More Than Words (32 page)

I was relieved to be away from my father’s questions regarding the ledgers. Perhaps he would tire of going through them while I was outdoors. Directing me toward the far side of the yard, Conrad grasped my hand as I settled on a soft patch of grass beneath the apple tree.

He dropped to my side, his smile as warm as the summer day. “Now tell me, what is all this worry about the Gypsies?”

The sweet scent of lush grass lifted on the breeze as I tried to gather my unorganized thoughts. How much should I trust Conrad? Should I only explain my concern that the Gypsies were being unfairly accused? Should I tell him I was certain Oma had been somehow involved in the fire? Should I ask his advice about going to talk to Lalah? I’d been mulling these questions in my mind since we’d parted ways a short time ago. After hearing and seeing a reflection of his love and concern, I’d received my answer. If I planned to marry Conrad, I must be honest and forthright with him. If I expected those qualities from my husband, I must offer no less.

He listened without interruption while I expressed my concern for the Gypsies and explained my fears regarding Oma’s possible connection to the fire.

“I understand you don’t want the wrong people blamed for something they didn’t do. That would not be gut. I also see the fear in your eyes when you speak about Oma. You worry your Vater will decide it is time for her to go to Mount Pleasant, ja?”

An unexpected tear escaped and trickled down my cheek. Gently, Conrad wiped it away with his thumb. “No need for the tears. We will find an answer.”

“What if I go and talk to Lalah? She trusts me.” I told him about her visit to the store and her request to remain if the band of Gypsies decided to leave before Loyco’s return.

“It would be better if I went with you.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think she would trust having you there. Besides, how could we go there without someone seeing us? There would be talk that we were together without an escort.”

“Ja, that is true.” He plucked a thick blade of grass from the ground and tucked it into the corner of his lips.

“I could have Stefan go to the camp and ask Lalah to meet me near the edge of the woods. That would be safe enough, don’t you think?”

He withdrew the piece of grass and folded it between his fingers. “For sure it would be safer than for you to go by yourself, but I thought you forbade Stefan to go there again.”

That thought hadn’t entered my mind. I didn’t want to tell Stefan about Oma. I knew he wouldn’t intentionally jeopardize Oma, but sometimes he spoke without thinking. “I’ll tell him it’s a matter that must be kept secret. If I tell him a secret is involved, he’ll think it’s a special adventure.”

“Once you have met with Lalah and learn whether your grandmother has been back to the Gypsy camp, we can talk again and decide what we must tell your Vater and the elders. Try not to worry.” He pushed to his feet and extended his hand to me. “You are light as a feather.” He pulled me close, and I felt the rise and fall of his muscular chest against my own.

I should have pushed away. Instead, I leaned against him, enjoying the strength of his arms around me. I looked up, and he lowered his lips to mine in a sweet, tender kiss.

“I love you, Gretchen, and I will be the happiest man alive when you are my wife.”

Tipping my head back, I looked into his hooded eyes. “And I love you, Conrad. I think I always have.”

He lowered his head and captured my lips in an ardent kiss. My heart pounded like a hammer on iron. I was sure he could hear the jolting thuds as he pulled me closer.

“I will ask your Vater if I can request a special meeting with the Grossebruderrat. I don’t want to wait until they return next month.”

“A perfect idea,” I whispered. The scent of the tiger lilies and horned violets blooming in Oma’s small flower garden perfumed the air as we returned inside.

Oma waited until Conrad stepped to the front of the store to speak with my father before she grasped my hand and frowned. “Kissing is not allowed. You and Conrad are breaking the rules.”

“You are right, Oma. We should not be kissing.”

Her frown faded and she shook her head. “Nein. You should be more careful when you kiss.” Cackling, she covered her mouth with a weathered hand.

The afternoon train arrived, and before long visitors were strolling into the store. Soon after publication of my story, I’d discontinued my talks about the history of our settlement. I’d learned that my brief speech opened the door to unkind comments from those who had read the magazine and chose to believe the cartoons rather than the story. Now I simply directed them to the woolens and calicos and remained quiet while they wandered the aisles.

As expected, Stefan had been eager to return to the Gypsy camp. He’d asked several questions, but when I explained the matter was of a secret nature, his questions ceased. I couldn’t be sure if it was because a clandestine meeting excited him, or because I promised to fully explain at some time in the future. Either way, I was thankful for his swift agreement.

When he’d completed the task, he’d been delighted to report his success. Now that I was on my way to meet Lalah, my emotions were a mixture of fear and dread. I wanted the girl to tell me Oma had returned Zurca’s scarf weeks ago, yet I didn’t want the Gypsies involved, either. Zurca had saved Oma’s life, and the Gypsies hadn’t been in the village since Loyco’s departure. Although some of the surrounding farmers continued to mention the loss of chickens and produce, there had been no reports of thievery in Homestead.

Fear prickled my scalp as I stepped off the path and into the woods. There was nothing to fear, yet my nerves were taut and perspiration beaded my forehead. My breathing turned shallow as I scanned the area and strained for the sound of footsteps. Where was she?

A branch crackled to my right, and a hand clapped over my mouth. I strained to turn, but a muscular arm grasped me around the waist. A scream caught in my throat as my back slammed against a chest as rigid as a stone wall. “Do not scream and I will take my hand from your mouth.”

After grunting a muffled yes, he slowly released his hand but continued to hold me tight against his chest. When I didn’t scream or attempt to wrest myself away from him, my captor loosened his hold, and I turned to face him. “Zurca!”

CHAPTER 26

My emotions swirled as my stomach clenched and released like bellows at the forge. I took a backward step and steadied myself against one of the giant pines, the pungent bark scraping my cotton blouse. I had expected to meet Lalah. Instead, I now was face-to-face with Zurca. He stood before me, legs spread wide, arms akimbo, eyes dark and warning. Gone were any signs of warmth or friendship. He was in command.

“Do not try to run. You cannot outrun me, and you cannot overpower me. If you try to escape before I say you can go, you could be injured. I don’t want that to happen, but it will be your choice.”

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I struggled to swallow. “I won’t run,” I croaked.

He pointed to the ground. “Sit. We will talk. Who knows you have come here?” Zurca dropped to his knees in front of me and stared into my eyes.

What should I say? Should I tell him my father and Conrad knew my whereabouts and would soon come looking for me? I had planned to tell Conrad, but he hadn’t been in the barbershop when I’d left. How I wished I had waited for him.

“You have taken too long with your answer, which tells me that no one knows you are here. It is better if you do not lie to me.”

I bowed my head to avoid his militant stare. “I came to meet Lalah, not you. I didn’t expect any danger.”

Using the tips of his fingers, Zurca raised my chin and forced me to look at him. “What you expect is not always what you get, is it? Over and over my people have learned this lesson. Maybe you should learn it, as well.” He released my chin and leaned back on his haunches. “Tell me why you seek Loyco’s daughter.”

“I wanted to speak with her about the fire at the sawmill.”

“You think Lalah set that fire?” His dark brows lowered to a menacing angle.

“No, of course not.” I summoned all the courage I could muster and reached into my pocket. “I wanted to ask her about this.”

He rocked back on his heels. “That is my scarf. The one—”

“The one you used when you saved my grandmother. I know.” I hesitated a moment. “This scarf was discovered at the fire.”

“I still do not understand why you want to question Lalah.”

“I wanted to ask if my grandmother had returned to your camp since the day you pulled her from the river.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes. “I see. You want to say your grandmother returned the scarf to me so that you can blame the fire on me instead of your grandmother.” Strands of greasy hair had escaped a colorful tie at the nape of his neck and fallen forward to curtain his face. He shoved an oily lock behind one ear. “You would do this after I saved her life? I am surprised.”

A breeze whispered through the grove and slapped the strings of my bonnet against my neck. “No. I wasn’t going to blame you. I was seeking the truth.”

“Seeking the truth—or hoping to protect your grandmother?” His steely eyes demanded an immediate response.

“Both. It wasn’t my intent to cast blame on you, Zurca, but there is already talk that members of your group may have been involved in the fire.”

“So what is their plan? To hang us?” He slapped his muscular leg and guffawed. “Let them try.” He leaned closer, the odor of his body sour. “Just remember, Alija will be happy to place a hex on your town. I need only say the word.”

“We do not believe in your hexes, Zurca. My people have no plan to do anything to you or to anyone else. The only thing we plan to do is rebuild the sawmill.”

“Still, you should have said to them, ‘Zurca is a good man. He saved my grandmother from the river. He would not set fire to our sawmill.’ Eh? Why did you not say those things when they accuse me?”

I tapped my finger on my bonnet. “Because I don’t want them to know about Oma being out of her head. It would not be gut if they knew about the river.”

His brow furrowed. “Why not? Alija says your grandmother has special powers.”

How could I explain that my grandmother’s going in and out of bouts of senility was not considered a special power; that it was, instead, a tragic consequence of growing old. Not for all of the aged but for some, and my grandmother was one of the unfortunate.

“Among the gypsies, her condition may be considered a special power, but among my people, it is cause for concern. I don’t want my Vater to send her to Mount Pleasant.”

Zurca’s posture relaxed, and his features softened. “What is this Mount Pleasant?”

“It is like a hospital for people who aren’t quite right in their mind. I don’t know how to explain it to you.”

“The old woman should not be in such a place. She needs to be with you—with her family. It is the right thing for her to stay with family.” He jumped to his feet. “You can tell them Zurca started the fire if it will help to keep her at home. I don’t care what any of them think. They can believe whatever they want.”

“If I let them believe a lie, it will follow you and make life more difficult in the future. It isn’t right.”

He stooped in front of me. “Protect the old woman. It is your duty.”

I wanted to thank him and run back to the store, but guilt nudged me like a hot poker. This wasn’t fair; it wasn’t right. “I can’t. It isn’t fair.”

“Ha! You think life is fair? Far from it. But believe me when I say that even if you clear the Gypsies of any wrongdoing, it will change nothing. People will continue to believe what they want.” He joined his fingers together and formed a ball. “They lump us together and say we are all black-hearted thieves.” He laughed. “Some of us are, but we are as different as the people in your village. Some of us are good; some not so good. But all of us are trying to make our way much like we did in the old country.” He pointed toward town. “Just like your people. We don’t want to be told how we should live. Instead of building a town, we travel in our wagons so we can live the way we want.”