by Deborah Camp
He released her hands and averted his gaze, mumbling something about helping Zar with the saddlebags. Stung by his reaction, Lily managed a brave front, her pride serving her well. But she knew it was child’s play for him to see past her facade. If, that is, he wanted to see past it to her bleeding heart.
An hour after Griffon and Balthazar rode out of town, Lily stood in front of the window in her hotel room and stared moodily out at the dusty street. A dull ache persisted in her heart.
Orrie snored softly, curled on the bed with the chenille spread pulled over her. A wall clock ticked steadily. Quiet time, Lily thought. Feeling a bit drowsy herself, she yawned and wished she could keep from reviewing the unsettling meeting with Griffon before he and Zar had packed up and left for Devil’s Den. Perhaps he hadn’t received her thought about loving him. That would mean she’d misinterpreted his hasty retreat. Maybe, perhaps, what if, could be … useless words, useless strategy. She shook her head at her own musings. In her heart, she knew he’d heard her silent admission and that’s when he’d acted as if someone had dumped a shovelful of live coals down his trousers.
Orrie would have a field day if she found out that Griffon had turned his back on Lily’s vow of love. Lily looked at the sleeping woman and wondered if she should listen to her pessimistic view of a future with Griffon. Was Griffon the grand seducer and Lily the glassy-eyed maiden who couldn’t see the difference between love and lust?
Lily dropped her head in her hand and swallowed a groan. “I hope not,” she whispered. “I hope to heaven I haven’t unwittingly played the fool.”
If she had, maybe it was for the best. After all, a life with Griffon would contain more than its share of obstacles. He was a walking, breathing curiosity. That would be exciting for a while—but for a lifetime? And what of their children? The poor dears would have to bear the burden of their parents’ impetuosity. Yes, she reasoned. She should treasure the memories and be resigned to the impossibilities of a lasting union with a carefree, mysterious Gypsy.
He had been her dream. Perhaps it was only right that he stay in that venue.
The tap at the door was so light that she thought she’d imagined it, but it came again after a minute. Lily tiptoed across the room, so as not to awaken Orrie, and eased open the door. A chambermaid handed her a folded piece of paper.
“A man asked me to give this to you.”
“Thank you.” Lily took the note and closed the door. The paper was an old general store receipt for oats, molasses, and flour. On the back of it someone had written in a shaky hand: “Outside. J.”
“Jasper,” she whispered, smiling at the big block letters. It surprised her that he could write at all. So he wanted her to come outside. Lily grabbed her shawl and flung it over her shoulders. She was glad Jasper had come. Since she’d be leaving tomorrow, she’d have the chance to tell him good-bye.
Glancing at Orrie, she decided not to rouse her. Her talk with Jasper wouldn’t last long and she’d most likely be back in the room before Orrie awakened from her nap. She let herself out of the room and went downstairs to the empty lobby. Everyone was getting ready for the big barn dance, no doubt. She’d learned that Alma Holler was a couple of hours’ ride from Van Buren. Most people would set out from town before sunset and arrive in plenty of time to greet their neighbors, repeat gossip, and catch up on births, deaths, and illnesses before the Jeffers Gypsy Band struck the first notes.
Outside, she found no sign of Jasper. She waited, looking up and down the street at the few people lingering on the wooden walks fronting the buildings. No Jasper. Not even a familiar face.
She was about to turn and go back inside when she heard a sound, not unlike a hissing snake.
“Pssst!”
Lily stopped, beating down the terror such a sound provoked from her past. “Jasper?”
“Pssst!”
The hiss came from around the side of the hotel where an alley led to a sad, overgrown garden area and a three-hole outhouse. Long shadows tumbled into the alley. Lily stepped into them, at first with anticipation and then with a sense of doom. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she checked her stride.
“Jasper?” No longer a certainty. Now only a foolish hope. Danger tapped her on the shoulder and she whirled, intent on running it over on her way back into the hotel.
The hand, foul and beefy, clamped over her mouth, and she found herself wrenched backward into an unyielding body. She struggled against the arm wrapped around her waist and tried to use her peripheral vision to identify her attacker.
“Quit your fighting,” the man rasped in her ear. His breath smelled rank, like old urine stains.
Lily spied slanty eyes, a feral grin. Ham Jeffers! Her struggles intensified. She kicked backward, finding a shin. Ham grunted, and his hold loosened enough for her to wriggle free. Her escape lasted only a moment. Ham grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her backward.
She cried out, but the scream coming after it died prematurely when Ham’s fist connected with Lily’s jaw. The sun set in the blink of an eye, throwing her world into utter darkness. She felt herself floating down, down, down. Her next bubble of awareness alerted her to extreme discomfort. Someone or something shook her over and over so that her breath came in short puffs and gasps. She thought she opened her eyes, but nothing made sense. She saw green and brown. She smelled horseflesh and saddle leather. Her rib cage burned. Something pressed down on the center of her back, and she wished she could find the strength to buck it off. Buck? Was she on a horse? The bubble burst, and she tumbled again into the abyss of unconsciousness.
Jasper Jeffers stepped out from around the barrels fronting the Van Buren dry goods store. Muscles trembled in his tree-trunk-sized legs. He’d been crouched behind the barrels for almost an hour. He felt sick. Perspiration, sticky and cold, clung to him. A sob broke in two in the center of his chest and half of it pushed up into his throat. It came out as a whimper. A child’s whimper.
He and Ham had been playing a game for a couple of days now. Looking at Lily, they called it. Jasper liked the game because he could look at the pretty lady all day and all night and never get bored. He liked being her shadow. But the game had changed earlier today. They were supposed to get back home today. There was music to make later tonight. With Anson not playing the banjo anymore, Paw-Paw said he and Ham had to show up for all the music making. Ham played guitar and could pick the banjo pretty good—but not as good as Anson. Jasper played harmonica. Better than pretty good. Maw-Maw said he played harmonica like angels played harps. Born to it, Maw-Maw said.
Jasper had told Ham they had to get if they didn’t want to be late for the music making, but Ham had sent him ahead and told him to tell Paw-Paw that Ham would meet them at Alma Holler. Jasper hadn’t trusted the look in his brother’s eyes. When Ham was fibbing, he got that glint in his eyes—a glint like when the sun hit the barrel of a shotgun. A bad glint.
So he’d only played like he’d left town. Jasper had mounted old Boojo and rode him out of Ham’s sight, then he’d circled Boojo back around and found a hiding place. Instead of playing Looking at Lily, he played Looking at Ham. He’d seen him scribble the note. He’d seen him give it to the woman in the funny dress. He’d seen Lily come outside and call for him.
Only fear had kept him from answering her. He’d been brought up around Ham, and he knew that Ham would bloody him if he found out Jasper hadn’t minded.
Jasper plugged up his mouth with both fists just as he’d done to keep himself from calling to Lily, especially when Ham grabbed her, socked her with his fist, and then flung her over the back of Dobbin like she was nothing but a sack of potatoes!
Standing in the dusty street, Jasper stared in the direction Ham had ridden with Lily draped over his saddle. A knot twisted in Jasper’s chest. Lily had rescued him. She had touched him like only Maw-Maw had ever touched him. Lily loved Jasper. Jasper loved Lily.
Shame bruised his heart and tears streamed down his face.
Ham would bloody him, but he had to make sure Ham didn’t hurt Lily anymore. His shame gave way to anger toward Ham. He unplugged his mouth and wiped his damp hands on his pants’ legs.
“Ham’s a bad, bad boy,” he whispered, lower lip trembling. “Him’s up to no good.” He remembered how Ham had slammed his fist into Lily’s face, and he had to bite down hard on his lips to keep from sobbing aloud. His chest hitched and the inside of his nose burned. He glanced around to make sure nobody was staring at him, laughing at him. Then he sniffed and wiped his nose on his shirt cuff.
Jasper hurried along the street, his waddling gait taking him to where he’d tied Boojo to a tree behind Miss Ruby’s, a house of ill repute. The house wouldn’t open for business tonight. All the girls had gone to the barn dance out at Alma Holler.
“Come on, Boojo,” Jasper said, grunting as he lifted himself onto the white horse’s back. “Gots to follow Ham. Him’s got the purty lady. Hurry, Boojo, hurry.” He heeled the horse into a trot. The wind dried the tears on his cheeks and ruffled what hair he had left on his head.
He kept a sharp eye on the prints left by Ham’s horse, and it didn’t take long for Jasper to figure out where Ham was headed. He was taking Lily home to Devil’s Den.
Chapter 20
“Zar, I find myself on the horns of a dilemma.” Griffon stacked his hands behind his head, stretched out flat on his back, and stared at the stars peeking at him through the tree branches.
The ride to Devil’s Den country had been uneventful. They’d made camp a safe distance from the Jeffers land. In fact, they were nearly at the same spot where they’d camped before, when Orrie and Lily had been with them. Closing his eyes and concentrating, Griffon could hear the gurgle of the creek. The sounds reminded him of the river barge and of Lily and her wonders and woes.
“Do tell,” Balthazar said, his back propped against a tree stump. He held a branch which he used to poke at the campfire, sending up showers of sparks. “Orrie has branded you a despoiler of virgins, and I don’t think she’ll ever forgive you for what you did to Lily.”
“First of all, Orrie Dickens is the family retainer, not Lily’s mother. Secondly, I did nothing to Lily that either of us didn’t want or now regrets. What Orrie Dickens thinks of me is not part of my dilemma.”
“She thinks of Lily as a blood relation. She practically raised her.”
“Zar, you’re the one concerned with keeping Orrie happy, not me.” He glanced sideways to observe his friend’s flushed face.
“She blames herself for the trouble Cecille and Lily have landed in.”
“What trouble has Lily landed in?”
“You, of course. She’s involved with you.”
Griffon laughed, but without humor. “Which brings us back to my dilemma.”
“How so?”
“That I’m perceived as trouble for Lily Meeker. Even you said it as if it were true.”
“Well, what can become of it, Griffon? She lives in Fort Smith. Her life is there with her family. She has no interest in our work. In fact, she eschews it.”
“She isn’t rooted in Fort Smith, and she happens to be psychic.”
“Yes, but being psychic and acknowledging it openly are quite different.” Balthazar squinted through the smoky fire at him. “Just because she has come to believe in your powers doesn’t mean she accepts her own.”
“Don’t I know it.” Griffon sighed, feeling as if a weight sat on his chest. “I thought that once I uncovered the why of her, I’d unlock her inhibitions. But it’s not that simple.” He shifted to his side, propping his head in his hand. “Actually, it all seemed possible to me until I went to collect her at the Fishbines’.”
Balthazar sent him a baffled glance. “I was under the impression you two got on like bread and butter after that dinner at the Fishbines’.”
“We did, but when I went to collect her I was submitted to her hosts’ blatant disapproval. It’s been a while since I felt that kind of contempt. It’s a good thing I didn’t go along with Lily that evening, because I doubt if I would have been allowed to sit at their dinner table.”
“People with brains the size of peas shouldn’t put on airs.” Balthazar stroked his pointy beard. “Do you think Lily would have sat at their table if you’d been turned away?”
He started to answer from his heart and tell Zar that Lily would have refused the Fishbines’ couched hospitality. But then his mind tapped in and gave him pause.
“Well?” Balthazar prodded. “What do you think?”
“I’m not sure.” Griffon sighed. “And there’s the rub, old chum.”
“The horns of the dilemma, as it were?”
“Partly. I can’t help but wonder if I’m good enough to be Lily’s secret love, but not good enough to squire her publicly.”
“Maybe it’s best, Griffon. We’ll finish out business here—satisfactorily, I hope—and then we’ll go home. There are several women there who love your company. Besides, you and Lily have so little in common.”
“I disagree.” Griffon started at the patch of dirt in front of him, realizing after the fact that he’d written Lily’s name in it with his finger. “We have much in common. Perhaps that’s what makes her nervous. Perhaps, when she looks at me, she sees the part of herself she tries to hide.” He swept his palm over her name, erasing it. “If only she’d let me help her channel her powers as I let you and Thurman channel mine.”
Balthazar threw back his head and laughed up at the stars. “You let us? Is that how you remember it?”
Griffon scowled at the other man. “I take it you don’t.”
“I remember a sullen, disagreeable, thieving Gypsy boy who wanted no help from anyone, especially a white man. A gadjo. If you’ll recall, it was months before you trusted me enough to sit and share a meal with me. You were a suspicious little rat.”
“Ah, yes.” Griffon stared into the flames, seeing himself back then, feeling the constant fear he’d carried in his gut. “I’d forgotten those early days. I mainly remember the early days of our friendship. It was wonderful to have a friend after years of having no one but myself.”
“You didn’t trust Thurman Unger one bit either. I had to practically tie you to a chair to get you to sit and listen to the man. All he wanted was to see just how much psychic power you had, but you were such a scalawag that you wouldn’t give the man a straight answer. It’s a good thing Thurman has a pound of patience.”
“I was afraid of my abilities.”
“Sure, and why not? Your family gave you the boot because of them.”
“Yes, and in a way, that’s what Lily’s father did to her. Even her aunt and uncle don’t know about Lily’s talent. She’s afraid to reveal her gifts to them for fear they, too, will desert her.” He rolled onto his back again. “I suppose I’ll just have to be patient with her.”
“Pulling her out of her hiding place, kicking and screaming, might not be what the young woman wants. She might hate you for it.”
Griffon considered this, but one thought kept rearing up in his mind, blocking out everything else. “Zar?”
“Yes?”
“I’m in love with her.” It felt good to say it. “She loves me. She thought it. I was so surprised, I didn’t know what to say.” He laughed, recalling the awkward moment. “Then I decided to say nothing since my reading her thoughts never fails to irritate her.”
“Often a maiden imagines herself in love with her first lover. It eases her guilt, don’t you see?”
Griffon frowned. “I don’t sense guilt in her.”
“It’s there. She’s a decent young woman who knows better than to sport with a bachelor. Mark my word; when Lily returns home, she’ll wrestle with guilt. She’ll think of her future once again and realize she must nurture a lie if she hopes to land a gentleman husband.”
A dagger of jealousy stabbed Griffon’s heart at the thought of Lily choosing someone else. “She is still a lady to me. Any oaf who doesn’t think so doesn’t deser
ve her.”
“Griffon, if you love her, let her go. I can’t see how she’d be happy in Boston.”
“Why not Boston? Her father and stepmother live in Cambridge.”
“Exactly,” Balthazar said, his tone dry as kindling. “That’s another obstacle to face. It might be better to just let her go.”
Griffon grunted, not trusting himself to speak. The thought of leaving Lily behind brought a thickness to his throat. He closed his eyes on hot tears of frustration. He endured a restless sleep, struggling under a weight he couldn’t lift or identify.
Balthazar handed Griffon a mug of steaming coffee and a cold biscuit-and-sausage sandwich.
“You certainly didn’t rest easy last night,” Balthazar said, pouring himself some coffee from the pot he’d brewed over the campfire.
“I had dreams.”
“The same as before?”
“Yes … no.” He shrugged, unable to recall the details. “Even now I feel that something … something’s amiss.”
“You’re anxious to confront the Jefferses, that’s all. You want to end this search, and I don’t blame you.”
Griffon popped the last bite of biscuit and sausage into his mouth and brushed crumbs from his fingers. He rolled his shoulders under an invisible weight. “Let’s pack up our duds and set off. You’re right. I’m eager to get this over with.” He lifted the saddle onto the black stallion’s back.
Balthazar tightened the belly strap around the big chestnut mount. “My feet are itchy, too, but we must tread carefully. That whole Jeffers clan is as nutty as a Christmas cake. I wouldn’t put it past them to—” Balthazar cocked his head, struck by Griffon’s tense stance and alert expression. “What is it?”
“Someone’s coming.” Griffon reached into the saddlebag and withdrew a revolver. “Do you hear them now?”
Balthazar nodded. “Sounds like a buggy or wagon.”
“Yes, so it does.” Griffon moved soundlessly to the edge of the clearing, gun cocked and ready. Pushing aside underbrush, he peered through leafy camouflage and spotted the springy buggy pulled by two wild-eyed horses. Early-morning mist swirled at ground level, lending an eerie atmosphere. As the buggy drew closer, the driver’s round face shone beneath a wide-brimmed bonnet. “Blimey it if isn’t Orrie Dickens herself!” Griffon holstered the gun.