He stretched out his hand that held the object within it.
“Where did you find this?” asked Abagail, gasping. “Why this is a woman’s necklace. And, it is not simply any woman’s necklace, but one which might have belonged to a lady of ease.”
“It was tangled up in the bushes next to the stream where I bathe,” answered Skenan. “I found these gold coins there, too.”
“Oh,” said Miss Abagail. “The coins had been in my apron, and they probably slipped out when I took off my apron to wash some of the meat. But, the necklace…? Where did it come from? This is the necklace Miss Stockenridge accused me of stealing. How did it come to be there with the coins? Why, the last time I saw it was when Mr. Wilson had held it…rightbefore he gave me the coins. I am starting to believe Mr. Wilson put the necklace there in my apron.”
“Perhaps you are wise,” Skenan said as he offered her both the coins and the necklace to her. She took the coins, but not the necklace. Indeed, she turned her head away from it.
“And so, this jewelry does not belong to you?”
“No,” she answered simply. “And, I do not wish to have it. Throw it away if you must, but I do not wish to have it anywhere on my person or even near me. It has brought me nothing but harm.”
Skenan frowned, and he clutched the necklace within his hand. There was something about this chain and locket, something he could not define, but it was as though the necklace were speaking to him.
He took the jewelry to his sleeping robes, and, sitting, he pulled it this way and that, running his fingers over the black and silver piece. He felt as though this necklace held a secret. But, if it did, how was he to discover it?
Meanwhile, Miss Abagail was preparing their morning meal of corn, beans and the dried deer meat. As he lay on his bedding, Skenan placed the necklace over his heart, trying to discern its message. He was certain there was one. But, what it was alluded him.
Rising and pacing back to Miss Abagail, he sat across from her, keeping the fire between them, and he asked, “What do you know of this necklace?”
“I know nothing of it at all, except that it was the cause of Miss Stockenridge taking the whip to me. And, I suspect…”
“What do you suspect?” Skenan asked.
“Oh, it is nothing,” she said, looking away from him.
“Come,” he invited after a moment, petting the rawhide cloth on the floor beside him. “Sit here with me and let us lookat this piece of jewelry together. I feel it is hiding something. Perhaps together we can discover what secrets it might hold.”
“Oh, all right. However, I would like to serve you breakfast first. May I?”
“Of course,” he answered. “Have you been able to have your morning meal yet?”
“No, I haven’t,” she answered. “I’ve been too busy over the fire.”
“Then, sit here with me, and we shall eat the food together and then look at this white woman’s necklace. I am certain it is hiding something. And, perhaps Miss Stockenridge knew this. Maybe this was why she was so unkind to you, and why she sent dogs after you.”
“’Unkind’ is a very mild word for what she did, but you might be right.”
“True,” he said. “But, perhaps this might explain why Mr. Wilson sent me after you. He told me you were carrying something important. Could there be a message within this locket, perhaps?”
“I do not know. But, I will sit next to you, and, together, we can try to unlock the locket’s mystery,” said Miss Abagail as she paced around the fire and sat down next to him. “It is certainly a pretty piece of jewelry. And, perhaps, Mr. Skenan, I should tell you I remembered something when I was in battle with the bear a few days past. Perhaps it is important, perhaps not.”
“But, you will tell me what it is?”
She nodded. “I will tell you.”
Abagail watched Skenan’s hand as he held the locket in one hand while he gently ran his fingers over the raised image of the design on the outside of the locket. His fingers were strong and quite handsome, really. But, there was something about the care he took with the necklace that caused her to wonder how it would feel if he were to touch her in a like manner.
No!
She forced her mind back to the present and away from the necklace. Especially this was so, knowing he would be leaving her at the fort soon, he to go his way and she to go her own.
Indeed, she did not wish to find him too attractive or to become too attached to him. She was already beholden to him. She didn’t wish to come even more into his debt. And so, she looked away.
But, she gazed back at him when she heard him press the clasp of the fine jewelry, opening the locket. She caught her breath. There was a picture inside; a tiny painting of a lovely young girl.
And, although the girl in the tiny painting appeared to be dressed like an aristocrat, it still made little sense as to why Miss Stockenridge had felt it necessary to whip Abagail because of the jewelry’s finery. Or was there more to it?
