by Deborah Camp
“I mean him no harm, but he might get hurt when the others come.” Griffon ducked his head to be at eye level with Eva. “And they will come, Eva. Two girls are missing now. Help me find them and avoid a bloody war.”
The sun slipped behind a dark cloud, and the atmosphere cooled instantly. Eva tilted her head to one side and regarded him with suspicion.
“Where’d you get them pale eyes, Gypsy man?”
Griffon flashed a grin. “My mother had many reasons, but none were convincing.”
Eva laughed. “Many a Gypsy girl has flirted too often with the gadjo. Did your people desert her?”
“No. She was too powerful. She could dukker the vast better than anyone and it brought much money.”
“Money can make the people forget tradition.” Eva glanced up at the gathering gloom. The wind blew back her dark hair and plain skirt. She shivered and hugged Jasper closer for a moment. Sadness doused the light in her eyes, then she gripped Jasper’s chin and lifted his face.
“Tell him, baby. He’s right. More and more will come, and there will be shooting and killing. We don’t want that. Tell him what you saw.” She let go of him.
Jasper swallowed a sob and looked at Griffon with round, babyish eyes. “Ham took her.” He rubbed his runny nose on his shirtsleeve. “Jasper seen him. Ham h-hit her.”
Hatred twisted in Griffon’s gut and set his temples to pounding. “Where did he take her, Jasper?”
“To the … the bad under place.”
Griffon looked from Jasper to Eva. “The what?”
“He’s talking about the caverns.”
“Where? What caverns?”
Eva patted Jasper’s balding head, calming him, comforting him. “Not far from here. Underground caves, caverns. Nobody sane would go down there. Me and Jasper don’t go near them, ’less we have to.”
“It’s where Satan lives,” Jasper said. “It’s the Devil’s Den!”
Eva nodded. “That’s right, sonny boy. Evil lives down there.”
“Take me to them.”
Eva shook her head. “I told you. I don’t go around there. Me or Jasper. I’ll tell you how to get there.”
“No, I might get lost. You take me.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Guide me to within seeing distance and I’ll take it from there.”
“Don’t go!” Jasper said. “Hell’s fires burn in there.”
“Jasper, I must get Lily. You want me to bring Lily back up, don’t you?”
“If youse can.” Jasper nodded. “Her might be dead.”
“No, she’s not, but we can’t waste any more time. Ham means to hurt her. Ham goes down there and comes back up top, fit as a fiddle. Lily can, too, if I help her.”
“But Ham’s bad. Bad people don’t get hurt down under. Only good people like that purty gal.”
“Lily.”
“Uh-huh.” Jasper wiped the tears from his face. “Jasper and Maw-Maw will show you the bad under place. Lily is Jasper’s friend.”
Griffon stroked Jasper’s flighty hair. “So am I.”
“You’re Maw-Maw’s brudder. You’re kin.”
Eva flung out her hands, palms up, and shrugged. “I tried to explain how you and me were both Rom, but he don’t quite get it.”
Griffon touched a forefinger to the swelling along Jasper’s jawline. “Did Ham do this to you?”
“Nuh-uh. Paw-Paw dood it.”
Eva pretended not to notice Griffon’s damning glance. “Him and Ham were late getting to the dance last night. Our band played at a big barn dance. Butch lashes out at anybody who don’t mind him.”
“Why have you stayed here?” Griffon asked. “Why not take your son and run? You can’t be happy with Butch and this life.”
“Where would we go?”
“Anywhere,” Griffon said, motioning to the tangled woods.
“With no money, no way to make it?”
Griffon made an impatient gesture. “You’re Gypsy. All Gypsies can make money.”
She laughed under her breath. “Maybe so. Jasper, gather up the clothes into the basket. We will take you to the caverns, Borossan, but then you’ll be on your own.”
Jasper dumped the clothes, lye soap, and scrub board into the wicker basket. He arranged the roses on top, then skipped along behind Eva and Griffon as they plowed through brush, Eva leading the way.
“So, you won’t leave?” Griffon said, holding aside a low branch for them.
“He’s my husband,” Eva said with a resigned sigh.
Griffon shook his head. He’d heard the lame answer before, many times from many women. “Even a dumb dog knows to leave when he’s kicked.”
Gypsy fire flashed in Eva’s eyes. “My life ain’t so bad here. Butch and the boys leave me and Jasper alone most of the time. We’re happy, ain’t we, baby?” she asked Jasper, stopping to look back at him.
“Happy,” Jasper agreed, grinning from ear to ear. “Jasper and Maw-Maw are happy as cream-fed cats.” He giggled and swung the basket from side to side in childish glee.
“Even when your pa knocks the stuffing out of you?” Griffon countered, and Jasper’s giggles died abruptly. “Even when your brothers beat on you?”
“Nuh-uh. That hurts.”
“Butch hardly ever lays a hand on me or him.” Eva stalked ahead of them, taking her anger out on prickly branches in her way.
“Once is too often,” Griffon said. “Where’s your pride? Where’s your mothering instincts to protect your cub?”
Eva swung around to face Griffon. “Izjele te vjestice!”
Griffon laughed at the old Gypsy curse. “May the witch eat me?” he repeated, amused. “Dear Eva.” He trailed gentle fingertips down the side of her teak-colored face. The anger subsided with his touch, and she practically purred, closing her eyes and rubbing her cheek against his knuckles. “When this is over, I’ll help you get away from him. You and your boy can start a new life, if you want.”
“You … will help me? A stranger?” She looked at him with eyes as hopeful as a child’s.
“We aren’t strangers. As Jasper said, we are kin.” He pressed her shoulder in a warm gesture. “Now show me this bad under place.”
“We’re almost there.” She led him to a break in the trees. Ahead was a wooded knoll. “See that bush with the yellow flowers all over it?”
“Yes,” he said, squinting at the place. He checked the canopy of storm clouds stretching to the horizon. Soon the heavens would open and drench them. The smell of rain hung in the air, sweet and pure.
“Behind that is a hole in the hill. Just big enough to crawl through. I hear that once inside a man can stand upright. I don’t know firsthand, because I’ve never been any closer than this,” Eva explained.
“And you don’t have to go any closer. I can carry on from here.” He grasped her hand, then impulsively kissed her forehead. “Nais tuke,” he whispered.
“Him kissed Maw-Maw!” Jasper giggled, dark eyes wide with surprise.
Griffon chucked the man/child under the chin. “Thanks, Jasper. I’ll tell Lily that you helped me find her.”
“Kushto bacht,” Eva said, sending him off with a blessing and a smile.
“Think about it, sister,” Griffon said, already moving toward the knoll. “If you want to be free again, I’ll show you the way, just as you’ve shown me.” Then he turned and sprinted to whatever dire fate awaited him under the devil’s belly.
“Lily, I can’t believe you’re here!” Cecille held Lily at arm’s length, her gaze falling to the torn front of Lily’s dress. “But what has he done to you? He didn’t … Oh, Lily! Did he force himself on you? How could he? He’s been with me until he heard you screaming.”
Lily held the fabric over her breasts with one hand. “Ham Jeffers kidnapped me.” She pushed Cecille’s tangled blond hair from her forehead. “I’m fine. But you poor thing! What’s been happening here?”
She seized a moment to assess Cecille’s condition. She’d lost weight. Lily ran he
r hands over Cecille’s bare arms, which seemed no more than skin and bones. Her hair straggled around her face and neck, dusty and the color of parchment. Lily caught her lower lip between her teeth, anguished by the sight of her sparkling, brassy, blond cousin reduced to this sorry state.
Cecille’s dress hung in tatters, and it was not one from her Fort Smith wardrobe. Her eyes looked like two marbles stuck in a white, doughy face. Dark bruises climbed her arms, dotted the skin above her breasts, and circled her neck. She shivered, and Lily realized Cecille was in poor health.
“Cecille, are you ill?” Lily pressed a hand to Cecille’s forehead. Fever burned her palm. “You are ill. Have you a cold?”
Cecille nodded. “It’s always so damp in here. He lights fires, but I’m never warm. I’ve thought so often of you, Lily. I’ve prayed you’d come, but now I wish my prayers had gone unanswered. I’m afraid for you, Lily. I’m afraid he might kill you.”
“Hush, now. I’m going to get you out of here.” Lily hugged Cecille close to her, trying to warm her cousin’s cold body. “Others know I’m in this area. They’ll come for us.”
“They haven’t before now,” Cecille murmured, closing her eyes and resting her cheek on Lily’s shoulder. “Nobody’s been here looking for me.”
“That’s not true! We hired a detective and he tracked you here. Then we hired another. He’s about somewhere … somewhere very near. He’ll find us. I know he will.”
“Anson won’t let me go. He means to keep me here.”
“Cecille, why did you tempt this man … this Anson?” Lily held Cecille’s head between her hands and looked into Cecille’s lackluster eyes. “We discovered that you were seeing him on the sly. Why, Cecille? Why in God’s name would you do such a fool—”
“Now ain’t this touchin’?” Anson sneered, striding through the opening.
Lily sucked in a breath and gathered Cecille closer to her. She recognized Anson Jeffers, the fog clearing from her memory. She could recall his wild Gypsy dance across the flatbed wagon that served as a stage. And she recalled Cecille’s breathless wonder of him. Lily had thought him a bit too savage, but Cecille had seen him as a dashing rogue meant to be tamed by her. Lily remembered how George Vick had likened Anson to Griffon, and she shuddered at such a comparison. Griffon was dark-haired and dark-skinned, but there the similarity ended. Anson was clearly a brute.
“It’s a reunion, Ham.” Anson spoke over his shoulder to his brother. “The Meek cousins are reunited. Ain’t it too sweet for words?”
“Meeker,” Lily corrected. “And I know who you are. You’re Anson. The eldest Jeffers.”
“Don’t hurt her, Anson,” Cecille said, moving in front of Lily. “I’ll do anything you say, just don’t hurt Lily.”
Anson Jeffers stood over six feet tall. His shadow climbed the rock wall and spilled halfway across the ceiling, where formations dripped murky water. He wore a flannel shirt, blue trousers, and black suspenders. His boots were brown, muddy, knee-high. He bore a strong resemblance to his brother, both having sloe eyes, swarthy skin, inky hair. But Anson used his smile to good use. He flashed white teeth, and his black eyes glinted like sunstruck onyx. He’d gathered his black hair into a tail at the back of his neck. A romeo, Lily thought. A ladies’ man, rough around the edges, dangerously attractive. She knew why Cecille had dallied with Anson Jeffers. He was the dark Gypsy from so many of Orrie Dickens’s romantic tales. But this was reality, and the real Anson Jeffers wasn’t a Gypsy and he wasn’t romantic. He was cousin to the Grim Reaper with no conscience. Do or Die was his motto, and he cared not which was chosen.
“You’ll do anything I say? Will you now?” Anson chuckled and tucked his fingertips in the top of his waistband. “You’ll obey me like a good girl, huh? That’s nice. But you’ll do that no matter what happens to this here gal.”
“No, she won’t,” Lily said. “And you won’t get away with this, Anson Jeffers. The marshals will be here within the hour, and they’ll track you down like the dog you are! You, too, Ham.”
Anson feigned a shiver. “Ooo, I’m so scared! Ain’t you scared, Ham?” He laughed with his brother at Lily’s threats. “Nobody’s tracked her yet,” Anson said, grinning.
“Yes, they have. Butch Jeffers lied and said you’d left home.”
“Ain’t no lie. I did leave. I live here now with my woman.”
Lily curled her lip at that. “Butch said he didn’t know where you were. Ham and the whole bunch lied, but no one was fooled. We knew you were still around here and that you were holding Cecille captive.”
“Ain’t none of your concern no more, girlie. Besides, you ain’t staying here.” He backhanded his bleeding lip, and his glinting gaze fixed on his brother. “You hear me, Ham? I want you to take this mouthy bitch and get.”
“Anson, can’t we stay the night?” Ham whined. “I gotta think ’bout where to hide her.”
“If’n you use your head, you’ll turn her loose and then hide yourself until the law gets tired of sniffing around for you. Paw’ll skin you if’n he finds out you messed up my love nest here.”
“Love nest?” Lily repeated, seeking her cousin’s gaze. “Cecille would disagree with that. One has only to look at her to see that she’s been mistreated.”
“Bullshit. She loves it,” Anson answered, but Lily saw fear rise in Cecille’s eyes. “She’s my Goldilocks.” Anson grabbed Cecille’s fragile wrist and hauled her into his arms. When Lily made a lunge toward him, Ham pushed her; she was halfway across the cavern before she regained her balance.
“Murderer!” Lily yelled, angry that she was reduced to hate-filled words, but using them all the same. “I know you killed your wife, Anson. You murdered her with your bare hands and buried her by the river.”
Anson stared hard at her, his lips drawn into a white line, then he cut his eyes at Cecille. “Now I wonder who told you that?”
“Cecille witnessed the murder. We’ll make sure that you hang for it.”
“You whore!” He grabbed the lower part of Cecille’s face, and she cried out. “You been flapping your jaws about that? I told you to keep quiet, didn’t I?” He raised his other hand to strike her, but Lily was on him in a flash, hanging on to his cocked arm and sinking her teeth into the back of his hand. “Gawldarnit, get her off me!”
Lily tasted his bitter blood before Ham buried his hand in her hair and yanked her backward. She felt some of her hair rip from her scalp before Ham let go to fling her to the hard rock floor. Her knees struck it, spreading hot pain along her thighs. She looked up to give Ham a tongue-lashing, but his palm connected with her cheek and set her head to ringing.
“Don’t! Please, don’t hurt her!” Cecille screamed, sobbing with hysteria. “Anson, I’ll do anything. Anything! Let her go, Anson. She’ll promise to be quiet.”
“Like hell she will. You told her about Doralee.”
“No, I didn’t,” Cecille swore, shaking her head violently.
“She didn’t tell me anything. I found the grave.” Lily held the side of her face and grimaced with each movement of her tongue. She’d somehow managed to bite the side of it. She didn’t know if it was her blood or Anson’s she tasted in her mouth. “You’re a filthy murderer. No matter what happens to me, it won’t alter your fate. You’ll swing, Anson. You’ll burn in hell along with all the other killers and defilers.”
Anson pointed a finger at her. “You got a big mouth, woman. Ham, take her outta here. I got some talking to do with my missus.”
“Missus?” Lily struggled against Ham’s hands on her forearms. He pulled her to her feet. “What do you mean? You and Cecille aren’t married.”
“As far as we’re concerned, we are. She’s gonna have my babies.”
“No!” Lily looked at Cecille. “Cecille, you aren’t …”
“I don’t think so,” Cecille mumbled, ducking her head, too ashamed to face Lily. “Save yourself if you can, Lily. Forget about me. It’s too late for me.”
“No,
Cecille! Stop it. Let go of me!” Lily tried to shake off Ham’s beefy hands, but he was far too strong. He wrapped an arm around Lily’s waist and lifted her up to carry her from the cavern room. “Don’t give up, Cecille,” Lily shouted. “Griffon will come for us.”
“Who?” Anson asked.
“I’m not talking to you, you … you ignorant jackass!”
Ham plastered his free hand against her mouth and flung her into the darkness. She fell to her hands and knees on the damp rock surface. Her kneecaps and shins ached. Ham and Anson talked in whispers, but she could only catch a few words—morning, away, hide. Not enough to make any sense of it. Light pooled around her, and she looked up to see Ham standing over her. He held a torch aloft.
“Come on, purty gal,” he said, using Jasper’s pet name for her. The light played over his face, making it seem all the more sinister. “Me and you gonna play some poke in the bush.”
Lily swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Balancing on her fingertips and the soles of her feet, she lunged and sprinted away from the light and into the black maw of Devil’s Den.
She’d gone only a few yards when she felt Ham claw the back of her dress. The material ripped. Suddenly, the ground evaporated under her feet. She screamed as she fell into a bottomless void.
Chapter 23
The hole afforded a man little space. Griffon crawled through it on all fours, keeping his head down. His shoulders and hips scraped the low overhang. Moving cautiously, he strained to see any light ahead, but it only got darker and darker. The space remained close for several yards before Griffon’s shoulders stopped bumping rock and he sensed a widening area. He lifted a hand higher, higher still, then released a breath of relief. Getting to his feet, he unbent his body gradually, expecting to bump his head any moment on the cavern ceiling. When he was almost standing straight, the crown of his head touched cold rock. Better than crawling, he thought, crouching a little. Much better.
He started forward, moving like the blind man he was in this world of no light. The toe of his boot struck something, sending it rolling. Griffon squatted, hands outstretched, patting cool air and damp rock. His left hand closed over a long club. He examined it by touch, finding the sticky, crumbling end. He smelled ashes, charred wood. His mind recognized the club as a torch. Feeling about, he found three more. So, someone had left a supply, he reasoned, grateful for the thoughtfulness because the darkness was beginning to gnaw at the edges of his courage.