by Deborah Camp
“Pleasant enough.”
“Too bad Mr. Griffon couldn’t go with you.”
“Actually, it’s just as well.”
“Why is that?” Feet freed from her shoes, Orrie sprawled in the chair and wiggled her stockinged toes.
“They don’t have a very high opinion of Gypsies.”
“I see.” Orrie nodded. “I always thought of Gypsies as beautiful, wild, free people. I know, though, that many don’t share my view.”
“It must have been awful for him growing up,” Lily said, plucking at the lacy band on the sheet again. “To be cast out by his family into a world that treated him like human compost.” She sighed. “Sometimes I glimpse such sadness in him, Orrie, that it clutches at my heart.” When Orrie made no comment and unbroken minutes stretched between them, Lily looked up from the lace pattern to witness Orrie’s keen regard. “Don’t you think he’s led a lonely, bittersweet life?”
“I’m thinkin’ that you might be falling in love with that blue-eyed Gypsy. You know where he got those blue eyes?”
The first statement startled her, but Orrie’s follow-up won Lily’s response. “No, do you?”
“Zar says they showed up—out of the blue, you might say. Nobody could figure it out. His mother swears she didn’t mess with anybody but his father. His folks finally marked it up to fate. They said he was singled out somehow.”
“He’s certainly one of a kind.”
“So you are in love with him?”
“I’m attracted to … Oh, I don’t know, Orrie. I can’t think straight. Not until Cecille is found. I will say that I’ve never felt like this before about any man.”
“Honeypot, are you still a good girl?”
Lily couldn’t meet Orrie’s gaze for a few moments, then a voice within her told her to hold her head high when she answered. So she did. “I am still a good girl, Orrie, but I am not a virgin.”
Orrie clasped her hands and stared up at the ceiling. “Oh, I have failed! I knew in my heart, but I kept telling myself it wasn’t true. I kept telling myself that my sweet Lily had been raised right and wouldn’t ruin her life on a whim. First, Cecille. Now you. What have I done wrong, Lord? What could I have done better?”
“Oh, Orrie, stop it.” Lily flung aside the bedclothes and swung her feet to the floor. “I’m fully grown, and you are no longer responsible for me.”
“I’m your chaperone!”
“When it suits you,” Lily noted, then regretted the hasty words when Orrie’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t cry,” she begged, dropping to her knees in front of the woman. “Be happy for me.”
“H-happy? Why would I be happy? You got a ring on your finger? No. You got a proposal of marriage offered to you? No. You ruined for any other serious suitor? Yes. What have I got to be happy about?”
“Be happy that mine was an experience beyond measure and that I have no regrets.”
“Now you have no regrets, but what about later when you have a fine young man wantin’ to marry you, and you know it’ll break his heart when you tell him he’s not your one and only?”
“I’ll face that when the situation arises.”
“You should have thought about that before you let Mr. Griffon have his way with you. Didn’t I teach you better, girl?”
“Mrs. Pot, are you calling me, Miss Kettle, black?”
“Don’t you sass me, Lily Jane Meeker. You’re in a heap of trouble. Mr. Griffon should be horsewhipped!”
“No. It was my decision, Orrie. Do you think Uncle Howard and Aunt Nan would ever be able to accept him?”
“As what?”
“Family, of course.”
Orrie fell back, aghast. “Are you sayin’ he has asked for your hand in marriage?”
“No, he hasn’t. But he might, you know. I should be ready with an answer, one way or the other. Do you think my family would receive him?”
“I think you might be headed for heartache, Lily. The man would have asked for your hand before he bedded you if he were interested in you as wife material.”
Orrie’s words stung. Lily popped to her feet and went to sit on the bed again.
“He might still ask me. I think he cares for me. I believe he cares deeply.”
“Honeypot, listen to me. Don’t go wishin’ on a star and expectin’ miracles. Mr. Griffon might be different, but he’s still a man. Men bed women, but when it’s time for a man to seek a wife, he looks for a lady.”
“I am still a lady, Orrie.” Lily tipped up her chin, refusing to let Orrie storm her defenses. “Griffon would be the first to tell you that!”
“In this arena, I’ve had more experience. I might be sportin’ with Zar, but I don’t hold any hope of him askin’ me to marry him. We’ve had our good times and I don’t regret them, but I’m not a young thing lookin’ for a husband and holdin’ out for children either. A man wants a lady for a wife and not someone who he can sport with before any mention of marriage. Why do you think ladies of the evening make so much money? But do you see them gettin’ married and takin’ their places in society? Heavens, no! Everybody knows they aren’t ladies. They’re soiled.”
“Orrie, are you saying that I’m dirty?” She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling.
“If this gets out, you’ll be ruined, Lily.”
“I won’t tell and neither will Griffon.”
Orrie nodded. “That’s all fine and good. But what about your eventual betrothed. How you going to explain Griffon to him?”
“I won’t have to. I just won’t discuss it.”
“And on your weddin’ night, he’ll know he wasn’t your first. Then you’ll have some explainin’ to do.”
“I’ll tell him I rode horses. Wild horses. Without saddles!” She rammed her fists into the mattress. “Don’t go on, Orrie! I won’t regret my time with Griffon. I won’t! I won’t!”
“Fine. Suit yourself.” Orrie folded her arms and looked off to one side in a pouty fashion. “I’m beginnin’ to think you might be right about that man.”
“What?” Lily gathered in a deep breath and tried to lower her temper. “What do you mean?”
“You know, about him being stuff and nonsense. Think about it.” She shifted her wizened gaze to Lily. Lily was reminded of an enchanted troll. “What has he done magical in finding Cecille? You’re the one slippin’ into trances and not actin’ yourself at all. He’s just been sniffing around here and askin’ an occasional question or two.”
“And getting ambushed and shot!” Lily reminded her hotly. “Just what are you getting at, Orrie Dickens? Are you telling me that you’ve now decided that Griffon Go-forth and your beau, Balthazar, are two frauds taking us for suckers?”
“You tell me. What otherworldly hocus-pocus has Mr. Griffon done?”
“He can read my mind.”
“How does that help us find Cecille? What has he done to find her? Seems to me all he’s done is sniff around you like you was a bitch in heat.”
“Orrie, I won’t allow you to speak to me that way!” She stood, her body trembling with affront, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.
Orrie shrugged and gathered her mouth in an unattractive moue. “I’m disappointed in you, is all. I thought you were raised with better sense.”
“You’re mad at me, so you’re taking it out on Griffon by saying awful things about him,” Lily charged.
“I’m waitin’ for you to answer me, Lily Jane. How has Mr. Griffon used his so-called powers to find Cecille?”
“He led us here, didn’t he?”
“The Jeffersons led us here and that other detective y’all hired. All Mr. Griffon did was retrace that man’s steps after the Jeffersons fessed up to lying.” She cocked a brow. “Anything else?”
“He … he has told me that he feels Cecille around the Jeffers place.”
“We all have feelings,” Orrie scoffed.
“He’s shown me that he can tell the Jefferses are lying and that he’s confident he’ll find Cecill
e at Devil’s Den.”
“Then why isn’t he out there this very minute?” Orrie sat straight to better aim her arrow.
“He’s recuperating from his head injury,” Lily rejoined. “Would you have him face those hill-bred heathens at only half steam?”
“He don’t seem to be in any hurry to continue his search.”
“He’s leaving tomorrow morning after breakfast,” Lily informed her haughtily. “There goes your theory.”
“Not entirely. So he goes out there for the day again. He’ll come back with nothin’ just like the other trips. He’ll love up on you again and then probably get feelings that Cecille has left this country and is headed someplace else.” Orrie sighed. “Balthazar never pretended to be anything but a former carnival barker. But Mr. Griffon has set himself up on a high pedestal. Sooner or later, honeypot, he’s goin’ to fall. Then you’ll be just another in a long line of soiled doves, and he’ll be off on his next virgin hunt.”
“Those are horrible things for you to say!” Lily paced, releasing some of her anger in long strides. “What’s gotten into you? You’re just like the Fishbines—like every narrow-minded person! No you’re worse. You’re maligning Griffon because he’s my lover. You’re trying to make me believe that he’s a scoundrel. I’m shocked, Orrie. Shocked, that you would think for a moment I’d fall for such a pitiful act.”
“It’s no act. I think it’s best if we head back home tomorrow morning. We’ll hire us a buggy driver.”
“I don’t want to leave until Griffon returns.”
“You either come with me or I’ll wire your uncle to come fetch you. Which will it be, Lily?”
“You wouldn’t!”
“I will.” She squared her jaw. “I came here as your chaperone and I’ve done a poorly job, but I won’t turn the other cheek and betray the Meekers any further. You’re comin’ home with me tomorrow or I’ll send that wire.”
Lily measured the determination in Orrie’s eyes and deemed it fierce. She bobbed a shoulder in a partial surrender. “We’ll see about hiring a buggy driver after breakfast. But I’m not doing this because of your puerile threat. I’m doing it because Griffon mentioned only this evening that he found it difficult to concentrate on his task of finding Cecille with me around. I’ll go home for Griffon, not for you!”
“Who’s bein’ childish now?” Orrie tossed back with a supercilious smile. “Time we tucked ourselves in. We can grab a few hours of sleep before breakfast.”
“I told Griffon I’d meet him downstairs at eight.”
“Eight?” Orrie rolled her eyes and began loosening her clothes. “Then let me at that bed, girl. Scoot over and wipe that hateful look off your face. You know I said what I said for your own good. Nobody loves you as much as me, Lily Jane. Not even Griffon Goforth.”
Lily turned onto her side away from Orrie, but she couldn’t keep herself from wondering if that weren’t true. After all, Griffon had never said anything about loving her.
The heavy gold ring on the middle finger of Griffon’s left hand caught the sunlight that streamed through the window of the Lucky Spoon restaurant. The Lucky Spoon had a lighter breakfast trade than the hotel restaurant, mainly because service was slow and coffee cups sat empty too long before the only waitress in the joint could get around to refilling them. The waitress also owned the five-table eatery and was the cook and dishwasher.
The hotel restaurant had been so busy and noisy, Balthazar had suggested they take their trade down the street. Now seated at the table in front of the street window, Lily admired Griffon’s ring: a free-form griffon of hammered gold. She tried to forget that Orrie was glaring at her, her way of ordering Lily to tell Griffon of their travel plans.
Griffon peered over the top of the newspaper he was reading and his brows arched. “It’s a gift from Thurman.” He wiggled his fingers. “The ring. You were wondering about it? A Christmas present … two years ago.”
“Three,” Balthazar corrected.
“Ah, right you are. Three. Anyway, it’s one of a kind.”
Lily laughed lightly, shaking her head. “You’re reading my mind again, Griffon. No fair.”
“I knew you were thinkin’ about that ring, too,” Orrie said, an edge to her voice. “I saw you looking at it with a question written all over your face. Sure didn’t take a mind reader to figure it out.” She turned her attention sharply to Griffon. “Unless I’ve suddenly growed a third eye.”
Griffon’s smile stopped short of warmth. He folded the newspaper carefully and laid it beside his plate. “I didn’t say that I’d read Lily’s mind, Orrie. I noticed she was scrutinizing my ring, as well. Being observant is often nearly as good as having that third eye, as you call it.” He winked, then scowled when Orrie didn’t respond to his teasing as she usually did. “Hello, what’s this? Now I am sensing something, and it’s not at all pleasant. Are you mad at me, Orrie?” His gaze shifted to Lily. “And you. What’s on your mind this morning besides my ring’s origins?”
“Tell him, Lily, or I will.” Orrie set her mouth in a firm line.
Lily sighed and glanced upward for effect. “Orrie and I have decided to go back to Fort Smith today.” She poked her tongue into her left cheek and stared at the ceiling, sending Griffon blatant body language.
“I see.” He cleared his throat. “I also see that your resolve is firm, so I shan’t attempt to talk you out of it. Perhaps it’s for the best.”
“Perhaps,” Balthazar said, brows inching together, snappy eyes trained across the table at Orrie. “What brought this on?”
“Since you two will be traveling to Devil’s Den today, Orrie and I didn’t see any reason to hang around,” Lily explained. “It’s better if we’re out of your way.”
“Whoever said you were in the way, dear girl?” Balthazar asked.
Lily delivered a dry smirk. “When I decided to come along, you practically pitched a fit, as I recall. I won’t ask what—or who—has softened you up. The answer might be indelicate for so early in the morning. Ouch!” Lily grabbed her stinging shin under the table and sent Orrie an injurious glare. “That was uncalled for, Orrie Dickens!”
“What’s wrong?” Griffon asked.
“She kicked me,” Lily said, rubbing her bruised shin. “It’s true what they say about the truth hurting.”
Griffon clucked his tongue in mild reproof. “Actually, we’re not going to Devil’s Den today, after all.”
Orrie gave a loud hurrumph sound and folded her arms against her pillowy breasts. Her eyes said I told you so to Lily. “Not goin’ anywhere, huh? Another day of doin’ nothin’. What a surprise.”
Balthazar sputtered on the tea he had been sipping. Bewilderment lined his face. “I say, Orrie, what’s going on with you two females this morning? That last comment sounded as if you think we’re fleecing you. Do you think I’m a crook, Orrie Dickens? Is that what you’re telling me this bright and shining morning? After an evening so divine it brought tears to my eyes?”
“There, there, Zar.” Orrie reached across the table to pat his arm. “This has nothing to do with you. Just close off your ears.”
“If this has nothing to do with Zar, I can only surmise it has everything to do with me.” Griffon drummed his fingers on the folded newspaper, and the mythical animal atop his ring danced. “Shall I read your mind, Orrie, or will you kindly tell me why I’ve been placed on your enemy list?”
“You know why.” Orrie fussed with the napkin in her lap. “Don’t play dumb with me, Mr. Goforth.”
“Stop this deplorable behavior,” Lily said, hating to be left out when she was at the center of Orrie’s surly attitude.
Griffon narrowed his eyes. The half-moon scar trailed white across his dark skin. “I see. Yes, I understand now.”
“You made me a promise,” Orrie muttered. “And you broke it.”
“I told you I’d behave and I did.”
Orrie’s eyes looked like pieces of coal stuck in her face. “You tricked me with w
ords, you did. But you know what I meant and that I didn’t want Lily hurt and you went right ahead and ruined her.”
“He did not!” Lily gritted her teeth and clamped a hand on Orrie’s arm. “Orrie, I told you I’d go along with you to Fort Smith. That is my pound of flesh, paid to you in full. I owe you nothing more. Certainly, I don’t have to sit here while you soil my name and reputation. It’s mine, after all, and I shall tend to it.”
“I’m your chaperone.”
“Yes, but first you are my friend. My best friend. The woman who loves me as dearly as if I were her daughter. So don’t do this to me, Orrie. Some wounds are too deep to heal. I’m asking you to withdraw your saber before it’s too late.”
Orrie curled back into her chair. Her lower lip trembled, but she nodded her head. “So be it. I’ve said what I want to say. I’m done talkin’ about it.”
“Good.” Lily drew in a breath. “As you can see, Griffon, it’s best that we leave. Will you or Zar see about hiring us a buggy driver?”
“I’ll be glad to oblige,” Zar volunteered.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think there’ll be a driver to be found. Not until tomorrow, anyway. Possibly for a couple of days.”
“Why, Griffon?” Lily asked.
“For the same reason I’ve postponed the trip to Devil’s Den until tomorrow.” He held up the newspaper, pointing to a headline. “Tonight’s the barn dance in Alma Hollow … rather, Alma Holler.” He winced at the odd pronunciation. “I spoke with the hotel proprietor this morning before you ladies came downstairs and was told that everybody goes to this dance since it’s the only festivity until the cotillion at the end of summer.”
“How does that keep you from Devil’s Den?” Orrie piped up. “You going to the dance instead of trying to find Cecille?”
“Sadly, dancing is not one of my talents.” He tapped the newspaper again, this time with purpose. “What’s a dance without musicians? I give you the Jeffers Gypsy Band.”