see that.” Still as she studied her twin, she got the feeling something had happened to upset her usually unflappable brother. She and Darby had always been close. They’d shared the same womb. But she couldn’t put her finger on what it was about him that made her think he wasn’t telling her everything.
“Did you run into our brothers while you were there?” she asked.
“Didn’t see Hawk or Cyrus, but Flint was walking around looking like a Western lawman,” Darby said.
“He is a Western lawman,” Lillie said of her brother Sheriff Flint Cahill, the black sheep of the family. Flint had always played by the rules, while the rest of them had never minded bending the rules or the law. Now he followed the letter of the law. Needless to say, they often butted heads over it—especially when he arrested their father on those occasions when Ely came out of the mountains and had too much to drink.
“Hawk and Cyrus stopped by earlier,” Billie Dee said as she got up to put her plate in the dishwasher. “They said they were moving cattle today and skipping the festival and all that craziness. I asked if they were going to the dance tonight. No surprise, they weren’t.”
“They are going to stay old crotchety bachelors forever at this rate,” Lillie said, and then she saw that her brother had stopped eating. He was picking at the spicy pinto beans distractedly, frowning as if his mind was miles away. Or maybe just back downtown where the festival was still going strong.
Lillie felt worse about making him take care of their promotion at the Chokecherry Festival. Now something was bothering him that hadn’t been this morning before he’d left.
“Is everything all right?” she asked bringing him out of his trance.
Darby smiled, complimented Billie Dee on the food and dug back into his meal before he said, “Couldn’t be better.”
But she sensed that wasn’t true. Something was definitely different about him.
* * *
SINCE HE AND Lillie had traded shifts today, Darby had the rest of the day off. He almost wished he was working though. At least that would help keep his mind off the woman at the festival.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said to Billie Dee as he put his plate into the dishwasher. “You sure you can handle it tonight without me?” he asked his sister.
“It will be slow with everyone at the festival and street dance,” she said. “I’ll probably close early, but thanks for the offer. What are you going to do the rest of the day?”
He shrugged. “Probably just take it easy.” Retrieving his Stetson and jacket, he headed upstairs, glad his sister hadn’t asked to see what he’d done with her old apartment. As he unlocked the door and looked around, he admitted there wasn’t much to see.
When it had been Lillie’s, the place had such a homey feel. Now it was anything but. He’d bought a bed, taken his chest of drawers from his room at the ranch, complete with the stickers from his youth on the front, and found an old leather recliner at a garage sale.
Other than that, the apartment was pretty sparse. Fortunately, Lillie had left the curtains, the rug on the living room floor and a couple of lamps, along with a television. The place was definitely nicer than the old cabin he’d been living in before, so it was just fine with him. More than fine. He’d never needed much for creature comforts.
As he closed the door behind him, he felt bad though. He’d have to be a complete fool not to know that Lillie was dying to help him “decorate.” He cringed at the thought. She’d fuss and bring in plants he’d forget to water, a bunch of pillows he wouldn’t know what to do with and knickknacks he’d end up breaking. No, she had her big house on the ranch to do her magic on. He wouldn’t bother her. At least that would be his excuse.
He hung up his hat and was about to do the same with his jean jacket when he remembered the bracelet. Taking it out, he turned it in his fingers. It was fancy looking enough. Heavier than it appeared too, the surface buffed to a rich patina. He brushed his fingertip over the round black stone on one side of the wide cuff bracelet. Probably plastic, the whole bracelet no doubt made out of some cheap metal and not worth anything. Otherwise why would the woman have to resort to stealing?
As he started to put it down, he noticed that the clasp was broken. It must have happened when he’d pulled it from her arm. With a start, he remembered the tan line on her wrist, a wide white patch of skin where her bracelet had been as she was hurrying into the crowd. Surprised, he realized this was a piece of jewelry she wore all the time. If it was nothing but cheap costume jewelry, then it must have sentimental value. He frowned, as curious about the bracelet as he was the woman who’d worn it.
His mind whirling, he looked at his phone to check the time. The local jewelry store was still open. If he went the back way and entered the store from the rear, he could avoid the crowds still on the main street.
There was, of course, a temptation to look again for the woman. But he told himself that she wouldn’t have hung around. After what happened, wouldn’t she be worried that he’d alert the sheriff about her?
Now that he thought of it, why hadn’t he? What if she’d been picking pockets all day at the festival? He let out a groan, realizing that he’d been so captivated by her that he hadn’t even thought about reporting her.
He didn’t think she would try to pick anyone else’s pocket after what had happened with him. More than likely, she’d expect him to notify the sheriff. If he was right, there would be no reason to look for her in the crowd because she would have left, thinking the law was looking for her.
Darby knew he was making excuses for not notifying his lawman brother. He’d been embarrassed by the whole incident. And yet he was still curious about the woman who’d worn the bracelet. Still curious and still shaken by the effect she’d had on him for that second when their eyes had met.
The piece looked unusual enough, he told himself. The fact that it must have been a favorite of hers piqued his interest even more. He stuffed the bracelet back into his jacket pocket and, Stetson on his head, headed for the door.
* * *
THE ELDERLY JEWELER put the loupe to his eye and slowly studied the bracelet Darby had handed him. “You say you picked it up at a garage sale?”
He wished now that he’d come up with a better story. “In Billings.”
“Interesting.”
Darby waited as jeweler John T. Marshall went over every square inch of the bracelet. “It’s just costume jewelry, right, John?” No answer. The piece couldn’t be that interesting, he thought.
John finally put the bracelet down along with the loupe. He shook his head, seemingly unable to take his eyes off the piece. “It’s not costume jewelry. It’s fourteen-karat yellow gold.”
That explained why it was so heavy. With a start, Darby realized it could have more than just sentimental value to the woman. “So what can you tell me about it?”
“The gold alone in weight is worth several thousand dollars, but its real worth is that it is a rare piece of vintage Roma jewelry.”
“Roma jewelry?”
The jeweler nodded. “I’ve only read about it. This type of
