Gypsy in Black: The Romance of Gypsy Travelers (28 page)

Sahara started to laugh, cov
ering her mouth so
Nicolae
wouldn't
hear.  But his ears had picked
up the delicate sound.  Looking
over his shoulder,
Nicolae
saw his wi
fe standing beside a wagon, her
hair windblown and her face g
olden brown.  He glanced at the
horse racing across the grass, d
ust trailing after the mare and
the boys still holding on. 
Nicolae
lo
oked back at Sahara, his face
turning from astonishment to ente
rtainment.  He laughed, tossing
his head back.  His dark locks br
ushed against his sweaty back. 
He kept laughing as he walked to
ward Sahara.  He pointed toward
the boys as they finally let go
of the rope, standing up and
brushing the dust off their clothi
ng. 
“
Boys trying to hold on to
be men, yes?
”
  His dark eyes dance
d at her, slowly bewitching her heart as he smiled. 
“
You came
looking for me, S'hara?
”

Sahara tilted her head, staring up at
her husband.  The
flush in his cheeks and glow in his eyes made her heart pound. 
Had he always been so
handso
me?  A blush tinted her bronzed cheeks.  Lowering her eyes, she
noticed his hands.  Blood. 
“
You're bleeding!
”
  She gently took his hands and look
ed up at
him. 
“
Let me bandage them,
Nicolae
.  Else they'll get infected.
”
 

The concern in her voice touc
hed him.  But
, just as quickly as it had pleased him, he remembered.  T
radition forbade
such concern
and attention from a pregnant woman
.  He withdrew his h
ands from
hers
. 
“
I
will have Duda look after them, S'hara.
”

Sahara frowned, wondering why
he had denied her assistance. 
“
I said I will do it
, Nicolae
.
”

Nicolae
's smile
had faded but now he frowned.
 
“
Do n
ot argue, bori.  What is it you
sought me for?
”

“
I had wanted to converse
with my
husband, but I see that you are not in the mood for
the same with
your wife,” she replied, an edge to her voice. 

The other men were watching.  Both Nicolae and Sahara were aware of it.  Always there were people watching, he thought.  But tradition was tradition and he could not change it.  “I have more important things to do, S’hara.” 

“More important?” she repeated, the words sour on her tongue.

Nicolae hated himself for having to be so cold and heartless.  It's the way, he argued with himself.  It's been done for generations.  Only he wished it hadn't happened so soon.  Straightening his shoulders, Nicolae mumbled, “You will feel better once we reach winter camp, S'hara.” 

“W
inter camp?  That’s months away, Nicolae!”
Perhaps he hadn't told her everything the doctor had said.  Perhaps she was truly ill and the others were frightened they may catch her disease.  Perhaps that was why everyone avoided her.  This new realization, although terrifying, seemed logical.  Hesitantly, she asked, “
Is something wrong with me? Is that why you are behaving so?
” 

Nicolae frowned at her.  It was not his place to inform her of her condition.  As a woman, it was something she must discover for herself.  “Go to the river an
d wash your face.  Duda
will bring your supper to the tent.  It would be best if you rested, S'hara.  You must regain your spirit.”  Nicolae turned his back to her, hating himself as he walked toward the running boys.  He motioned for them to get his horse ready so he could pursue the escaped mare.  He didn't look back to see Sahara slowly walk away, her head hung low as she wondered what she did to make the kumpania shun her.  Obviously it was something terrible.  But Nicolae's coldness had hurt the most.  It was his new, indif
ferent attitude toward her that
created the emptiness in her heart.




   




The Rom Baro stood watching her.  She could feel his eyes on her back as she cooked their dinner.  She tried to pretend that he was not there, enjoying the game.  But the pretense did not last long. He moved closer and she could sense his presence.  It was overwhelming and powerful.  For a moment, she stood.  Her back was to him but, just by the way she stood, she knew he was aware of his presence.  He reached out and touched the back of her neck.  She shut her eyes and felt the warmth of his touch.  When was the last time a man had touched her like that?  Had it been almost two years?  Perhaps longer?  Time was lost and she no longer knew the answer the question.

“Amaya,” he said softly. 

She turned around and smiled at him.  “What can I do for you, Rom Baro?”

He took a step forward.  He was older, true, but still a handsome man.  His shoulders were broad and his face deeply tanned.  There was a hint of wrinkles around his eyes from long days squinting in the sun.  But the blue sparkled and he held her gaze. “You can start by calling me by my given name, Amaya,” he murmured.

“Ah,” she teased.  “But that would be rather presumptuous, no?” She took a step backward, moving just enough away from him that he had to reach out for her waist in order to pull her close. “Oh!” she said, the word like a gush of air on her lips when he held her tight to his chest.

“Amaya,” he repeated, his voice low and soft.  “It is time we stop playing this game, no?”

“Game?” she asked, feigning innocence.

His free hand stroked her cheek.  “It is time that we join in union, Amaya.  We need not wait for your infant to wed my son.  The families will join through us.”  He paused, his eyes staring deeply into her face.  He wasn’t certain what he read there but he saw that it was no rejection.  “It is time,” he repeated but, this time, he lowered his mouth onto hers and kissed her, knowing that her acceptance was in her response.  She kissed him back, not caring who may have been watching.  At last, she was to be wed and to a man of great honor.

The dust rose under Sahara's feet as she wa
lked the two
miles from town back to the gyp
sy encampment.  The gentle warm
spring had been replaced by a
hot and dry summer, causing the
leaves to turn brown and shrive
l up.  Wiping the sweat off her forehead,
Sahara tucked her package under her arm tight
er.  A
mischievous smile crossed her fac
e as she wondered how
Nicolae
would
like the material she had pur
chased.  It was a heavier black
material with a small flora
l print pressed into it, barely
noticeable to the eye.  The color would infuriate him, hopefully
arousing some attention, even if anger, from him. 
That is, she thought bitterly, if he even noticed.

For the past
month
, Sahara was sure she was fated
with some dreadful disease.  S
he fell asleep at night shortly
after dinner and woke up e
arly, only to vomit what little
breakfast she could force
into her stomach.  Earlier that
morning, her stomach had been quea
sy
yet
again.  As usual, no one had
seemed too concerned by her nause
a.  With tears in the corner of
her eyes, Sahara had sought
Nicolae
in
the hopes of finding comfort. 
But, once again, he had ignored h
er complaints as he had for the
past several weeks.  Furious and h
urt, Sahara had laid down for a
while, hoping she would feel better as she had on past days. 
When her sickness passed,
she t
old
Nicolae
she was going into town
for a while.  To Sahara's surpri
se, he had given her some money
to treat herself to some new fabric for a dress.

A horse neighed in the near d
istance.  Shortly after, Sahara
heard the creaking wheel of a
n open wagon coming up the road
behind her.  Stepping carefully off to the s
ide, Sahara waited
for it to pass her.  Instead,
the wagon slowed down alongside
her. 
“
Need a ride, ma'am?
”
  Su
spiciously, Sahara looked up at
the man tilting his hat at her. 
He was an older man, perhaps in
his early forties, dressed in old work clothes.
 
“
How far you
goin'?
”

Sahara shaded her eyes from th
e sun and pointed up the road. 
“
Another mile and a half at least.
”

Stopping the horses comp
letely, he took off his hat and
wiped his brow with his arm. 
“
Co
me on up.  Be faster if no
thin'
else.
”

Throwing her caution in th
e wind, Sahara stepped onto the
wagon wheel and lifted herself up
.  Her skirt wrapped around her
legs and she had to straighten it
before she could sit down.  The
man waited until she had smooth
ed her skirt out, clutching her
package
on her lap. 
“
Very kind of you to offer me a ride,
”
she
said.

He slapped the rein
s agains
t the horses
’
backs.  The wagon l
urched forward, causing Sahara t
o grab the wagon seat to steady
herself.  The man kept his eyes on the road. 
“
Sure can get hot out.
”
  He hesitated before asking,
“
You with them gypsies?
”

Some town people
blamed
the gyps
ies for personal
misfortunes, often with false acc
usations of the gypsies cursing
crops and cattle.  Other ga
djo, fascinated by the gypsies,
ventured to the camps to
watch them dance and perform.
Obviously, Sahara thought as she sat beside him, this man doesn't
care.
“
I'm gypsy,
”
she admitted.

“
Haven't had much trouble th
is year.  Hardly would've known
you was here `ceptin' for a h
orse trader coming by inquirin'
`bout willin' buyers.
”
  He eyed he
r suspiciously.  Her black hair
was neatly braided in one, lo
ng braid down the middle of her
black. 

A gorgeous and obviously expensive gold headband hung
from her forehead, a black opal j
ust above her eyes.  He noticed
the white streak on the one side.
“
I warned my little girl `bout
sneakin' off to watch you peopl
e.  Just don't want her gettin'
the wrong ideas in her head.
”

Sahara frowned. 
“
Wrong ideas about what?
”

The man shrugged. 
“
Danci
n', drinkin'.  You know, things
like that.
”

She nodded, even though she di
dn't understand his reasoning. 
All her life she had been surr
ounded by drinking, dancing and
saloon girls.  Exposure hadn't
corrupted her; in fact, she had
learned better morals because of it.  Neither one spoke fo
r the
remainder of the ride.  Sahara lis
tened to the gentle clodding of
the horses' hooves against the dry, dusty road.  The wagon creaked and groaned as it rolle
d along.  Occasionally, a small
bird flew overhead, chirping s
harply as it disappeared in the
tall grass. 

Sahara pulled her braid over
her left shoulder, twisting it
around her finger as she sta
red into the distance, her mind
pondering why each town greeted
them with mixed emotions.  Some
people treated the travelling kumpania as culture freaks,
others
called them wandering thiev
es.  Sahara didn't see a lot of
stealing going on.

“
Over there.
”
  She lightly
touched his arm, pointing into
the field.  The tents poked up
from the ground and the wagons
protectively surrounded them. 
“
You can let me off he
re.  I'll
walk the rest of the way.
”
  She
smiled her appreciation to the
man as she
carefully jumped down from the
wagon. 

“
G'day then.
”
  He tipped
his hat at her, taking one last
look at the beautiful gypsy girl
before clicking his tongue and
slapping the reigns against
the horses back again.  Sahara
watched the wagon travel further
down the road.  A sigh escaped
her lips, envying the man for ha
ving a destination.  Home, most
certainly, she thought.  She alm
ost forgot what it felt like to
sleep in the same bed, every night, and wake up, every morning, to look out the same window, every morning.   

“
S'hara?
”

Startled, Sahara jumped befor
e turning around. 
“
Emilian
!  You
scared me!
”
  She smiled pleas
antly, her heart still pounding
inside her chest. 
“
Where did you
come from?
”
 
Emilian
hadn't been
around since he had cursed Gr
eggor with mahrime.  No one had
spoken of the incident, althoug
h Sahara had noticed Greggor's
disappearance.

He shrugged. 
“
Was standing
right over there when that man
dropped you off.
”
  He nodded t
oward the field across the road
away from the camp. 
“
You are
going to the camp?  I will walk
with you.
”
  He took Sahara's package as he wa
lked beside her. 
“
All is well, yes?
”

She squinted in the sunlig
ht as she looked up at him
“
Actually no.
“  If she was hesitant to talk to him, she quickly pushed that thought aside.
.  It was nice to have a sympathetic ear. 
“To be honest,
I haven't
felt well for over four
weeks now.
”

A dark shadow crossed
Emilian
's face. 
“
And the people?
”

“
They act as if I'm dise
ased.
”
  A soft sigh escaped her
parched lips. 
“
It's been very lon
ely recently.
Nicolae
ignores me. 
He's even moved out of our tent.
”
 
Nicolae
had refused to touch her
ever since the day she had fainted.  Finally, he moved out of the
tent one night when Sahara had sn
uggled up to him, with tears in
the corner of her eyes as she hoped to find comfort in his arms.  Having confessed all to
Emilian
,
Sahara nervously glanced up at
him.  She wondered if he would des
ert her too.
“
I think I'm dying,
Emilian
.
”

Emilian
stopped walking, want
ing to pull her into his arms. 
The pitiful eyes that stared
up at him told the rest of the
story.  She was lonely, in dire need of
a friend.  Nay, he
thought, in dire need of a mother.
  A flash of anger shot through
him as he realized no one bothe
red telling Sahara the obvious.
“
Ay S'hara, you are not goi
ng to die.
”
  He stared into her
frightened face.  How could
Nicolae
be so cruel to t
he woman they
both loved so dearly?  Wiping the
single tear that fell from her
eye,
Emilian
smiled.
“
We'll go talk by the river, yes?
”

A cool breeze brushed
their faces as they neared the
riverbank.  The water lapped qu
ietly against the rocks and the
leaves in the trees whispered gent
ly.  Downstream, a small rabbit
grazed on the grass, looking up
occasionally to make sure there
was no impending danger.  It appar
ently didn't feel threatened by
the presence of
Emilian
and Sahar
a as they sat down, letting the
cool water run over their feet. 

Emilian
tugged playfully at Sah
ara's braid, wondering how such
a beautiful woman could not know h
er own body. 
“
How old were you
when your mother died?
”

“
I guess seven or eight.  I don't rightly remember.
”

Emilian
leaned back on
his elbows, watching the rabbit
curiously. 
“
And your father?  The Irishman?
”
  Sahara
pulled at a piece of grass.  It broke.  Chewing
thoughtfully on the end, she answe
red him. 
“
He
never paid much
attention to me.  I guess I was more of a burden.  Why?
”