D orothy’s walk with Theo Sinclair on Saturday could hardly be described as comfortable. Operating on the determination to trust Artie, Dorothy made an effort to still her shaking hands and believe that Theo would prove as different from his father as Artie.
The man certainly did nothing to harm or particularly frighten her. Neither did he say more than five words altogether for their entire walk. They walked in almost absolute silence.
They eventually arrived at an already crowded Pavilion. Dorothy took a deep breath to calm her hammering heart. Not that it worked.
I haven’t the faintest idea who I am even here to meet.
The dancers created their own breezy atmosphere that contrasted starkly with the dead stillness of the weather. The warm day felt close and stifling outside the Pavilion.
Theo stood watching the crowd with his hands in his pockets, complete apathy lining his features. Dorothy briefly wondered what went on in his head but decided that she would rather not know.
Kat spun away from a conversation with her dance partner on sight of Theo. She hurried over to him with a greeting, which he barely responded to. Stepping back to survey his face, she put her hands to her hips. “I hardly expected to see you here today. Goldmines! What are you doing here? You look like you just broke out of the slammer!”
Dorothy tried to come up with a translation and failed.
Theo didn’t seem to care at all. “Artie asked me to come, so I’m here.”
Kat’s dark eyes narrowed, but she turned to Dorothy instead, catching her in an unexpected hug. Dorothy wondered if she had been hugged more often in the last month than in the previous decade. Or two decades. Father never did hug me much.
“You look nearly as wrung out as Theo!” Kat stepped back, still holding onto Dorothy’s hands. “Are you doing all right, sweetie?”
Dorothy smiled, hoping that she looked less “wrung out” than before. “The Lord is taking care of me.” Only after she said them, did she realize how true the words were.
Kat nodded, swinging their arms a little. “He’s good at that. It’s swell you recognize it. The Lord is good at taking care of His children, even when we don’t recognize He’s doing it.”
Dorothy considered the statement as Kat released her. How often do I not recognize it, I wonder?
“Oh, swell.” Kat tugged on Dorothy’s sleeve. “There’s Ted Wilkins swaggering this way. I’ll bet he wants to talk to Theo, but let’s move off a shade to avoid him.”
Dorothy allowed herself to be led away, but Kat only pulled her a couple feet before someone else stopped her. Dorothy didn’t know the fellow they stopped for, though she had seen him before. She glanced back at Theo and Ted. She missed the first words they exchanged—if Theo said anything at all—but Ted looked heated, and his voice crossed to her clearly after that.
“Why would you have anything to do with that gal? Are you bananas? Does murder mean nothing to you?”
Kat turned around at the accusation, completely ignoring the question put to her by her other friend.
“I don’t see what it has to do with you.” Theo still stood as before, hands in his pockets.
“Me?” Ted’s voice grew louder. “I don’t care to associate with a murderer! Even less do I care to associate with the murderer of someone I respect.”
Theo’s manner changed, and he pulled his hands from his pockets. “Neither do I.”
“Then why in the world would you have anything to do with Dorothy Hodges?” Ted gestured toward her roughly. “She murdered your father!”
Theo remained calm, despite Ted’s growing agitation. “You don’t know that.”
“Everybody knows that!” Ted’s eyes blazed. “Of course, she would say that she didn’t. Why would you trust her?”
“I don’t.”
Dorothy froze. The walk home suddenly seemed quite long.
Theo shrugged before Ted could say anything else. “I trust my brother.”
Ted’s fury only seemed to grow. “What does he know? He wasn’t there, was he?”
“Were you?”
Ted’s voice dropped a notch. “What? Of course not.”
Theo, on the other hand, raised his voice slightly. “Artie is adamant that Miss Dorothy did not commit any crime, Ted. If Artie, who knows the girl far better than I do, says he’s certain, then I trust him. Rather more than I happen to trust you.”
Ted took a step back, crossing his arms. “One would like to believe that you want justice for your father, Theo.”
The apathy in Theo’s face vanished. His eyes narrowed, his voice taking on a threatening sound that reminded Dorothy all too clearly of his father. “Justice for my father? When I need you to tell me what justice for my father looks like, Ted, I will tell you. When I need you to tell me how wrong you think my brother is, I will tell you. In the meantime, I suggest that you get out of my face before I clock in yours.”
Ted took the advice to heart, backing away with widened eyes. Theo waited a moment, then dropping the tensity from his shoulders, he gave a shake of his head and pushed his hands back into his pockets. Dorothy thought that if he hadn’t promised Artie otherwise, Theo might have left her then.
She saw Kat’s eyes narrow once more before she tugged on Dorothy’s arm. “Let’s leave him alone. Believe me, he’ll be happier.”
Dorothy really had no other preference, except perhaps a preference for not being there at all. The eyes of several people turned her direction as she followed Kat to the other side of the Pavilion. It made her want to run.
Time seemed to crawl by. Kat danced, came back to Dorothy, talked with other people on the sidelines, and generally seemed well-known to everyone. She rejoined Dorothy again with a smile, despite panting from a particularly active dance.
“Are you here every Saturday?”
Kat threw her hair over her shoulder, laughing a bit. “Oh, absolutely not! Just the last several weeks. I only came today, because I promised someone weeks ago. My heart isn’t really in it. No one comes every week, except maybe Ted Wilkens and his sister. A lot of folks have planting season on them currently, so they’re busy.”
Dorothy nodded. I wonder if Artie finished planting his alfalfa. He said that he needed to get it in soon.
She watched the other onlookers, the dancers, those who wandered in and out. No one approached her. No one asked for gold. She wondered how long she needed to wait. How long she would need to make Theo wait?
“What’s up with you and Artie?”
Dorothy blinked at Kat’s question. “I don’t know what you mean. He’s not even here.”
“I know he’s not.” Kat crossed her arms. “Theo is here though, because Artie asked him—because of you, I’ll bet. I’ve never seen Artie take so much interest in someone he’s not related to.”
Dorothy couldn’t stand the interrogating stare for long and turned to watch the dancers again. If I am supposed to have an answer for that, I don’t.
She could feel Kat watching her for another minute until someone mercifully dragged the woman off for another dance.
Kat had left her near the little group of old prospectors. With her back to them, she could hear parts of their conversation when the noise around them died down. She had no intention of eavesdropping, but neither did they seem to care about being overheard. The music from the band dulled, and a couple jostled her, causing Dorothy to take a step backwards.
“That’s the girl Ted Wilkins insists ought to be arrested for Sinclair’s murder.”
Dorothy felt her face flame.
“That’s her.” The second voice chuckled. “She doesn’t look like much of a killer.”
“Ever read those Conan Doyle books? A murderer doesn’t have to look like one.”
“You read?” The second voice scoffed.
The first prospector chuckled. “Nah. My granddaughter reads them out loud. I can’t help but hear.”
Both men chuckled.
The second prospector began again. “Do you think that little girl murdered anyone?”
Dorothy heard another scoff. “Not unless he did something stupid. It’s more likely that Sinclair’s perverse obsession with gold sent him into the mountains after a mine or some such. He went exploring, got in a fight with a crazy kai-ote, then they both crawled off to die.”
Dorothy winced at the thought. Wouldn’t they have found the coyote’s bones, at least?
“You won’t convince Ted or some of the youngins of that, I reckon. They’re dead set on it being the girl.”
“That doesn’t make them right.” The first prospector grunted. “One should never assume that they know more than they do. The good book warns us about answering a matter before we hear it. It only brings us folly and shame. Many a gold hunter has discovered that too late. That applies to a lot of life.”
Dorothy didn’t hear anymore, but the last words nagged at her.
Why do I think that I acted like I knew more than I did, when I made that promise? That maybe I had a choice when I decided that I didn’t? Why have I been afraid of the consequences ever since?