Gypsy Gold (11 page)

She stifled her sigh of disappointment as Nicolas gave a small shrug and gestured toward his brightly painted vardo.

“If we let him go, you'll bring the colt to work with you on Tuesday. Is that right?” Norman asked Brynna. “You'll stake your reputation and the reputation of this ranch on that?”

“Of course,” Brynna said. With her hands on her hips, she gave a short-tempered nod.

If Nicolas had been paying attention to the BLM managers' irritated exchange, he didn't show it.

“As you can see, Mr. White, if you need me, I'll be quite easy to find,” Nicolas said as he hopped up into the driver's seat and lifted the reins. Even that move seemed choreographed, as the leather strands draped like ribbons to Lace's bit.

Nicolas should be paying attention to Brynna, Sam thought. Without spelling out her trust in him, Brynna was still showing she believed Nicolas.

Eyes wandering from Nicolas to the rider beside him, Norman White asked Jake, “You're one of those Ely boys, aren't you?”

Jake just touched the brim of his hat.

When it was clear his bluster had no effect on Nicolas or Jake, Norman said, “All right, then, as long as the colt stays behind.”

“He's staying,” Nicolas assured him.

For the first time, Nicolas's smooth manner fal
tered. He sounded sad.

Maybe Lace understood that they were leaving the colt behind, too, because as she pulled the vardo rolling away, the mare's head hung low and she didn't neigh for the baby to follow.

“I'm going to head home, too,” Jen said suddenly. She ran toward Silly and, with a few deft moves, she tightened her cinch and bounded into the saddle.

“Okay?” Jen asked as she rode past.

Who could blame Jen for wanting to ride along? The caravan looked as flashy and fun as a circus.

“Sure. I'll see you Tuesday,” Sam said, but she couldn't help jogging after them. “I'll be right back,” she called to Brynna, but her stepmother was still talking with Norman White.

Witch flattened her ears at the sound of Sam's footsteps coming up behind her. Jake looked over his shoulder at Sam, but he didn't say a word before turning his eyes on Nicolas.

What was Jake thinking? Sam wondered. That she had to say good-bye to Nicolas?

That was true, Sam thought as she caught up with the vardo, but good-bye wasn't what she said first.

“Hey,” she puffed.

Nicolas smiled. “Please, thank everyone else for their hospitality. In my rush to leave, I seem to have forgotten my manners.”

“Sure,” Sam said. Fighting not to pant as she spoke, she asked, “What's going on with Norman, do you
think? All this fuss, and now he's just letting you go.”

Nicolas gave a wry smile. “You're too trusting, Sam.”

“Not about him,” Sam began.

“Even though he's got what he wants right there in your round pen, if my instincts are right, he'll keep after me.”

“You think so?” Sam said.

Nicolas shrugged. “Just wait and see.”

T
he small caravan moved on without her.

Sam turned to walk back to the ranch yard. Her heart ached at each pleading neigh coming from the round pen. The orphan colt already missed Lace.

That is too sad,
Sam thought as she walked back toward Brynna and Norman. Dad had joined them, too, but Sam was wondering if Dark Sunshine would allow the little dun into her pasture to play with Tempest, and she wondered how much worse Tempest's cries would be when she was separated from her mother.

“I think we did the right thing,” Brynna was saying as Sam approached.

When Norman didn't answer or nod in agreement,
Dad added, “Kid didn't act like he was hiding anything.”

“It's the sheriff's call,” Norman said.

“The sheriff?” Brynna's words were slow with disbelief, and they echoed Sam's reaction.

“When I spoke with him, Sheriff Ballard apparently had had several calls about a suspicious drifter in the area…”

No way,
Sam thought.
Norman is making this up!
They hadn't encountered anyone except Linc Slocum on their ride to the River Bend Ranch. And, big as he was, the rich rancher didn't constitute “several” people. Although, she guessed it was possible Linc had called the sheriff more than once.

“He's not a drifter,” Sam said, trying to stay polite for the sake of Brynna's job. “He—”

“Have a little crush on him, do you?” Norman gave an oily chuckle, and followed it with a knowing wink. “I've heard bad boys appeal to some girls, but the sheriff won't be so taken in. He'll stop the boy before he gets too far. Then we'll see what offenses besides horse theft he's hiding in his bag of tricks.”

Leaving everyone speechless, Norman White nodded, then returned to his truck. As he drove past, Sam gathered up the courage to ask Brynna what would become of the Spanish Mustang colt.

Before she could, Sam heard galloping hooves approaching.

Sam didn't see Jake touch his black mare, but
Witch slid into a cow horse stop that showered Sam with dust from the hard-packed ranch yard.

What was he doing back already? Why wasn't he riding along with Nicolas and Jen toward Darton?

Jake reined Witch around Sam and sent her at a rapid jog toward Dad and Brynna.

“Somethin's up,” Jake said.

No kidding,
Sam thought.

“I left the wagon and was ridin' home. Looked back and saw Nicolas gettin' ambushed by Slocum and the sheriff. Looks like Jen is givin' 'em, an earful, but…”

“We'll be right there,” Brynna said.

“In the truck,” Dad insisted.

Sam took a step after them, but Jake halted Witch in front of her, kicked his left boot free of his stirrup, and reached down a hand.

“Sam,” Brynna said in a cautious tone.

Riding double on Witch would be as scary as riding a roller-coaster. She'd be plunging headlong into the wind, as fast as she could go, with no control whatsoever.

Sam reached high for the stirrup, set her boot down hard, and grabbed Jake's hand.

“I'll be careful,” she said, then she let Jake pull her up.

“Hang on,” he said, and Sam barely had time to sling her arms around Jake's waist and suck in a breath before they were off.

Sam closed her eyes against the scenery streaking by. She tried not to feel the sickening swoop as Witch jumped something and the rap against her forehead as Jake's hard black hat brim rocked back to hit her. At last Witch slewed sideways and stopped.

Dust corkscrewed up around them. Sam heard the movement of humans and horses and then her own voice said, “You're a madman. Riding like that could've gotten us killed.”

Jake turned in the saddle and looked down into her face.

“Naw,” he said, but Sam still felt a little sick to her stomach.

Next, she noticed the cottonwood leaves on the trees around them turning from yellow to orange, yellow to orange, in the glare of strobing red lights on a police car. Then Sam heard Sheriff Ballard talking to Nicolas.

“Son, it would make things a lot easier for everyone if you'd give me permission to search your wagon.”

What?
Sam leaned to the right, finally releasing her hold on Jake's waist to peer around him and see what was going on.

Why would Sheriff Ballard want to search Nicolas's vardo? The guy couldn't be doing anything wrong. She and Jen had been with him since…wow, had it only been yesterday?

Sitting astride Witch, Sam was high enough that she viewed the situation as if it were a play.

Jen was across the clearing, face crimson with anger. Nicolas was beside her, in the driver's seat of the vardo. Though he used the same silky voice he had with Norman White, Jen's palomino was picking up the tension around her and Jen had to work to keep Silly from bolting.

Beneath her, Sam felt Witch exhale hard. Whether from excitement or exertion, Sam couldn't tell, but she knew Jake wouldn't let the black Quarter Horse act up.

“Of course you have my permission to search, Sheriff,” Nicolas said. “Just as soon as Mr. Slocum agrees to let you search his house.”

Nicolas was being sarcastic, but Sheriff Ballard's expression said a chance to search Linc Slocum's house would be a dream come true.

“I heard him mutterin' in a foreign language,” Linc told the sheriff.

Probably no one else heard Jake's disgusted groan, but since Sam sat right behind him, she couldn't miss it.

“Speakin' a different language is no crime,” Sheriff Ballard pointed out.

Oh my gosh,
Sam thought. Why would Linc try to get Nicolas arrested for being a gypsy? And why would Sheriff Ballard want to search Nicolas's wagon?

Norman White had boasted that the sheriff would stop Nicolas before he got too far, then check to see what offenses besides horse theft he was hiding in his
“bag of tricks.” Sam guessed that included searching his vardo, but what for?

Sam was leaning to the right, staring past Jake at Nicolas when he asked the same question.

“What exactly is missing, Sheriff?” Nicolas asked, sorting the reins in his hands with such care, there might have been six of them instead of just two. “What would you be searching for? Stolen chickens, laundry off someone's clothesline, missing wallets or crystal balls, perhaps?”

Sam leaned a bit farther right, to catch the sheriff's reaction to Nicolas's sarcasm.

“Of course not,” the sheriff said. “I know gypsies aren't all thieves and fortune-tellers.”

Nicolas raised an eyebrow.

He was doing it again, Sam thought. First he'd misjudged her and Jen, thinking they were stereotyping him, when they hadn't even known he was a gypsy. Now, he'd sized up Sheriff Ballard's shaggy gray hair and droopy mustache, and decided the small-town lawman was small-minded, too.

Sam wanted to warn Nicolas, but when she leaned even farther to the right, she caught her breath as she started to slip. Jake reached back to stop her fall, and luckily Nicolas didn't need her help.

Although Sheriff Ballard's gaze narrowed for a minute, he understood Nicolas's reaction and explained, “A ring of horse thieves has been operating in this area, and a representative of the Bureau of
Land Management asked me to detain you.”

Sam knew it had been Norman White, but Nicolas's glare hit Sam as hard as a slap.

Not me,
she thought, then realized Nicolas must think Brynna had notified the sheriff.

Sheriff Ballard had caught the look, too. Realizing Nicolas had come to a faulty conclusion, the sheriff said, “The call was something about a dun colt, but the…gentleman who left the message was pretty darn vague.”

“I thought you were helping me out, Sheriff,” Linc Slocum whined like a second grader. “What with their trespassing and—”

“Norman White was just over at River Bend, talking to Nicolas,” Jen began. “He let him go.”

Jake inclined his head as if looking down at his mare's hooves, but Sam heard him say, “Tell 'im.”

Tell him what? Jake and Jen didn't know Norman had alerted the sheriff to Nicolas after talking to Brynna, but before meeting Nicolas.

But Jake and Jen had been there when Norman had been unable to come up with a reason to keep Nicolas from leaving.

“My dad and Brynna are on their way after us,” Sam said. “They were standing right there when Mr. White said Nicolas could leave if the colt stayed behind.”

“That so?” Sheriff Ballard asked, but Linc interrupted once more.

“Don't tell me you're the sort of sheriff who won't keep track of drifters! What about homeland security? At least you have to make him explain what kind of jibber-jabber he was talking this morning!”

As if he were completely bored with the proceedings, Nicolas reached into the wagon behind him.

Jake tensed in the saddle before her, but Sam couldn't tell if it was because Sheriff Ballard had straightened, taking offense at Linc's advice, or because Nicolas suddenly twisted around and reached into his wagon.

Should he be doing that?
Sam thought it looked kind of suspicious.

If the sheriff hadn't thought Nicolas was innocent, he probably would have told him to stop. But he didn't.

When Nicolas drew out his violin and played “Pop Goes the Weasel,” Linc began making a wordless protest.

“Linc sounds like an old car trying to start,” Jake muttered.

The sheriff only laughed.

After a few seconds, Nicolas laid the violin across his knees. “Sheriff, I don't know what kind of trouble he's in—”

“Me! Why, kid, if you've got nothing to hide, what are you afraid of?” Linc shouted.

Witch started sideways at the sound and Sam grabbed onto Jake, but he simply rested his hand on
the mare's neck and she settled down.

The sheriff tried to do the same with Linc.

“You've said your piece,” the sheriff hushed him.

Still mumbling, Linc crossed his arms over his broad belly, leaned back against the front of his champagne-gold Jeep, and glared at Nicolas.

“I apologize for this mix-up,” the sheriff told Nicolas, “but as I mentioned, we've had some horse theft around here. I'd like to take a quick look in your wagon; then you can be on your way.”

“I'm sorry, too, but you've got no cause to search through my things, and until you do, I'll have to say no,” Nicolas said smoothly.

“Hey, I know,” Jen said suddenly. She urged Silly forward a few steps and turned the palomino to face Lace and Nicolas. “Just show him your journal. You didn't know you would be stopped, so you'd have no reason to have fabricated any entries, and it tells where you were every day, and you weren't anyplace near here when Shy Boots and Hotspot were stolen!”

“Is that so?” the sheriff asked and his apparent willingness to go along with Jen's genius idea swayed Nicolas from his stubbornness.

“I could do that,” Nicolas said, smiling at Jen.

Nicolas said a word to Lace before jumping down from the driver's seat.

It must have meant something like “stay,” Sam guessed, because Lace didn't take a step while Nicolas strode to the back of his wagon. When
Sheriff Ballard followed him and Linc crowded close, the mare only swung her heavy head around to watch.

Sam wasn't half so patient. “Go,” she hissed at Jake.

With a long-suffering sigh, he rode Witch after the others.

“You know you're just as curious as I am,” Sam muttered, but Jake didn't say a word, just guided the mare into place so that they had a good view of what was happening.

Nicolas reached in and grabbed the journal he'd shown Sam and Jen the night before, but when he opened its cover, they all saw a thick pad of dollar bills.

So that's where he kept his money,
Sam thought, and she realized he must have hidden it somewhere else when he'd shared his journal with them. That shouldn't hurt her feelings. He'd had no reason to trust them, then.

“Ah ha! Look at that big wad of cash!” Linc crowed. “What are you doing with all this money? Next you're gonna say that gypsies don't believe in banks!”

Jake leaned back against the saddle cantle and shook his head.

“His foolishness still catch you napping sometimes?” Jake asked Sam.

Sam was about to call Linc something worse than
foolish, when Nicolas calmly countered the millionaire's remark.

“That's true for some folks of my great-grandparents' generation,” Nicolas said, “but I have a more practical reason. There's a shortage of ATMs where Lace and I go.”

He handed his journal to the sheriff and Sheriff Ballard opened the volume at about its midpoint. Looking down from Witch's back, Sam had just noticed it was written in the sibling code Nicolas had told her and Jen about, when Linc's eyes bulged and he came out with a strangled gasp before sputtering, “W-what's that written in? It's some terrorist language, isn't it?”

Nicolas's single bark of laughter said more clearly than words what he thought of Linc Slocum. Then he turned grinning to the sheriff and confided, “It's shorthand.”