W alter hadn’t liked Dorothy’s reaction to his request. He brooded in a cleft of rock, reflecting on her response, while he frowned at nothing in particular.
She’s honest. I’m certain of it. She doesn’t plan on lying to me.
He flicked a rock away from himself, ignoring any other surroundings, while he tried to decide exactly what bothered him. Why he kept picturing the girl’s face after he told her when he wanted the meeting.
She didn’t like it. I thought we had built a certain level of trust, but the look in her eyes said otherwise.
He crossed his arms, catching sight of a vulture in the sky. He glared that direction for no other reason than he had nothing else to glare at.
My promise of information might seem more essential if… He didn’t complete the thought. I must bring an end to what I began. After nearly a decade, it is time that this matter is laid to rest.
Walter glared at the vulture again.
If Dorothy Hodges does not want to fulfill her end of the agreement, that makes her a thief. She already has accepted the gold. I may well remind her of that before Saturday.
The sun shifted and the shadow he crouched in began to fade. He couldn’t remain invisible with the sun illuminating his position. Walter stood.
The meeting must go forward on Saturday. Miss Dorothy will have to live up to her promise. There can be no exception, even for a frightened girl.
Frightened. He rarely admitted to noticing anyone’s emotions unless he needed to. Walter paused his movements with a frown.
Perhaps I acted prematurely. The girl does appear to fear a great deal. She seemed less afraid of me, but perhaps I misjudged her and should have waited to build a greater level of trust.
He shook his head, continuing his walk. There is no time for that and, besides, what would be the point? I don’t need anyone’s trust.
He stopped again. I don’t need anyone’s trust—but I can use their fear. She doesn’t need to trust me anymore, so much as she needs to fear the consequences if she doesn’t live up to her word. She needs to realize that she made a promise as payment for something to which she had no other claims.
He nodded, continuing once again on his way. Yes, indeed. Miss Dorothy Hodges will live up to her promise. She has no choice.
* * *
The disappearance of Tom Overman gave Artie and Theo a task to focus on. For two days, they searched him out, overturning any clue they thought they had uncovered. Those clues seemed to be few. Whether Sheriff Wright knew of their actions, they neither knew nor thought through enough to care.
Neighbors had not seen him, and he didn’t seem to have a job at all. The few places that he seemed to frequent had seen no sign of him in days. If he had friends, they had been few and far between.
The brothers stood in the goat yard, going over what they didn’t know, when a cleared throat startled him. Somehow, they had missed the huffing and puffing of Fred Salts until that moment. Artie and Theo turned simultaneously to look at the little man.
The man’s beady eyes surveyed them up and down, before a puff of wind made him cough. “I heard that you are attempting to discover the whereabouts of Tom Overman.”
Artie and Theo glanced at one another before the former nodded briefly. “We are.”
“You never inquired as to whether I knew anything about him.”
Artie’s eyebrows raised. “Should we have done so?”
“Mr. Overman didn’t tell you that he worked for Mr. Sinclair from time to time?”
“I think that he mentioned it in passing, actually.” Theo pulled at his suspenders. “I’d forgotten.”
Artie looked from Theo to Fred. “Do you know where Tom is, Fred?”
Fred blinked at them. “I can’t say for certain.” He coughed once again. “Mr. Sinclair conducted most of his business with Mr. Overman personally. However, he occasionally had me take messages to the man. Always in the same location.”
“Where would that be then?” Artie leaned against the goat fence.
“Goldfield.”
“That’s a ghost town.” Theo sounded skeptical.
“I am aware of that.” Fred coughed again. “I assure you that I always found him in Goldfield. Usually near Tipplers old saloon.”
Fred said no more. He nodded before walking away. Within an hour, the brothers started for Goldfield, stopping to leave Hazel with the Gilberts. Myrtle wanted peace and quiet for a while, and neither Theo nor Artie felt inclined to leave Hazel alone with her for so long either.
Goldfield hadn’t been occupied for at least three years. Even then, it hadn’t been a true booming town for far longer than that. A ghost town. The only people who stepped foot there any longer were the curious, and tramps or drifters. An eerie atmosphere had long settled over the once thriving town that looked toward the Superstition Mountains.
Theo stood outside the town with a shake of his head. “The place of our birth and the beginning of our father’s fortune and now look at it. A ghost town no one cares about.”
“It’s like a representation of the rich man in James that withereth away as the grass. Only we’re seeing it as a town rich men built.”
Theo gave him a sideways look. “I think I remember where the saloon would be. Not that I was ever inside.”
The wind whistled through the forsaken and broken-down buildings pathetically. Theo navigated the place better than Artie, though neither had been there at all since the town had been abandoned a second time. They found the remains of Tippler’s old saloon, but no Tom. Theo narrowed his eyes at the general area before he shook his head.
“Do you think Fred led us wrong?”
Artie pushed his hair back with his hat. He tried to focus on any shadows or signs of life beyond the rabbits and birds. “No. I think he told us the truth. I also think—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish, as the pounding footsteps of a running man arrested their attention. The brothers took off in pursuit as they saw him, just distant, headed for the edge of town.
Theo, always the faster runner, pushed ahead. When he tried to tackle the runner to the ground, he missed his body, instead catching his legs as both men hit the ground. Theo scrambled to his feet, while Artie turned the man over. Tom Overman crouched in a heap, his arms covering most of his face.
“Don’t hurt me!”
“Hurt you!” Artie grit his teeth despite his breath coming short. “Get up.”
Between them, Theo and Artie forced the man to his feet, dragging him to a nearby rock. He stumbled into a seated position pathetically.
“Stop being a coward.” Theo retrieved his hat from the dirt, slamming it on his head. “We didn’t hurt you, nor do we plan to. Even if you deserve it.”
Artie just watched him.
“What do you want then?” Tom looked up, still in a crouched position.
“We want the truth.” Theo did look intimidating, even to his brother.
Tom’s eyes widened.
Artie cocked his head, unaware that he imitated his little sister almost perfectly. “Why did you think we would want to hurt you?”
“Because I saw the murder and told the sheriff. Why wouldn’t the killer come after me next?”
Theo glared. “You think that we killed our own father?”
Tom gave Theo a distant look. “Why not?”
“Because we didn’t.” Artie spoke before his brother could have a chance.
Tom started to unfold on his rock. “What did you chase me down for then?”
Artie pulled down his hat. “We know that you lied about Dad’s murder. About when and where it took place. We want the truth—the entire truth.”
Tom looked around wildly. “I thought…I thought that if word got out that I’d reported a murder…Well…”
“Well?” Theo tapped his foot when Tom hesitated.
He shook his head. “If I changed some of the facts, maybe the killer wouldn’t think I really saw anything. He wouldn’t think I knew enough to bother coming after me, that’s all.”
“That’s all ?” Theo’s voice rose. “You misrepresented a murder. You gave false information that could interfere with the investigation of that murder. What is to stop us from presuming you are guilty?”
Tom crouched again. “I’m not!”
Theo only crossed his arms. Tom switched his wild gaze to Artie, the sweat pouring down his face even more profusely.
“You have to believe me!”
Artie studied the man, then crossed his own arms. “Tell us the truth then. Starting with how you knew our father and why you keep making all the trips into the Superstition Mountains. You would think that your near-death experience last month would have been enough to keep you away from the mountains for a while.”
Tom pushed a hand through his hair. “I did errands for Charles, that’s all. Ever since he married my sister—or a while before that. Messages, things like that.”
“What does that have to do with the mountains?” Theo tapped his foot again.
Tom shifted, clearly hesitant. “I…”
Artie dropped his arms. “You knew that he was alive.”
Theo turned. “What? He’s the one who showed you the supposed murder scene in the first place.”
Artie still stared at the cowering man. “Did you know where he was the entire time?”
The man shook his head. “No. Yes! It depends on how you look at it!”
Theo bent down, gripping the man by one shoulder. “Perhaps you had better tell us how to look at it.”
Tom looked up at Artie.
“I would start talking. Before we take you to the sheriff and tell him that you ought to be arrested in connection with our father’s murder.”
Tom leapt to his feet, pulling away from Theo. “I had nothing to do with that! See here, why would I kill him? I worked for him! The first time—with the blood and the shirt and the watch—sure, I helped him set that up. He knew the watch would convince his sons, so he said we had to include it.”
“Wait.” Theo had straightened as well. “You helped who?”
“Charles.”
Theo stepped back, the color draining from his face.
Artie tried to speak twice before he could process enough to speak. “You mean…You mean that my father faked his own death?”
“It was temporary. He said it was the only way he could disappear for an undetermined amount of time without any questions!”
“Why in the world would he want to do that?” Artie felt sick and angry at once.
“He planned to come back!”
Artie looked at Theo, whose horror must have mirrored his own.
“He would put everything right when he came back. Tell everyone that he’d about died and barely made it but couldn’t get home until he’d recovered.” Tom looked eagerly and wildly between the brothers. “It was all in the plan. He tore up the clothes and we trampled the area to look like a fight had taken place.”
“And…the blood?” Theo’s horror hadn’t lessened.
“He found an old, injured bobcat. We killed it, made a mess with the blood, then got rid of the body.”
“Artie, this sounds absurd.” Theo’s voice dropped as he looked at his brother.
Tom heard him. “It’s true! On my honor. He wanted to be able to follow that girl around with getting suspected or caught!”
Artie’s attention leapt back to the man’s face. “What did you say?”
Tom quailed again. “Th-that girl? The one with the knife and who owed him the gold?”
Artie clenched and unclenched his jaw. “You’re telling me that my father has been the one following Dorothy around and scaring her half to death?”
“He-he had me watch her at night, but I just sat outside her window. She never went anywhere at night.” Artie’s anger must have been clear on his face, because Tom’s words sped up. “I would never have hurt her! Just made sure I followed if she tried to go anywhere at night. Put the note on her door, to make sure she went to fetch more gold. I was waiting to be told that it was my turn to take watch, when I saw him-him murdered.”
Artie had never wanted to punch anyone in the face quite so much as he did at that moment. “Why in the world—?” He had raised his voice and Tom cowered even more.
“He wanted to know where she got the gold she had paid him with! She wouldn’t tell him, you see! We knew Joe hadn’t given it to her—I’ve followed him around on and off for months! He never finds anything. He never saw me, either. Until that day, I showed myself by mistake and got lost in the mountains because I got so disoriented trying to get away from him. Charles had to follow the girl to find out where she got that gold!”
Artie clenched his fists, turning away before he throttled the man.
Lord, I’ve been praying against my own father. My father is the prowler who has been scaring Dorothy. My father faked his own death. My father. How is this my father? I didn’t know him at all.
He had begun walking without paying much attention to anything but his prayer when Theo pulled him back by the shoulder. He still looked pale, but the shock on his face mingled with concern for his brother.
“We should take him back to Sheriff Wright.” Theo sent a look in the direction where Tom cowered on his rock again. “I think that he will come quietly enough.”
“We didn’t know him, Theo. I thought we knew Dad—he worked a lot, but I thought that we knew him. We didn’t. At all.” Artie couldn’t tell if he felt more incredulous, angry, or even hurt.
“I know.” Theo seemed to make an effort when speaking. “The sheriff still needs to find his killer though and the more the sheriff knows, the better.”
Artie nodded. “I’m just not sure I want to know why he was killed anymore.” He sighed, looking at his brother. “I don’t want to find out that he did something else.”
“I doubt it can get much worse.” Theo shrugged. “How much more could we possibly discover that he hid?”
Artie didn’t dare answer.
Probably more than either of us wants to believe.