D orothy approached Apache Junction with a prayer for strength. Weariness combined with fear caused her to tremble even more than she usually might. The note on her door the night before had no mention of her father. Never had a note been addressed to her before. Not that she had seen. She could still review the words in her head as the tiny cluster that was Apache Junction came into view.
Dorothy.
I would advise you to show up tomorrow as instructed. You have no idea the trouble you will face for disobedience. Do not imagine you are free as of yet.
Dorothy had read the note more than once. She memorized it without even trying. The ever-decreasing distance between herself and the Junction increased her heartrate.
One foot in front of the other. Father in Heaven, protect me, I pray Thee. Grant me strength.
A few people were about the place, but not many. Dorothy watched them, waiting to identify a Sinclair. She more than half expected Charles Sinclair and actually felt a twinge of relief when she recognized Artie instead.
He looked troubled, she thought, but couldn’t be certain that she read him correctly. She clasped her hands, then unclasped them when she remembered her knife. She needed her hands free if she wanted to be able to use it.
Send me help. Father in Heaven, assist me, I pray.
Artie Sinclair pulled off his hat when he reached her and flashed the briefest of smiles.
At least he doesn’t seem to have his father’s lingering grin.
“Miss Dorothy.”
She willed her trembling limbs to still and nodded. It only worked to for a moment. “Y-you have instructions for me, Mr. Sinclair?”
“I do.”
Did he sigh? He appeared as if he did, and the troubled furrow of his brow seemed to deepen. It didn’t fit her picture of a Sinclair.
“Miss Dorothy, if I can ask, for what reason is your father in debt?”
“I-I…” She glanced around and then forced her eyes to return to Artie’s face. “I don’t know.”
He squinted. “Your father hasn’t told you?”
“N-no one has told me.”
He needn’t know that my father wouldn’t answer my questions when I asked.
“Did y-you have instructions for me, M-Mr. Sinclair?” She hated that her voice shook and raised a notch.
Artie passed his hat from one hand to another. “I do…” He watched her for a moment before continuing.
Dorothy did her best not to squirm.
“I am instructed to ask you to bring your next payment to the Pavilion this Saturday.”
Dorothy’s already racing heart sped up. “Next payment.”
His voice grew gentle. “I am instructed to tell you that twice as much is expected and in gold.”
Dorothy felt the color drain from her face. She could only speak in the faintest voice. “Twice—twice as much… Are you certain?”
“Quite certain.”
She tried to process the way he said it with the demand but gave up. Her mind latched onto the amount.
Twice… Twice as much… I’ll have… I’ll have to go back to Weaver’s Needle and hope that I’ll have… something … that he might want.
Artie’s voice broke through her cloud. “Are you all right, Miss Dorothy?”
She remembered where she stood and with whom. She forced herself to nod. “I am well. Is… Is that all, sir?”
“That is all that he instructed me to say.”
Dorothy nodded and turned to go.
“Miss Dorothy?”
She started, her hand going for her knife.
If the man noticed, he didn’t show it. “I thought you might want to have this returned.” He pulled a tiny object from his pocket and held it toward her.
Dorothy hesitated but allowed him to drop the glittering thing into her hand. A tiny diamond sparkled in the sunlight.
“Mother’s ring?”
“I thought that it might have been a sacrifice to part with.”
She looked up at the man with wide eyes. “He said that… I used it to pay off a portion of the debt. If I take it back—”
“That portion of the debt is still paid. My father gave me the ring, as he had no use for it. I am giving it to you on my own.”
He wants something.
“Wh-what do I owe you if I take it back?”
Artie smiled this time, a full smile, though still very unlike his father’s grin. “You don’t owe me anything, Miss Dorothy. To be frank, I have no use for it either. It would languish away on my dresser otherwise, whereas you may be pleased to have it to yourself again.”
Dorothy stared at him, trying to decide whether she believed him. She couldn’t imagine a Sinclair giving without asking for a return.
“I…” She stopped, then tried again. “I can go then?”
“Certainly.”
She knew she frowned. She couldn’t help it. “Th-thank you.”
She hadn’t taken two steps when she heard him speak again.
“Miss Dorothy?”
Her heart pounding, she looked back.
The man seemed to hesitate over whether he should speak, but finally decided. “I would strongly advise that you don’t bring the gold alone on Saturday. It is far from safe for anyone to transport that much gold alone.”
Dorothy couldn’t think of a reply.
“Perhaps your father will accompany you?”
“My—my father is still in the mountains.” Dorothy tried desperately to read the man’s expression.
Why is he concerned about me carrying the gold? Or is he threatening me? It doesn’t sound like a threat though.
Artie frowned deeper, his blue eyes clouding. “Perhaps he will have returned by then?”
Dorothy glanced toward the Superstition mountains, and then back again to Artie. “Perhaps, Mr. Sinclair. You never can tell.”