For some reason, the idea that Cypress could have had such a brief conversation is harder for me to swallow than the idea that he’s been watching me more than I thought. “You swear?”
“Yes, sir.”
I sigh, adjusting my hat after I drag my fingers through my hair, and the boy’s expression lightens, perhaps sensing his testimony is over. “You sure you don’t need help? I was thinkin’, if you need to, you can use my targets.”
“Your targets?” I ask, not following this second subject change any better than the first.
“Yeah, you know…to practice for your gunfights.”
As usual, the reminder of who I’d been hits me like a punch in the gut, and my right fist clenches in my pocket, reminding me of the parcel. “I told you I’m not him.”
“If you say so…” he says back, looking away and rolling his eyes before he tries something else. “Well, even if you ain’t him, could you still give me some pointers?”
“Sure,” I say, and he perks up right until I offer, “Stay out of trouble.”
He rolls his eyes again, this time giving me an exasperated huff, too. “You sound like my ma,” he mumbles.
“You ought to listen to her,” I tell him, getting the words out even though my heart constricts in my chest. I reach into myother pocket to grab a few pennies, and apparently expecting the gesture, the boy holds out his hand for me to drop them in his palm. “If he says anything else, you’ll tell me?”
To my surprise, he shrugs, but still pockets the money. “Might not. Now that I know you’re not pals.”
My brow furrows. I really don’t know a damn thing about children. “What’s that got to do with it?”
The boy shrugs again. “He pays better than you.”
I make it as far as two steps outside of the stable before I pull the little black bundle from my pocket, though I can’t help checking over my shoulder a few more times for either Cypress or anyone else that might be on his payroll before I open it.
While it had been in my coat, I’d been able to feel the weight of it, note the hard smooth surface beneath the fabric to the extent that I already suspected what it is. But when I pull the cloth away, I have to lean against the outside of the stable to steady myself.
Itisa pocket watch. But it is notmypocket watch.
This one isbeautiful, a fine polished silver with delicate flowers and sweeping lines etched into its lid, the pattern almost appearing chaotic until you look at it close enough to make out the three distinct overlapping circles that act as its foundation. And inside—well, this one certainly functions, the three small silver hands ticking along over the simple clock face telling me how long I’ve been staring.
There’s no question in my mind that this cost a fortune. Likely more than any other style in the shop that sold it. Just as she’d said it did.
About ten minutes later (I can’t be precisely sure because for some reason continuing to use the watch feels like approval), I walk into the jeweler near the hotel for the second time. When I do, I find the same young woman behind the counter, who looks only slightly more enthused to see me now than she had the day before.
“Morning, miss.” She’s got a green dress on today instead of the yellow, and something about the color tugs at me in a way I can’t place. “I’m afraid I need to bother you again.”
“No bother,” she tells me as she places the broach she’d been polishing back in its case, and I’d like to believe it. “How can I help you?”
“You told me yesterday that someone had come in and bought a watch.”
“That’s right,” she confirms, watching me approach with a bit more interest. “A lovely piece.”
I sigh, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the watch. I set it carefully on the counter in front of her before unwrapping it from the black fabric. “Would this be the one?”
Her eyes widen when she sees it, and she looks quickly between me and the item as if trying to understand how we could appear together. “It is.” She places a hand on her chest, her expression turning worried. “Don’t tell me…did something happen to Cypress?”
“Something’s going to,” I mutter, even more irritated that they seem to be on a first-name basis. “What did he tell you when he bought it?”
She frowns, crossing her arms. “I don’t make a habit of freely giving out my customers’ personal details. However it is that you came upon this watch, I suggest—”
“He gave it to me,” I say, stopping her before she can finish telling me off. “He left it on my bed this morning.”
She looks surprised, but then she smiles, her tone softening. “Oh. I see.”
“No.” I hold up a hand to stop her again. “No, he’s a—weare not—”