J oseph Hodges left for the Superstition Mountains on Sunday morning before his daughter returned home from church. He hadn’t told her that he planned to go, but she knew when she saw his missing bedroll and supplies.
Dorothy hadn’t mentioned the sheriff’s questions or anything regarding the disappearance of Charles Sinclair on her return from Apache Junction. She wanted to. She wanted reassurance that her father hadn’t done anything wrong. She also wanted to be able to tell Sheriff Wright that she had said nothing. She hardly knew why she wanted that, but it won over seeking reassurance. Instead, her head pounding like a woodpecker’s beak, Dorothy had gone to bed early.
She couldn’t decide where she felt safer now that she found herself wholly alone. If she had known of anywhere else to go, she might have gone, but she didn’t. She had followed her father’s example in church, arriving on time and departing directly after service. Thus, she had never made friends or really acquaintances either. On her infrequent trips to Mesa, she had never interacted on a personal level with the people she came into contact with.
With nowhere to go, she spent her days mostly outdoors, but near the house. She slept in her room at night. Once or twice, she thought that she caught a glimpse of a man in the distance, but nothing ever clear and certain. At night, she heard him by her window. Light or dark, she prayed for protection. She scolded herself when she dared wish that Artie would visit again.
On Tuesday evening, she had gone indoors for the night when she heard a scuffle at the door. The handle shook, and Dorothy froze, hand to her knife. However, no one entered.
After several moments of silence, Dorothy crept to the door, opening it with caution. No one lunged for her or even greeted her. A crumpled paper fell to the ground. Dorothy caught her breath.
With shaking hands, she brought the paper inside near to her candle. The words, written in the familiar black ink, turned her cold.
Dorothy,
You have been blessed with extra time due to certain events which must have confused you. The time for lenience, however, is passed.
Since you had more time than originally agreed upon, interest on the remaining debt has increased. Bring twice the amount of gold specified before to the Pavilion this coming Saturday. There will be no more leniency. You will see your father suffer the consequences first, before your own punishment will follow. If his miserable life is precious to you, then payment will be delivered and on time.
You have been warned.
A sound near the window sent Dorothy spinning, the note falling to the floor as she went for her knife. As usual, nothing materialized.
Who is it? God in Heaven, who prowleth at my door and to what purpose?
Saturday. The Pavilion. She would need more gold.
Dorothy shuddered at the thought of going into the Superstition Mountains with her mysterious follower shadowing behind. Could she even go?
Father’s life is at stake. I must. Oh, my Father in Heaven, grant me protection!
The man had said that he would wait for her on Wednesdays and Fridays. She could go in the morning, then that duty would be over.
Unless he sends me back for whatever payment he requires. I cannot imagine what else I could give to him. Her mind drifted back to the note. Twice as much yet again…Eight pouches of gold. Will he ever part with so much?
She bent to retrieve the fallen paper, noting that her hands still shook.
Lord in Heaven, my fear is great. Protect Thou me, send me comfort, and strengthen me, I pray Thee, for I am weak and weary.
She put the note with the others that she had saved, then noticed her Bible on the bed. Without opening the cover, she whispered the words that first came to mind.
“He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide in the shadow of the Almighty…” She took a shuddering breath. “Let me dwell in that secret place. Oh, most High, let me abide under the shadow of Thy wings that I might call Thee my refuge and my fortress; my God in whom I will trust.”