"They Call Us Gypsies" (closed)

“Are you going to the courthouse tomorrow?”

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"Yes, I am," he said politely after finishing the bite of roast in his mouth and wiping the corner of his lips. He sipped at the cold milk he himself had retrieved from the Kelvinator -- again, something he'd never deigned to do himself before -- then added, "Sheriff Barker and I have to serve the papers on the Romani in the morning."

Jake studied Grace for a reaction to the statement, and at his first ever use of the gypsies' more proper identifier. He'd made a deal with the Sheriff to get Grace back in his house, a deal that was supposed to allow the Romani to remain in place, presuming they stayed out of trouble. But Jake had no intention of allowing the gypsies -- and particularly the one named Gregor -- to remain anywhere near to his wife any longer than was necessary.

Grace stared down at her plate as he told her that he would be serving papers on the Romani in the morning with the Sheriff. She tried her hardest not to show any kind of betraying emotion when he mentioned that, her stomach turning horribly. Jason wouldn’t let them be evicted, especially if he really did have feelings for Inga. And Grace certainly didn’t want to see Gregor leave any time soon.

“Sheriff Barker said he’d be here at ten in the morning.” She said softly, still not touching her food. “Surely you’ll wait for him to come by here first.”

She wanted to argue against him, to tell him that the Romani weren’t hurting anyone. However, if she argued, she knew she would be in for more of his mistreatment. Instead, she tried to stay the normal, undisrupted course.

Grace's reaction was far from what Jake had expected...

“Sheriff Barker said he’d be here at ten in the morning ... Surely you’ll wait for him to come by here first.”

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He studied her for a moment, wondering whether she was playing him or -- as he was hoping -- had decided to return to being the submissive wife he'd always wanted her to be.

"Yes, I think that will be better," he said, returning to his meal while occasionally glancing up at his wife. He was finished eating before he spoke another word to her, offering, "My radio opera program will begin shortly. Would you like to put the leftovers away and do the dishes afterward ... join me on the couch?"

Jake had stopped inviting Grace to sit and listen to the KOKL Murder Mystery Hour to him after she'd interrupted the program once with a question of clarification about a character with whom she was unfamiliar. It had been the first time he'd raised his voice to Grace, and ever since he'd enjoyed the drama alone ... in peace and quiet while she did her own quiet activities.

He rose from his chair, and -- regardless of her answer -- headed for the living room...

Jake was definitely in a good mood when he invited her to come and join him for his radio program. She could still remember the night shortly after they had been married when she had sat in the front room with him, struggling to follow the complicated story line. She had asked him a simple question, wanting him to clarify something, and he had exploded at her. Banishment was the only word that she could use to describe what he had done to her after that night.

"Maybe." She said softly as he stood from his chair and headed towards the living room, the sounds of the radio soon drifting through the hallway.

As soon as she heard the announcer's voice, she stood and threw her food away, placing Jake's dishes in the sink as well. Glancing through the window into the backyard, she saw Gregor standing at the edge of the garden. She was sure that in the light of the kitchen, he could see her as well. Staring for the longest moment, she wished that she could let him know what Jake had planned, but she couldn't leave. Instead, she pressed her hand against the glass, letting him know that she was at least alright for the moment.

After she had finished the dishes and placed the leftovers in the Kelvinator, she soon entered the living room. Jake was relaxed with a glass of gin, listening intently to the announcer as he talked over the airwaves. Curling up in "her" chair by the fire, Grace pulled a knitted throw around her shoulders and stared blankly at the curtains that covered the front window. He had effectively shut her off from the outside world, isolating her even more than she had been in the first place.

During the program, Grace closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. She hoped against hope that Jake would leave her be when he was done. She felt safer in the front room, the one that overlooked the street and was very close to the front door. If something went wrong, she could get the Sheriff's deputy's attention.

There were still 20 minutes left in the radio opera when Jake heard voices out on the street. Annoyed with the interruption, he stood and moved to the window, pulling the drapes open a bit. Someone on a bicycle had stopped near a car across the street, and the two men were chatting and laughing. Jake glanced at the time on the grandfather clock standing near the front door, finding it far too late for such behavior on the streets.

Of course, it was the fact that one of the men -- the one in the parked Ford -- was Barker's Deputy, Christian Parker, that really annoyed Jake. He'd assumed that the law officer would tire of his surveillance after an hour or so and depart, yet almost four hours later the junior cop was still out front.

"Come here, Grace," Jake said, knowing by his wife's breathing pattern that she wasn't actually asleep. He looked to her, saying more firmly as he gestured her over, "Come here!"

When she reached him, Jake pulled the thick, inner drapery that had darkened the house so severely open a couple of feet, leaving the semi-sheer, lacy drapes in place. He pulled one of the latter open just enough to nod toward the Deputy -- now alone again -- and tell Grace, "He is here to ensure that I treat you well."

Jake let the thinner drape close again, knowing that from where he sat across the street, all Christian could see of the couple inside were their outlines, silhouetted by the two bulbs lit behind them in the hallway and the kitchen. With Grace facing the window still, Jake took her hands and forced them against the window pane, telling her, "Leave them there."

Behind her, he let his belt and pants loose, then reached for the lower hem of Grace's one last dress, lifting it upwards. He had every intention of fucking her from behind ... right there at the window ... so that the Deputy could see that Jake was treating his wife perfectly well after all...

Grace flinched the moment that he told her to come to him, pulling the thick drapes open so that she could see the street through the sheer curtains. He wanted her to see that the deputy was still there and he didn’t care. As he closed the sheer curtains again, she thought that was the end of the matter, but Jake was soon placing her hands on the window, growling at her to keep them there.

Grace shook violently as Jake casually flipped her skirt up over her hips and the sound of his belt unbuckling soon followed. Before she knew it, he was pressing a hand against her back, bending her over before he entered her smoothly. Grace wanted to protest, to tell him to stop degrading her, but she knew he wouldn’t be see it like that. He was loving her and showing the deputy outside just how much he loved her.

With another growl to stay as she was, Grace hung her head and was unable to look outside as Jake’s fingers closed around her hips again, pounding away as the slapping of his hips mingled with the sounds of the radio program that was just ending. She was sure that the next afternoon the deputy would be al over town, telling everyone just what he had seen. Jake would secretly enjoy the attention as he knew his wife was beautiful, but he would probably also demand punishment of the young man from the Sheriff for spreading such terrible rumors.

Grace let out a whimper as Jake pulled her back upright, ensuring that her hands would stay on the glass as he pulled her dress further up to tease the deputy with a delightfully murky glance at her smooth and perky breasts. They could barely be seen, but she was sure that the deputy wasn’t looking away any time soon.

Shuddering again, Grace felt a sense of relief as her husband quickened his pace, letting out a loud groan of pleasure before he filled her for a second time that evening with his seed. His body was heavy against her back, his breath hot against her neck before his teeth were suddenly there, biting firmly to mark her for all the see. It was in that moment that she felt his fingers slipping into the space that his cock had just vacated, rubbing against her sensitive folds.

“No. Jake, no.” She gasped as his fingers plunged into her body, his palm rubbing against that sensitive little nub.

He wasn’t gentle as he fingered her, demanding that she give him what he wanted. Soon enough, she came, her cry loud enough to be heard through the glass as he bit her neck again. She flexed her hips as her sheath fluttered, pressing herself more firmly against his hand as he demanded the same of her again and again. Each time she cried out, the world got a little more hazy. The deputy would report in the morning to the rest of his buddies that the judge had pleased his wife multiple times, her cries loud enough to be heard in the Ford. The marks on her neck, the love bites, simply further evidence of everything that he had witnessed.

“Jake, please stop.” She panted as he kept her firmly in please. “Please, stop.”

As he'd fucked his wife from behind, Jake had been able to see the Deputy occasionally when the gently shifting drape parted a bit. The man had slunk back into the dark of his Model T, attempting to hide himself from observation as he himself observed the couple obviously fucking in the home's windows; but unknown to him, the living room light of the house behind him left him in silhouette to Jake, just as the living room light in Jake's own house left him and his lover the same to the Deputy.

It pleased the judge to know that the junior law man was partaking of the scene. Just as Grace herself feared that the story of her conquest by her District Judge husband would be the talk of City Hall the following day, Jake himself welcomed it. Many a man had politely told Jake he was quite lucky to have landed such a beautiful bride; others -- thinking they'd been out of Jake's hearing range -- had whispered amongst themselves of the things they could do with a woman who was that sexy, things that the stiff assed judge probably couldn't even imagine.

I imagine well enough, Jake thought to himself as one finally thrust into his wife's wetness and warmth caused his cock to begin its eruption. He held her ass back to his groin with finger and thumb tips digging so tightly into her hip bones that tomorrow Grace would have eight conspicuous bruises on the front of her waist and two higher and farther back. Jake's head fell back as he groaned to the ceiling, his heart pounding in his chest as the radio announcer was making his farewell to the audience on the radio behind them.

He let his weight fall forward, so forcefully that the window pane creaked under the weight. Jake reached a hand out to the window's frame, supporting some of his weight as he enjoyed the aftermath of the orgasm. He really ... truly ... enjoyed fucking Grace.

Well, enjoyed fucking, period. The reason Jake had been so eager to move his relationship with the young country girl from casual dinner dates to courting to marriage to fucking was that he had very much enjoying his time spent between the thighs of women yet knew that his legal and political future dictated he find an appropriate wife, get married, settle down, have kids, and move forward.

Unknown to his brother, Jake had spent far more of his college time than he'd ever admitted between the thighs of what history would come to call Flappers. With their short skirts and bobbed hair and disdain for normal behavior, the flirtatious young things were every where to be found about the university campus and the night spots surrounding them. Prohibition, now into its 2nd year, made little impact on the availability of warm, wet pussies looking to be occupied.

Jake had had his fill of the easy women, though, thankfully finding Grace at a time when she, too, was looking for a change in her situation. Their courtship had been brief, with Jake sweeping her off her feet ... and away from his brother, who'd also had his sights set upon the local beauty. Now, with his cock slowly softening inside Grace, Jake thought about his older brother and about how Jason had betrayed him with regards to his marriage.

As soon as he was finished with the gypsies ... Jake would deal with Jason as well. He'd been contemplating various forms of punishment almost from the moment his sibling had stood there next to the Gregor man and made it clear with whom he stood. With his legal standing in Clark County and the razor's edge upon which the farm's financial future balanced, Jake could probably very easily force his brother into bankruptcy. Then, with his own savings -- built upon the income of which even Grace wasn't entirely aware -- Jake could sweep in and buy the farm at auction for pennies on the dollar, maybe even putting Jason back to work on it ... as his employee!

It was just a thought, though; Jake hadn't made any decisions yet. The situation with the gypsies, Grace, the Sheriff, and the rest of it was all to fluid at the moment. Right now, Jake's concerns were only about getting what he wanted from and out of his wife.

He pulled his groin back enough to cause his semi-flaccid cock to fall from within her. But Jake kept his hold about her belly, even slipping that hand upward under her dress to cup and grope a breast as he waited for his breathing and heart rate to calm a bit. He peeked through the slight gap again present between the lacy drapes, finding the silhouette of the Deputy still set upon them.

Jake knew that the man would be spreading the stories of what he'd seen here soon enough. But ... it wasn't enough yet. Sure, Jake had fucked his wife and enjoyed it. But ... that wasn't the story Jake wanted told ... was it? He slipped his hand down from Grace's young firm breast, bending his knees to allow his reach to drop enough to find her now dripping pussy.

“No. Jake, no.”

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He ignored Grace's soft plea, roughly fingering her hole until his longest three digits were wet nearly to his palm. Jake knew what it took to cause his wife to orgasm. He'd always known what Grace needed to be fulfilled, to have her body ripped by the euphoria of climax. And yet, she'd only cum at his efforts a few times, maybe only a couple of times. Why? Jake didn't much care about Grace's satisfaction. He fucked her for his pleasure! Jake knew enough about women and their own desires to know that if she left their bed unsatisfied, she could always find a quiet moment alone in the bathroom to finish herself as needed.

But this night, with the Deputy watching the show across sixty feet of darkened street, sidewalk, and lawn, Jake was eager to ensure that the man saw more than his fellow justice worker exploding in his own delight. Jake found Grace's clit and began flicking it up and down, something he'd discovered drove her nuts one night after he'd had one two many cocktails and was recalling a particular Flapper who had given him a night he'd never forget.

Soon enough, though her mind and mouth was telling Jake she didn't want this, Grace's body was moving in such a way as to ensure it got all it needed. His treatment of her only got rougher as he sensed the pleasure rising within her: his manipulation of Grace's sensitive button got harder and faster; his free hand left the window sill to reach around her upper torso, the strong fingers grasping at a young tit, pinching its nipple; and his teeth and lips chewed and sucked at the flesh of her neck and shoulders, where tomorrow she would find half a dozen significant hickeys, some of them above the neckline of her only remaining dress.

Jake smiled with victorious accomplishment when -- probably to both her delight and distress -- Grace exploded in orgasm ... then again ... and again ... and again. Jake refused to stop fondling her clit, even as she was begging him...

“Jake, please stop ... Please, stop.”

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He only ceased his torture of his wife when his support of her dangling body was getting difficult and he actually feared that he would crap up in an arm or leg. He continued to hold her body upright with one arm ... then reached the other hand out to pull the sheer drape open a foot ... pressing Grace's body -- with her dress above her otherwise naked bosom -- against the glass for the Deputy's viewing pleasure.

Jake kept her there, exposed to the world, until her pleading was too much for him to resist. He let the drape close, pulled her back from the window, turned her to him while letting her dress's hemline fall to cover her, and kissed her passionately, telling her, "I love you, Grace. You know that."

The last was a statement, not a question. With the show over and his own needs satisfied, Jake released his hold on his wife and told her simply, "I'm going to bed."



Earlier, at the edge of the woods:

Gregor was quickly finding himself very conflicted about Grace's situation. He'd seen her in the window and even gestured back to her when she raised an opened hand to the glass, though he couldn't be certain that she'd seen him. Grace had seemed safe at the moment, but for the last half hour or so there had been no sign of her. And Gregor didn't like that. Ironically, he would have been happier with Grace screaming out in fear. At least then Gregor would have had reason to burst into the house and save her from that monster. This not knowing was killing him.

Finally, he couldn't take it any longer. Gregor snuck up to the back of the house, then moved slowly and silently from one window to the next in an attempt to find Grace or Jake or both. The house was in near darkness: there was a light in the kitchen, and -- after he'd made his way to yet a third side of the house -- a second bulb illuminated in what might have been a hallway. To make matters worse, almost every drape was pulled, giving Gregor only a sliver of view of the house's interior.

He came to the front porch and hesitated. Gregor knew the kind of sounds a wooden porch made under the weight of a nearly 200 pound man; this wasn't the first time he'd slipped silently up to a house inside of which was a woman with whom he wanted to be intimate, often a married woman who had invited him over after her husband either left for the day or passed out for the night.

Gregor tested his weight on the railing and was tickled to find that the new construction allowed him to move in silence. But no sooner had he begun to rise above the level of the nearby shrub than he spotted the silhouette of a man in a car across the road. He dropped down immediately to behind the bush and moved around between it and the porch instead. He watched the man for a long moment, recognizing him and the car quickly as being of the local Sheriff's Department.

He couldn't ascend to the porch level, so Gregor decided that he would slip around the house again to check the windows one more time. And that was when he heard it. He moved a bit to his left, searching ... and his mouth fell open in horror at the sight of Grace pressed up against the glass of the large paned window, her gown up above her breasts revealing her entire front side ... as her husband toyed between her thighs driving her to an orgasm that Gregor could clearly recognize even here, beyond the glass and space of the porch.

This wasn't how Gregor had wanted to see Grace naked for the first time. Yet despite knowing -- or at least hoping -- that this wasn't something Grace truly wanted, Gregor found himself unable to look away. Even like this, even at the maniacal manipulations of her brutal husband, Grace -- in the midst of orgasmic eruption -- was the most beautiful sight Gregor had seen in ... in forever.

He chastised himself deep inside for watching! He did the same with silently thought curse words when he realized that his cock was hard as a rock and throbbing for action. And finally, after he witnessed Grace exploding yet again at her husband's obviously well skilled work, Gregor turned and left, unable to put himself through this anymore.

On Horse a few minutes later, walking the animal down the dark road under the bright shine of the nearly full moon, Gregor found his eyes glazing with tears. But, he was confused about why he felt as he did. He hoped that Jake had forced this unwanted ecstasy on his wife and that Grace would later despise him for it. But that meant wishing Grace pain and horror. Maybe he was afraid it hadn't been forced upon her; maybe she'd been eager for such pleasure after the couple of days of sadness and disappointment she'd suffered. In which case, Gregor's own disappointment was that it hadn't been he who had been driving the beauty to ecstasy.

His mind was everywhere and nowhere all at the same time ... so much so that he didn't notice the sound of the vehicle coming up behind him with its light off until Horse whinnied and jerked her head, becoming nervous at the unexpected. Gregor steadied the horse and turned to look, just in time to have the headlight illuminate and blind him. He raised an arm in an attempt to block the brightness ... and a moment later felt an object slam into him, sending from atop Horse and into the ditch where his rough landing would render him incapable of stopping the beating that was to come...

Grace couldn’t bring herself to get off the living room floor until long after the sounds of Jake’s footsteps had ceased to sound overhead. She was exhausted and sore, a mess after he had humiliated her so horribly. When she did finally climb to her feet, she closed the curtains against the outside world and wrapped herself in a blanket that Jake’s mother had made for her when Jake had first started showing an interest. Then she sank onto the sofa, her head resting against an embroidered pillow before she finally fell into a fitful sleep. The morning, and her husband waking, wojldncome far too early for her liking.

It was well before dawn on the farm when Inga awoke with a horrid headache. Her skull felt as if it were splitting open, the liquor from the evening before making her feel terrible. It had been a long time since she had drank like that, but it had been well worth it.

She also felt Jason stirring beside her, his hands already roaming over her naked flesh and his hard cock pressing snugly into the crack of her ass. She let out a sigh as his hands massaged her breasts, getting a rise out of her in an instant. It wasn’t long before she felt the head of his cock prodding at her entrance, seeking what it wanted.

“Gentle.” She murmured, parting her thighs and allowing him to slip deeply inside her body as they both groan in mutual satisfaction.

Jason had been doing his best to ignore the rooster that had been crowing from atop a fence post for what seemed an eternity. He wondered whether or not the bird was within view of his bedroom window, fantasizing going to the closet for the shotgun and bringing an end to the mayhem. All he wanted to do was continue laying there against Inga's warm body, clutching it tightly to him.

He'd been listening to Inga's breathing, feeling the rise and fall of her her chest against the arm and hand wrapped around her torso. Jason couldn't help but smile at the way their bodies were glued together by the sticky residue of the Țuică. As Inga stirred, Jason did the same, moving to hold her differently ... then chuckling softly at the way their skins peeled from one another.

The arm under Inga's neck, curled to pull her head back to allow him to kiss and suckle at her neck and shoulder while the other arm slid upwards, his hand roaming over her firm breasts, pinching at her nipples. Down lower, Jason's cock hardened in an instant, despite the overuse the night before, and he pressed it between two warm cheeks. Again Jason laughed at the way the skin of his shaft stuck to her ass, coated in plum juice and sugar residue.

"Maybe we need to wet it with something other than gypsy wine," he said chuckling as he began shifting his lower body. Jason slid his hand down Inga's body to the crook of her knee, lifting it to open her pussy to his probing cock. As he found her wetness once again, he pushed slowly, whispering, "I could do this all day--"

Inga interrupted him...

“Gentle.”

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Jason kissed her neck lovingly again, then pulled out the inch or so that had intruded upon her swollen, well used pussy. He rolled her to her back, kissed her again, and began sliding down her body as he pulled the bedding up over him. He found her folds and clit with his lips and tongue, pleasuring her ever so slowly and gently. Jason didn't hurry: he wanted to build the pleasure close to orgasm, then let it just hover there ... until Inga begged him to finish her off.


Jason leaned over the bed, kissing an again sleeping Inga awake. He smiled and held out two aspirin between his fingertips. "You look like you could use these. The bath is ready."

He was already showered, having used only the bare minimum of hot water to save most of it for Inga's cleansing; and he was dressed in the simple but nice clothes he often wore to town. As he headed out of the bedroom, seemingly over his own hangover, he called back, "I'll make breakfast. I want to go to town ... check on Grace."


Jake stopped at the bottom of the stairs just long enough to cast a glance at his wife. He'd come downstairs after showering and dressing for bed to retrieve Grace and take her to bed, but finding her passed out on the couch Jake had instead only tucked the blanket around her and gone to bed alone. He hadn't wanted to disturb her, having already done enough of that already.

Jake made a pot of coffee, poured two mugs, and made his way quietly out the side door and around the house to where Sheriff Barker was parked, having replaced his subordinate before sunup. Jake was eager to satisfy the law man that Grace was fine and dandy so that the happy couple could get on with their life.

"Thank you, Judge," Barlow said as Jake handed him the steaming mug. They chatted very briefly about the weather and the quietness of the street located away from the town's busy downtown and industrial area. Jake was probably expecting him to ask about Grace, but instead Barlow inquired, "Did you have a hand in what happened to the gypsy last night ... the one named Gregor? The fisticuffs--"

"I know which one you're asking about, Sheriff," Jake interrupted, annoyed at being reminded of the man who he was certain had had some level of intimate interaction with his wife, regardless of Grace's denial of such. "What about him? What happened to him?"

"He was attacked last night, outside of town ... 'tween here and your brother's place," Barlow responded. He sipped at the coffee, looking for a reaction from Jake yet getting none. Speaking of a local dairy farmer with whom Jake was familiar, Barlow continued, "Nathan Barnes found him on his way into town to deliver his products ... sitting on the shoulder. He was ... well ... he was a mess."

Barlow waited for some kind of response from Jake, but all the other man did was look about the neighborhood as he continued sipping at his mug. "Nathan offered to bring him into the clinic--"

"But he didn't!" Jake interrupted, not even able to imagine the filthy gypsy being provided medical service in the same clinic from which the good people of Clark County got their own care.

"He wanted to go back to the carnival ... the camp," Barlow told him. "Nathan thought better of it ... but he did as the man wanted."

Jake seemed somehow pleased with that news, and Barlow found himself contemplating about the relationship between the two men. The law man knew there were problems between Jake and Grace, but he had no idea just how much this gypsy Gregor figured into the situation. In truth, of course, the problems weren't initiated by the Romani: the problem was with Jacob Townsend and his attitude toward his wife -- and others, for that matter -- and the gypsy had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Any man who Jake found as a rival for his wife's attention could have caused the mayhem through which they were all living now.

"So ... Grace," Barlow said after a quiet moment.

Jake gave the Sheriff a hard look. "What about her?"

"I'd like to see her, if you don't mind, Judge," Barlow said. He wasn't actually asking for permission, though it might have sounded as such. He lofted his mug, saying, "Maybe you could take me up for a refill."

Jake didn't immediately turn to escort the Sheriff to the house but eventually they were coming through the door...

Inga eyed Jason wearily as he offered her aspirin with a good natured grin. As surly as she felt right then, she took the tablets without a word and swallowed them without a bit of water. This was all his fault, but then she remembered the night before and how he had taken care of her sexually in a way that no one else ever had.

If she hadn’t known better, she would have pegged Jason for a seducer, someone who could work a woman the way that Gregor did. He was handsome as sin with a smile that reminded her of a small boy who had been caught up in some mischief.

“Go make breakfast.” Inga groaned, throwing back the sheets from her sticky body and finally standing.

She paused in her movements, glancing down at the ring that had been slipped upon her finger at som3 point. She remembered agreeing to wear it but she didn’t remember him placing it on her. Looking up at Jason, she melted as he flashed that grin at her again and she decided to say nothing about the thin band.

“And I’ll go with you to check on your darling Grace.” She stood, stealing a kiss from him before she went to shower.

Grace popped up from her spot the moment she heard two voices and heavy footsteps in the house. She was confused, entirely exhausted, and chilled to the bone in spite of the heat of the early summer morning. Seeing Jake lead the Sheriff into the front room, she pulled the blanket tightly around her shoulders and settled into the sofa.

“Morning, Sheriff.” She said softly, her voice a broken shadow of what it had been.

She looked like hell. Her hair was wild, dark shadows under her eyes, and bruising on her cheek and neck from the night before. She had no makeup, no brushes, no new clothing to change into. She certainly did make a pitiful scene to look upon.

“Missus Townsend.” The Sheriff returned as he took a seat in “her” chair and Jake posted himself in the entrance to the room.

The Sheriff looked at her for a long moment without saying a thing. “It’d be a real shame for me to have to file a burglary report for Missus Townsend’s missing items when they’re so easily replaced. Wouldn’t you think so, Judge?”

Grace visibly flinched when he said that, looking up at the Sheriff and then at Jake as the two men looked between one another with a knowing glance. She hadn’t said a thing about her things and she wouldn’t, especially since Jake might take it out on her if she had.

“It’s alright, Sheriff. I’m sure they’re simply misplaced. They aren’t worth replacing.” Grace said quickly, her voice shaking.

“And I’ll go with you to check on your darling Grace.”

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As Inga passed by and stole a kiss from him, Jason reached down to grope a bare ass cheek, laughing. He watched as she dropped the blanket, exposing her delicious form before turning into the bathroom, from which a cloud of steam escaped.

Her comment, your darling Grace, came back to Jason as he headed for the kitchen. What did she mean by that? He'd shown concern for Grace, of course, as should have been expected. But, had he said anything more about her that would--

Jason's heart leaped a bit at the horrific thought that -- as they'd been getting drunk off the Romani liqueur -- he may have told Inga that he had once been in lust with the petite redhead. No ... he wouldn't have done that. Would he have? No, Inga was an intelligent and intuitive person, so ... she'd simply noticed Jason's concern, leading to the comment. At least, he hoped!

“Morning, Sheriff.”

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Without waiting for an invitation, Barlow dropped into a chair opposite Grace, smiling politely as he looked her over. The bruise on her cheek was all too obvious to the law man, and he looked up to Jake with a glare, getting nothing but a blank expression from the abusive spouse.

He greeted Grace, then -- thinking of her things burning in the barrel out back -- commented on the situation. Grace visibly flinched, obviously surprised that Barlow knew of what had happened.

“It’s alright, Sheriff. I’m sure they’re simply misplaced. They aren’t worth replacing.”

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"Is that so?" Barlow asked softly. He looked to Jake again, then held up his mug. "About that refill?"

Jake didn't immediately react, but eventually retrieved the mug and -- after glaring at his wife with a silent warning -- headed for the kitchen. Behind him, Barlow watched until Jake was out of earshot, then looked to Grace and quietly asked, "Are you okay, Grace...? If ... if you feel as though you are in danger..."

He let the thought -- and offer -- end there. Barlow was stuck between a rock and a hard place. It was his duty to protect his constituency, whether male or female, whether married or single. But in this day and age, the activities between spouses were private, even if some of those activities included a bit of a violent or abusive edge to them. Short of actually seeing Jake beat his wife or having Grace plead to be removed from the house, there was little the Sheriff could do for her. A man's home was his castle, and within its walls, his wife was his slave. It wasn't right, of course ... but ... it was reality.

"Where would you take me, Sheriff?" Grace asked in just as soft a voice as he posed his question to her. "I have nowhere else to go and no money to go there."

She pulled the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders, letting out a soft sigh. "My father would send me right back. I have no family that would take me in. Jason can't afford to support me and I'm sure that Jake would take me for everything that I ever could dream of making outside of this marriage. I made this choice and now I have to live with it."

"I would feel better if a doctor saw him, truly looked at what was going on in his head, but I can't ask that of him and for you to force him, he would know that I had said something." Grace looked up at the other man as she heard Jake fixing the new cup of coffee. "And I know he destroyed my things. I'm not an idiot. After last night, I have no question of it."

It was the last thing she was able to say as Jake returned, his eyes trained on her as he handed the Sheriff his cup again. As he took his defensive position up again, Grace felt the uncomfortable silence build. Jake didn't like this man being in his house, possibly asking her questions that he didn't want answered.

"Come sit with me, dear." Grace said softly to her husband, seeking a way to diffuse this situation.

"I have nowhere else to go and no money to go there."

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The Sheriff listened patiently as Grace explained her situation. She was entirely correct, of course: many abused wives could retreat to their families in such situations, but Walter Evans was beholding to Jacob Townsend, and Barlow knew that the poor dirt farmer wasn't about to go against his District Judge son-in-law.

At Grace's comment about the destruction of her things, Barlow whispered with a sympathetic tone, "I ... I went out back last night before I left. I ... saw the burn barrel. I'm sorry, Grace. I don't know what I can do, though."

Before they could talk more, Jake entered the room with two steaming mugs, despite there being three people in the room. He returned Barlow's mug to him and sipped at his own as Grace offered...

"Come sit with me, dear."

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Instead, Jake only asked, "I don't mean to be rude, Sheriff, but if we are done here ... don't you have gypsies with whom you need to deal?"

Barlow studied the judge for a moment, wondering whether the man was still insistent upon having the Romani driven off. But he wasn't going to argue it here and now. He offered the still full coffee mug to Grace -- ready to set it aside to the coffee table should she not wish to drink it herself -- and stood.

"Yes ... I have a town to protect, don't I? Crime and mayhem every where you look," he said with a bit of tension releasing humor, not that it helped. "Well, you know how to get a hold of me should you need to do so."

Barlow was looking into Jake's eyes as he spoke the last, but he'd obviously meant it for Grace. He looked down to her again, smiling, saying, "Good morning to you, Miss Townsend."

Tipping his hand to her, then looking back to Jake and simply nodding politely, Barlow made his way out of the house, to his car, and off toward the station. He couldn't very well maintain a police presence out in front of the house indefinitely, of course. He would drive by occasionally, though, he or his deputy, just to make sure that Jake hadn't decided to burn down the entire house ... maybe with his wife still inside.

Inside that house, Jake watched the lawman depart, then turned to face Grace as he sipped at this own coffee. As he headed slowly for the hallway closet to retrieve his overcoat and hat, he told her with an even tone, "You're a mess, Grace. It was embarrassing to have a guest -- even if it was only the Sheriff -- see you like that. Go get yourself cleaned up. There is a clean dress in the closet upstairs."

Jake didn't know whether or not Grace had been able to see inside the closet when he took her upstairs the previous evening for sex ... and her first, forced fellatio. But when she got there, she would discover that she had left just one dress, a simple thin cotton thing that was barely more than a slip and was inappropriate for wearing out of the house; as well as a single pair of panties and a pair of slip on shoes.

Jake's selection of her retained wardrobe had, of course, been intended for giving her something to wear here and here alone. And as an extra benefit, the simplicity of them -- without all the accoutrements that would otherwise get in the way -- made it easier for Jake to take Grace whenever and wherever he wished ... as was proper for a husband and wife.

"I'm going to the office for a few hours," he went on as he headed for the door. "I'll leave for home for lunch at eleven o'clock ... be here by eleven-ten. I would appreciate if you would have something waiting for me on the table when I arrive."

He stopped at the door to check his appearance in the mirror hanging on the back of the closet door, then turned to look at Grace. He smiled politely as he said, "I assume you will be here ... honey?"

It was less a casual question from a loving husband to his wife than it was a demand from a domineering master to his slave...

Jason watched after Inga as she headed into the room from which a cloud of steam was rolling. He'd made the bath with hot water only, but -- with his earlier very short shower and the time it took to get the hungover gypsy up and around -- the pool of well water should be cooled for his lover by now.

“And I’ll go with you to check on your darling Grace.”

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He headed off to the kitchen as he thought of his sister-in-law. He wished he'd been able to keep her here the night before, but it simply hadn't been possible. Jason didn't honestly think Jake would harm Grace ... not seriously, at least. His brother had been under a great deal of stress, and the arrival of the Romani hadn't helped much.

Jason still didn't fully understand the situation between Grace and Gregor -- didn't understand how it had caused the tensions between Jake and Grace -- but then he had neither seen his brother fiercely grope Grace's tit that night at the fight nor had he heard the fighter's flirtations with her as he'd laid there on the packed ground of the fight tent after being knocked out of the ring by his opponent.

How the hell did we get here? he wondered, concerning the situation with Grace. Everything had gone so bad so fast. Then he heard a sound down the hall -- bar of soap hitting the floor maybe? -- and he thought about the situation with Inga. And he smiled, thinking about how it had gone so good so fast. He was in lust with the beautiful gypsy girl like he'd never been in lust with anyone before.

Lust? Or love? he thought as he worked on their breakfast. Everyone around him would tell Jason that it couldn't be love. He hadn't known the beautiful stranger long enough to say that he loved her. And yet, he did! He was sure of it, just as sure as he was that he'd like to take this stick of butter into the bathroom right now, spread it upon--

Jason laughed aloud. That's lust, my man, he told himself, instead dropping the pat of butter into the hot pan, where it instantly began to sizzle. He shook his head, chuckling. Love, lust ... I don't care what they call it, he told himself.

By the time Inga emerged from the bathroom, Jason had a full breakfast spread out upon the kitchen table: eggs, bacon, toast, milk, orange juice, and something called Mititei that had been given to him by one of the Romani families during his cât timp îl putem conduce înainte să realizeze că ne-o tragem cu capul lui.

"I have no idea what's in this," he said, sticking a fork into and taking a big bite of one of the very spicy, skinless sausages. As he chewed, he continued, "But I'd give my right nut for the recipe."

Jason laughed, then blushed. He'd never spoken like that in front of a woman before. He laughed again, accusing Inga, "Look what you've done to me."

He leaned in to give Inga an erotic kiss before rising again to tell her genuinely, "I like it, though."

He retrieved some more necessities for the breakfast table, then sat in the chair nearest to his lover. He asked her to tell him more about life as a traveling Romani and studied her while she responded. He couldn't believe this twist that his life had taken. Four days ago, he'd been just a lonely dirt farmer with barely enough stock animals to also consider himself a struggling rancher. And now he was ... well ... what was he? He was still a struggling, poor land owner. But with Inga in his life, he was so much more.

When the conversation ceased, Jason continued to study Inga in silence for a long moment. Then, he suggested with total seriousness, "If I offered your Family the South Plot, for a fair price -- they could pay me in installments -- do you think they would stay here? Permanently!"

He and Inga had spoken of the South Plot before. It was 30 acres of land that was separated from the rest of the Townsend Family Farm by the stream near which Gregor and Grace had taken their long walks. It had relative privacy from the highway, meaning that it wouldn't attract daily glares and verbal rants from the town folk traveling by.

"They could stay here, stay with you," Jason said, reaching out to take Inga's nearest hand into both of his. "You wouldn't have to be without them. You ... you wouldn't have to choose ... between them and me."

Inga had already made her choice, of course, choosing Jason over her Family. But Jason had felt guilty about taking Inga from the only life she'd ever known. And, to be honest, he felt fear that before or after the Romani left, that Inga would come to believe that she'd made a mistake ... and would flee to catch up with her real Family.

“Of course, dear.” Grace said as Jake laid out his plans for the day, including lunch at 11:10 waiting for him on the table. “I’m sure I’ll find something you’ll like in the Kelvinator.”

She stood from the sofa finally, carefully folding the blanket and placing it back in its place. She could feel Jake watching her carefully as she moved about the room. When she went past him to gonuo the stairs to wash and change, she finally heard the front door open and close, his car starting soon after. A sigh of relief followed as well as the welling of panic in her chest. This wasn’t how she wanted to live her life, but it seemed that the Sheriff has confirmed that there was lifting any of them could do to help her.

By the time she had washed and changed into the only dress she found in the closet, Grace wasn’t sure she felt any better. She did the laundry, hung Jake’s shirts out to dry on the line, and placed more trash in the barrel to burn later. There wasn’t anything she could do to salvage what had already been burned, so she just left it and hoped that one day she might be able to replace some items.

At 10, as she was cleaning the house, she heard another car pull up and soon Jason and Inga were walking up the front steps. Grace greeted them at the door, moving to the side so they could enter the house. As she went to make them some coffee, Inga surveyed the scene.

“Is it normal for her to be wearing that?” Inga asked softly as Jason placed Grace’s suitcase on the ground in the hallway. “And look at how bruised her throat is.”

The closer he and Inga had gotten to his brother's home, the more reluctant Jason was to actually arrive there. He was conflicted by his desire to aid Grace and his knowledge that there was probably little that he could do for her.

As they arrived and Grace invited them inside, Inga asked...

“Is it normal for her to be wearing that?”

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Jason, too, had noticed the unusual garb in which his sister-in-law was dressed. Jake had always insisted that his wife be prepared to receive guests during the normal course of the day. No matter what time of the day Jason had paid his brother's home a visit, Grace had always been dressed and made up. Jason had always been intrigued by this, which made his heart break at the sight of her now. He knew that Grace's current state wasn't her doing: it was his brother's.

“And look at how bruised her throat is.”

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"Please, Inga," Jason whispered. He paused, drawing and exhaling a slow breath before continuing with even less volume, "Please ... do not speak of it with her."

Jason didn't know how to deal with the obvious abuse of his sister-in-law by her husband. If her was able, he'd drag her out to his car now and take her home with him, giving up his bedroom to her from now to the end of time while forbidding Jake from ever getting near Grace again. But ... that wasn't a choice he had.

And yet...!

When Grace returned from the kitchen with coffee, Jason couldn't help but plead, "Grace, please ... let me-- let us take you from this place. Come home with us, to the farm. We'll protect you from Jake. I'll protect ... from my brother."

Grace glanced at Jason as he practically begged her to come home with him, to stay with him until...well, as long as she wanted. Glancing towards Inga, Grace saw real concern in the other woman’s gaze. She knew she looked so pathetic in that moment, bruised and barely dressed. It wasn’t her fault in the least but she felt that she had brought it upon herself in some small way.

“I can’t do that, Jason.” Grace said softly, taking a seat in her chair. “Jake would make your life a living hell.”

“That’s the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard.” Inga said with no hesitation. “Why is everyone so scared of him?”

“He’s a powerful man.” Grace said, looking at her future sister in law as Inga looked over at Jason and shrugged her shoulders.

“So he has money? Is that what makes him frightening?” Inga asked.

“He has the law on his side.” Grace tried so hard to explain and Inga simply laughed.

“No man has that much power on his side. If he’s hurting you, he doesn’t deserve you.” Inga murmured, drawing a sigh from Jason. “I simply don’t understand why the both of you treat him with kid gloves.”

“I simply don’t understand why the both of you treat him with kid gloves.”

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Jason understood Inga's confusion. She couldn't know his culture anymore than he or Grace knew Inga's. He told her simply, "It's hard to explain, Inga. It just is."

He stood and offered a hand to Grace, asking, "Can I talk to you in private for a moment."

Jason leaned down to kiss Inga on the cheek, telling her they'd only be a minute. He and Grace went to the back porch, where he again asked her to come home with him. They talked for several minutes about what had been happening over the past few days, then headed back inside. Yet a third time, Jason tried to convince Grace to leave with him and Inga, only to be back on the road again with only the latter sitting next to him.

They were about halfway back to the farm when they came across Harold and a pair of Romani boys, all riding atop Horse. When he slowed the Ford down to talk to them, the big gypsy looked to Inga with concern, telling her, "Gregor was attacked last night. He's at the camp, in his wagon. Inga ... he's pretty beat up."

Inga was stunned by the news that Gregor had been beaten up the evening before. If she had been at the camp, she would have known immediately. Instead, she had been romping with Jason until the wee hours of the morning in the farmhouse. A thick sense of guilt trickled down her spine and pooled in her belly.

She thanked Harold and demanded that Jason take her to the camp, wanting to see Gregor herself. She had warned him about getting too far involved in the relationship of a local woman. He had drawn too much attention to himself and would likely get himself killed over Grace Townsend.

Once Jason pulled up in front of the house, she was out of the car and hurrying towards the camp and Gregor’s vardo. When she arrived, she was met with Marla, the other woman glaring at her as if she had caused this by simply not being there the night before.

“Save it.” She murmured, pushing past her to finally get to Gregor.

Marla turned at the sound of the vardo's door opening. She had been expecting Yalla, the Family's herbalist and healer, but instead found Inga hurrying inside.

"Where have you been?" Marla growled. She and Inga had never been the best of friends, mostly due to the fact that Marla's unrequited love for Gregor had coincided with the man's unrequited lust for Inga. Add to that the fact that the brunette had been spending so much time away from the Family and her duties, and Marla's anger with Inga was very nearly seething. "He needed you--"

“Save it.”

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Marla went quiet, clenching her teeth. Inga was the dear of the family, always had been, always would be. Even after she left to marry that dirt farmer -- something about which the whole Family had been buzzing endlessly -- Inga would still be more beloved than Marla could hope to be. Whore ... I'll never be more than just a whore, she thought to herself.

Of course, that wasn't true in the least. The Family didn't look down on Marla or Gerta or any of the other Romani women who made their living by parting their thighs or opening their mouths. No, it wasn't the Family that shamed Marla: it was Marla herself. She'd never gotten past the simple fact that her first family had thought so little of her that they'd been willing to trade her for a pair of milk goats. As she watched Inga move to Gregor's side, looking over his injuries, Goat Girl returned from her deep memories.

She stood and hurried out of the vardo, refusing to let the other woman see her tears well in a combination of sadness, shame, and anger. Yalla was approaching and began to speak to her about Gregor's care, but Marla cut her off with, "Inga's in charge now. Go talk to her!"

Behind her, Gregor heard and felt the movement of people in and out of the wagon. He opened his eyes, focusing, then smiling at the sight of Inga hovering over him. He began to speak, hesitated to clear his throat, then whispered to her, "If ... if you think I look bad ... you should see ... the other guys."

He looked a mess: swollen black eye, swollen split lip, cuts over his right eye and below his left, three separate bumps on his skull with a bloody one bandaged, and wrappings around his left hand, where two fingers had been fractured. His belly and chest were bruised and swollen from a dozen or so punches to his torso. Marla had wanted to wrap his chest, but Yalla had advised against it since he didn't seem to have any broken ribs.

Gregor chuckled, wincing from the pain before whispering, "I hope someone had money on me. It was a real winner of a bout."

It hadn't been, of course. Gregor could have very well been killed out there on an otherwise deserted road in the dark. The only thing that had prevented his death was the approach of another car and his assailants' fear that it might very well be the Law. The men had thrown Gregor off into a grass field, boarded their flat bed truck again, and drove off into the night, singing a victory song left over from the Great War and tipping the bottles of cheap gin that had been primarily responsible for their trek toward the gypsy encampment.

“Did you see who did it?” Inga asked as she took a seat next to Gregor, careful not to jostle him too much. “I’ll go to the Sheriff with Jason right now if you know who did it.”

She had never felt so much anger and fear at a single situation in her life. People had been murdered in the family before and people had been beaten severely, but this felt so much more personal. She had warned Gregor, but it seemed he didn’t want to listen to her warnings about messing around with another man’s wife. It seemed he’d found someone who might finally do something to harm him.

“You’re going to leave her alone.” Inga murmured, stopping him from protesting. “Gregor, leave her alone. I know that’s why you were probably out there. She isn’t worth losing your life over.”

“Did you see who did it?”

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Gregor tried to shake his head, but the pain caused him to wince and only whisper, "No."

“I’ll go to the Sheriff with Jason right now if you know who did it.”

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This time Gregor chuckled, bearing through the pain. "When has the local law ever jumped to help us gypsies?"

“You’re going to leave her alone.”

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"It wasn't about--"

“Gregor, leave her alone. I know that’s why you were probably out there. She isn’t worth losing your life over.”

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"It wasn't about Grace," he got out fully this time. He knew that Inga had been right in the past about his fooling around with the local women; she was probably right about his wanting to be with Grace, too. But, "It was random. These men ... they didn't attack me because of my love for Grace. They attacked me ... because I was a gypsy, that's all."

In his haze and pain, it didn't even occur to Gregor that he'd used the word love aloud in reference to Grace.

Outside the vardo, Jason was just arriving, finding Marla standing outside by the cooking fire. He felt awkward walking up to speak to her: before he'd spent a couple of glorious nights deep inside Inga's tightness, he'd spent another unbelievable evening ramming in and out of this woman.

"How's Gregor?" he asked timidly. "Is he seriously hurt?"

Marla gave Jason a long look, shaking her head as he asked her an update on how Gregor was. “He’ll live. No thanks to your friends.”

Inga wanted to tell Gregor that he couldn’t love Grace. However, who was she to tell him that? She had only just met Jason and she’s was practically married to him. Love was a fickle thing, but when it happened, it was hard to deny it.

“I’ll go to the Sheriff then.” Inga said softly. “I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen to anyone else ever again.”

She was quiet for a long moment, thinking over everything that happened and the guilt she felt at not being there for her family. “Jason wants you to stay. He’s willing to give everyone land so you’ll be close to me. I think he’s afraid I’ll decide to run away when everyone leaves.”

“I’ll go to the Sheriff then.” Inga said softly. “I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen to anyone else ever again.”

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Gregor chuckled again ... and winced again at the pain in his chest from the beating he'd taken. Reminding Inga of a simple fact with which their Family lived -- with which any gypsy Family lived -- Gregor said, "The Sheriff isn't going to do anything for me ... for you ... for any of us. Just ... let it go. I'll be fine in a couple of days."

Inga went quiet for a long moment, then told Gregor about Jason's offer ... and about his fear that the Romani didn't take it, she would never stay with him. Gregor urged Inga to help him sit up, grimacing and grunting all the way up.

"It is a generous offer," Gregor said without a great deal of enthusiasm. "We should..."

He let the thought of presenting the offer to Papa Don trail off. Gregor had often wondered what it would be like to be legat de pământ ... tied to the land. But he'd never actually considered doing so, either on his own or with the Family.

Gregor looked to Inga, studying her. She was in love with the bachelor farmer; that was obvious. And she needed to stay behind when the family left; that was also obvious. The family would go on without her, of course; they'd lost members before, some very important to the Family, but -- while missing their absent loved one -- life had gone on.

But losing Inga...? That would be a tragedy over which some wouldn't soon get, if at all. Papa Don would be the hardest hit, of course. She'd lived with him for most of her life. Gregor would have liked to think he could get through it just fine, but that was just wishful thinking.

"You have to speak to Papa Don about this," Gregor told Inga. As Patriarch, Inga's grandfather was to be told about all such things. Gregor didn't know what the man would think about this, but he was eager to hear about it later. He reached a hand out to grasp one of his cousin's, smiling. "I hope you never leave, Inga Murtorovanni. I hope you're stuck looking at my not-so-pretty-anymore face for a long, long time."

“He’ll live. No thanks to your friends.”

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"Not my friends," Jason responded to Marla's accusation. He stepped a bit closer to the Romani, telling her, "I'm not like those people, Marla. I would never do something like to Gregor ... to you ... to any of you. You have to believe me."

Marla simply glared at Jason, storming away as he tried to tell her that he would never do anything like that. Men had said that before, only to be caught with a knife in their hand as they stabbed one of their men. She didn't trust those outside of the family easily, especially anyone that had an empty promise to try and convince her that they were more than what they really were.

Inga stayed with Gregor until he was asleep, the medication he was given knocking him out in an instant. She stayed with her cousin for a while longer, mulling over the words that he had said. He would never stay there on the farm. None of the family would probably stay, but she had no want to leave. It hurt if she were completely honest. She wanted them all to be safe, well respected members of a community, but that wasn't how they were raised.

When Inga left the vardo, she paused to look at Jason as he waited for her. "There's a few things I need to talk to my Papa about. I'll meet you back at the house."

Pushing past him, she went in search of her grandfather, finding him in his lover's vardo. He was dozing in bed, waking when she stepped inside and took a seat next to him.

"You never told me that growing up would be so difficult." Inga said, giving him a small smile. "There are some serious things that we need to talk about, Papa."

She spoke to him about Jason's offer, telling him that she would help to pay for anything they needed. No one really knew, but Inga had scrimped and saved until she was a very wealthy woman. Now, she wanted to take care of those that meant the most to her. Jason needed help on his farm. Her Papa needed a helping hand from time to time. Gregor needed someone to hit her upside the head when he get too stupid for his own good. She would really miss all of that if they really did leave.

"I want you to consider it. Really think about it. I know it goes against everything that the Romani are alive for, but it might be nice to set down some roots and settle down." She said softly, looking at her Papa with sad eyes.