Timebound(93)

I was about to ask what a necessary was, but then I considered his blush and put two and two together.

“So what d’you say, miss?” he continued, quickly. “You don’ wanna be goin’ around by y’rself. There’s spots what ain’ safe for a young lady to be in—there’s some bad folk here might take advan’age of a girl on her own, y’know.”

We had reached the middle of the avenue between the Mining Building and the Electricity Building. The gold dome of the Administration Building was just ahead, but Katherine’s lavender feather was nowhere in sight.

Sighing, I glanced around and could see that he was correct—there were plenty of women in groups or even pairs, but I didn’t see even one unaccompanied female. I had to admit that I would probably look less conspicuous if I wasn’t alone.

There was also the fact that he had seen the letter. I still wasn’t sure how much he had read, and I decided that it might make sense to keep the kid in sight and under my control until I was out of there. And it was pretty clear that the promise of additional cash would keep him close.

He could tell that I was mulling it over, so he stood quietly, stick-straight, with his hands behind his back—a small, grubby soldier awaiting inspection. It was apparently difficult for him to keep perfectly still, however, especially with such a major business deal on the line, and the excess energy had him bobbing up and down on his toes, like a pogo stick.

“I thought you had another job to be at.”

“Not ’til a lot later,” he said, shaking his head. “And that’s just helpin’ me mom at the booth t’night, and she’d much rather I was workin’ somewhere else if I c’n bring in some extra. It’s been tough since me dad…” Died? Left? He didn’t finish the sentence and his face closed while thinking about it, so I decided not to press.

He was thin and his clothes were worn, and I suspected that his assessment that his mother would be happy to have a few extra dollars for the week was dead-on. He also seemed pretty sharp—which was a mixed bag, given that he knew more than I wanted him to about my arrival. The dark eyes were a bit mischievous, but his face looked honest and open.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Well, they used t’call me dad Mick and me Little Mickey, on accoun’ of us bein’ Irish an’ all. Only he’s gone now and I’m not that little anymore, so you c’n just call me Mick.”

“Okay, Mick—how old are you?”

“Twelve years, miss,” he answered without a pause.

I raised a very skeptical eyebrow. “How old are you really? I’m not going to refuse to hire you because of your age—I just want to know.”

“Nearly nine,” he said.

“Try again.”

“No really—I’ll be nine in August,” he said.

Given that it was October, he seemed to be stretching “nearly nine” to the breaking point, but at least that age seemed plausible. I tried to think up a story that an eight-year-old would buy, one that might keep him close and quiet until I was ready for the jump home. My mind flashed back to a book I’d read in middle school about Nellie Bly, the famous girl reporter of the 1880s who had traveled around the world on her own in seventy-two days. I was pretty sure she had been about my age when she started reporting.

“Okay,” I said, bending down closer to his eye level. “Here’s the deal I can offer, Mick, and it’s not open for negotiation. I’m Kate—I’m a journalist, a writer… for a newspaper back East. I usually work with a partner, my photographer, but he’s been delayed. I could use an assistant, but you’ll have to do exactly as I say—no questions and no talking to anyone about this, because I’m working on an exclusive, okay?”

His brow creased a bit at the last part. I suspected that he wasn’t quite sure what an exclusive was but didn’t want to admit it. “A reporter? Followin’ them other two, right? The man an’ woman who came up before you? What’s he then, a criminal or somethin’? He looked shady, he did—”

I gave him a sharp look and cut him off. “No questions, remember? Five dollars for the time I’m here,” I continued. “I might be leaving today, but I could be here tomorrow as well, depending on how long it takes to get my story. I’ll pay your expenses, too—meals and the like. And the first stop we make is to the gentlemen’s necessary, and you scrub up—I want an assistant that’s clean and presentable. Then you help me get to the Midway before ten o’clock.”