger to his hat brim but remembered too late that it'd been plucked from his head by the tornado. His hand came down again and gripped the reins.

  “Hello, Reese,” she said.

  He detected little warmth in her tone and surmised she was miffed with him. Aware of the seconds ticking away, he shifted restlessly in the saddle. “Good morning. You survived the storm well enough, I see.”

  “Yes. And you?”

  He resisted the urge to scan the road again and hoped Liza hadn't vanished completely. “Good. Made it through just fine.”

  “With her?”

  Reese stiffened at the hurt in her query.

  “Her name is Liza,” he said. “And yes, I made it through the storm with her.”

  “Oh, Reese, how could you? After what she tried to do to Margaret Michelle!”

  “It was all a misunderstanding, Rebecca Ann. She had no intention--”

  “I saw it with my own eyes. She tried to kidnap my child. You saw her, too. Everyone did.”

  Reese had no inclination to deal with another of Rebecca Ann's hysterical fits. A frustrated breath hissed through his teeth. “I'll tell you all about it later. Maybe we can have dinner or something.”

  “You're going after her, aren't you?”

  “Yes,” he said, his tone curt. “I am.”

  With a refined pout, she turned on the seat and stared straight ahead. On her lap, Margaret Michelle stirred in sleep, her cheeks flushed pink, a frown puckering her porcelain features. Reese well knew the tantrum she'd make should she awaken.

  “I'll call on you soon. Would that be all right?” he asked.

  “I don't know. I'll think about it,” she sniffed, refusing to look at him.

  Hell. What did she expect him to do? Get down on his knees and beg?

  His mouth tightened. He kicked the horse into a gallop and put her from his mind, channeling his gaze on Liza's pinpoint form instead.

  She’d walked with amazing speed, her hips swaying with each long stride, as if she couldn't put distance between them fast enough. The sorrel easily outpaced her, and soon Reese caught up with her.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. Her eyes widened at his close proximity, and she increased her stride to a run. Reese maneuvered the horse to a stop directly in front of her.

  His position blocked the road. And Liza. She veered to one side, then the other, but ditches overflowing with rainwater forbade an escape. She glared up at him.

  “Out of my way, Gajo!” she snapped.

  “We're back to that again, are we?” He leaned forward and rested an elbow on the saddle horn. “Stupid Gajo. Foolish Gajo,” he mimicked. “What happened to plain ol' Reese?”

  He detected the faintest tremble in her lower lips. She yanked her gaze away and stubbornly held her tongue.

  Reese studied her profile, arrogant with hurt pride.

  “Jack Hadley behaved like an ass,” he said quietly. “The shock of finding his place in shambles brought out the worst in him. I've known him for years. He's a good man.”

  She sniffed haughtily. “I do not believe it. He behaves no differently than any other of your people.”

  “Liza, be reasonable.”

  “I cannot!” Her eyes sparked with ebony fire. “You are all the same! Selfish and despicable, and you treat the Gypsy like pigs!”

  “Some, maybe. But not all of us. Not me.”

  “Ha! You are Gaje. No better.”

  “You didn't think that earlier,” he retorted. “When I held you in my arms.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth; a sound of dismay slipped from her throat. She swung around toward the roadside ditch, as if she thought she could leap over the wide cavern of water to get away from him. Her fists clenched from the futility of it, and she spun back to face him.

  “Get out of my way, Reese,” she demanded.

  “You're not going anywhere.” He straightened in the saddle. “You owe me, Lady Gypsy.”

  She gasped. “For what?”

  “My horse. Remember? You promised to help him, to cure his lameness.”

  “But I have! He is getting better. Soon he will be as strong as before.”

  “Only with you.” Reese shook his head. “He adores you. He won't let me get close to him. Damn near bites my head off every time I try.”

  Panic flickered across her features. “You cannot make me do this. I must find my people!”

  He steeled himself against the anguish in her tone. A force beyond his control governed his actions; of its own accord, the command to keep her with him, to work her magic on his horse, had formed. Little did he understand it, but a tiny, powerful part of him refused to let her go.

  “I'll cut you a deal.” Her attention sharpened, and he continued. “Take care of my horse, like you promised, and I'll help you find your people.”

  “How?” She narrowed her black eyes in suspicion.

  “I have contacts. Friends. All along the N & D line. They'll let me know if they see a band of Gypsies driving by.”

  She grunted, seeming to digest his explanation.

  “How?” she asked again.

  Her refusal to trust him amused him. Few women were as stubborn. His mouth curved. “We have amazing machines called telegraphs. Ever hear of them?”

  She shook her head, her long, thick braid swiveling across her shoulder. “I do not know what that is.”

  “I'll show you sometime.” He s
tudied her intently. “What do you say, Liza? Do we have a deal?”

  She nibbled on the inside of her lip. “If I make your horse strong again, you say you will help me find my people. What if I refuse?”

  “I won't let you,” he said softly.

  She tossed him a harsh glance. “Then I will make a bargain of my own.”

  “Such as?”

  “Before I agree to your deal, first you must take me to the river. To make sure my people are not still camped there.”

  He considered that. If for some reason, the Gypsies had ridden out the storm, waiting for her to return, then he'd simply share her with them. He'd show them the Gaje weren't as terrible as they believed, that their worlds could mesh and much of their animosity could be eliminated.

  “Fair enough,” he said and extended his hand. “I'll take you.”

  She hesitated, then reached up and placed hers within his grasp. He pulled, and with surprising agility, she leaped up onto the sorrel without benefit of a stirrup and settled behind the cantle.

  Her arms wound around his waist. He took the reins and kicked the sorrel into a run, the iron hooves pelting over the muddied road.

  Another time, Reese would have enjoyed the ride with her pressed to his back, her warmth soaking into him, her body flowing with the horse's gait, her skirts flapping in the breeze and offering forbidden glimpses of a well-turned ankle.

  But not today. Not now. His thoughts were filled with what they'd find at the Niobrara's edge. If nothing? Liza would be devastated, her hopes dashed. And if her people? He braced himself for the confrontation. He wouldn't be welcome.

  Along the way, the tornado's ruin was evident. Trees--some snapped in half, others overturned, their roots clawing the air--were abundant, yet as they drew closer to the Niobrara, the destruction thinned. Only a scattering of branches broken from the wind were visible, and relief flooded Reese that the area had escaped the storm's vengeance.

  He reined the sorrel to a stop. In his mind's eye, he recalled the band of wagons creeping along the horizon as they skirted Niobrara City the day his railroad was dedicated. They'd filled the woodland with their horses and rigs and people.

  Now they were gone. The woodland was stark and empty. Only the gentle rush of the river's current reached his ear. Without a word, Liza slid to the ground. Her tread light and quick, she hastened to a cluster of low-growing shrubs. She bent toward them, searching their foliage, then straightened, tilted her head back and stared into the trees. She hurried from one to the other, as if she looked for something hidden within their branches.

  Reese pondered her actions. What did she hope to find?

  Finally, she turned toward him and crossed her arms tightly over her breasts.

  “The vurma. It is not here,” she said in a voice hardly above a whisper.

  He'd heard of the signs Gypsies left for one another, a strange code they alone knew. Why had her family forsaken her? ,Had she somehow missed their message?

  “I'll help. Tell me what to look for,” he said and moved to dismount.

  “No.” She waved a hand, dismissing his offer. “It is too late. There is nothing here for me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Her dejection pulled at him. “I'm sorry.”

  She looked away. Her gaze settled on a dented pot sitting near an abandoned campfire, its blackened coals long since cold, and she grew still.

  Rainwater lapped at the enamel brim. Leaves and twigs covered the murky contents inside--someone's dinner perhaps--and Reese surmised it'd been left behind in great haste.

  Liza stepped closer and ran a finger over the chipped handle.

  “Mama's,” she said softly. He strained to hear. “She was to make a stew that day. Hanzi promised her a juicy hen--” Her voice broke off, and she appeared to fight tears.

  Within moments, she won back her composure. She straightened from the old pot and faced him squarely.

  “My family is gone. I do not know where to find them.” Pride rang out in her matter-of-fact tone. “And I have nowhere to go.”

  He considered a boardinghouse. The Grand River Hotel. Friends. In the end, he rejected them all.

  “You'll stay with me,” he said.

  She drew a long breath.

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  He gestured toward the campsite. “Do you want to bring your mother's pot?”

  “No.” She shook her head firmly and sent the hoop earrings swinging. “Soon, another kumpania will camp here. I will leave it to share with them. It is the Gypsy way.”

  Understanding, he nodded.

  She walked toward him. Without speaking, she clasped his outstretched hand and swung up into the saddle. Her arms slipped around him.

  With a gentle slap of the reins, Reese turned the horse and headed for home.

  Chapter 9

  To Liza, his house was magnificent. Far more magnificent than she could have imagined. A house perfect for Reese Carrison.

  She stared in awe. The structure towered over them and touched the sky. Painted a sparkling white and trimmed in deep green along the roof and around each window, his home stood proudly over his land, a symbol of his wealth and success.

  Saints in heaven. She had seen few finer than this.

  But, then, she reminded herself as he dismounted and looped the reins at a hitching post, her experience with Gaje houses was limited. She had never even been inside one before. Who was she to know?

  “What're you looking at so hard?” His features bemused, Reese peered up at her, both hands on his lean hips.

  “Your home. It is so big.” She could not understand why one man needed this much room when her own family, seven of them, lived comfortably enough in their old wagon.

  “Big?” His brow raised. “Compared to what you're used to, maybe. But you should see Bram's. Makes mine look like a cracker box.”

  Liza frowned. “You should not be ashamed just because your friend has something a little fancier.”

  “I'm not. Far from it.” He ran his gaze over the house and the barn situated nearby. A faraway look crept into his tawny eyes. “I've lived in some real dives in my day. Whatever I could find to get out of the cold. Haven't had a true home since I was a kid.” He turned back to her. “Hell, no. I'm not ashamed. I've got plans for this place. I'll raise a family here. Die here. I'm going to see my railroad thrive right along with Niobrara City. Fifty years from now, I'll be right on that porch, gray-haired and senile, watching the world go by.”

  His declaration riveted her. Fifty years? How strange he would know his life fifty years from now when she and her people hardly knew theirs from one day to the next.

  He was far different from the Gypsy, a man with roots who worked hard for what he wanted and hung on tight to all that was his. A grudging admiration flowered inside her.

  “Are you going to sit there all day?” His tone half-teasing, he reached toward her, offering assistance to dismount.

  Liza hesitated, her foot already in the stirrup. She could not recall the last time anyone helped her down from a horse. Not her uncles or cousins, nor Hanzi, the older of her brothers. And certainly not Nanosh, who had plopped her on top of a horse at the age of two and sent her trotting off by herself.

  She gave in to the luxury. Reese clasped her waist and pulled her from the sorrel, easing her to the ground in front of him. Her hands found his shoulders for support and discovered the hard, sinewy muscles hidden beneath his suit jacket.

  Her gaze lifted and met his. The sun shaded the chiseled planes of his face and bounced off his unshaven jaw. Her pulse quickened. He was like a wild animal, this Gajo. Primitive and rugged. With the power to hold her captive with nothing more than the touch of his skin against hers.

  Her mind reeled back to the memory of his devastating kiss. He had wanted her with the fierceness of a man who needed a woman. She had been weak in his arms, for his kiss had made her want him just as much.

  The tawny
depths darkened. Like hot whiskey, they drizzled her with a captivating heat. His gaze shifted and drifted downward, settling upon her mouth, and she knew, then, that he remembered, too. The kiss between them, no matter how right or wrong, or how opposite their worlds, would not be forgotten.

  Liza's lashes fluttered; she glanced away. She did not know how much longer she could resist him when he looked at her like this. His fingers tightened about her waist, as if he was not yet ready to let her go, but she resolutely stepped back, and he released her.

  “Let's go inside.” His voice carried a rough, unsteady edge. “I'll show you around.”

  He limped up the stairs to the porch and opened the door, but Liza followed at a slower pace. She needed a few moments to shake aside the effect he had on her and adjust to the realization that she had agreed to stay with him in his house.

  A worried part of her insisted she made a mistake.

  A Gypsy staying in a Gajo's home. Mama would be aghast and would cross herself in prayer to God, asking forgiveness for Liza's stupidity.

  But Liza climbed one step, then another. The wooden planks were thick and strong and did not creak like the one outside her family's wagon. The porch floor shone with fresh paint, and she surmised he had not lived here very long, that he'd only recently built his house.

  Sunlight bounced off a green-trimmed window. Unable to help herself, she gently rapped her fingers on the pane. Real glass. She hastily snatched her hand back lest the fragile thing would somehow break. She caught Reese watching her.

  He seemed amused. “Coming?”

  She swallowed down her trepidations. She would be safe with him. She had nowhere else to go, and she reassured herself it would not be too terrible to stay with him in his house.

  He held the door open. Mustering her courage, she swept past him and went inside. The latch clicked shut behind them.

  A few feet into the main room, she halted. Her curious gaze left nothing untouched as she stared at all that belonged to him. A huge stone fireplace occupied one wall, its mantel laced with a model train stretching from end to end. A couch and pair of chairs, covered in a tapestry of blues and golds, sat positioned so their occupants might enjoy the warmth of the fire. Leather-bound books lined rows of shelves on an adjoining wall. Small tables holding fringe-shaded lamps, miniature replicas of steam engines, and one very neglected fern lay scattered throughout.