Lady Gypsy
Page 16
“Lester McCrae was Silas's uncle. Raised him from a kid. Far as I know, old Lester was the only family Silas had. They were two of a kind. Cut from the same cloth. They lived off the land and kept to themselves. Hell, years would go by before anyone caught sight of them.”
Liza could not imagine two men living so alone, not when she'd been surrounded by dozens of her own family every day of her life.
“They were against civilization. Against people.” A corner of Reese's mouth lifted. “Against railroads. We had no idea how much they hated us until the night Lester was killed. Only then, did we learn that he and Silas intended to destroy the N & D.”
“But your railroad is big and covers many miles. How can only two men do such a thing?” Liza struggled to comprehend the depth of the men's evil.
“Treachery, darlin'. Destruction of railroad property. Any time and any way those two could manage it. They figured it cost money--lots of it--to make repeated repairs to tracks and the train itself.” His jaw tautened as he scrolled through the memories. “They were right. They figured the investors would pull out if the N & D proved to be a bad investment. They were right about that, too.”
Again, Liza pulled back to study him. Reese had endured so many worries for his precious railroad. Yet he won over them. The N & D had become a reality. His pride and joy.
“How did Silas's uncle die?” she asked softly.
His gaze met hers, steady and unflinching. Without guilt.
“We'd been forced to keep a guard posted while we were building the trestle bridge. We had a fortune tied up in lumber and supplies, and I couldn't take a chance on losing it all on the McCraes' subversion. Late one night, when I was taking a guard shift, I discovered Lester trying to release the brake on one of the cars filled with rails and ties. Since the bridge was only half-built, the car would have started rolling along the track, then plunge into the canyon. I fired a warning shot, hollered at him to stop. In his haste to get away, he slipped under the car. By then, he'd released the brake, and the car had started to move. I managed to stop the car by resetting the brake, but it was too late.” Reese hesitated. “The wheels cut him in two. There was nothing I could do. I'd never even come close to the man.”
She shuddered. “But Silas blames you.”
“Yes.”
“You were very brave to fight him,” she said soberly and touched a finger to his puffy bottom lip.
He grunted. “Damn near gave me heart failure when I saw him attacking you.”
“You must be very careful.” An ominous dark feeling came over her. All her years of fortune-telling had never produced such certainty of continued trouble for his railroad.
“I know.” A grimness crossed his features. “He's threatened me before. But it scares me he'd go through you to get to me.”
“Do not worry so. He did not hurt me.”
“This time.” Somberly, Reese's arms loosened. “We'd best be going. My men need to be prepared when McCrae retaliates yet again against the N & D.” He gestured to the buggy. “Ever ride in one of these before?”
“Never.” She eyed the fine-looking rig with its tufted leather seat and elegant fringe along the canopy and shook her head for emphasis. She was glad not to have to think about Silas McCrae, even for a little while.
“Then it's time you do.” From beneath the shadowed brim, he regarded her. “There are ways a lady must act, Liza,” he said. “It doesn't matter if we're in town surrounded by many people or out here by ourselves.”
Unsure what he expected of her, she cocked her head. Did he think she would shame him somehow?
“A man always helps a lady into a buggy. And he helps her down again. When we get to Niobrara City, you're not to walk behind me or some such thing Gypsies are inclined to do. I'll offer you my arm, and you'll walk at my side.”
Liza contemplated his words and pursed her lips dubiously. She had never been given such privileges before.
A corner of his mouth tilted, as if he knew what she was thinking. “You're in my world now. We treat womenfolk a tad differently than the Rom. A man gives a lady his protection. But most of all, he gives her his respect. I'll do the same with you.”
Her heart melted. To be treated like this, revered and honored . . .. She lowered her lashes and swallowed down an unexpected welling of emotion.
It was her long-held dream. She had shared her cherished longings to be a lady with no one, yet Reese promised to make the dream come true this very day.
He humbled her. And made her feel proud.
Her chin came up. “I shall try not to embarrass you in front of your people. I will do as you say.”
“Takes a lot to embarrass me, Liza. You'll do fine. Just follow my lead.” He patted the leather seat. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
He extended his hand. Feeling silly accepting his assistance when she was perfectly capable of climbing in herself, Liza laid her palm against his and stepped into the buggy. Settling upon the padded cushion, she tucked her skirts primly about her and put the pail at her feet.
Reese climbed up beside her and took the reins, giving them a firm slap on the sorrel's rump. The rig leaped forward, rolling easily from the yard onto the road leading to Niobrara City.
She marveled at the smooth ride, nothing like the creaking and groaning lurches from Nanosh's old wagon. She leaned over the edge of her seat to run an appreciative glance along the buggy's sleek frame. Enthralled, she reached up and fingered the fringe dancing along the canopy borders.
“There are rigs a lot nicer than this,” Reese said, amused. “I bought this one secondhand and fixed it up.”
She sighed happily. “It does not matter if it is not new. To me, it is beautiful. So shiny and elegant.”
She sighed again and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Her back stiff and straight, she did her best to look like a lady. It was not too hard. She already felt like a queen.
Wild grasses, so bountiful on the Nebraska prairie, swayed gently in the breeze. Beneath the buggy's wheels, little clumps of gravel crunched and skittered into the roadside ditch. The sweet smell of clean air blew into Liza's face and tugged at her braid.
“I will buy Mama a kerchief today,” she said, remembering her failed attempt with Paprika and Putzi days earlier. The wad of Gaje dollars she had earned from her baskets was still safe in her pocket.
“I'm sure she'd like that.”
“I have already picked the color. She is very embarrassed she has no hair, you know. A new kerchief will make her feel pretty.”
As soon as the words were out, her breath caught in her throat. Aghast, her eyes darted to Reese.
What had made her blurt the reason for Mama's shame? What would he think?
“No hair? What happened?” he asked. A vein of curiosity laced his tone, but nothing more, not a shred of the disdain or disgust or mockery she expected.
None.
What remained of the walls once erected between their worlds, dividing them, holding them apart, crumpled and fell like age-old ruins. For Liza, there was nothing to stand between them now, not the Gaje, not the Gypsies, but instead a glorious bond of trust and friendship she had not thought to feel with a Gajo before, but which she felt with Reese Carrison.
Deeply. Intensely. Freely.
She told him everything, then. Mama's sin. The strict judgment handed down to her by the kris. Nanosh and his aloof love, her despair of ever finding a husband, her shame from being different from her people.
He listened, asking questions now and again in his low voice, dragging his glance from her only to check the horse's direction, but bringing it back immediately thereafter.
When she finished, Reese braked the buggy to a stop, right in the middle of the road. She glanced at him uncertainly. He turned to her and cupped the back of her head, pulling her toward him. He took her mouth to his, boldly, wordlessly, with not a care for the time of day or lack of privacy or that she was Gypsy and he was a Gajo intended for another.<
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His lips moved across hers with a deliberate skill, as if he was determined to soothe the past with the devastating power of his kiss. The ploy succeeded, for Liza could think of nothing but the hot pressure of his mouth inflaming her senses. Her resistance flew to the wind; a sighing moan of pleasure escaped her.
Too soon, the kiss ended, yet he lingered, toying with her bottom lip with his teeth, teasing her with the tip of his tongue. She breathed in the scent of him, the taste of him, reluctant to let him go.
He drew away. Desire smoldered in the depths of his eyes, a golden fire he kept tightly banked. She could not meet the intensity of his gaze.
“Why did you kiss me like that?” she whispered.
“To prove to you you're worthy of a man,” he murmured. “No matter what your people think.”
“Oh, Reese.”
Would she ever make him understand the ways of the Gypsies, that the Gajo blood flowing in her veins could never be accepted?
“I respect your customs and beliefs. Don't think I don't. But when it comes to you, the Gypsies aren't playing fair.” He reached toward her and snared her chin, forcing her to look at him. “We're going to set a few tongues to wagging when we get into town. I want you to know”--the pad of his thumb stroked her jaw, inciting shivers of tingles down her spine--”I'm proud to have you on my arm. Okay?”
Hesitantly, she nodded. A tremulous smile hovered on her lips.
“All right, then. Let's go. I have friends I want you to meet.”
He took the reins once again, and the buggy rolled down the road. Liza basked in the warmth of his avowal, made even more glorious by his kiss, still moist upon her mouth. God's saints. Her pulse raced even now.
But as they drew within the township limits, Liza's confidence wavered. The mid-morning hour yielded few travelers upon Niobrara City's streets. Reese's shiny buggy alone claimed the road and drew the eye of those strolling upon Main Street's wooden boardwalks.
Many stared openly, their curiosity obvious. Women put their bonneted heads together and whispered among themselves; children pointed pudgy fingers; men stopped in mid-task, tilting their hats back to better see across the street, and narrowed their eyes in silent contemplation.
Liza could imagine their minds spinning like a child's top. A wisp of panic curled through her. Reese Carrison, respected, held in high esteem by his people, had just come to town with a Gypsy accused of stealing a horse and a child and who stayed with him unchaperoned at his magnificent house.
No wonder they stared.
A rueful smile chased away her trepidations. She guessed that, in their place, she would stare, too.
Reese maneuvered the rig to the edge of the street and set the brake. He dismounted, and she waited while he tied the reins at a hitching post, then returned to the buggy for her.
His strong hands spanned her waist, and he helped her to the ground but did not immediately let her go.
“What's in the pail?” he asked.
Scant inches separated them. His hard thighs touched against hers; his hat's brim shaded the sun from her eyes as much as his. She peered up at him, catching the reckless gleam in his gaze. She sensed his keen awareness of the stares centered upon them and that he deliberately held her close because of them.
Two could play the game, she decided. Leaning against him, she placed a hand upon his solid chest and toyed with a button on his shirt.
“Our lunch.” She lifted a shoulder delicately and gave a languid blink of her lashes.
For the second time in precious few minutes, desire flickered and flared beneath his hooded gaze. A man's desire for a woman, powerful and potent. Liza had not thought it possible before, but it had been she and none other who had roused it in him.
“We'll come back for it later,” he said roughly, releasing her and turning her about, as if he could not trust himself to remain within the bounds of propriety a moment longer. He steered her away from the buggy, but a man's shout halted his step.
“Mr. Carrison! Wait, Mr. Carrison!”
From over the top of her head, he searched the boardwalk. Liza turned and caught sight of a Gajo, a broom in his hand, hailing them from the boardwalk outside the Empty Saddle Saloon.
A crisp white apron covered his portly chest. He left the broom leaning against the building and hastened into the dirt street, pausing only to allow a buckboard wagon to rumble past. Behind him, Bram Kaldwell emerged from the saloon, a disapproving frown on his face.
“Good morning, George.” Reese's hand slid to the small of Liza's back and stayed there.
“Mr. Carrison,” the older man puffed, slowing to a stop in front of them. “Ain't you a sight for sore eyes! Don't mind sayin' you gave us all a fright when you showed up missin' a few days back!”
Reese grinned. “Afraid I didn't have much choice. That was one hell of a storm.”
“Don't I know it. You all right?”
“Can't complain, considering what we went through.”
George nodded in relieved understanding. His puffing slowed, and he slid his glance from Reese to Liza.
She endured his perusal. Keen and thorough, he seemed to inspect every inch of her until she fidgeted and wished for her kerchief.
“Mm-mm, she's a pretty one, Reese,” he said. A smile spread across his features and crinkled the comers of his eyes. She sensed his kindness, rare for a Gajo. “Her name's Liza, eh?”
“It is.” Reese's mouth crooked. “You heard about her, I gather.”
“I did, but not from gossiping folk. Met her brother yesterday.”
Liza squeaked. “My brother?”
“Didn't catch his name, little lady, but he was in my saloon asking about you.”
Her fingers flew to her mouth. Her eyes widened and darted to Reese.
“Hanzi,” she breathed. “Hanzi was here. Oh, my saints.” She turned back to the other man. “Are you sure?”
He shrugged. “A nice looking young'un, 'bout yay tall?” He held a hand out, indicating a height even with Liza's.
She nodded.
“Wears a wool cap? Hair to here?” He tapped the lower edge of his collar.
She nodded again.
“He's the one.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Where is he now?” Reese asked. His hand slid up from her back and settled upon her shoulder. He gave her a reassuring squeeze.
Regret clouded the kind face. “I don't know. Could be anywhere. He said he was going to keep looking 'til he found her.” He grimaced. “Wish I had better news.”
“Thanks for telling us.” Reese inclined his head. “By the way, I believe proper introductions are in order.”
“Of course, of course.” George hastily smoothed back the silver strands of hair on his balding pate and stood very straight. He waited expectantly.
“Liza, allow me to introduce George Steenson, proprietor of the Empty Saddle Saloon,” Reese said. “George, Liza of the Lowara tribe of Gypsies.”
The Gajo practice of meeting one another captivated Liza, momentarily overshadowing her thoughts of Hanzi. Unsure what was expected of her, she reacted on pure instinct.
She extended her hand. George clicked his heels and grasped her fingers, bending low and dropping a light kiss on her knuckles.
Liza's lips parted in surprise.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” George said. “I've been mighty anxious to meet you.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Will I see you again?”
“Most likely,” Reese said, answering for her. “She's staying at my place. I'll bring her to town now and then.”
George arched a brow and met Reese's challenging gaze. Whatever disapproval the older man might have felt about Liza's living arrangements quickly disappeared, however, as if his deep respect deemed any decision Reese might make as perfectly acceptable.
“I'll look forward to it. Until then, Liza, enjoy your day.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“I intend to. If he should stop in the Empty Saddle again asking for Liza, send word to me, won't you?”
“You bet I will.”
“Appreciate your help, George.”
“Think nothing of it.” George waved and hustled across the street back to his saloon. Bram Kaldwell, Liza noticed, was nowhere in sight.
“Mr. Steenson is a nice man,” she said.
“You'll find most of Niobrara City just like him,” Reese said.
From beneath her lashes, she peered at him doubtfully. Nonplussed, he took her hand and settled it in the crook of his arm. Together, they strolled down the boardwalk toward the telegraph office.
Chapter 12
A bittersweet thing, wiring the telegrams.
The irony of it troubled Reese. He should have been happy to send them for Liza's sake. Hell, it'd been a good idea. A fitting arrangement for their bargain. Do what he could to find her family in return for her healing his horse.
It was only fair.
But now that the job was done . . ..
She would leave him. Inevitably, she would. She missed her family. She belonged with them. Of course, she would go back.
A heaviness weighted the pit of his belly. Suddenly, the hours and minutes took on new meaning. Already the morning had fled, and the noon hour approached. How much time did they have left? How soon before the telegrams worked their magic and tracked down the elusive Gypsies, inviting their return for Liza?
Time. So little of it remained.
The visit to the telegraph office presented a new perspective of all he took for granted. Liza viewed his world through a child's eyes, with fascination and wonderment of all those things never before known to her. Up to now, her simple life had no need of electricity or a Morse code, but she'd taken it all in with amazing aplomb.
Estelle's Clothing Parlor had been no different. Liza had been unswayed by the expensive fripperies most women dallied over and had wheedled a bargain over a single kerchief, silk and of the brightest yellow. She paid for her purchase herself, brushing aside Reese's offer to buy it for her with the teasing explanation her mother would be mortified wearing a gift that was marhime, tainted by a Gajo's money.