A rtie tried not to pace as he ignored the band playing and the dancers spinning around him. The weather had proved nice for dancing at the Pavilion, but Artie didn’t care all that much. He had fifty things that he wanted to do and being in Apache Junction at all did not make his list.
A breeze blew in dust from the desert around them and Artie couldn’t be sure if he only imagined it, but he thought he could smell dung as well as other evidence of animal life from George Curtis’ zoo. Gasoline from the station and the faintest hint of food from the store joined the medley. Or again, perhaps, Artie imagined it.
He certainly did not imagine the smell of sweating dancers as he moved closer to the swirling skirts and tapping shoes. He watched Theo a moment, spinning a girl that Artie recognized and generally avoided. The girl nearly tripped on her own two feet and then laughed loudly.
Artie shook his head, turned, and kept pacing.
Why send me to pick up a payment? What could Fred be so busy with that he couldn’t do it? Since when do I have anything to do with my father’s business?
He jumped when Theo appeared at his elbow, his dark eyes dancing. “Find her yet?”
“No.” Artie sighed, tapping his foot on the ground. “He said it would be obvious when I saw her. What does that mean? Obvious how? There’s a troop of girls here.”
“Some of them are terrible dancers, too.”
Artie scoffed. “That’s all you care about and yet you dance with them anyway. I do not think that is what Fred meant by obvious.”
Theo started to shrug but tugged on Artie’s sleeve instead. “I imagine not—but maybe,” he nodded at the distance, “that kind of obvious?”
Artie let his gaze follow the nod. Approaching quite slow and appearing rather lost, the young woman just might have been who he came to meet. Her long, blonde hair hung in two loose braids with ribbons and ringlets at the ends. She wore a floor-length dark skirt, a light shirtwaist, and a broad belt with a knife stuck in one side. Her wide hat had some sort of dried plant life pinned to it, but Artie certainly couldn’t identify it.
One of the girls near the brothers tittered. “Jiminy! She looks just like a blonde portrait of my mother from when my older sister was a baby! That was thirty years ago.”
Theo took a step closer to Artie and spoke in an undertone. “She does look like she stepped out of time from the last generation. Think it’s her?”
Artie snapped his stare away and shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out.”
The girl stopped a little way from the edge of the Pavilion, looking about her in obvious uncertainty. She didn’t notice him when Artie approached; she seemed to be too focused on the dancers.
“Miss Dorothy Hodges?”
The young woman whirled around, her right hand half-raised toward the knife in her belt. Her wide blue eyes met Artie’s, and she visibly shrank. She lowered her arm and slowly pulled back her shoulders.
“Yes?”
“You are Dorothy Hodges?” Artie couldn’t be certain of the meaning in her answer.
“Y-yes. Yes, I reckon that I am.” She clenched and unclenched her hand into a fist and Artie realized how it trembled. “You are Mr. Sinclair’s son?”
Am I really that terrifying? I never knew it.
“Yes. Artie Sinclair.” He tried to smile, but he didn’t think that she saw it.
Dorothy hesitated but offered her hand. He barely touched it before she pulled away again. He waited for her to speak, but she remained silent.
One of the dancers let out a whoop. Dorothy turned sharply in their direction and then sighed, closing her eyes with gritted teeth.
Artie watched her. “Do you dance?”
Dorothy’s dark blue eyes returned to his face in a hurry. She shook her head faintly. “N-no. I don’t.”
“I can’t say that you’re missing very much, to be honest.”
Dorothy didn’t respond.
Might as well end her misery as quickly as I can.
“See here, I understand you have a payment for something or other that you’re supposed to deliver to me?”
Dorothy blinked rapidly, but still didn’t answer.
“You are Dorothy Hodges…”
“Yes! I mean, no. That is…” Dorothy took a deep breath and clasped both hands together. “I am Dorothy Hodges, and I am supposed to bring you a payment.”
“So far, so good.” Artie watched the girl, but she made no move. “Do you have the money, then?”
“Not… Not exactly.”
Artie raised his eyebrows and started to cross his arms. He thought better of it and dropped them. “What exactly do you mean by ‘not exactly,’ Miss Dorothy?”
Dorothy took another deep breath. “See, my father… He didn’t have the money.”
“None of it?”
“Well… No…”
Why am I dealing with the daughter and not the father? Why am I here, instead of my father or Fred Salts? Why do I keep asking myself the same questions? Just focus!
“Where is your father, Miss Hodges?”
“I don’t—I don’t know exactly.”
“Exactly?”
Her voice trembled this time. “He’s up in the Superstitions. He’ll be back soon, I reckon, but I haven’t the least idea where he is at this minute!”
Artie watched her for another moment, then pushed his hands into his pockets. “So, instead of the money, you want me to return with a message letting my father know that you can’t pay?”
“Nearly.”
“Nearly? Really, Miss Dorothy. I have no idea what you intend for me to understand by your vague replies.”
“I’m sorry. I…” She turned and fumbled with a pocket on her skirt. “I don’t know how much it’s worth, but I thought perhaps this could go toward paying your father?”
She held out a ring with a shaking hand. When Artie took it, she clasped both hands quickly together once more. “I think it’s real gold. The diamond is small, but it’s real too.”
Artie stared at the ring that lay in his palm. A gold band with an intricate setting held a single cut diamond. Dorothy had been correct about the size of the diamond, but it might be worth something.
“This looks old, but I couldn’t guess its value.”
“Perhaps your father could?”
Artie still stared at the ring. “Perhaps.”
“I don’t think it will pay everything, but maybe it will pay a part of what my father owes?”
“Perhaps it might.” He looked up from the jewel. “Does your father know that you brought this?”
The girl blinked and clasped her hands together more tightly.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no.’”
“It’s—it’s mine to give. He won’t miss it.”
Artie watched her face a moment, before he nodded. “Very well. I’ll take it to him.”
Dorothy nodded but didn’t speak. The band began a new song and she glanced behind.
“Are you planning on staying, Miss Dorothy?”
She started at the question and shook her head. “Not if I am not required to do so.”
“I’m not requiring you to stay. Our business is concluded. You are welcome to leave when you like.”
Dorothy frowned a bit, gave Artie an odd look, and then dashed off with barely a nod.
Took off like a bunny afraid of a coyote. I really never knew my power to terrify before.