The Judge and the Gypsy (6 page)

Rasch frowned. Savannah could be so open, so forthright—he liked this aspect of her—and yet she hid so much of herself from his scrutiny. He wanted to know all of her, dammit … he wanted to know her in every sense of the word, in every fiber of her being.

“Let’s go.” His voice was gruff, and he knew that he was being unreasonable by not giving her more time to get used to the altitude.

Savannah forced herself to allow Rasch to adjust the placement of the straps on her backpack, his fingertips setting off pinwheels of sensation. Any more touching, and she wouldn’t have to do
any
climbing. She could attach herself to him magnetically and be carried along.

“Do you know a lot about snakes?” she asked, as much to cover her confusion as to make conversation.

“Enough, I suppose. Why, are you on speaking terms with them too?”

Savannah shrugged her shoulders, trying to get the backpack arranged comfortably. “I really don’t talk to animals. At least not consciously. It’s a mental thing.”

“Well, let’s hope that you speak mental bear, too, because we’re in bear country up here, and I didn’t bring my gun.” Rasch took a long look at Savannah, then shook his head before he turned and started off
through the woods. He was satisfied with her knapsack, but her dress still bothered him. It wasn’t so much that her attire was inappropriate as that it was distracting to him. Or perhaps it was the graceful curves of her femininity that were so disconcerting.

“Bears? Do you think we’ll meet any?”

“After what’s happened to me in the last twenty-four hours, nothing would surprise me, Savannah.”

Rasch pushed a limb away and held it back for Savannah to precede him. She drew even, stopped, and looked at him for a long moment, then passed by, her skirt swishing against his legs like feathers. He fell in behind her, allowing her to lead the way. The occasional trill of her ankle bracelet echoed through the trees as if it were speaking a language of its own.

They climbed steadily for a time, listening to the lyrical sound of the mountain stream in the distance. The late afternoon heat enveloped them, and perspiration dripped down Rasch’s forehead. It was October, for God’s sake, not the middle of June, but the damp, humid air created steam.

Ahead, Savannah seemed little touched by the climate. There were leaves and puff-ball seeds caught in her dark hair. Her feet, sure and certain, moved lightly along the trail. She appeared to have gotten her second wind as she stepped over logs and debris, as if she knew where they were going and was eager to arrive.

Then suddenly she stopped.

Rasch stumbled, barely halting before he plowed into her. “What’s wrong?”

“Listen,” she said softly.

“I’m listening. What am I supposed to hear?”

“That’s what I mean. The woods are silent. Where
are the animal sounds?” There was no movement, no sound, not even the rustling of the leaves.

“I can’t say. You’re the spiritualist, you tell me. Can’t you call up your guide and ask him to take a little look-see?”

“I don’t have a guide,” Savannah retorted crossly. She hadn’t intended for her aura of mystery to go so far. Now even she was getting prickly feelings that made spider movements down her backbone. “We’re being watched.”

“I think you’re right,” Rasch agreed, casting his eyes in a slow arc around the woods. “Any suggestions?”

“Just be quiet.”

Savannah eased her backpack from her shoulders, kneeling as it slid to the ground. “Why don’t we rest a bit, maybe have a candy bar?”

“Candy bar? You have candy bars?”

“Yes. In my pocket with the bread crumbs, and some other goodies.”

“What else do you have hidden away that I don’t know about?”

“Aha! You don’t expect me to tell you all my secrets, do you?”

“Absolutely. And I don’t intend to wait much longer, Gypsy. You owe me some truths, remember?” Rasch started to slip his backpack from his shoulders.

“No, don’t do that. Just move past me up the trail and wait.”

Rasch caught the warning in her voice, and surprised himself by complying without question.

“I think that we’ll leave this pack of vanilla wafers
behind, as a kind of peace offering for the creatures of the forest.”

She stared off into the trees for a long moment, removed the wrapper, and laid the cookies on a flat rock. With a confident smile she walked up the trail to where Rasch was waiting.

“I don’t suppose that our visitor sent you a telepathic message that it’s a cookie monster, did it?”

“No, it didn’t send me any message at all.”

“And I thought you communicated with the animals.”

“Let’s not talk about that anymore. Animals don’t understand words, but they can pick up on our fear. How much farther to our campsite?” Savannah’s voice was almost singsong light.

“Not far.”

Rasch might be willing to play her mystery game, but he didn’t know who they were playing with, and if their watcher wasn’t an animal, he certainly didn’t want to divulge their campsite to whoever was listening.

Savannah swished her skirts, shaking out imaginary wrinkles, turned around, and motioned for Rasch to lead the way. At the top of the incline she stopped, touched his shoulder, and pointed back at the rock, visible from where they were standing. The cookies were gone.

The birds had begun to sing, and the normal sounds of the forest returned. Rasch was supposed to be protecting her. He hated to admit that his companion had sensed something that he missed. Normally he would have noticed the silence and been concerned. Today all he could think about was his
mysterious Gypsy. The sound of her voice and the music of her bells were all his ears had heard.

“You know what happens when you feed a stray animal,” Rasch growled. “They expect it.”

“Whatever was back there is just as wary of us as you were of it.”

“What was it?”

Savannah made an impatient sound. “Crusader, you may be the most prolific interrogator of all time.”

“I just like to know what I’m dealing with. And I think that you like to create mystery, Gypsy. Who, or what, was there?”

“A bear, perhaps, or maybe some other wild animal. I’m not sure.”

“I suppose you just got a message that it was hungry.”

“No, I didn’t get any message at all. I just knew it was there, as you did.”

“I didn’t know anything until you made us stop and listen. If it didn’t communicate with you, how did you know?”

“The animals grew quiet. The woods were too still. There were little sounds that moved with us and stopped when we did. I wasn’t certain, of course, but I thought that something was walking with us.”

“Savannah, I’ve walked these woods for fifteen years, and outside of other campers, and a couple of hunters, I’ve never seen anything that wasn’t more afraid of me than I was of it.”

“You haven’t looked. Remember what Hamlet said—how does it go? ‘There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio’?”

“I don’t know. If it isn’t in a law book, I probably haven’t read it.”

“That’s your problem, Crusader, you travel much too narrow a line. It won’t work, you know. People aren’t always what they seem, and you, I think, are lying to yourself. Good and evil make up the world, but they aren’t so clearly divided as that.”

“You’re not a psychic, or a voyager, my lady of mystery—you’re a philosopher after all.”

“No, I’m a human being, composed of both good and evil, just like you, Judge Horatio Webber. Maybe it’s time you learned. Maybe I’ll be the one to teach you how to find the truth.”

“Maybe, Gypsy, but you could be wrong. Have you ever considered how much happier the world would be if a thing were either right or wrong, if people were simply good or bad, if everything were clearly one thing or the other?”

There was such pain in his voice. She almost reached out and touched him. For just a moment she wanted to reassure him, tell him that she understood. Had she misjudged him? Was he caught up in some terrible event over which he’d lost control?

No, she told herself sternly. He knew what he was doing. She couldn’t allow her growing awareness of the man to weaken her will. Women were always drawn to the wrong men. She simply had to toughen her resolve.

Rasch reached the top of the ridge and stopped, waiting for Savannah to join him. Beyond the trees, shimmering in the late afternoon sun, was Shadow Lake, clear and green and peaceful. On the other side of the lake was an abandoned cabin that Rasch had used on occasion when he wanted to get out of the
rain or the cold, but he wouldn’t pass that on to his companion just yet. She’d wanted to tag along, and she might as well face the rigors that accompanied camping out.

Savannah came to a stop beside him and took a deep breath. “It’s beautiful, but a little lonely.”

“Yes, it’s lonely because it’s supposed to be haunted by a beautiful young Indian maiden who threw herself into the lake when she was told that her lover was dead.”

“Yes. This is a sad place, but it isn’t evil.”

“No? Well, I’ve never had any problems. But I’ve never had a Gypsy woman along with me either. Perhaps I’m tempting fate.”

“Tempting fate?” Savannah’s voice quivered. She placed her hand on Rasch’s arm, more a gesture of denial than of disbelief.

Rasch looked down at her. He couldn’t fathom the veiled look in her dark eyes. She seemed to be seeing something that he couldn’t see. There was a hint of the same sadness that he’d sensed in her on the patio and later in the street. Regret mixed with fear and anguish washed across her face.

“Don’t worry, Gypsy,” he said softly. “I’ll protect you. I take my duties seriously. I won’t let anything happen, I promise.”

“Don’t make any rash promises, Crusader. A crusader can never be sure of the consequences of his actions. A crusader never knows how much he can hurt in the name of doing good.”

The sun dropped behind the mountain across the lake, and the wind skipped across the water, ruffling the surface and obliterating the reflection of the sky.

“We’d better set up camp,” Rasch said, prying her fingers from his arm and clasping them between his own. Her hand was cold, but warmed as their fingers intertwined. He could feel the erratic beat of her pulse, the tension as she pulled away.

“Savannah? What’s wrong?”

She stopped and swung around to face him. “More questions, Crusader? What do you want from me?”

“I want—” Then, as he looked down at her, he felt the magnetic current arc between them, saw the distress in her eyes mutate into something less fearful but more confusing. At that moment he knew what he wanted, and he lowered his head, expecting her to cry out and run away.

She didn’t move. Instead, Savannah waited, her heart pounding, her emotions warring with her mind, her body singing with a song that was deceptively enticing.

Their lips met, brushed, drew back, and claimed each other again. Cold became hot. Solid became liquid. Control became release. And Savannah felt as if she were sweeping through the air, through currents that seared and churned, then flung her into space.

Nothing in her past could compare with the sensations that flowed between her and the man who was kissing her. They stood, touching only their lips and fingertips, until Rasch abruptly wrenched his mouth from hers and stepped away. He lifted her hand, examined it as if it were some precious object to be treasured, then released it as though his fingers were dissolving away from hers.

“I don’t understand,” he said simply.

Savannah turned away. Everything was going according to plan; he was falling into her trap … but she hadn’t intended to be caught in the spell as well.

Should she call it all off, forget the whole plan? She’d been so sure that what she was doing was right. She’d force him to lower his defenses and let her in. Then, when he was most vulnerable, she’d strike. Stealing his heart had been her goal. Now she was confused. Her resolve was wavering, as if she’d lost touch with her purpose. Everything seemed muted, less defined, like a pastel drawing all smudged and soft.

All she could say was “Neither do I.” She whirled and dashed down the ridge toward the edge of the lake. Her rapid movements made the ankle bracelet chime merrily. The wind picked up the sound and carried it across the lake, kissed the hillside with the music, and flung it back again.

To Rasch, the soft reverberation could have been laughter.

To Savannah, it sounded like crying.

After a long moment Rasch followed her. He reached her side at the water’s edge and set her to gathering dead limbs and brush to build a fire. He found rocks that he used to circle the fire site. After the wood started to blaze, he began to assemble the small tent he’d unpacked.

“You’re going to sleep in that?” Savannah asked as she dropped another armful of branches.

“
We’re
going to sleep in this.”

“We? Isn’t it pretty small,” she asked skeptically.

“I didn’t expect to share it.” He secured the last stake.

“You won’t have to. I have my own sleeping bag. I’ll be just fine out here by the fire.”

“Whatever you say. But it gets pretty spooky out here at night, and cold too.”

“I’ll manage. I’m used to sleeping beneath the stars.”

He shrugged. “Then let’s get your bedroll out now. I like to have the camp set up before dark.”

Savannah untied her pack and laid it out, stuffing her clothing into a pillowcase and laying it aside. Her extra candy bars, trail mix, and other food was already tied in a waterproof drawstring bag. She looked around for a tree from which to hang it, as Niko had instructed.

“Here, I’ll take that and hang it with mine.” Rasch took both parcels and walked back to the tree line. Looping a rope over a limb, he tied both bags away from the ground.

By the time he unfolded his sleeping bag and arranged it inside the tent, the sun had dropped behind the mountain.

Savannah shivered and moved closer to the fire. Rasch was right. The air coming off the water was cold. She regretted not changing into the jeans and shirt as he’d suggested. But a show of weakness would be a mistake now.