It was a bright and shining day three weeks later when the people of North Fork gathered in the field where Yule and Anyata's wagon had broken down. Children ran about as tables were set up and food was laid out. Yule and Anyata watched intently as Luke directed half a dozen men around the gypsy wagon. Nils stood ready with the wheel and as the men heaved, the axle came clear of the ground and rose enough to put the wheel back on. Nils tightened it down. "That should do it, Lucas."
"Thanks, Nils." The big man smiled at Yule and Anyata. "I hope you'll stay for the picnic. It's in your honor."
Anyata spoke to Yule. "My father says we have seen too much of the gajo already. The whole town has come to your house in the past weeks. No one is left to tell fortunes to." She tossed her head. "We should go, but my father wishes to play his guitar. Gajo should hear good music and see real dancing before we leave."
Luke smiled. "In that case…"
It was a day to remember. Yule played his guitar and sang, his voice sonorous, the music a perfect background to Anyata's dancing. She whirled around, clapping a tambourine, her gold ornaments flashing in the sun. The townspeople were enchanted and when the entertainment was over, many came forward to express the hope that the gypsies would return.
Yule listened gravely, then spoke to his daughter. "My father says he will put it to the elders. Perhaps North Fork will be added to the places we stop at regularly. That is all he will say now."
At first singly, then in small groups, the citizens of North Fork left, waving goodbye to the gypsies with smiles. Micah was the last to go, after approaching cautiously with hat in hand. "Ma'am, is it permitted for a lawman to say I hope you have a pleasant journey?"
"It is permitted." Anyata gazed levelly at Micah. "Even a gajo lawman may say something right one time. If we return, perhaps you will do it again."
Micah bowed. "That is praise indeed. Mark, Lucas, I'll leave you to see your guests on their way."
He left and Luke helped Anyata up on the wagon seat. Yule climbed up himself and picked up the reins, speaking to his daughter.
She said to Luke, "My father says your debt is paid."
Mark looked puzzled. "You always said there was no debt."
Anyata smiled for the first time and her face was transformed to striking beauty. "Between the Rom and the gajo, there is never debt. Lucas and Mark McCain of North Fork are no longer gajo. Wherever we go, we will let it be known that you are familia."
Yule whipped up the horses and the wagon rolled away.
"Familia?" Mark asked.
His father smiled. "Family, son."
"Does that make us gypsies, Pa?"
"I don't know, Mark. Maybe we'd better try making some goulash." Luke's eyes twinkled and the boy took his hand as they watched the wagon disappear in the distance.
The Rom arrived in the United States from Serbia, Russia, and Austria-Hungary. Gypsy Americans traveled in pursuit of their livelihoods in regular circuits. A group might camp for weeks, sometimes months, at especially productive areas, returning to these spots year after year. Gypsy traders have been accused of fencing stolen goods, and of stealing their goods themselves. Laws attempting to deter, prevent, and punish fortune-tellers and thieves in America have singled out Gypsy Americans. Virginia legally barred Gypsies from telling fortunes. Gypsy households have been labeled as "dens of thieves" so that charges brought against one resident may apply to any and all. I found the words didikai (friend), gajo (non-gypsy), and familia (family), on a website about the Romany language. Ipecacuanha is the plant that syrup of ipecac was made from. Syrup of ipecac is no longer used but at the time of the story, it was a common treatment for croup.