Allister, J. Rose - Discarded Cowboys [Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by J. Rose Allister Page B

mention their obvious attraction to her and one another. Yet a hollow feeling thudded in her stomach. At least the wolves had offered some break in the solitude of her isolation.
    She nodded. “Thank you. I’ll just go retrieve my bedding.”
    “You cannot go back there,” her father said in a booming voice, rising from his crouch to set his hands on his hips. “Everything you need is already in the tent. Your three-day cleansing period starts now, as you did not have the wit to remove yourself from marime filth sooner.”
    “They need to be fed more than once a day,” she said, wincing inwardly at the sharp look in his eyes. “The creatures will make poor sport for our show if they are worn down from hunger.”
    He studied her for another moment. “Get to the tent and don’t trouble yourself about the rikonos. You have no cause to go near them again.”
    “And during the shows? Who will take Vanje’s place with the animals?”
    “More things you needn’t trouble yourself about. Your only concern with the show is to perform your regular setup duties and work in the palmistry tent. The rest will attend itself.” He talked over her when she tried to interject. “You are not to go near the special attraction tent. Stay away from there.”
    The tone in his voice, as well as his return to a crouch before the crackling, acrid fire, made his dismissal clear. “Yes, Papa.”
    She turned and headed in the direction of her new temporary shelter, stopping when he called after her. “You know that everything I do is in your best interest, Tal.”
    Refusing to face him, she nodded quietly and walked away, biting back the question of whether he counted putting a knife to her throat as having been in her best interest. She fingered the small scab that remained, knowing that the eventual scar would be left inside, rather than out. It would be invisible to all but the one who now had to question her own father’s love. The hollow feeling thudded harder as she swallowed back the nagging fear that the only love she would ever truly know lay buried with her mother. That sad thought clung to her skirts all the way to the new tent.

Chapter Four

    A crisp, early evening and the din of a crowd greeted Talaitha as she stepped out from the palmistry tent, stretching muscles that seemed permanently cramped from her confinement in one tent or another for the past few days. Her four-hour block of reading palms had passed quickly enough thanks to a fairly steady stream of customers, but she was grateful when Nuri had come to relieve her. Now, the rest of the evening was her own to wander the show, join clan members around the homestead campfire, or return to the trailer—a much-anticipated luxury now that her time of separation was over.
    The laughter of a passing family caught her attention, beaming at her as they passed by. “A real Gypsy,” the children whispered in awe as bright, wide eyes stared at her. The strains of nearby fiddle music—tunes played for gadje shows, not the special music reserved solely for Romani—lifted her mood as well. From the time she’d been a child, she’d loved the atmosphere when their shows were in progress. Not as grand as a carnival or circus, perhaps, and even less so since the clan had divided. Still, Zakono’s Traveling Gypsy Faire drew visitors wherever their tents were pitched, and this part of her existence would definitely be missed when she finally left the clan to make her way in the normal world.
    Her gaze drifted along the red tents and striped tents, past the tiny ticket booth to the white gazebos covering vendor booths near the campground’s picnic area. Spirits were always high on opening night, and tonight seemed no exception. Smiling faces were everywhere, Rom and gadje alike, shining in the bright, sometimes harsh lights illuminating the small midway. The line in front of the ticket window was longer than Talaitha had seen for some time, too. Show opening had been postponed