In the Arms of a Cowboy

by Pam Crooks

  She ventured a glance toward him, hunkered near a tree. A cigarette burned, forgotten, between his fingers. No movement came from him, as if he, too, listened with sharp interest.

  “For many years, we have lived by the harsh judgment handed down to her by the kris,” she said. “It is a part of our lives. But how long must we endure the shame from the past?”

  Tinya rested an elbow on his knee and propped his chin in his hand. He considered her for one long, agonizing moment. “Tell us of the shame, Liza.”

  She detected a hint of challenge in his tone, as if she dared to defy their wisdom all those years ago. She met that challenge.

  “Already Paprika speaks of a husband of her own.” Liza thought of Spiro and managed not to grimace. “But those who want her for a wife are few, and not, perhaps, her first choice. And there is Hanzi.”

  With the eyes of all the Gypsies upon him, he met Liza's gaze, proud and erect.

  “See him?” Her heart swelled with love. “So strong and honorable, yet because he has not yet taken a wife, he cannot be called Rom. He hesitates to take his rightful place in the community. He does not want to shame his wife and children, as he has been shamed, and Nanosh, his father, before him.”

  Finally, she gestured toward her mother, sweating with anguish, her bosom heaving with deep, heavy breaths.

  “Of all of us, Mama has suffered the most,” Liza said softly. She faced the kris once more. “Do you realize I have never seen her with hair? Nanosh told me once she had beautiful hair that shined in the sun, with curls that grew wild and thick beneath her kerchief.”

  “Yes,” Uncle Pepe murmured. In the flickering flames, a hint of moisture shimmered in his eyes. “I remember, too.”

  In the sea of bodies that surrounded the campfires, several women sniffed. Mama wept openly. Even Nanosh hid his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking in silent torment.

  Liza struggled with the emotion lodged in her own throat. “I am only a dandelion among the oaks. Yes, I have married a Gajo. Cast me aside like an unwanted weed, if you must. But spare the children the shame, I beg of you. Hanzi and Paprika, Tekla and Putzi, they are innocents. Do not punish them for what I have done.”

  Dominic cleared his throat. Stevan studied the toes of his battered boots. Pensive, Uncle Pepe rubbed his jaw and opened his mouth to speak.

  A rustle in the brush halted the words on his tongue. The mongrel dogs bolted to their feet, growling viciously, running as a pack into the shadows. The men rose in unison, their alarm obvious, their gazes riveted to the unseen intruder.

  The mood of the court had been shattered. Heart hammering, Liza peered into the darkness and clutched a hand to her breast.

  A horse emerged. A stallion. Black and gleaming and magnificent.

  Zor.

  She gasped.

  Reese swept an impassive glance over her people, then touched on her for a cool, brief moment. He gripped a long-barreled rifle in his hand, clearly ready to use force should her people refuse him entrance. The stallion stepped easily, casually, around the campfires and drew to a stop in front of the entire kris.

  They eyed one another suspiciously.

  Reese's mouth quirked.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “But I've come for my wife.”

  Chapter 17

  Their hostility was a volatile thing.

  It buzzed around Reese like bees on clover, and he braced for its sting. He didn’t immediately dismount from the stallion but kept his eyes open and senses primed. How far would they go in their refusal to relinquish Liza?

  He detected no weapons around them. Not a pistol or rifle or knife could be seen. Their attack would be in the strength of their contempt rather than physical violence, and in that regard, he decided he'd be safe enough.

  He returned the Winchester to its scabbard. A few of the younger men inched closer, their admiring gazes riveted to his horse. Reese let them look and dismounted.

  His glance sought out Liza. He soaked in the sight of her, for the scare she'd given him, for the agony and worry he'd endured. He wanted to throttle her and hold her, all at the same time.

  She kept her eyes downcast, her face angled away from him, her body stiff and straight. Humiliation emanated from her.

  Cast me aside like an unwanted weed, if you must.

  Her words haunted him. He hadn't reached her in time. She stood before the ominous kris, heart-wrenchingly alone, forced to account for their marriage without him.

  Spare the children the shame, I beg of you.

  She hadn't wanted him to see her raw and exposed, pleading in front of everyone, her own shame suffocating, her dishonor crippling.

  Do not punish them for what I have done.

  . . . for what I have done.

  The words rippled in his brain. God, that she had to go through this, that he couldn't keep her from it, that he was helpless and inept and, worse, a total outsider.

  The Gypsies swarmed closer, keeping him from her, preventing any hope of private conversation. The women wore flowing, layered skirts and loose, low-cut blouses. Gold necklaces and bracelets abounded, and heavy earrings dangled from elongated lobes. The men faced him with sharp, piercing eyes, unshaven cheeks, and fierce mustaches. The whole group of them, proud, defiant, and noble.

  Liza's people. They carried the power to pamper her with love or destroy her with rejection.

  “So you are Reese Carrison.” Bearing a dignity that belied their primitive surroundings, a short, wiry man rose from his rickety chair. In the muted firelight, his gold tooth glinted.

  Reese regarded him, recognizing the influence this man held over the Gypsies, over Liza, as they waited for his guidance to receive a Gajo in their camp.

  “Yes,” he said, cautious.

  “I am Pepe.” A tight smile stretched his thin lips. He gestured to the somber-faced group huddled around him. “We were just discussing you.”

  “I know.” Reese leveled him with a steely gaze. “What did you decide?”

  “It is a very serious thing you have done.”

  “Yes.” He refused to be intimidated by this man's authority. “Do you deny Liza happiness when she's known only scorn all her life?”

  Pepe stiffened as if Reese had slapped him across the face. “It is not for you to question.”

  “She's my wife,” he said roughly. “You can damn well be sure I'll question anything that pertains to her welfare.”

  “It is a Gypsy matter. You are only a Gajo. You can never understand.”

  “Oh, I understand. Better than you think.” Reese strove to keep his voice calm when he wanted to yell his frustration over their stubbornness. “Liza is a beautiful woman. She's talented and loving, with a heart hungry for a home of her own, a husband and children. She'd make any of the men here a perfect wife. But no one wants her. She's not good enough because she's half-Gaje.”

  Pepe glared at him.

  “Well, she's mine now,” Reese said softly. “And I want her more than anything.”

  “She is marhime,” Pepe said, as if that explained everything.

  “Yes, marhime. Because she's different through no fault of her own. And she's marhime because she's married to me. She'll always be marhime to the Gypsy. Why deny her acceptance in my world when she has no chance with any of you?”

  No one spoke. Reese's pulse hummed in his ears. Everything hinged on this moment, on the kris's reaction to his desperate pleas.

  And to him.

  “The Gajo speaks the logic of his people,” Yojo said.

  “It seems a hopeless case.” Stevan shook his graying head sadly.

  “No,” Reese said in a hiss. “Not hopeless.”

  “What is it you want from us?” Pepe demanded.

  “A compromise.”

  “Why?” Tinya spread his hands wide. “What will it prove?”

  “It's a beginning,” Reese reasoned. “A way to make my marriage work.”

  “How?” Dominic asked.

&nbs
p; “Let me talk to her parents. Have they no say in this?”

  Again, his question appeared to throw them off guard, as if in their collective wisdom they hadn't considered it.

  Pepe nodded seriously. He snapped his fingers, his glance sweeping the Gypsies surrounding them. “Nanosh! Pesha! Come meet your new son-in-law!”

  The men and women murmured among themselves. Reese searched the shadowed faces for Liza and found her peeking over the top of the kerchiefed head of the woman in front of her. She made no move to join him. Another Gypsy ritual, he surmised, expecting him to pave the way for the marriage without her.

  A barrel-chested man with thick sideburns made his way through the crowd and halted in front of him.

  “I am Nanosh,” he said. He appeared fatigued, emotionally drained. Dark circles ringed his eyes; his lids were slightly swollen.

  “Reese Carrison.” Reese extended his hand and hoped Nanosh wouldn't insult him by refusing it, but the older man took the clasp in a tight grip.

  “You married Liza,” Nanosh said quietly. “In spite of everything.”

  “Yes.” Their handshake ended. “I'll take good care of her. You have my word on that. She's bewitched my people and made many new friends. They love her almost as much as I do.”

  From around Nanosh's shoulder, Liza's mother glared at Reese. She was shorter than Liza, slender yet shapely for having borne five children. A faded kerchief was pulled low over her forehead, accentuating the stark shape of her scalp. Their gazes met, and she scowled, her black eyes darting away to stare determinedly at the ground.

  “Pesha,” Nanosh warned.

  He slipped a burly arm behind her, firmly nudging her forward. She resisted; he muttered something in Romani and pushed her a little harder until she stood directly in front of Reese.

  Still, she refused to look at him. Reese's mouth softened. He found her mule-headedness . . . endearing.

  “I've always thought Liza incredibly beautiful,” he said softly. “Now I know why. She takes after you.”

  Pesha sucked in a breath. With a flutter of her long lashes, her gaze lifted to him in surprise, then fell again. A faint blush touched her cheeks.

  “The Gaje are very good at lying through their smiles,” she snapped.

  “I don't lie. Ever.” He wondered how long it’d been since someone paid her a compliment. Unable to help himself, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. She flinched and trembled, squeezing her eyes shut.

  “I know how hard this is for you, losing Liza to a Gajo,” he said. “But as God is my witness, I swear to you, I'll make her happy.”

  Her black eyes, silent and distrustful, opened once more and flitted over him, but no scathing rebuttal left her lips.

  A tiny victory, Reese thought. Satisfied, he turned to Nanosh.

  “I'm prepared to pay an honorable bride-price,” he said. “Whatever is fair.”

  Nanosh looked skeptical.

  “In addition, I offer you winter quarters here along the river, where there's shelter from the wind and plenty of water and grazing for the horses.”

  His voice carried over his captive audience. Dark brows rose in unison.

  “If you choose to stay, there will be no trouble from my people. You'll be free to come and go among us without harassment.” He squared his shoulders. “So long as the agreement is mutual.”

  “How can you make these grand promises?” Yojo asked.

  The women stirred as Liza moved forward. Her head held high, she maneuvered her way through the maze of bodies.

  “He is greatly respected by his people. They will do whatever he asks of them,” she said. She came to a stop near Reese, close enough for him to feel her heat, but not touching him. “He is their leader. They adore him.”

  She glanced at him proudly, then, her eyes deep, fathomless pools, and his loins churned with longing.

  “Your offer is most generous, Gajo,” Nanosh murmured.

  “We will call upon the magic powers of the dead,” Pepe said in finality. “Their wisdom will guide us in our decision. Do you agree, Pesha?”

  “Yes,” she said in a small voice, staring at Reese.

  “That is enough for tonight. It is late. We have traveled many miles today, and we must rest.”

  With that, Pepe dismissed the kris.

  All around him, the Gypsies began to disperse. Disappointment knifed through Reese. He cocked his head toward Liza.

  “When we will know?” he asked in a low voice.

  She shrugged. “It is hard to say. Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps the next day.”

  “Not ‘til then? Why can't they decide tonight?”

  “In a grave matter such as this, the kris must take great care. They may choose to call forward witnesses to my integrity. Who knows?”

  Reese groaned and chafed at the delay. Liza moved against him, a subtle, intimate touch of her breasts against his arm, a wife's touch against her husband.

  “I am glad you are here,” she whispered and lowered her lashes.

  He soaked in her close presence. A potent gladness of his own soared through him.

  “You deserve a sound thrashing for leaving. I was terrified I'd never find you again,” he whispered back.

  “Do not scold me, my love.” She peered up at him, her expression beseeching and apologetic. “It was something I had to do. Besides, I knew you would find me again. You told me so yourself. Many times.”

  He grunted at the logic in her words, at the truth of them, for they rendered him without power to chastise her further.

  “Yes,” he said, wanting to hold her tight against his body but frustrated by the watchful band of men and women who kept him from it.

  “Come.” She tugged at his hand. “Paprika is anxious to meet you.”

  His fingers twined with hers. She led him around a campfire to a wagon situated on tall wheels. Painted a deep red with gold scrolls around the windows and door, it gleamed from thick layers of varnish. A young girl stood nearby, her gaze fixed on them, her features expectant.

  Before Liza could speak, Paprika smiled, showing her strong white teeth. “He is even more handsome than I remember, Liza.”

  No coyness or shy looks with this one, Reese thought, and grinned.

  “Paprika.” Liza clucked her tongue. “Do not be so bold. Thank the saints Mama did not hear you.”

  Nonplussed, Paprika dipped into a deep curtsy, spreading her full skirts wide. “No matter what the kris decides, he is a man with honor, Liza. I want a husband just like him.”

  Reese inclined his head. “My new sister-in-law has the charms of a grown woman. I think Nanosh will have his hands full. I'm most pleased to meet you, Paprika.”

  “She does not know her place.” A youth in his late teens appeared and glowered with brotherly annoyance. He removed his wool cap. “I am Hanzi.”

  “I guessed as much,” Reese said, nodding. “I hear you came looking for us in Niobrara City. I'm sorry we missed you.”

  “It would have saved us much worry had you been there.” Hanzi regarded him steadily. “My sister deserves the best. She has not had an easy life.”

  “Oh, Hanzi,” Liza breathed, her embarrassment obvious.

  “She'll be cherished forever,” Reese vowed. “Please know that.”

  The words had no sooner left his mouth when a raucous roar filled the air. From out of the shadows, a shaggy-furred bear lumbered toward them on all fours, his mouth open, teeth showing.

  Reese's jaw lagged. Before he could react, the bear rose up on his powerful hind legs and lunged toward Liza, throwing his burly arms around her and swallowing her in a mammoth hug.

  She squealed. Reese broke out in a cold sweat and leaped to save her, but in a few heart-stopping seconds, she pushed free, amazingly safe, her giggles mingling with the animal's low-throated grunts.

  Only then did Reese see the chain around the bear's neck. Only then did he hear the Gypsies' laughter.

  “Do not be afraid for me, my husband,” Liza said, h
er eyes twinkling. “He is only Rollo, wanting to tell me hello. He has missed me, I think.”

  She gave the bear an affectionate scratch beneath his chin. Reese swore in delayed reaction.

  Hanzi barked an order, and the animal immediately crouched back into the shadows, disappearing from sight behind the wagon.

  “Sweet mother.” Reese let out a deep breath, lifting his hat to rake an unsteady hand through his hair. “He just took ten years off me.”

  “Oh, I am sorry. I did not see him coming or else I would have introduced you first,” Liza soothed. “Would you like to meet him?”

  “No, thanks.” He shook his head firmly and replaced the hat. He tossed a cautious glance toward the wagon.

  Liza laughed again. Rising up on tiptoe, she dropped a light kiss onto his lips.

  Beyond the realms of the Gypsy camp, a sudden explosion blasted through the night, sending repercussions of sound thundering down Reese's spine. Beneath his boot soles, the ground trembled. From its hook on Nanosh's wagon, a lantern swayed slightly.

  The Gypsies murmured among themselves in alarm. Reese shot a glance into the blackness. His brain deciphered his bearings, a possible location of the blast. Icy fingers of dread clawed at his stomach.

  “Saints in heaven. Reese.” Horror laced Liza's features. “The trestle bridge.”

  Her words confirmed what he feared most, that Silas McCrae had finally made good his threat to destroy the N & D.

  To destroy him.

  “The son of a bitch,” he breathed and started toward the stallion.

  “You must not go,” Liza gasped. Her hand on his arm stayed him. “He will kill you.”

  “He's got to be stopped,” he said tersely.

  “Then I am coming, too.”

  “Like hell.” Over her head, he gestured to Hanzi. “See that she stays. Don't let her out of your sight.”

  “I will do as you say,” Hanzi said solemnly and planted himself next to her with one brown hand banding her wrist.