The Judge and the Gypsy

by Sandra Chastain

  Disbelief fell over Rasch like a blanket of ice. She didn’t know about the petty theft, the speeding, the fights. All she knew was that he’d killed her brother. And he had. By sentencing him to jail, he’d made Tifton an example to the world that every man must accept responsibility for his actions. He could have let the young man off with a warning, but he hadn’t, banking on a jail sentence showing him that drunk driving could kill.

  It could.

  It had.

  Savannah’s brother was dead, in a cell where he’d been sent by a judge full of his own importance and determination to do right.

  Rasch turned loose Savannah’s wrist and let her arm fall down beside her. He stared for a long time, absorbing the pain she felt, watching her sobs come to a stop and her tears dry up.

  “So what were you going to do, Gypsy, kill me?”

  “No, I wanted to hurt you like you hurt my father and me. I set out to make you fall in love with me. I wanted you to love something and lose it.”

  A wrenching pain began somewhere deep inside him and rose. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t control it. It overwhelmed him with the truth.

  “You have, Gypsy. You’ve accomplished what you set out to do.”

  He turned and walked away, stopping to pick up his clothes, and disappearing into the darkness beneath the trees. She waited, trembling, so weak that a strong wind could have knocked her over.

  Beyond the camp she heard an engine start and a vehicle drive away. She watched as long as the lights were visible, watched and felt her heart tear completely apart.

  She’d made the judge fall in love with the Gypsy, and now she’d killed that love. Like the North Star, she’d be forever caught in the pain of her loss. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth: the Gypsy way. She’d settled her father’s score, and she was the one who was dying.

  The judge had fallen in love with the Gypsy, all right.

  But the Gypsy hadn’t meant to love him back.

  Rasch drove slowly back to Atlanta, Savannah’s accusation burning in his mind. Her brother was dead, tragically killed by a fellow inmate, and all he could do was tell her he was sorry.

  Not only had he made Tifton an example, but he’d been proud of his righteousness. Sentencing prisoners, righting wrongs, being one of the upright, that was the goal he’d set for his life and he’d become an expert, swimming in the satisfaction of his success. He was Super Judge. Now he was ready to move on to the highest office in the state.

  But he’d become a stiff-necked ass. He’d caused a young man’s death with his self-righteousness. And it had cost him the only woman he’d ever cared about.

  That night Rasch paced his apartment, onto the patio and back again, longing for the burning sensation that signaled Savannah’s presence. But it didn’t come.

  He thought about the sad little circus with its patched tent, worn equipment, and peeling paint. He thought about Savannah and her father, and inside he cried.

  “So she really is a Gypsy.” Jake poured coffee into two cups and sat down at the kitchen table across from Rasch. Rasch had just stepped out of the shower when he’d arrived. He’d showered, pulled on a robe, and was drying his hair, an activity the old Rasch would never have done anywhere except the bathroom.

  “Yes, a real Gypsy. Her grandfather brought his family to this country in the thirties. Circus life was all he knew, so he joined a small American troupe. Eventually he bought it, passing it along to Savannah’s father. A few animals, a few kiddie rides and games of chance.

  “For a man who didn’t even know who his mystery woman was two weeks ago, you’ve learned a lot.”

  “Yes,” Rasch said bitterly, “I’ve learned that I killed her brother.”

  “Damn! You killed somebody?”

  “No, not directly, but I’m responsible.”

  “Tifton Ramey,” Jake groaned. “The boy who died in jail. He was her brother?”

  “Yes. Her name is Savannah Ramey, and now her circus is dying because of me.”

  “And you think that’s your fault too?”

  “No, it would have happened anyway. People don’t need the circus anymore. With amusement parks and television, kids take a look at the Ramey show and want their money back.”

  “Then why are you beating yourself up? From what I can find out, this Tifton was no prize. If he hadn’t been killed by another prisoner, it would have been something else.”

  “I went to see her, Jake. She holds me responsible. I have to do something. It doesn’t matter how I feel about her.”

  “I get the idea that she wasn’t too happy to see you. What happened?”

  “Jake, I lost my head. Instead of telling her that I understood, I—we—well, I lost control.”

  “Did you hit her?” Jake couldn’t keep the dismay from his voice.

  “Hell no. We made love.”

  “Oh.” Jake tapped his fingers on the table for a long minute. “You made love to her. But ‘we’ implies that the act was a mutual endeavor. So what’s the problem?”

  “I’m afraid that this incredible sexual desire between us is all there is, at least on Savannah’s part. She hates me.”

  “And how do you feel? I mean other than the obvious.”

  “I like her. Can you believe that she was trying to set me up? She wanted me to fall for her, then she was going to hurt me like I hurt her father and her.”

  “And did you fall for her?”

  “I think I did. She’s beautiful, loyal, smart, and she talks to animals.”

  “Great! A governor’s wife who communicates with animals. That could come in very handy.”

  “She’d never marry me, Jake. She’s the kind of woman who has to be free and wild. I’d never try to change her.”

  “And you told her how you feel?”

  “No, I never said the words. I might have, but she keeps running away.”

  “Interesting,” Jake said, nodding his head. “I think I’ll just check out this Gypsy, see for myself the woman who’s turned Super Judge into a wimp.”

  “No, don’t, Jake. I’ll have to work this out for myself. I think I’ve been putting too many hours in on the job. I might just run away and join the circus.”

  “No, Rasch, what if the newspapers get wind of this? It could ruin your appeal as a candidate.”

  “You mean the voters wouldn’t like a man who takes a menial job with a carnival?”

  “I mean just that.”

  “Well, I think you’re wrong. I think the people, the common man, would prefer someone who comes down from his ivory tower to learn the taxpayers’ problems firsthand.”

  “Don’t do this, Rasch. We need you on the bench.”

  “Oh, I don’t intend to shirk my responsibilities. Judge Horatio Webber is going to moonlight, that’s all.” Rasch stood up, a broad smile curling his lips. “Thanks, Jake. I knew you’d have the answer.”

  “Look, Rasch,” Jake began to argue. But Rasch wasn’t listening. He had run away to join the circus. And to woo his Gypsy.

  “So he’s the one.”

  Savannah jumped. “Why do you keep sneaking up on me, Zeena?”

  “I’m not sneaking up. I’m simply coming into the cook tent to have breakfast, as I do every morning.”

  “Zeena, you’ve never had coffee in this tent in your life before. You have your own coffeepot in your trailer.”

  “Today I felt like company, and a few answers. What are you going to do?”

  “Do? I’m going to do what I do every day, see to the operation of the Ramey Circus. I’m going to write letters about future bookings, open the mail, pay bills, and rehearse.”

  “Rehearse what?”

  “On the wires, what else?”

  “Oh, Savannah, can’t you see what’s happening?”

  Zeena sat down across from Savannah, settling her bulk into the folding chair gingerly. Everything about the circus was falling apart; the cook tent table and chairs were no exception.

  “What’s
happening is what happens every fall—we settle in for the winter and plan next year’s itinerary.”

  “And what month is this?”

  “It’s November.”

  “And when is fair season?”

  “The fall, I guess.” Savannah didn’t want the conversation to go where Zeena was taking it. “At least it isn’t cold yet. We don’t have to worry about heating bills.”

  “Right, we don’t. We have to worry about repair and maintenance bills, and we’re doing it nearly a month earlier than we ought to. In years past we’ve been booked every week in November, sometimes even later. This year we aren’t. Your father is tired, Savannah. He can’t walk the wires anymore; he doesn’t want to. He’s ready to quit.”

  “It was all because of Tifton that he lost his drive. He’ll get over that now. We’ll find a way to hire some new acts, and by next spring we’ll be ready to go again.”

  “No, Savannah, we won’t. Sooner or later you’re going to have to face the truth. The circus is finished. And it didn’t have anything to do with Tifton. He would have left sooner or later. The only reason he stayed around for the time being was so he had a place to run to when he got in trouble.”

  “Zeena! How dare you? Tifton was—Tifton was good and kind and—”

  “Tifton was wild and undisciplined, Savannah, and somebody always bailed him out. Your father loved him, and he tried to blame his death on someone else. But he knew. He never saw Tifton through rose-colored glasses like you did. Your brother was no innocent kid sowing his wild oats. The woman he hit wasn’t killed, but she could have been. You’ve been wrong about Tifton. Maybe you’re wrong about the judge too.”

  Savannah stared through the open tent, watching Niko as he washed down Nell, the last of their adult elephants. Beyond the compound was the big top. Big top. Even from where she was sitting, she could see the patches, patches that didn’t quite keep out the rain when it was heavy.

  Rain, falling on a tent. For a moment she was back in the tiny tent with Rasch. She straightened her shoulders, trying not to remember how protected she’d felt lying in his arms while he warmed her, trying not to acknowledge the instant desire that sparked between them or the frustration that stretched her emotions to the breaking point every moment they were apart.

  Savannah focused on Tifton. She knew that Zeena was telling the truth about her brother. In the days since she’d been back, Savannah had been bombarded with conflicting emotions and memories. She remembered the first time Tifton walked the wire from one side to the other alone, how he grew more and more confident until, at fifteen, he was playing to the crowds with such charm that it became a game, figuring out which girl would be waiting behind the tent after the show. Then, as he grew older, he’d become reckless on the wire and off.

  When had it changed? When had Tifton started drinking, fighting, driving too fast, taking such foolish chances? It was as if he weren’t alive unless he was tempting fate. Had she been the last one to know?

  Had she blamed her crusader for something that wasn’t his fault?

  Savannah turned back to answer Zeena and found she was alone. She hadn’t heard the fortune-teller leave. In the distance she caught site of Zeena and her father, walking across the compound. They were talking. Her father was looking down at the fortune-teller with a smile on his face, the kind of smile his daughter rarely saw anymore.

  Savannah went to the truck. She had to get away, to think. She’d had a call from a fellow circus owner who wanted to talk about a merger or an outright sale. This was as good a time as any to find out what he had to say. His company was playing just north of Atlanta for the week, far enough for a long drive and close enough for Savannah to be back by the next day. She stopped by the elephant lot and told Niko where she was going, and left instructions for the remaining crew members in camp.

  Savannah drove slowly across the field to the highway, turning north. She opened all the windows and unplaited her braid, allowing her hair to fly in the wind.

  That’s the way the crusader liked her hair, free and wild, just as it was when they were together. She felt a tightness well up in her throat. What was she thinking of? A judge and a Gypsy? Only in legends and fairy tales. And Savannah was through believing in either.

  Seven

  Alfred Ramey was a tall man with tired dark eyes and a calm manner. He stood inside his trailer, just beyond the open door, studying Rasch.

  “So you’re the one who cursed our family. I’ve been waiting for you. Come in, Horatio Webber.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I knew that you’d come sooner or later. I didn’t know what you would say. I’m ready to listen.”

  Rasch put aside his reservations and stepped inside. An hour later he’d learned all he needed to know about the circus and Savannah, and he’d offered his proposition. Alfred Ramey didn’t entirely believe that Rasch wanted to make restitution for the damage he’d done to the Ramey family, but he was too wise to refuse the opportunity to the man who held the key to his daughter’s happiness.

  “All right, Rasch,” Alfred finally agreed. “But you need to know that this isn’t really Savannah’s fault. I closed my eyes to Tifton’s faults just as she did. His death seemed to be an omen. I blamed you rather than accept losing our way of life.”

  “But I was responsible, Alfred. If I hadn’t made an example of your son, he wouldn’t be dead.”

  “We can’t know what the Fates have in store for us, Rasch. If I hadn’t been so angry, I would have stopped Savannah when she told me what she was going to do. I even approved. But I was wrong, and I don’t want to lose her. What about you, Rasch—why are you here?”

  “I don’t know exactly. To try and make amends somehow to Savannah. I never meant to harm Tifton, just to teach him a lesson. I thought that he was heading for big trouble.”

  “I know. No matter how much I wish it were different, I’ve come to understand that Tifton was responsible for his own fate. And that same thinking tells me that Savannah is responsible for hers. I won’t refuse your help, but I won’t allow you to stay if she doesn’t want you here.”

  “Fair enough,” Rasch said with growing confidence. “What shall I do first?”

  By the time Savannah returned the next morning, her trailer was wearing a new coat of paint, and Zeena’s sign was bright red instead of a faded pink.

  “Savannah? You’re just in time,” Niko called out, “we have a little job for tomorrow.”

  “What kind of job?” Savannah was tired and depressed. A new coat of paint on her trailer was a waste. The offer she’d got for their circus was so low that she’d laughed. The circus could never go another season without money, but she wouldn’t give it away either. Still, unless she came up with a miracle, the circus might even have to close. Somebody meant well, but a little paint wasn’t going to help.

  “We’ve got two days at a children’s home in East Point.”

  “A children’s home? Niko, we can’t afford charity.”

  “This isn’t for charity. It’s a money-making event, and we get part of the proceeds.”

  “It’ll cost us more to set up than we’ll make. Besides, we don’t have enough help. There’s nobody to leave behind to look after things here.”

  “Yes, there is, Savannah, we have a new hand.”

  “A new hand? Who? Where did he come from?”

  “Your father hired him yesterday while you were gone. He’s over in the animal compound washing out the cats’ cages and cleaning up behind the elephants.”

  Her father had hired a new hand yesterday, knowing the state of their finances? It had been so long since he’d taken an interest in managing the circus. Savannah shook off the curious feeling of unease that was sweeping over her. The back of her neck began to prickle, and she felt slightly light-headed. Granted, she hadn’t stopped to eat on the drive back, but this sensation was more than that.

  Savannah was beginning to have bad vibes. She started to run.

&n
bsp; He wasn’t wearing a shirt. The scars on his back rippled as he leaned over to the shovel away from the refuse. A sheen of perspiration covered his well-muscled upper arms and chest, and his hair was tousled golden in the fall sunlight. Savannah came to an abrupt stop, her mouth dry and her heart pounding.

  As if he were responding to her unspoken message, Rasch straightened up, leaned the shovel against the old barn they used as shelter for the elephants, and turned around. He’d known she was back from the moment she got out of the truck, but he’d waited for her to come to him. Now she had to speak first.

  “Crusader, what in hell are you doing here?”

  “I’m working.”

  “I can see that. Why?”

  “It took me a while, but I finally figured it out, Gypsy. You held me responsible for the hurt you and your father suffered. Tifton is dead because of my decision to make an example of him. I can’t change that even if I wanted to. But I can take his place. It won’t be the same, but it’s the best I can do.”

  “There’s no way you can take Tifton’s place.”

  “I know that.” Rasch took a step forward. “I know what it is to blind yourself to a person’s faults when you love that person. I’m sorry, Gypsy.”

  “No, don’t touch me, Horatio Webber. Don’t you lay a hand on me.” Savannah folded her arms across her chest and held tight. She was shaking, fighting off an incredible urge to fling herself into his arms.

  “I won’t touch you, Gypsy. I know full well the danger in that. I’ve done a lot of thinking about us. We’re too powerful together. We have only to touch and we’re lost. This physical connection between us seems to close out everything else. I think it came too soon. We became lovers before we became friends. We’re going to start over.”

  “Do you really think we could ever be merely friends, Crusader?”

  “I don’t know, but we’re going to spend some normal time together, get to know each other and find out.”

  “What about your job? A judge can’t just join a circus, or do you plan to give up the bench.”