Chapter 6

Hal was a portly man, red faced and slightly damp. “You’re Ike Lawrence’s boy, aren’t you? How you holding up?”

I nodded as he pumped my hand in his wet grip. I didn’t answer, but by the way he looked me up and down, he could gather how well I was holding up. I hadn’t looked in a mirror, but I could tell by his sudden intake of air I probably looked slightly crazy.

“I need something,” I said, then moved away from his appraising eyes. “Something to remember her by.” I thought I had said it under my breath, so when he answered me, I was a little surprised.

“Of course, son. I understand.” His voice was sympathetic and it stabbed me, gave the loss that was still so near a fine-tipped edge that made me inhale sharply.

“Just hired a new smith—guy’s out back working on a new line of silver. You wanna come on back and take a look? He can make you whatever you want.”