Her practiced eyes followed the bracelet’s design, dipping in and out of the radiating lines. She gently nudged the piece to look at the back and found the carved squiggle line which seemed to end in a hook. It appeared just like the ones mentioned in the army doctor’s journal. The weight, shape, and feel of the piece spelled 1880s to her. It was simply the most beautiful of the very early historical bracelets she’d seen during her years of training. It most likely was genuine.
Betty Lou arrived with the guy’s meal. “Here you go, Avery. Cook got you the crispest slices — the ones you like best.”
Avery Gray saluted her with his coffee cup, Matilda returned to her minute inspection of the bracelet. After a few minutes of rather wolfish eating, Gray felt the need to break their silence. “That’s Slender-Maker-of-Silver’s work all right. I’ve seen his son’s stuff and this is just as good but done with cruder tools. It’s got his hallmark, too.”
When Matilda said nothing, just nodded and kept perusing the bracelet. Gray settled into a running monologue between bites of food. From what Matilda overheard, he seemed to be mentioning all the various luminaries in her field he’d done work with; notable anthropologists, archeologists, museum dignitaries, collectors with deep pockets. He even mentioned a popular nature writer, a former ski champion from Colorado, who she’d briefly dated about seven years ago.
The bacon was gone and a second cup of coffee was down to its dregs. Gray narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “You got the money I asked for? In fifty dollar bills, right?”
“Yes, but again — what can you tell be about this bracelet’s provenance? I need convincing documentation.” Matilda hoped her tone sounded stern and unyielding.
“Okay, okay. Slender-Maker-of-Silver lived up near Crystal, ya know.”
Matilda nodded, her eyes fixed firmly on his.
“He had a friend, a close friend who lived down near Gamerco. Guy was a crystal gazer and a hand trembler. Did well money-wise, so he commissioned a bunch of stuff from the smith. Then around the early 1880s he up and married Slender-Maker’s youngest sister. The family has held on to these pieces out of sentimentality.”
“Can I meet them?” Matilda asked. “And why are they willing to part with something like this now?”
Gray shrugged his shoulders. “Need the money, I guess. Whole outfit looks pretty run down. But they are traditionals, don’t want to mix it up with white folk.” He tried to look bland and honest but Matilda’s internal skepticism rose.
“So if that’s the case, why are they selling through you?”
“Oh, well. Forgot to tell you.” Grey laughed and his eyes dipped to the last piece of egg he pushed around on his plate. “My cousin ranches out next to them. Went to school with the eldest boy, so they use him to contact me.”
“And this bracelet was supposed to be a cluster band. Roy Climmer confirmed that was its style. He didn’t mention anything about it being cast.” To her surprise, Matilda saw that her question had thrown Gray into unexpected confusion.
“That’s funny,” Avery Gray said, scratching his stubbly chin. “I had two bracelets. This one and a small clusterwork by Fred Peshlakai. Climmer bought the other one, and said he’d tell you about this cast one.”
The drumbeat of suspicion felt awfully like a headache to Matilda. She’d so wanted to believe Climmer, and only the fact that Tom Vaughn had been involved had kept her playing this suddenly tedious game. One fact, though. Matilda wanted the bracelet. It was the real thing. It was old enough to possibly be by Slender-Maker-of-Silver. There weren’t that many smiths active in this region in the 1880s.
She brought the money out when there seemed to be an ebb in foot traffic near them. She’d deliberately chosen the area off limits to vendors, so they hadn’t been interrupted. Matilda could see the once friendly waitress working in another part of the restaurant. Avery took the envelope, rifling through the bills twice before stowing it in his coat. Matilda noted he appeared ready to move on.
“I have some other things from that cache.” He said as he made to leave. When her uplifted eyebrows urged attention, he sputtered on. “They got a silver single strand naja pendant, nice chisel work. And a tobacco canteen, with floral decoration that makes it seem Mexican-influenced.” He named a reasonable price. Too much so, but intriguing. Matilda’s eyes narrowed in speculation. This bracelet was enough in itself, but the other two items would be welcomed by her director and colleagues. Especially the canteen.
