Doc Burrage finished the splint on Yule's leg. "That should do it, Lucas. He can't go anywhere for a few weeks, but I don't think there's any danger as long as he stays in bed and rests." He glared. "You know the way you never do?"
Micah came forward. "Lucas boy, can I talk to you?"
The big man went out into the main room of his little house and sat at the table. Mark brought over the coffee pot and poured his father a cup. "Thanks, son." Luke took a sip. "Well, what is it? Why'd you come back with Doc?" The marshal looked uncertainly at Mark. "Micah, I don't keep things from my son. Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of him."
"All right. Mark, can I get a cup of coffee too?"
"Sure." The boy poured another cup.
The marshal took a long swallow. "You make good coffee."
"Pa taught me," said Mark proudly.
"Micah!" Luke's voice took on an edge.
The marshal put down his cup and leaned forward. "I came with Doc because some of the townsfolk weren't best pleased to hear you had gypsies here."
Luke's jaw tightened. "It's none of their business who I have on my own property."
"It's not like he has a choice, Micah. The old man has a broken leg." Burrage came into the room, accepted a cup of coffee from Mark, and sat down at the table. "He can't be moved, not for at least a month."
Anyata came to the door of the bedroom, surveying the three men silently. Mark stared at her. She was young, with glossy black hair strung with beads, and her clothing was like nothing he had ever seen, all scarves and embroidery with glints of gold. Her eyes were dark and fierce.
Micah gazed at her thoughtfully, then said quietly to Luke, "Nobody likes it when gypsies come around. They steal everything that's not red hot or nailed down."
"Is not true!" Anyata tossed her head. "The Rom do not steal. We only are blamed when something is stolen."
"You speak English." Luke raised his eyebrows.
"How else may we speak to gajo?" she asked disdainfully.
"Gajo?" Mark tried out the strange word.
The woman looked at him. "Is word for one who is not gypsy." She gazed searchingly at Luke. "You know our word for friend."
The big man nodded. "I didn't know it meant friend, but I learned it from a man who saved my life." The others looked at him curiously. "It was during the war. I was scouting with another man and we ran across half a dozen Johnny Rebs. My friend was killed and I was left for dead. A gypsy found me. What he was doing there I'll never know. He didn't speak any English, but he kept saying didikai, didikai. He rigged a travois and took me back to our camp. I passed out on the way in, and by the time I woke up, he was gone."
"How'd you know he was a gypsy, Pa?" asked Mark.
Luke smiled. "There was a group of them traveling through the territory. They stopped at our camp and told fortunes and I recognized the clothing the man was wearing." He looked narrowly at Micah. "They didn't steal anything, and the captain told me the man who found me refused payment for bringing me in."
The marshal said stubbornly, "That doesn't mean you have to take in this man." He raised a hand as Burrage made to speak. "I heard what you said about a month, Doc. All right, Lucas boy, I'll try to keep the town quiet but as soon as they can, they should go."
Luke said coolly, "They'll go when they're ready and not before." He walked over to Anyata. "I never got to thank the man who saved my life. I'd like to think helping you would repay my debt."
"There is no debt. If we see someone in need, we help without asking payment." She raised her chin. "Where am I to sleep, Mr…"
"McCain. Lucas McCain." The big man smiled. "You can call me Lucas. You've already met my son Mark and Doc Burrage. And this is our marshal, Micah Torrance."
Her eyes glittered. "I spit on your marshal! I spit on all lawman!"
"Now wait a minute!" Luke's voice took on an edge. "Micah is one of the best friends I've ever had and he's a good man. There'll be no spitting on him or anybody else in my house."
Anyata laughed scornfully. "Only a gajo can make a friend of the law. Everywhere gypsy go, the law is forever on our back, like fleas on a dog."
"Maybe I'd better go," said Micah. "You seem to have things well in hand, Lucas boy."
The big man gave the marshal an annoyed look, then turned back to the woman. "Anyata, I don't know what trouble you've had before…"
"Trouble? No trouble. Only jail for telling fortune. When I am free, my people have moved on and my father and I go to meet them. We take short cut through your field and it broke our wagon. Now my father cannot travel at all and we have no place to stay."
"I said you can stay here as long as you want and I meant it!" Luke's voice rose.
"And where am I to sleep?"
Luke pointed to the bedroom. "In there! Mark and I will bed down out here!"
She whirled and went into the bedroom, slamming the door, and Doc Burrage said delicately, "Try to keep the old man as quiet as possible, Lucas. As long as he doesn't get a fever he should be all right." He put on his hat. "I'll be back in a few days to check on him. Coming, Micah?"
The marshal looked as if he had plenty more to say, then he followed the doctor out and slammed the door behind him.