W alter stood beneath the massive column of rock that made Weaver’s Needle and waited. He had been there countless times during his lifetime. He knew every side of rock, every bush and scrub dotting the landscape, every cactus clinging to the incline. He also knew which prospectors, local visitors, and amateur gold hunters tended to frequent the area.
The mid-morning April sun shone down on his bare head as he watched Dorothy Hodges hurry over rocks and brush in his direction. He nodded with grim satisfaction.
I knew that she would come…
The young woman appeared far less fatigued than he anticipated, despite her glowing cheeks and hat askew. A few dried sprigs from the mesquite tree threatened to drop from the faded ribbon around the base of the hat. Dorothy stopped several feet away from him, then stood stiff with her hand near the knife on her belt.
If she thinks that she’s subtle about reaching for her weapon, the girl has a terrible lot to learn.
“I am pleased that you came.” He tried to smile.
She didn’t return the attempt. “Are you?”
Also, she is quite the untrusting sort, I can see. “I am, indeed.”
She took a deep breath and made an obvious effort to still her shaking hands. Obvious to Walter, at any rate. “I still don’t understand why you would give me anything. Especially gold. I don’t even know your name.”
Walter gestured to the shorter rocks around them. “Might I suggest that we take a seat?”
“I would really rather stand.” She took a slight step backwards.
Walter, however, shook his head. She is very untrusting, indeed.
“You must have left at sunrise. Judging by the time of your arrival. You have to return home—a trek of nearly three hours, I expect. You will be weary on the return hike. Particularly, if you do not rest while you can.”
Dorothy did not relent. “I’m used to the mountains. I have been to Weaver’s Needle many times before and I can withstand more than you might think.”
Walter gazed at her a moment before turning to seat himself on a rock. “Very well. I would not dream of forcing you.”
Dorothy didn’t move.
“You have nothing to fear from me, Miss Dorothy. I wish you no harm. I merely desire to conduct with you a business transaction.”
“What sort of transaction?”
“You need gold to save your little house and, in all probability, your lives.”
He saw her flinch.
“I am prepared to give you that gold. For a price.”
“What sort of price?” Dorothy still hadn’t moved to sit down.
“I’m granting you highly valuable ore. Ore, for which you have neither worked nor been granted entitlement.” He placed his hands together on his lap. “It should cost you something which you hold dear.”
“You said before that it would be something that I didn’t have, but that I could get.” Dorothy didn’t once take her eyes off of him.
Walter had long grown unused to being watched, and it made him more uncomfortable than he anticipated. “I did say that. I have changed my mind.”
Dorothy’s eyebrows drew together, and confusion filled her face. “What is it that you want then?”
“Your mother has been gone for many years. Do you have nothing of hers?”
Dorothy started. “You want something belonging to my mother?”
“I want something that will cost you to give to me. You don’t have monetary wealth. I must look for payment in other ways.”
Dorothy put a hand to her neck absently. “Why would you trade gold for a trinket in the first place?”
“I have my reasons. They are private reasons. Reasons you would not likely understand.” He picked up a lone feather from his feet, dropped from some bird he didn’t care to identify, and spun it by the shaft between his fingers.
Dorothy still hesitated. “You are certain that you can give me gold to satisfy Mr. Sinclair?”
If Walter had a habit of laughing, he would have then. “I have my doubts that Charles Sinclair can ever be wholly satisfied, but I can give you the payment. With the possibility of more if it is needed.”
“No one will tell me how much is owed him.”
“Because, my dear, no one expects you to be able to pay.”
Dorothy seemed to consider his words, her eyes clouding.
Walter smoothed the split barbs on his feather. “I will, of course, require your word that any gold that passes into your hands will go toward payment of your father’s debts. You mustn’t allow it to be used for anything else. You must pay no later than this Saturday. As he directed.”
Still watching him, she nodded.
“Also, there can be no returns. Once you have given me payment, you cannot expect me to return that payment under any circumstances. I am a man of my word; once I have agreed to a matter, I do not return or go back. I expect the same from you.”
He saw her face twitch. “I understand. I give my word.” Carefully, she pulled a thin chain from beneath the collar of her blouse. Unfastening the clasp, she held out a very simple and aged locket with a chain. “This belonged to my mother. I found it among her things when my father gave me her clothes. Father said he meant to sell it, but he decided it wasn’t worth much and gave it to me instead. I wear it hidden because he doesn’t like to see it.” She took a deep breath. “If you will give me gold, I will give you my mother’s locket.”
“What is inside the locket?”
“A tintype of my parents on their wedding day and a lock of my baby hair.” Her voice wavered the slightest, and it decided him.
Walter stood. Out of his sack nearby, he pulled a leather skin pouch. He held it toward the young woman.
“The gold, Miss Dorothy.”
For a long moment, her wide blue eyes scanned his face again. He could see her hand trembling as she still held the necklace. She seemed anything but certain.
At last, however, she laid the necklace in his hand and took the pouch. “That is all?”
“Nearly.” He closed his hand on the locket. “I might urge you not to share from whom you received the gold. I can’t be giving away gold ore to everyone.”
She nodded once more. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“You are free to find your way home, Miss Dorothy.”
Almost distracted, the young woman turned.
“Miss Dorothy?”
She faced him again with a whirl.
“If Charles Sinclair isn’t satisfied with the amount, I’ll be here.”