I could tell she was a gypsy by the shape of her nose. She was waiting in the checkout line at Wal-Mart, buying 12 bottles of propane, 24 bottles of Gatorade and 20 gallons of SAE-30 Bar & Chain Oil. And a pack of Marbs. I had no desire to know her evening plans. Strange devices for stealing children, I thought.
Her son was wearing a shirt for the Sunshine RV Park and looked like he got kicked in the face by a gypsy muel. He wheeled the shopping cart out to their wagon in the parking lot, where the horses were pawing at the asphalt and cold lanterns were clanking in the wind.