W alter had waited at Weaver’s Needle on three separate days the week before. Dorothy never showed.
On Monday morning, he started out early toward the Hodges shack. He saw no one on his trek, though he heard the calls of a group of men in the distance once.
He could see Dorothy standing by the door of the shack when it came into view. She didn’t seem to be going anywhere; just staring up at the Superstition Mountains. He could tell when she spotted him. She startled, seemed to frown, then started forward.
“Miss Dorothy. I expected to see you on Friday.”
The girl looked different with her braids wrapped in loops on either side of her head. Her dress, too, didn’t remind Walter of women in his childhood anymore. She clasped her hands together. “There has been a new development.”
“I suspected as much.” Walter crossed his arms. “I know that the Sinclair boys have been in the mountains. Probably because of a new development.”
Any doubts that he had regarding her integrity vanished when her face didn’t show any flicker of guilt. Instead, she merely seemed troubled. “Charles Sinclair… They think he may have been murdered.”
Walter had never made his proposed trip to Apache Junction. Of all the things that he had expected her to say, he hadn’t imagined that one. “They think he’s been murdered. They only think?”
Dorothy glanced around. “They hadn’t found a body the last I heard. He’s been missing since Wednesday. They found his things with blood in the Superstition Mountains.”
Walter frowned. “The posse is looking for Charles Sinclair then?”
Dorothy nodded.
“Do they think that he grew wings after his demise?”
Dorothy raised her head swiftly. “I-I don’t understand.”
“A body doesn’t usually get up and walk away after being murdered.”
“No…”
“Then do they think that he’s been murdered or are they looking for him?” Walter raised an eyebrow as he waited for her response.
Dorothy frowned. “Both.”
Walter stared in the direction of the shack thoughtfully, before turning back to the girl. “He didn’t want any more gold from you?”
Dorothy seemed surprised. “Oh. He did.” She pushed a stray bit of hair out of her eyes. “He wanted three times as much as the last time. Before he disappeared.”
Walter nodded slowly. “Six bags of gold. That will most certainly need payment, Miss Dorothy.”
“If…If he’s gone…” Dorothy unclasped and reclasped her hands. “Perhaps, if he’s really…gone; whoever takes over will be more reasonable. Perhaps they will accept regular payment in…installments of some sort. Then, I wouldn’t have to take your gold.”
“Where would you get the money for installments, Miss Dorothy? Your father didn’t pay it before this, did he?”
Dorothy looked down at her hands. “N-no. Perhaps…Perhaps, I could find a way to earn it myself.”
Walter looked down at her. “I wouldn’t trust a Sinclair. Not a one of them.”
Dorothy didn’t respond.
Walter dropped his arms, pulling up his canteen from his shoulder. “On the other hand, I don’t believe for a second that Charles Sinclair is dead. In which case, I would be prepared for a renewal of his demands shortly.”
He watched the girl, as she raised her head with a frown. I wonder if she believes the man is dead. Unless she killed him herself. She has reason and, if he attacked her first, probably the courage.
“Why would Mr. Sinclair disappear without telling his family?” Her frown had not lessened. “That doesn’t seem likely, does it?”
Walter finished his drink. “I don’t ask for reasons from Charles Sinclair. He probably took a trip upstate for business and thought it would be a good idea to test the loyalty of his secretary or his sons or his wife or some such in his absence. There is no rational reasoning required.”
Dorothy’s eyes widened as he spoke. “Do people actually do that?”
“Charles Sinclair would.” Walter crossed his arms once again. “When you get a notice demanding payment again, come see me at Weaver’s Needle.”
“How will I know you’ll be there?”
He almost smiled. “I’ll be there if it’s a Wednesday or a Friday. No need for concern.”
“I…I don’t have anything to pay you with.” A hint of dread clouded the girl’s eyes. “I don’t have any more jewelry of my mother’s—you have it all now. You said you didn’t want my books.”
He squinted his eyes down at her, the large blue eyes meeting his face far more easily than at their first meeting. At last, he dropped his arms. “I will tell you what I expect as a payment when you come.”
“How will I bring it with me, if I don’t know what it is?”
He really did grin this time. “I’ll see to it that you have the opportunity to deliver.”
I can’t tell her now. Not until it is necessary.
Dorothy dropped her shoulders with a sigh. “Very well. I don’t suppose that I have a choice.” She finally unclasped her hands. “I can’t even say that I hope I won’t be meeting you at Weaver’s Needle. I cannot hope for Mr. Sinclair’s death.”
Walter raised an eyebrow. How very pious of you. Absurdly so, in your position.
He thought it wise not to voice his thoughts. “You will be seeing me, Miss Dorothy. You can count on it. Charles Sinclair wouldn’t permit his own murder before getting whatever gold he believed himself entitled.”
“Surely, sir, he may not have had a choice in the matter?”
He shook his head. “I’ll be seeing you, Miss Dorothy.”