D orothy did not expect to see the gold selling stranger again on Thursday afternoon. She especially did not expect to see him walk up to the shack, taking a seat on the other rock beside her. He didn’t say a word—just simply took a seat and waited.
Dorothy had already dropped her work into her lap. Now, she sat watching him, wondering what he wanted this time.
“Your father isn’t home.” The words and manner in which he said them sent a chill down her spine.
She straightened. “He’ll be back soon.”
“I assumed as much. He didn’t go to the mountains.” The man sat, arms crossed, while he stared off toward the Superstition Mountains.
Dorothy clasped her hands together. “H-how did you know that?”
“I saw him leave. You can see a lot if you position yourself well. Especially in the mountains.” He nodded, gaze still on the Superstitions. “I have good eyes.”
They sat in silence again. With each passing second, Dorothy thought her heart pounded harder. She had sat in silence with her father and with Artie, but silence had never felt so oppressive with them, even when she felt her most fearful. She couldn’t get back to her work or think of anything to say. So, she sat and waited.
At last, the man spoke, still focused on the mountains. “You have seen Arthur Sinclair since we last spoke?”
Dorothy closed her eyes. “Yes.”
She opened them in time to see his pointed look before he turned back to the mountains. “More than once, I gather.”
“T-twice. Though, I scarcely, that is, he wasn’t here for long yesterday at all.”
“Just to check on you or some such?”
Dorothy swallowed so hard it hurt. That’s all he did. He made sure I was doing all right, then left. I’m not telling him though. It is none of his business.
The man nodded toward the mountains again. “He agreed to the meeting on Saturday?”
Dorothy’s breath caught.
The man finally turned his eyes fully on her face. “You did ask him.”
“I…” She shifted, looking down at her hands.
“Miss Dorothy.” The man stood, but he didn’t walk any closer to her. “Miss Dorothy, I have given you a fair amount of gold. You, in return, agreed to set up this meeting between Arthur Sinclair and myself. You gave your word, and I believed it.”
“Y-yes, sir.” Why did I give my word? I don’t understand why he wants such a secret meeting. I trust him less every moment.
“Miss Dorothy.”
She brought her attention back to his face.
“Your failure to follow through with your promise is the same as failing to pay me for my service. That would make you a thief. Doesn’t your creed say, ‘Thou shalt not steal?’”
“T-the Bible says so.”
“I gather that you try to live by the Bible?” He sounded condescending.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then, I repeat my terms. I want you to set up a secret meeting between myself and Arthur Sinclair at Weaver’s Needle on Saturday. You can tell no one else, you cannot try to dissuade him, and he must tell no one else. Is that clear?”
Dorothy trembled. She hardly knew why unless it were the cold tones of his voice. “I-it is clear.”
“Very well.” He looked over his shoulder at the mountains again. “I don’t try to live by the Bible.” His dark eyes seem to pierce her again. “It would be a shame for you to escape Charles Sinclair, only to face me. I would hate to find myself in a position where I needed to punish you for theft, Miss Dorothy. You have so much of your life ahead of you and I assure you that my punishment would be less than merciful.”
Dorothy stiffened but could not trust her voice to speak.
He finally nodded. “I see that you understand. Weaver’s Needle. Saturday. Pass on the invitation, Miss Dorothy. I have vital information about Charles Sinclair that must be given to his son.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned away. Dorothy watched him until he disappeared into the desert. Then, she dropped her head into her hands.
God Almighty, what shall I do? I know not which way I must turn. Whatever shall I do?