A rtie decided that pacing wouldn’t get him anywhere or keep Dorothy from being more skittish. He stood just outside the Pavilion, trying to keep still and wait.
Theo might ask me why I care if she’s skittish. I prefer not to frighten people, though.
Artie actually sighed when Dorothy came into view, once again very alone with her pack slung over her shoulder. One hand near her knife, her wide-eyed surveyance of her surroundings showed fear before she had even got near him.
Perhaps I’m not the only one she’s afraid of. That would nearly be a relief somehow.
That thought vanished when the girl saw him. She stopped before clearly forcing herself forward, pulling her shoulders back as she marched.
“Mr. Sinclair.” The stutter to her words could barely be heard.
“Good afternoon, Miss Dorothy.”
Dorothy’s hands trembled. Even he could see it, though she tried to hide it. “I-I brought the payment. A-as directed.”
Artie nodded as he watched the woman pull the sack off her shoulder. The band, whoever they were, seemed to drag the music out beyond their intended purpose, the current song particularly loud and obnoxious. He rarely thought so about the music at the Pavilion but today the band grated on his ears.
“T-twice the amount.” Dorothy held out the pouches. “As directed.”
Artie pocketed the gold in a hurry, glancing around the nearby crowd. No one seemed to notice. “Is your father still in the Superstition Mountains?”
She blanched at the question, though he had no idea why. “Y-yes. He is.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry.”
She looked him full in the face for the first time. “You’re sorry, Mr. Sinclair?”
“I imagine that you must miss him when he’s gone away for long periods.”
Dorothy didn’t respond, and he certainly did not understand the expression on her face. The band started up a new song and Artie’s head began to pound.
“Did you have anything for me, Mr. Sinclair?”
He started. “Yes. I apologize. I have a note for you.” He pulled it from his coat pocket as he spoke.
Dorothy’s eyes closed briefly in response to the writing inside. For a moment, she looked utterly weary, then she glanced back up at him, straightening her shoulders. “I am to return to Apache Junction on Wednesday again?”
“If that’s what the note says, I suppose yes. I didn’t read it, nor did he tell me the contents.”
She nodded, started to speak twice, but stopped each time.
He tried to release her from trying. “You are free to go, Miss Dorothy.”
She began to turn away but attempted one more time. “D-do you know…” She took a deep breath. “Do you know who I will be meeting on Wednesday? You or… or your father?”
You would think by her tone and expression that she just asked me what manner of execution she should expect.
“I do not know. I have not been informed.”
“I-I see.”
She probably would have walked away, but Artie felt a tug on his sleeve simultaneously with the sound of an enthusiastic voice.
“Artie! Are you going to keep Dorothy all to yourself or can I have a turn?”
Artie surveyed Kat’s grinning face with alarm. She showed no sign of mischief, however, much as her tone suggested it.
“Be my guest. She is all yours.” He took a step back.
Kat took the opportunity to link her arm into Dorothy’s. “Let’s go see if there’s any sinkers left!” She tugged at Dorothy’s arm.
Artie could hear Dorothy’s faint question, “Sinkers?”
Kat’s laugh echoed back to him. “Donuts, sweetie! A sinker is simply a donut.”
Artie moved on to watch the dancers for a few moments but ended up shaking his head. I’m not in the mood. I need to think.
He watched what he could see of Kat and Dorothy for another second before turning away.
I need to think. I need to work out what it is I need to think about. He stepped away from the Pavilion entirely. I need a walk.