by Deborah Camp
“Escaping,” Griffon whispered back.
“We can’t let them! Come on!”
“They won’t get far. Balthazar has returned with the sheriff. They’re waiting for them up top.”
“How do you know?”
He rested one index finger below his left eye in the sign Orrie had made when speaking of his ability to see what others couldn’t. “I know,” he assured her.
Just then men’s voices rang out, followed by a volley of gunshots. Lily jumped as if the bullets had found their way below ground to rip through her own skin. She placed a hand over her heart and swallowed a sob. Then she ran in the direction Anson had taken Cecille, racing so fast that the torch sputtered and died, throwing everything into the blackest of black.
“Lily!” Griffon called out to her, blind as a bat now in the smothering darkness. He had to rely on his own inner light to follow in her footsteps.
“Cecille! They’ve killed Cecille!” Lily cried. She spotted a portal of daylight and dived for it.
Chapter 24
Sunlight didn’t greet Lily topside. Rain clouds obscured the sun, but the world was still bright in comparison to the darkness from which she emerged. Stumbling like a blind woman, she slipped on the damp earthen mound, falling to her knees, forcing herself back up, blinking owlishly at the figures standing near her. Raindrops splattered her face.
She found herself on a grassy knoll dotted by wildflowers, gray stones, and patches of moss. Three men stood a few feet from her. Balthazar, Sheriff Mac, and another man she didn’t recognize.
“Lily, for pity’s sake! Lily!” Griffon popped up from the rock-ribbed hole like an angry mole. “You’ll get your foolish head shot off!” He, too, blinked at his surroundings.
The stench of gunpowder hovered in the air. Lily looked about frantically and spotted the sprawled body partially hidden by the tall grass and brambly bushes. Anson. The breath whooshed out of her.
“Cecille?” she called. “Where is she? Cecille!”
“Here.”
Lily whirled in the direction of the weak voice, which seemed to have come from Balthazar. Cecille stepped from behind the big man, her face streaked with grime, tears, and rain. A fragrant breeze billowed her tattered dress. Lily’s heart contracted, and she raced to embrace her cousin, her bare feet slipping on the wet grass and muddy earth.
“Dear Cecille! I was so frightened. I thought you’d been shot.” She pushed Cecille’s matted hair from her blotchy face. “It’s over, Cecille. I’m taking you home to Fort Smith. Home, Cecille. Home!”
Thunder rumbled overhead. Cecille glanced up, trembled, and released a sob. “To Mama and Papa?” she asked, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Yes! Oh, they’ll be so happy to see you. And Orrie is waiting for us in Van Buren.”
“Orrie?” Cecille sniffed, and color returned to her cheeks. “Lily, I want to go home.” Her mouth twisted out of shape. “I so want to go home.” Then horror consumed Cecille’s eyes and she screamed. She pointed frantically at something behind Lily.
“Look out! Drop it, Jeffers!” Sheriff Mac boomed, reaching for his gun again.
Confused, Lily whirled in the direction of Anson’s body. It was still there, lifeless, harmless.
“Lily!” Cecille shoved Lily to one side and darted around Balthazar, using him as her shield again.
Spinning, Lily watched in terror as Ham Jeffers staggered toward her, his fist raised, the blade of his knife glinting dully. Blood and sweat dripped down his face. His eyes glowed with black rage, and he growled like an animal as he cocked his arm to send the knife into Lily’s heart. She ducked, hoping to avoid the blade. She heard a whistle and a thud, but felt no pain herself. Her gaze moved to Ham’s hand, still clutching the hunting knife. He wore an odd expression—surprise? His black eyes glazed over. A strange smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“Bitch,” he whispered, then looked over his shoulder. “You Gypsy bastard! I’ll kill you now,’ he roared, starting to turn.
From nowhere another knife whistled through the air; its blade thudded into Ham’s chest. Lily screamed at the horror of violent death. The stench of fresh blood filled her nostrils. Ham’s eyes widened with shock as he faced his murderer.
“Gypsy bastard,” he repeated, and then he pitched forward, face down.
The crown of his head bumped Lily’s knee, and she jerked backward, stifling a whimper of revulsion. The ivory-and-onyx hilt of a knife protruded from between Ham’s shoulder blades. Lily’s gaze tracked up to Griffon, standing a few yards away, his hand still in midair, having released the deadly weapon that had helped to fell Ham Jeffers. Griffon looked over her head and smiled.
“Nais tuke, little brother.” He gave a nod of recognition.
Lily twisted around. Jasper and Eva stood in the gray shadows of a stand of saplings. Jasper stared at Ham. Eva patted his shoulder, stroked his hair.
“Jasper didn’t want to kill Ham, Maw-Maw.”
“I know, baby. You done the right thing.”
Jasper’s red-rimmed eyes tracked to Lily. His chest swelled with a sob. “Jasper’s sorry. Jasper didn’t want Ham to hurt Lily.”
“Oh, Jasper.” Lily pushed to her feet and held out her arms to him. “Come here, sweet Jasper.”
Jasper ran awkwardly to her. She enfolded his chubby body and let him sob on her shoulder. Stroking his head, she looked past him to his mother. Eva smiled and nodded, understanding the special bond Lily had forged with her son.
“Ham lied to Jasper.” Jasper raised his tear-stained face from Lily’s damp shoulder. “Him said he wouldn’t hurt you none. Him said following you around town was a game. But him lied. Him a bad boy.”
Lily smoothed his baby-fine hair. “It’s all right, Jasper. We’re still friends. We’ll always be friends.”
“Jasper loves Lily.”
“And Lily loves Jasper,” she assured him, tipping his head forward to press a kiss to his wide forehead.
“Griffon, are you okay?” Balthazar asked, and Lily turned to examine Griffon for herself. He was doubled over, his hands propped on his knees, his breathing labored.
“Fine,” he said between panting breaths. “I’m just winded.” He placed one hand gingerly against his side. “Might have bruised something inside. Hurts like the blue blazes.”
“We must get him to town and a doctor.” Lily released Jasper and went to Griffon, who offered a shaky smile. She motioned to the man holding the reins of three horses. “Bring one of those horses over here and help him up into the saddle.”
While Balthazar and Sheriff Mac assisted Griffon, Lily pulled Cecille over to Jasper. Both looked shy and shaken.
“Jasper, this is my cousin, Cecille. The one I was looking for, remember?”
Jasper nodded and ducked his head.
“Cecille, this is my new best friend, Jasper Jeffers.”
“J-Jeffers?”
“Half brother to Ham and Anson.” Lily nodded to Eva. “This is Butch’s wife and Jasper’s mother Eva. I’m right, aren’t I? I feel as though we’ve already met. I’m Lily Meeker.”
Eva reached out and plucked Jasper from Lily. “Nice to meetcha.” She glanced around nervously. “Me and my boy gotta go. Butch and his other sons will have heard the shots and come running.” Her dark eyes moved to take in the two bodies of her stepsons. “Once he spots these two he’ll go on a rampage.”
“They must go with us,” Griffon called from astride one of the horses. He was pale and bathed in sweat. “Lily, don’t leave them behind. Butch and the others will kill them.”
“We have a wagon through those trees,” Balthazar said, pointing to the north. “We’ll all go back to town.”
“But there is nothing for us there,” Eva said, holding tightly to her son.
“There is nothing but death for you here,” Griffon said, his voice breathy and fading. With effort, he raised a hand to touch a finger beneath his eye. “I have seen it. Don’t leave your boy to those animals. I’ll settl
e you somewhere. You have my promise, Eva.”
Eva stiffened. “You have seen it? Men can’t see such things.”
Griffon cursed under his breath, his eyes telegraphing his irritation. “I know men aren’t supposed to have—”
“I have seen it,” Lily piped up. Griffon was fighting a losing battle against Gypsy prejudices, and they both knew it. He flashed her a weak smile of gratitude. “I have the third eye, the sixth sense,” she elaborated for Eva. “And I have seen your future. If you stay here you’ll die, and Jasper will suffer a horrible fate. You must come with us.”
“Maw-Maw, Jasper’s scared. Jasper wants to go with the purty gal.”
Eva kissed Jasper’s cheek. “Okay, baby. We’ll do this for you.” Her dark gaze moved to embrace Cecille. “We’re sorry for all the trouble our family dumped on you.”
Cecille cowered near Lily, holding her arm. “Let’s go, Lily. I want to go now. Hurry before more of them come.”
“Y’all go on,” Sheriff Mac said. “Me and my deputy here will stay to tell Butch what happened.”
“He’ll kill you,” Eva said.
“Not likely.” Sheriff Mac checked his ammunition chamber, then holstered his revolver. “Even Butch knows better than to shoot a marshal. Besides, somebody’s got to tell him what befell his boys here.” He motioned to Balthazar. “Take them on. We’ll catch up with y’all tomorrow.”
“Come along then.” Balthazar motioned for Cecille. “You can ride my horse, Miss Cecille. It’s not too far to the wagon. Can you other ladies make it on foot?”
“Yes, of course.” Lily linked arms with Eva and Jasper, needing their support as well as their companionship. She shared a brief smile with Griffon and sent up a prayer that he’d fare well during the trip back to Van Buren. “We’ll all be fine. We have each other.”
Sheriff Mac, having returned that morning from Devil’s Den, tipped back his chair, planted his peg leg, and let his other swing back and forth. He eyed the three women—the Meeker cousins and Orrie Dickens—and Griffon and Balthazar. Cecille looked more herself, spruced up in clothes borrowed from her cousin. Although faint bruises marred her face, neck, and arms, color had returned to her skin and her hair shone like gold struck by sunlight.
“I’ll relate what you ladies have just sworn to me to the circuit judge next week. That way, you won’t have to come back here. ’Course I’d appreciate it if you two gentlemen would hang around and give your stories in person to the judge. We need to get this cleared up and the death certificates verified, don’t ya see.”
Griffon nodded. “We’re at your disposal, Sheriff Mac. I can’t travel for a few days anyway.” He pressed a hand to his side. “The doctor says I have internal bruises and prescribes rest. I do appreciate you allowing the ladies to return home.”
“Sure. I know your family’s anxious to see you safe and sound.” He let fly a stream of tobacco juice that landed in the spittoon. “In fact, I’ll send my new deputy along with you to make sure your journey’s safe. I hear you’ve hired the stable boy to drive them to Fort Smith.”
“That’s right,” Griffon said.
“He’s a good boy.” Sheriff Mac backhanded his mouth.
“Sheriff, did you see the other Jefferses?” Orrie asked.
“Yesterday, you mean? I did.” He nodded, slowly. “Old Butch and his other boys were broke up after seein’ the carnage, but they knew better than to start shootin’ at me. I told them I could run them in for helping Anson and Ham hide these here gals. That made an impression. I agreed to let bygones be bygones, and they agreed the same. They don’t want the law crawling over them hills. They like bein’ left to their lonesome. Won’t have no more trouble from them, I reckon.”
“That’s good to hear. I was afraid they might seek revenge.” Orrie patted Cecille’s shoulder. “I’d hate to look up and see one of them on a Fort Smith Street.”
“Nothing to worry about on that score,” Sheriff Mac assured them. “They did want to know what become of Eva and Jasper.” He pinned Griffon with a sharp glare. “I’d like to know myself.”
“I sent them ahead. They’re going to catch a train bound for Boston.” Griffon sat on the window ledge, careful not to jar his midsection, which had taken a beating during his scuffle with Ham. “My friend, Thurman Unger, will find work for Eva and a home for her and Jasper.”
“That’s good. I’m afraid they’d come to a sorry end if they stayed around here.” Sheriff Mac spit again, making the spittoon ding. “Butch don’t cotton to betrayal.”
“We thank you for your help, Sheriff,” Griffon said, herding the women toward the door.
“Just doing my job. Seems to me you gents did all the work. Neither one of y’all would be interested in wearing a star on your chest, would ya?”
Balthazar laughed heartily and shook the sheriff’s hand. “I’d just as soon wear them in my eyes, good sir.”
“We’ll be at the hotel should you need us.” Griffon took his turn shaking hands with Sheriff Mac. “When will the judge be in town?”
“First of next week. Monday. Tuesday at the latest. After that, y’all can be on your way.”
“By then I’ll be ready to travel,” Griffon said.
Outside the sheriff’s office, Balthazar shoved his derby hat onto his head, all business.
“Shall I go to the stables and see that the buggy is hitched and ready to take these ladies back home, Griffon?”
“Yes, and snag that stable boy while you’re at it, Zar. I’ll go with the ladies and settle their hotel bill.”
“Don’t be carrying any baggage,” Balthazar cautioned. “Let the hotel clerk’s boy do that. No need in injuring yourself further.”
“Yes, sir.” Griffon fit his own hat onto his head, a black western one with a short brim. “Ladies, shall we?”
“I never thought I’d say it, but I’ll be grateful if I have no more adventures in my life,” Orrie said, linking arms with Cecille and strolling ahead of Griffon and Lily.
“Same here. I’ll be fond of the quiet life from here on,” Cecille agreed.
“What about you, Lily?” Griffon asked, resting a hand on Lily’s where it lay in the crook of his arm. “Finished with adventure?”
“This sort of adventure, yes. But life is an adventure, so it’s unavoidable.”
“Quite so,” Griffon agreed. “My yaya—grandmother—used to say that life is a game where all the cards are wild. You just have to play the cards you’re dealt as best you can.”
Cecille stopped and turned back to him. “You-you’re Gypsy?”
He nodded, the playfulness gone from his face. “I am. Don’t be frightened of me. All Gypsies aren’t devils, you know. Besides, Anson wasn’t a Gypsy. His mother was Indian, I’m told.”
“Griffon saved your life, Cecille,” Lily reminded her firmly.
They walked on to the hotel. Lily sent Orrie and Cecille upstairs while she lingered in the hotel parlor with Griffon. She perched on the love seat, and he sat beside her. The eventuality of their farewells hung heavily between them. Lily tried to dispel the gloom in her heart with a bright smile. It felt out of place, so she let it drift from her lips.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Lily asked. “Your injuries will mend and leave you fit again?” She wished she wasn’t in a public place so that she could fling her arms around him and smother him with kisses. Searching his face, she couldn’t tell if he felt the crush of farewell as much as she did. Her chest seemed to cave in on itself.
He held his hat and fingered the crease in the crown of it. Did she know how beautiful she looked with the sunlight spilling over her face in a golden splash? he wondered. If only they weren’t in a public place, he would have held her fast and kissed her until she begged for mercy. Griffon cleared his throat, feeling awkward and tongue-tied. “I suppose you’re looking forward to seeing Fort Smith again.”
“Oh, yes.” She fell back in the love seat. “It’ll be a relief to get back to my normal li
fe.”
A peculiar remorse gripped his heart and twisted. He winced and angled away from her. She wanted her normal life again. Where did he fit into it? Did he fit into it? His own tumult of feelings inhibited his ability to know hers.
Was there a chance he might ask her to join him in Boston? she wondered, wishing he’d give her a glimmer of hope. She slid her gaze to him, and her love for him made her tremble.
“Yes, and I have my work to continue,” he said, his voice sounding oddly strained.
“I’m sure Uncle Howard will contribute generously to your Society, Griffon. You were wonderful. I can’t begin to thank you enough for everything. Without you, I know Cecille would have died at the hands of that madman.”
Did she think he cared one jot about the bloody money he might make? He glared at her, saw her surprise at his anger, and stared at his hat again.
“What’s wrong, Griffon? What did I say to make you angry?” She laid a hand on his sleeve.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He followed her slim arm up to her lovely face. God, how he wanted to kiss her, to crush her soft body to his. Didn’t she know how she acted on him like wine? Didn’t she care that he ached for the touch of her? “I’ll be thinking of you, Lily. I’ll be thinking of the fire lilies growing beside the river and of a barge on a lazy afternoon.”
She sat forward, drawn by the memories. He dipped his head, and her mouth melted under his like a sugary confection. His hat slipped to the floor, and he gathered her into his arms, his heart leaping against his chest. His inner bruises ached, but his desire overpowered the pain. Lily parted her lips to admit Griffon’s tongue. She sucked gently on it. Griffon pulled away first, the ache becoming a passion so keen he was afraid he might forget himself and try to take her right in the hotel parlor.
“You don’t know your own power over me, Lily Meeker,” he chided, collecting his hat and placing it strategically over the front of his trousers. “You should go upstairs now.” He smiled crookedly. “Please.”
She stood, feeling as if she’d been dismissed. A kiss, a smile. Was that all? No mention of tomorrow? Lily angled up her chin, forcing herself to show a measure of pride. She wouldn’t beg, wouldn’t grovel at his feet. It was his place to make the next move, to make mention of their next meeting, should there be one.