by Stephy Smith
Aisley buried herself in her work to keep her thoughts off Sam. He was playing heavily on her mind. She would wake in the middle of the night tormented by her dreams of holding him close. Unable to go back to sleep she would walk to the black cypress.
She would sit on the log, and allow her mind to take her on wild, exciting journeys on Sam’s arm as his eyes burned with passion and desire for her. Then reality would shake her back to the now, where none of the things would ever take place and the tears would once again stain her cheeks.
The days seemed to creep by. Aisley had been moody since the day Sam left for Jefferson. Even Sierra seemed to avoid her. Whatever the incredible horse trader had done to her had affected her friendship with everyone in camp. She couldn’t wait for him to return so she could tell him to remove his curse from her.
A crack of a twig startled her. She twirled around on the log and watched as Sierra approached.
“What is going on with you, Aisley?” Sierra sat down beside her.
“I’m fine, Sierra. You don’t need to worry about me.” Aisley hugged her friend.
“You have changed, Aisley. Something has happened to you.” Sierra said, “Tell me one of your glorious stories. Let’s see, where do we want to go today?”
“I have lost my storytelling abilities, sorry,” was all Aisley said before they walked back to camp.
Seeing the older woman, Doriya, sitting close to the fire telling stories, Aisley remembered when the woman had called her to sit at the fire. With a deep, self-inflicted shaking voice and wide, frightening eyes the storyteller said, “Our way of life and the things we do make the gaje think we are thieves and tramps, they do not understand us. We are travelers, but we are not thieves. We live life to the fullest, young Aisley. We are friendly people and believe in nature and life. We believe in protecting the land as we travel place to place.”
Doriya’s long skinny fingers danced in the air above her crystal ball. Her voice would take on a spine-tingling lilt, and still sent shivers down Aisley’s spine. The old woman paused for a moment, narrowing her eyes at Aisley, and then continued in her creaky, eerie voice. “Magic,” she shouted.
The storyteller’s eyes grew wider. Aisley always jumped back from the voice before it lowered and took on a more serious tone. “We use magic because it is in our blood. It helps us to become healers and one with the universe. We help friends and family with magic. We never call upon the ghost of our ancestors; we do not acknowledge those who summon them. The people that call them are banished, and pronounced unclean.” Doriya’s voice would fade into a near whisper.
“We never speak of the banished again, unless they stop the contact; even then we must be suspicious of them. We use potions, scrolls, and amulets. Only the Gypsy can cast the Gypsy curse.” Picking her words carefully, slowly, and softly, drawing in the minds of the children, building up to a louder level, the woman would then let out a bone-jarring laugh. The children jumped back from the ferocity of her cackles, a strong desire to flee etched across their faces. With a wave of her hand, they would run to the safety of their parents.
Aisley laughed at the scampering children. She picked up her basket and strolled back down the path to the black cypress.
“You spend a lot of time here, Aisley,” her father’s voice sounded behind her. She looked at him.
“It’s peaceful here.” Aisley turned back to the natural beauty, sweeping her hand and inviting her father to look at the sight. Aleandro eyed the area and nodded.
“He’ll be back.” Aleandro gazed into Aisley’s eyes.
“Who will?” Aisley asked, knowing he spoke of Sam. From the time Sam left, everyone in the clan had made comments to her. “Sam will make a fine husband for you,” or, “Sam will treat you with respect.” She was tired of hearing everything about Sam. He hadn’t been in camp long enough for her to know if she wanted to marry him.
An attraction to him was there, but that didn’t mean she was prepared to be his wife. All her friends seemed to want this arrangement more than she did. It was her life, so why was everyone else trying to push her into Sam’s life? She knew the answer was because the marriage had been agreed upon eighteen years before. Her parents seemed to think it was her only interest. Their assumptions weren’t far from the truth, but she wasn’t admitting missing him to anyone.
“Sam. I saw him in town today. He asked about you.” Her father searched her face.
“Oh. Why would he ask about me?” A drumming in her chest and the loss of breath was a shock to Aisley. Her hands shook and her legs grew weak; she hoped she didn’t collapse in front of her father.
“Aisley, he cares deeply for you.” His convincing voice did nothing to conquer the doubt in her mind. Aleandro pulled her to his shoulder with genuine fatherly love.
“I’m sorry, I mean no disrespect, but you’re wrong, Papa.” Aisley refused to hope that her father was telling her the truth.
“We’ll see.” He turned to leave but not before a wide smile formed across his face.
She watched her father walk toward camp. The moonlight paved his way down the path, as his silhouette appeared larger than life. Wanting to believe his words, but knowing she shouldn’t get her hopes up, she dismissed them as fatherly concern.
Aisley suspected her mother had sent him to tell her the news of Sam’s return. Rosanna had an uncanny way to make the point she had to prove, a trait she had so often watched before. Her mother would let him know she knew everything about their daughter, that’s what a woman’s job was in the family. She smiled, remembering the look of defeat on her father’s face, and knew Mama was going to say those famous words, ”I told you so”.
Aisley stayed a while longer, thinking over her own predicament. She tried to sort out her feelings for Sam. Silently hoping he would return early and not wanting him to come back were playing in her confused mind. Her life was simple before he came along.
What made her father think she cared whether Sam was coming home in a couple of days or not? Sam made it perfectly clear to her she wasn’t what he wanted for a wife. She had avoided him for days before he left, and not one time had he attempted to seek her out that she knew of. But if he cared so little of her, why did he kiss her? Not once, but twice.
Aisley resigned herself to the life of an unmarried woman and she would make the best of it. She would dance for no one but herself from now on. With the confusion Sam brought, she thought she could live with her decision.
The moon glowed in all its glory, shining brightly in the sky, shimmering across the tiny ripples on the lake and casting giant shadows of the cypress trees. Hating to leave the peacefulness of the lake, Aisley glanced back for one last look then began her casual stroll to the vardo she shared with her parents.
Fear ran through her body when she saw the three men step out of the shadows of the trees and surround her. A scream escaped her lips just as the men rushed in to grab her. She tried to twist her arms free of their tight grip, kicking her legs toward the men and occasionally making contact with the two who lifted her from the ground. Aisley continued to scream until a sharp pain on the back of the head rendered her unconscious. Before darkness enclosed her she thought she heard one last scream and rustling nearby. She barely heard her own voice call for Sam.
****
Aisley could hear the unfamiliar voices. Tugging against the ropes cutting into her skin brought a wince to her throat. She slightly opened her eyes to see if she could recognize where she had been taken. The first time she had seen Sam, she had explored the woods further than she was permitted to go. There was a small cabin not far from the camp. Aisley wasn’t sure that’s where she was, but as far as she could tell it looked the same.
Wherever the men had taken her, she was no longer near the black cypress. The cold ground she now lay on was hard-packed. She could no longer smell the lake or feel a breeze on her face. All she could think of was getting back to Sam and hope he would accept her into his strong embrace.
&n
bsp; Cautiously she glanced toward a corner of the room. A pile of flat, stiff animal skins leaned against the wall. She recognized the cabin as the one she had previously explored. A shiver ran down her spine. At least she knew how to get back to camp. First, she would have to escape the hands of the gaje who brought her here.
The smell of alcohol took over the air in the nasty little cabin. She had been defiled by the gaje hands, and would be banished from her family forever. Closing her eyes, she steadied her breathing as she listened to the men talking about their plans. Not wanting to think of never seeing her parents or Sam again, she knew she had to come up with some kind of plan to get back to the ones she loved more than life itself.
“We’ll let the Indians or some other Gypsies take the blame for this one. Just like we have been,” a big burly man said. His hair was filthy, messed, and faded in with the long, scraggly beard hanging grossly from his chubby red face. The yellow plaid shirt he wore was stained with what Aisley thought was dried blood and tobacco. His large belly prevented him from seeing his feet. The brown trousers he wore smelled of vomit, urine, and alcohol.
Aisley convulsed; she had to focus her mind on something good to conceal her consciousness from her captors. She thought of Sam and questioned why, but stuck with the thought anyway. She hoped against all odds he would come rescue her and they would ride off into the sunset on his horse to their own peaceful fairy tale world.
“I wonder if those thieves will go to the law. They’re liable to get themselves removed from the area if they do,” the second man said. He was as rough-looking as the first, only shorter and older. His hair was the color of nasty gray dishwater. His blue shirt was covered with blood. A large knife hung at his waist, along with the long hair of an Indian scalp. The smell of the rotting flesh overwhelmed Aisley’s senses. His trouser showed streaks of blood from the knife blade he had wiped on them.
Again, nausea threatened her body as she felt the burn rush from her stomach and up her throat. A low noise escaped her lips before she could quiet herself and go undetected. None of the men heard her over their own loud voices. Aisley relaxed for a second and focused on Sam one more time.
“In the meantime, what are we going to do with the Gypsy trash?” the third man, shorter, rounder and meaner than the other two, asked. “I’m cutting the coins out of her hair. When I get done with her, she is going to look like that injun you got hanging on your belt.” The laughter was pure evil and a shiver ran from the top of Aisley’s head to the tip of her toes.
“I say leave the coins. Maybe she’ll dance for us,” the second man said, then joined in the laughter. “How hard did you hit the wench? She should be awake by now.”
“I didn’t hit her that hard. She’s still breathing,” the first man said. “Do you think them Gypsies will give us any gold to get her back?”
“I don’t know, we ain’t never took a Gypsy before,” the third man said.
“I’m getting some shut-eye. Just in case the Gypsies come looking for her. I didn’t see any guns on them mangy dogs when they was running to the girl,” the second man said.
“I know they stopped when that arrow hit that one old gal. I think you kilt her,” the third man said.
“Them screams was music to my ears. What a sweet song she was singing,” the first man said and then the hideous laughing from all three men echoed through the cabin and into Aisley’s aching head.
“I think I’ll have my way with this one. They won’t ever get her back,” the second man said as he stood to walk toward the corner of the cabin where Aisley lay. Her heart raced and she held her breath. She tried to ignore the implications of his threat.
Through her narrowed eyes, she watched the man stagger across the floor toward her. She tried to scoot away as he drew near. In his drunken state, she was sure he would land on her if he toppled over. Just before he reached her, he swayed too far to one side and fell knocking himself unconscious when his head hit the floor with a thud. The bottle of whiskey he held in his hand shattered and sent sparkling glass shards across the floor and into his exposed flesh. Bright red blood flowed from his throat. Within minutes, the man was no longer breathing.
Aisley’s mind raced. She would die before she let the men touch her and take what rightfully in her mind belonged to Sam and Sam alone. She wouldn’t allow her virtue to be taken by a gaje. She had better plans for her life. If she made it out of this alive.
The other two men were laughing and too drunk to notice the bright red blood flowing freely from their friend. “He just passed out, that crazy old fool. That’ll teach him to try and touch a Gypsy, even if she is knocked out,” one of the men said. “He should know they have powerful spells. They’re worse than the injuns when it comes to things like that.”
Aisley stilled her breathing and quelled her thundering heart. Pretending sleep, she never knew when she actually gave into the exhaustion the stress was causing on her body.
The snores in the cabin jolted Aisley awake. If she could only get to the knife, she could free herself. Quietly inching her way to the dead man, Aisley listened for changes in the snores of the other two men. Pausing a few times to make sure neither one stirred, she finally reached the knife. She wrapped her hand around the grimy handle. Just as she pulled it free from its sheath, one of the men snorted and snored. The knife’s muffled clanks on the ground caused the other gaje to stir for a moment.
Aisley let out the breath she was holding when she no longer heard the rustling of the two men. Her hands shook as fear crept up her body. Not long now, she thought and then she would be free to run as fast as her legs would carry her if she got out of the cabin. She at least had the knife for protection and she was sure she could use it if she had to.
Cutting her hands free, she lay still as she listened carefully for the snores and slowly reached down to cut the ropes from her bare feet. Silently she rose from the floor, and, knife in hand, she crept past the men and made her way to the door, praying the jingling of the coins in her hair didn’t wake the vermin before she could make her way to freedom.
Watching them, she opened the screeching door and ran down the path that led away from the cabin. Gaining speed as she ran for her life, deeper and further from the place, Aisley knew she would be blamed for the death of the man with the cut throat. She buried the knife in the underbrush and quickly made her way back to camp.
The thunder from a storm echoed in the trees with a deafening hum and drowned out any noise to indicate she was being followed. Lightning lit up the sky, causing eerie shadows to play across the path in front of her in the most horrifying shapes as she continued her flight without slowing her pace. Torrential rain beat down on the packed earth, turning it into a slippery mess. Aisley jumped fallen logs, slipping, and falling in puddles. Branches stung her face as she scrambled down the path. Her lungs burned, but she didn’t slow down.
****
Sam glared at the gaje. His body shook as he made the final deal on the horse. If the man would hurry up, he could return to camp. Aisley had tormented his mind since he arrived in Jefferson. She made it harder to conduct business with the non-Gypsies. His re-occurring nightmare of failing to protect her from their vile hands tormented him night after night.
Trying to keep a civilized smile on his face strained his patience. He had to get back to the caravan. The desire to take Aisley in his arms and kiss away all her fears burned within him. Was she the root of evil or was their life together going to be the new beginning of a marriage based on happiness and love? How could he convince her how much he cared for her? What destiny lay in store for them if he married her?
He could make her love him with time. She didn’t seem to want to defy her parent’s wishes for her to marry him. If she was willing to give it a try, there wasn’t any reason why he couldn’t do the same.
The gaje’s words drew him out of his musing. “You’re a tough man to deal with, Mr. Grey, but I reckon I won’t get any more for this broken down bag o’ bo
nes. Nice doing business with you.”
Sam shook the man’s hand, then took the lead rope of the horse and walked over to his string of horses. He tied them together and then mounted his own horse. With a slight nudge to the gelding’s sides, he headed out of Jefferson on his way to the caravan and the woman beckoning to his heart to mingle with hers.
The hour ride back to camp proved to be long. A strong desire to press his lips to Aisley’s and taste her passion, to bask in the warmth of her arms as she leaned into him, grew stronger with each step of his horse. But the string of horses he’d bought weren’t conditioned enough to pick up the pace.
When the caravan came into sight, he let out a long breath. The long faces of the clan killed his excitement. He scanned the crowd and three people were missing: Aisley, Rosanna, and Aleandro.
Sierra ran toward him with tears running down her face. He jumped from his horse. She raised her arms, placing them around his neck, and she pulled him to her. Her sobs chilled him to the bone as her body convulsed against his. His hands shook as he gently pushed her away from him. He gazed at her for a moment and waited for her to tell him what was wrong.
“Sam! The gaje took Aisley and shot an arrow into Rosanna.”
He froze. At first he didn’t want to believe what he heard. The look on Sierra’s face was enough to prove the seriousness of her statement. His heart plummeted to the deepest, darkest depths of his bowels. The emptiness, helplessness, and confusion tortured his mind with the fury of a mad bull being tormented.
“I’m going after her. Where did they take her from?” His determination to retrieve Aisley from her captor set him in motion. He thrust the reins of his horses to a young boy standing nearby. The kid led the horses away without any questions.
His mind raced as he tried to think of how he was going to find her. The gaje who took her had to pay for whatever pain they inflicted upon the Smith family. Sam ran to his vardo to retrieve the gun he had secreted in his trunk. Just as he reached for the knob, he heard a commotion coming from behind the vardo. He crept down the steps to listen.