Free My Own True Love by Susan Sizemore Page A

you doing here? You been talking to this woman?"
    Sara halted her retreat and turned back to Beng. "This is a guitar," she answered calmly. "Toma let me use his stage. I haven't actually had a discussion with the lady. I'm going to go back to my tent now, all right?"
    "You go to Mother Cummings," he said. "You have work to do."
    "For shame!" Molly spoke up. "You keep her away from that horrible woman. No decent woman would—"
    "You stay out of this!" He turned his attention back to Sara. "You do what I tell you right now."
    Sara looked into his determined face and wondered what she should do. He really wasn't her father, she reminded herself. She didn't owe him explanations. "I'm getting tired of saying this, but I will say it one more time: I am not a thief. I'm not robbing anyone. Leave me alone."
    While Beng gaped at her she jammed the guitar back into its bag, took Beth by the hand, and said,
    "Come on, kid. We're history."

Chapter 6
    "/ don't want to talk about it!"
    Beng and Molly had followed her back to her tent. Neither of them looked as if they were going to go away. Other people in the camp had abandoned packing the wagons to gather around to stare. Sara had seen several of them make signs against evil at Molly. Molly pretended not to notice.
    Sara sighed and said, "All right. Let's go inside and talk about it."
    She started to go in, but Beng grabbed her arm. "She can't go in there."
    "Oh, for crying out loud!" Sara complained. "1 hate all this mirame stuff. My whole tribe's been accused of it for nearly two hundred years. Will you get with the program?" While Beng gaped at her she gestured at Molly. "The woman is not going to pollute everything she touches just because she married a non-Rom. Sheesh."
    "I've been trying to tell them that for years, the poor heathens," Molly told her.
    "They aren't heathens, they're Rom," Sara snapped at the woman's smug tone. "Go and get your things," she said to Beth while Beng and Molly looked at her with their mouths hanging open. The pair looked very like brother and sister at this moment. "I'm leaving," she told Beng before he could gather wits enough to yell at her. "I don't know where, but I'm going." She wanted to run straight to Toma, but romance wasn't the solution to her future.
    "You're going, all right, to the house in St. Giles," Beng finally managed to answer. He gestured toward the wagons. "We're going to the Salisbury fair. You work for the Cummings woman until we get back." He gestured to include all the wagons again. "You make enough to see us through the winter. You be a good girl."
    Oh, no, Sara thought, he wasn't putting the responsibility for caring for the whole familia on her. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again Molly was looking at her sympathetically.
    Beng favored Molly with a contemptuous glare. "I won't stay while she's here. You just do what I say." This seemed to settle the discussion as far as he was concerned. He stomped off toward the horse corral without further comment.
    "Now what?" Sara said. "What am I going to do?" She wondered if Cummings and Billy were going to come looking for her sometime soon. Mother Cummings had said she wanted the burglary done tonight. Toma couldn't protect her. He was a circus performer scheduled to leave with the others. Toma?
    She looked at Molly. "You said Toma wanted you to talk to me? About what?"
    Molly crossed her arms and looked belligerently at the people who still lingered near Sara's tent. "In private, dear," she said. "You aren't going to that Cummings woman," she added. "You're coming with your aunt. Right now, before Beng can stop us. I'll meet you by the fair entrance." Molly turned and walked away, head held high, before Sara could ask any questions.
    Sara decided to ask questions later. It was faster just to bundle up some clothes from the tent, take Beth and the guitar, and get out before Mother Cummings's goons showed up. She missed saying good-bye to Toma the