More Than Words (36 page)
The girl cowered in the corner of the tent as I crawled toward her. Though the child was dirty and bedraggled, I could see her skin was as fair as my own. I extended my hand. “I am Gretchen. What’s your name?”
“CeeCee.”
I swiveled on my haunches and looked at Loyco, noticing that Lalah had followed us into the tent. “Is this Cecile Lofton?”
“Check her head and see what you think.”
“May I look at your scalp, Cecile?”
“My name is CeeCee. The Gypsies don’t let me use my old name.”
She lowered her head toward me, which I took as agreement. Her hair was as dirty as her clothes. I carefully parted the hair and, with the sun streaking through the open canvas, discovered the dark birthmark that Mr. Lofton had described to me.
I turned to Loyco. “How? Where did you find her? This isn’t possible.”
“Of course it is possible. She is sitting in front of you.”
“But how did you find her? I don’t understand.”
“With Gypsies is not so hard. Word travels, and there are many of us who return to the same region each summer. I stopped at a number of camps and gathered information while I was searching for her.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “They didn’t want her. They wanted money.”
I stared at him, unable to comprehend the extent of his response. “Then why did they take her?”
He spread his arms and rested a palm on each hip. The full sleeves of his shirt caught the air and reminded me of a soaring eagle’s wings. “I told you. They wanted money. They said they waited a few days to see if the parents would return to the park, but they feared the police might find their camp, so they finally left the area. They would have returned the girl if they’d known where to take her.”
“They could have left her at a police station. Did they ask her if she knew her address?”
He untied his scarf and wiped the perspiration from his face. “I said they didn’t want to keep her. I didn’t say they were fools. I don’t know what they asked her, but they couldn’t walk into town with a screaming girl who isn’t Gypsy, now could they?” He tapped his finger on the side of his head. “Think what you are asking, Gretchen. They would have been lynched from the nearest tree, or shot, or clubbed to death.”
I did recall Mr. Lofton saying they’d been in a park when the girl was taken. After fleeing with Cecile, the Gypsies had likely rushed into the woods, where they wouldn’t be spotted—and probably tied something around the girl’s mouth to quiet her. The thought caused me to shudder. Perhaps Loyco’s explanation made sense to the Gypsies, but it would have been better if they’d turned the girl free in the park. Someone likely would have helped locate her parents. But nothing would change what had happened in the past. The girl had been taken.
“I thought Mr. Lofton said there was a story in the newspaper a day or two after Cecile was taken from them. Didn’t the Gypsies see that?”
Loyco rocked back on his heels and laughed. “You think Gypsies read newspapers? If we find old newspapers, we use them to start fires or to wrap our belongings. And you can be sure we never buy them.”
I still didn’t understand why Loyco had taken it upon himself to go find Cecile Lofton. Though his actions were beyond kind and the Loftons would be forever grateful, I wondered if he’d had some other motive. Questions raced through my mind in rapid succession. Was he expecting a huge reward for his return of the girl?
“You are not happy that I found her?”
“Yes, of course I am very pleased, but I’m worried, as well.”
He glowered at me. “Why are you worried? If I bring the girl to you, you can be sure there is no need for fear. I told you those Gypsies did not want her.” He leaned closer. “Since the day they took her, she cries all the time.” He thumped his chest. “Even when she rode on my stallion, with me to protect her, she cried.”
Evidence of tears stained the girl’s dirty face, and I didn’t doubt she’d been crying. I wouldn’t feel safe riding that stallion, either. “All these changes in her life. I wonder if the poor girl will ever be the same.”
“Bah! You worry about everything, Gretchen. A sapling can withstand strong winds pushing and pulling at its roots. If the wind does not yank it from the ground, it grows into a strong tree. Children are the same. This girl hasn’t yet been yanked from the ground, and she has already braved a strong wind in her life. She will be a strong woman.” He glanced at the girl. “Isn’t that right, CeeCee?”
Tears trickled down her cheeks. The girl nodded and swiped them away with the sleeve of her raggedy dress. She scooted closer to me. “He said you were going to take me to my mother and father. Do you really know them? The other Gypsies told me they were dead.”
“I do know them. We will telegraph them, and they’ll come on the train for you.” I used my most comforting tone. “And you are allowed to use your given name, Cecile. Nobody here will object, will they, Loyco?”
He sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “She can call herself whatever she likes. Makes me no difference.”
He could have spoken in a kinder tone, but I thanked him all the same. “Have you ever ridden on a train, Cecile?”
“Yes. Have you?”
“No, but the train comes through our town every day and brings supplies. Do you think you’d like to go with me? I live in a village not far from here. We can telegraph your parents. I have their address. Your father left it with me.”
The girl hesitated, clearly unsure what choice to make. No doubt she’d heard plenty of lies during the past year.
Lalah drew near and touched Cecile’s arm. “Gretchen is very nice. You’ll be safe with her, and you can believe what she tells you. You should go with her. She’ll help you find your mother and father.”
While Lalah continued to talk to Cecile, Loyco exited the tent and indicated that I should follow. The voices from around the campfire grew louder, and I wondered if a disagreement had erupted. “You still haven’t explained why you went to look for Cecile,” I said. “Was it because you felt some sort of guilt over her disappearance?”
“Guilt? Why would I feel guilt over her disappearance?”
“I thought maybe you would feel a sense of responsibility because it was other Gypsies who had taken her.”
“I have no control over what other Gypsies say or do. I went to look for Cecile to show that I cared about the missing girl. I know how I would feel if Lalah would disappear. Lalah’s mother was white, like you, but Marie ran away from her home because her father mistreated her. We were camped about twenty miles from where Marie lived when she came upon our wagons and asked if she could live with us.”
“And you let her? Without checking to see if what she’d told you was true? What if she lied and her parents are still grieving over her disappearance?”
Loyco picked up a branch and cracked it in half. “She had bruises, a cut lip, and a broken tooth to prove what she said was true. That was enough for me to agree she could join us.” He stared into the distance. “Later, I took her for my wife. She was a good woman.” He tossed the branch to the ground and shifted around as if his movement would shake off the memory. “You will take the girl with you?”
“Yes, of course. And I hope you will be here when her parents come for her. I know they will want to offer their thanks.” I was giving him the perfect opportunity to tell me if he expected a reward for returning the girl.
He clenched his hands so tight they quivered under the pressure. He spewed a scornful laugh. “You think those people will want to thank me? That girl’s mother would rather die than come into the presence of a Gypsy.”
I could see bitterness in his eyes, resentment that he would always be judged for the wrongdoings of others. Though not to the same depth, I could understand his plight. I had suffered for the wrongdoing of Mr. Finley—but I had been forgiven. I hoped the Loftons would be as forgiving as the elders had been with me. Loyco was returning their beloved daughter. I had no doubt they would extend their thanks.
“I think you are wrong, Loyco.”
He tipped his head and laughed. “And I
know
you are wrong.”
“If you are so sure, then stay until Cecile’s parents arrive and prove me wrong.” I motioned to Lalah and Cecile.
He snorted and broke a small branch from a tree. “I give you my word we will stay here if you promise to bring her mother to my camp. Together we will see who is right, but I tell you that she will not come here, and she will not thank me.”
Using the tip of the branch, he drew a circle in the dirt and spat in the center. After taking a backward step, he pointed to the circle. “Spit in the circle to seal our agreement.”
I stared at him. “I don’t spit.”
“Is not hard, Gretchen. Just pull your cheeks and lips together and spit.” He grasped my cheeks between his fingers and thumb. “Squeeze together like this, and then spit.” He dropped his hand to his side and waited.
The girls had joined us, and all three of them were now staring at me. “I don’t believe I can, but I give you my word.” I could see my refusal annoyed Loyco. “Maybe I could sprinkle some water in the circle. Would that do?”
He arched his brows and looked toward heaven. “No, that will not do.”
“Then maybe Lalah would spit for me.”
I could see the disbelief in his eyes. “Is not Lalah’s promise. Is your promise. I don’t need her spit.”
I wanted to tell him he didn’t need mine, either, but I knew my protest wouldn’t succeed. If I didn’t come to some resolution, Conrad would soon come looking for me. Cecile shot me a look of sympathy. She’d likely encountered similar situations while living with the Gypsies.
“Like this,” Lalah said. She worked her mouth back and forth, then spit with the same ease her father had exhibited only moments ago.
With a great deal of reluctance, I mimicked her actions. I didn’t quite hit the circle, but Loyco agreed to accept my somewhat futile attempt as a seal to our agreement. I withdrew a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped my lips. “Thank you again for all you did to find Cecile. I can’t tell you how … how …”
“What can’t you tell me? You can’t tell me how surprised you are that a Gypsy would do something kind?”
“I
am
surprised, Loyco, but my amazement is not because you are a Gypsy. It is because you are a person willing to take time away from your own life to find this girl. I think you are very kind, and it pleases me to know you.” I extended my hand to the girl. “Come along, Cecile. We’re going to go back to the village and send word to your parents.”
Loyco bowed and waved his scarf in a sweeping gesture. “Thank you, Gretchen.”
I bit back a grin and circled around him.
“Only time will tell us if the girl’s mother is as pleased to know me.”
I didn’t have time to remain and discuss the possibilities of Mrs. Lofton’s reaction. But I would do all in my power to make certain she personally thanked Loyco—and not because I’d spit in that silly circle!
We’d cleared the woods and were walking down the street when I saw Conrad in the distance. He waved his hat overhead and picked up his pace.
Cecile slowed and tugged on my hand. “Who is that man?”
“That is Conrad Wetzler. He’s the barber and a very gut friend. You will like him.” Her frown indicated she wasn’t so sure.
“I have a brother, Stefan, who isn’t too much older than you. He will be home after school.”
“I don’t like boys very much. They’re usually mean and pull my hair.”
I chuckled at her observation. “I promise Stefan will not pull your hair.” Conrad came to a skidding halt beside me, and I didn’t have time to further ease her concerns.
“I was getting worried about you, Gretchen.” He looked at the girl. “And who is this?”
“You will be surprised to learn that this is Cecile Lofton.
You remember her parents came for a visit to the colonies not long ago?”
His brows knit together, and he shook his head.
I nudged his arm. “Remember? I told you how Oma revived Mrs. Lofton with a glass of water?”
His eyebrows relaxed, and recognition shone in his eyes. He mimicked the act of tossing water from a glass. “Ja. I do recall you telling me about those visitors. Their daughter was taken from them.”
He stopped in his tracks. “You mean those Gypsies have been hiding this poor child in their camp all this time?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder while the angry words tripped off his tongue.
“No. Loyco went to find her. That’s why he’s been gone so long.” I could see the disbelief in Conrad’s eyes. While we continued into town, I told him of Loyco’s selfless deed and was pleased to see Conrad’s anger evaporate.
He pushed his hat to the back of his head. “Are you going straight to the train station and send a telegraph?”
“No. I must stop and get the Loftons’ address back at the store.”
He nodded toward Cecile. “Doesn’t the girl know her address?”
“Dunlop Street,” Cecile said with a bright smile. “I lived on Dunlop Street.”
I leaned close to Conrad and kept my voice to a whisper. “She remembers the street, but not the house number, and she said it was a very long street. I don’t want to press her at the moment.”
Conrad nodded. “I have some gut news I have been saving for you. We can talk after prayer service?”
I turned warm and my heart picked up a beat as he continued to stare at me. “Ja. After prayer service would be very gut.”
