Gypsy in Black: The Romance of Gypsy Travelers Read Online Free PDF

but distant, allowing her time to adapt without forcing conversation or explanation. 
    At night, the campfires flickered in the darkness casting shadows around the tents and wagons that encircled them.  During the initial days, Sahara would stay inside the tent, too frightened to leave.  She knew the stories about gypsies and what the men were capable of doing to a single woman.  Instead, she would huddle under the blankets, sometimes weeping, other times forcing herself to sleep in order to pass the time quicker.  When she was awake, she would listen to the music.  They played fiddles and wooden flutes.  The noise was lively and fiery.  The tunes were fast-paced and caused her heart to race.  Yet, deep down, there was something comforting about the music.  On those nights, while the music played, she snuck to the tent opening and peered out, watching the life around the campfire, listening to the beckoning notes that flew from their instruments, and seeing the shadows of people dancing in the flickering glow from the fires.
    She had not seen the old gypsy since the night at the saloon.  If he was at the camp, he remained hidden.  Since her first daring excursion a few days past, she had not ventured into the company of the gypsies.  Her mind reeled at the changing course of her life.  She had to make a decision but she was completely unprepared to even begin comprehending what were her options.  She wandered around the edge of the tents, avoiding the clusters of women and men. 
    Once, she sat on a grassy hill, staring down at the activity in the gypsy camp.  She counted at least eight wagons and over twelve tents.  The horses grazed nearby, two small boys keeping an eye on them.  During the height of the day, the activity was much less.  It seemed that the gypsies chose that time to escape the sun and took long naps in the shade.  But she wasn’t certain.  She just knew that they disappeared and the campsite was quiet.  It was then that she ventured down from the hill and walked quietly through the tents.  She stared at the crates full of pots and pans.  She saw clothes hanging out to dry on makeshift clothing lines.  She smelled the woodsy scent of smoldering logs, the grey smoke just barely visible as the embers died. 
    “Ah, you emerge at last,” a voice said from behind.
    Startled, Sahara jumped and spun around.  She had thought everyone was gone for their midday respite.  She was surprised to see Nicolae, sitting in a tall ladder back chair, his foot on a log as he balanced the chair on its two back legs.  He held a knife in one hand, a stick in another.  He had been sharpening the stick but he stopped when he saw her.  He wore the same dark tan breeches that were tucked into dusty black knee boots.  His white shirt was opened at the neck, his bronze skin glistening underneath.  Similar to the other times she had seen him, his thick black hair was bound by leather and hung down his back.  When he looked at her, his dark eyes gleamed and seemed to look through her.  It made her uncomfortable.
    “You scared me,” she whispered. She took a step backward, moving away from him.
    “Scared you, yes?” He looked down at the grass, a hint of a smile on his lip. She felt her heart beating inside of her chest.  His eyes flickered up to meet hers once more.  “So you are still scared, S’hara?” He tossed the stick into the grass and put the knife into his boot.  Standing, he stretched his arms for a moment.  He was much taller than she had thought, especially when he was outside under the blue sky and not inside the tent.  “There is nothing to be scared of, S’hara,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice.  “In fact, you should be excited, yes?  There is a great adventure ahead of you.”
    Before she could stop herself, she laughed.  “A great adventure?  I find that most humorous!”
    He raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.  “That is one way to look at it,