Gypsy in Black: The Romance of Gypsy Travelers (7 page)

“
You are a woman, yes?  Why did you not marry?
”

“
My people...
”

“
Gadje?
”
  He laughed at her.

“
Yes, gadje don't marry so young.  Sometimes, yes.
  Usually
the girl is younger than the m
an.  Ever since I was little, I
helped my father with the tav
ern.  I never had time to court
anyone.  Nor did anyone ever appea
l to me.
”
  Sahara looked away. 
Was that the truth?  Or was it the fact that no one wante
d her? 
H
er father
had never given
her the chance to meet any young m
en.  Instead, he had worked her
day and night, cleaning, cooking,
serving, slaving.  The only men
she had ever seen were drunk, pawing at the local sa
loon girls. 
“
No one wants a girl who lived
and worked in a saloon all her
life.
”
 

“
What did you say, S'hara?
”

She looked up, surprised th
at she had unconsciously spoken her
thoughts aloud. 
“
Did I say something?
”

Nicolae
nodded. 
“
You said something about
living and working in
a saloon.
”

Embarrassed, she fel
t her cheeks
flare up.
Had she spoken the words aloud? 
She took another swall
ow of rakiya and set the bottle down. 
“
I'm hungry,
Nicolae
.
”
  At her
announcement,
Nicolae
stood up, his
knees cracking as he stretched.  He he
lped Sahara to her feet,
his han
d firmly grasping hers as he le
d her toward the cooking fires.
  The aroma of chicken and pork attacked Sahara's nose. 
Feeling weak, she leaned on
Nicolae
for support.  She hadn't eaten
since the previous morning.  Feeling dru
nk from the rakiya, she
looked up at him, a distant smi
le on her lips. 
“
My goodness! 
Look at all that food!  Gypsies ce
rtainly do not starve.
”
  As her
eyes took in all the different po
ts of food, she heard
Nicolae
laugh
softly.  Looking up into his amused ey
es, Sahara smiled back. 
“
I think I want some of every
thing!
”
 

“
Before you eat everything, s
hey
-
bari, there is water in that
bucket to wash
the dust from your hands
.
”
 

While
Sahara
obediently
bent over the
bucket, washing her hands,
Nicolae
loo
ked around at the anxious faces
of the gypsy women that waited fo
r his command.  With authority,
he motioned to the old woman stan
ding nearest to them.  Pointing
to a black cauldron, he s
poke some words Sahara couldn't
understand.  The old woman answer
ed in heavily accented English,
her calloused hands waving rap
idly. 
Nicolae
nodded and said some
more unintelligible words mixed with English that c
ame out
quickly and blurred with lots
of
“
ssh
”
and
“
isti
”
sounds.  A
younger girl ran off, returning
shortly with a clay bowl.  The
woman, dressed in black with
her hair covered by a sparkling
cloth, lifted the lid of the c
auldron, grabbed a heavy wooden
spoon and slowly scooped the th
ick stew into the bowl the girl
held. 

Nicolae
took the food from the
girl, nodding his thanks to the
older woman as he handed it t
o Sahara. 
“
You will like this,
S'hara.
”
 

“
What is it?
”
  Suspiciously,
she eyed the chunks of meat in
the thick gravy.  Hidden in the s
auce, she could barely make out
the gray strands of onions, fa
ded yellow corn, and overcooked
pieces of potato. 

He noticed her hesitation and
read it as mistrust. 
“
Papin. 
You will like.
”
 

Without waiting for her,
Nicolae
walked back to the
entertainment.  Sahara turned a
round to stare at the tittering
women. 
They always seemed to be laughing at her, watching her in amusement.  It was frustrating and annoying.  It was not her fault that she did not understand the culture or the language.  She
fought
the urge to throw the bowl of
“
papin
”
back at them.  Instead,
Sahara insolently lifted her ch
in in the air and turned on her
heel.  She could hear the old
women murmuring softly as they
discussed the gadjo girl's r
ude behavior in their own gypsy
language. 

Sahara carried her bowl of p
apin away from the crowds.  The
glow of the fires died as she wal
ked further into the shadows of
the night.  She moved to
ward a wagon, situating herself
comfortably on the steps.  The hea
vy clay bowl felt clumsy in her
hands as she set it on her
lap.  The steam rising from the
contents warmed her cheeks.  Loweri
ng her face down, she inhaled. 
Pungent and spicy, the papin didn'
t appeal to Sahara's nose.  But
her stomach growl
ed
, forcing her
to reach into the bowl with her
fingers.  The first chunk of mea
t tasted a little like heaven.  If the
odor had been slightly re
pulsive, the taste was just the
opposite.  Hungrily, she lifted th
e bowl to her lips, sipping the
liquid away from the meat.  With her fingers, she shoved the food int
o her
mouth, savoring the taste
only as long as it took her to
force more in. 

When she finished, she set
the empty bowl on the ground by
her feet.  She wiped her fingers
on her skirt, not caring if the
material got dirty.  Leaning back against the steps
, she stared
up at the clear sky.  The stars
seemed minute against the vast
blackness.  Each one seemed to
taunt her, tease her because of
the situation she was in.  Sigh
ing, Sahara folded her hands on
her lap as she gazed at the sky.  She wondered if her
father
missed her.  A wave of anger flashe
d inside but quickly subsided. 
He deserved her pity more than her anger. 

“
You sit alone, instead of joining the fires
?
”

The unexpected voice star
tled Sahara.  She bolted to her
feet too quickly, causing her to stumble
forward
.  She started to fall
down
the steps
but the large man caught her, his
muscular ar
ms
holding her protectively until she regained her balance.
She could feel the
warmth of his flesh through
his t
hin
blouse. 
She could barely make out his features in the dark and his touch frightened her. 
Gaining
her senses, she pushed him
and started to
move away from him
.  The man
grabbed her arm, forcefully pulling
her back.  His grip hurt her. 
The pain caused her to shriek bu
t he covered her mouth with his
large hand.  When she had quiete
d, he took his hand away. 

“
Let
go of my arm!  You're hurting me!
”
  Abruptly, he released her arm
with such
force that
she had to take a step backwards to keep her
balance.
She eyed him suspiciously, wondering if he meant her harm. 
“
Don't you know you aren't
suppose
d
to sneak up on people! 
You
scared me
!
”
  I
n the darkness, she could
make out his silhouette, noti
cing the glow in his eyes.  The
upper part of his body was thi
ck with muscles and tight, hard
flesh.  His long hair hung over
his shoulders in loose curls. 
The thin gold earring in his left ear caught
a ray of light and
shimmered. 

“
And you are?
”

Still frightened, she looked up at him confused. 
“
What?
”

Boldly, he reached out to to
uch her hair. 
“
I do not recognize you.  T
ell me
who you are.
”
  His voice purred
softly into her ear.    

Standing stiff, she let him g
ently pull a strand of her long
hair toward him again.  Her heart pounded and she barely whispered her name.
“
Sahara.
”

“
But of course.
”
  His voi
ce was as accented
as
Nicolae
's,
yet
stilted and perfect in diction.  In the dark, his eyes
clouded over and he
stared at Sahara. 
His eyes took her in but the look in his eyes was different than Nicolae’s.  It was fierce and bold with a gleam of anger. 
“
You are the gadjo.
”
 

“
Who are you
?
  I don’t recognize you.
”
  

He
hesitated
, his eyes searching her face as if trying to make a connection.  Finally, he spoke. 
“
I am Emilian,
”
he said, letting
her hair fall from his
touch. 
In the darkness, t
he necklace
that she wore
caught a glimmer of
light from the fires.  Abruptl
y, he reached out to touch it. 
Sahara held her breath as he fing
ered the gold chain.  Suddenly,
he snapped his eyes to meet hers
. 
“
Where did you get this?
”
he
demanded, his breath
bursting forward in
a fearful rush.
 

Sahara moved away from him,
frightened by the anger in the
stranger's voice. 
She had heard stories of gypsy men and things that they would do to women.  She hadn’t given it much thought, not having sensed any truth to those rumors.  But, under the cover of darkness, she didn’t know what such a man might do to a young, innocent woman. 
“
It was given to me!
”

Before
Emilian
could ask anot
her question,
Nicolae
walked out of
the shadows, calling for the gi
rl. 
When he saw her there, he hurried to her side. 
“
S'hara!  You must come to
the fires!
”
 
Nicolae
ignored
Emilian
as he touched Sahara's arm. 
He led her away, his back to the other man. 
“
You should never eat beyond the fires, S’hara.  There are many dangers out here,” he said, tossing a quick glance and angry glare over his shoulder.  “And now the people wait for t
here is the ceremony.
”