CLOCKWORK

The man, out of breath and red faced, clomped into the saloon and made a beeline to the poker table. He paused, clutching a cloth-wrapped parcel to his chest.

"Well?" Ezra drawled, leaning back in his chair, looking bored and annoyed. With one hand, he flipped a coin idly, catching it with the same hand, and then flipping it again. "You have left me waiting for some time."

"I hurried as fast as I could," the man countered. "Had to run to my room and back."

Ezra pulled his watch from its pocket with his free hand and declared, "It's 7:00 in the evening. My compatriot and I have much to do before the day is over."

"Not yet seven," the man, a drummer named Jenkins, declared, pointing out the window. "It's still a quarter to!" And he indicated the big clock tower on the city hall.

Ezra frowned. "That clock is wrong."

"It ain't off bad today," someone in the crowd muttered and people checked their watches against the clock. "It's just about right." And everyone around him murmured their agreement. "Minute or two off if anything."

Someone else added, "Long as the town runs on that time, all is well."

"But the train is always early!" someone else piped in helpfully.

Ezra sighed, sounding put upon, as he clapped his pocket watch shut. He returned it to his waistcoat and said, "Still, I have been waiting." He flipped the coin again.

The man went on, "I brought it, just like I told you. Can't help it if it takes a while to fetch it." He unwrapped the parcel as if it was a mummy fresh from the tomb. "Grand, ain't it?"

The little crowd leaned in, and some of them even breathed a quiet, "Oooo!"

"What is it?" JD asked excitedly, sitting up violently from his seat. "What you got?" Then, "It's gold, Ezra! It's a gold clock!"

Triumphantly, the man thumped the mantle clock down on the table. "Pure gold and worth $20! I know 'cause that's what I just paid for it at that second-hand store."

Ezra let the coin drop to the table with a little 'clink'. "Gold?" he asked drearily. "I rather doubt that." But his gaze stayed fastened on the clock.

"It's gold, alright," Jenkins continued. "Just look at it. You can check it out if you want."

"I shall," Ezra responded. One hand crawled across the table and snagged the ornate piece. He pulled it to himself and poked at the clock, hefted it and grimaced. "It's definitely not solid gold. It doesn't have the weight."

"Aw," the drummer grumbled, having realized the same already. "It's a mighty fine piece though. Well worth the amount needed to stay in the game, don't you think?"

"Does it run?" Ezra asked.

Jenkins shrugged. "Like I said, I just bought it today. Someone is selling off all the mortal belongings of some fella named Dunkirk who got himself killed. There's a man down the street selling his assets."

One of the observers nodded and said, "Lucky Pete has a mighty fine shop. He'll buy up just about anything and resell it."

"The clock really is a beaut," Jenkins went on. "It's well made, and darn pretty, too. You look like the kind of man that enjoys fine things, am I right? I'm thinkin' it's worth at least twice what I paid for it. I aim to sell it when I reach Tucson."

Ezra continued his examination of the clock. He scrutinized the face, opened the back to check the works, checked the front cabinet door and poked at the pendulum that was loose for travel at the bottom of the box.

"So, are we okay?" Jenkins asked, rubbing his hands.

"If it is so valuable to you," Ezra started, "I'm afraid you might find yourself… miserable at its loss."

Jenkins smiled. "I don't think that's gonna happen. I think you're the one gonna feel some misery when this is done."

Ezra pushed the weight, shoving it around a little in the space. He paused in his movements and withdrew his hand carefully.

"It looks pretty good, Ezra," JD decided to put in. "Bet it's worth what he paid for it."

Ezra flashed JD a withering look, and then settled the clock next to the pile of cash. "As my young friend stated, it is worth enough to call. This will do," he stated.

Jenkins grinned as he returned to his seat, settling his hat beside him. His hand of cards remained on the table and he glanced at those who were left to guard it.

A man with a scruffy beard told Jenkins, "Nothin's been touched. Only thing that happened is that kid started belly-achin' that they didn't serve milk here at the Rose."

The men chuckled. JD sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring toward Ezra. "All I wanted was something to drink that'd fill me up. I'm hungry."

Ezra raised his hand toward JD. "Patience, my friend," he said. "We'll be finished here shortly." And he picked up his waiting cards. "Ready, sir?"

"More than ready!" Jenkins said confidently, his greedy gaze on the pile of cash and merchandise. "I'm gonna sleep well tonight! Gonna get me a fine bed at the inn instead of at the Hotel Partridge, and a big ol' dinner. Sorry, kid," he addressed JD. "You and your fancy friend here will have to go hungry when this hand is done."

JD's jaw dropped a fraction and he jerked his gaze toward Ezra who kept his attention on Jenkins.

"We'll just have to see what happens next," Standish told Jenkins. "Your cards, sir?"

And in the matter of a few moments, Jenkins left the table with nothing but his hat as Ezra raked the spoils in.

The other men in the saloon brayed at the departing drummer, and slapped Ezra on the back.

Ezra grinned, accepting their praise. "Anyone up for another game?" he asked as he stacked the bills.

JD moaned and clutched his stomach as if it pained him, but nobody wanted to take the gambler up on his offer. Jenkins gone, the crowd dispersed.

"Pity," Ezra mumbled as he folded the bills and shoved them into his pocket. He took the cloth that had wrapped the clock and put it to that purpose again.

"We going?" JD asked.

"It's time we found some dinner," Ezra declared as he stood, tucking the clock under his arm and moving toward the door. "But first, a quick stop in our room."

JD grabbed his hat and hurried to keep up with the southerner.

~oOoOoOoOoOo~

"I think," JD said as they moved through the door to their hotel, "I think we should try that Marilee's Restaurant." He nodded to the desk clerk as they breezed through the lobby at the Wagner Hotel and headed to the stairs. "Smelled pretty good when we went by. I think she had fresh biscuits baking and it looked like a nice place, since they had white linens on the table and flowers there, too, and I think you should buy, seein' as how you won so much money and made me wait so long 'cause I haven't even had lunch 'cept for that sandwich and apple on the trail and that wasn't nearly enough and I usually like to eat by 6 o'clock."

They clomped up the stairs to the second level and to their room. "Think they have fresh fried chicken?" JD asked as Ezra keyed open the door. "I could do for some fried chicken and mashed potatoes and corn and maybe some cake or something sweet for dessert."

Ezra said nothing and headed toward one of the beds. It was their second room in the hotel, the first had overlooked the privies out back, and Ezra wanted nothing to do with that – he preferred to have a decent view of the main street, and managed to procure the better room somehow.

Once seated, Standish unwrapped the clock.

"That's a mighty fine clock you won, Ezra," JD told him. "You aimin' to keep it or to sell it?"

"I aim to crack it open," Ezra responded, flashing a mischievous grin at the kid.

"What? I don't… why's that?" JD sat on the bed opposite Ezra's.

"Patience, Mr. Dunne. Wait and see." The gambler pulled open the cabinet door on the clock and tipped it until the loose pendulum dropped out. Then he turned it further until the clock was totally upside down. He gave its bottom a solid whack.

JD squeaked in disbelief. "Hey, that ain't going to do it no good," he declared and Ezra whacked it again, and then he narrowed his eyes as the square piece of wood that formed the cabinet's floor fell into Ezra's awaiting hand.

Ezra up-righted the clock and peaked into the cabinet. "Ah-ha! Very clever."

"What? What is it?" JD inquired, leaning in close.

Ezra turned the device so that JD could see. There was an open area beneath the false floor of the clock, a secret space – and mortared to the floor with clay – a key.

~oOoOoOoOoOo~

"How'd you know it was there?" JD asked as he wiped at his hands with the white napkin. Bare chicken bones, jam and crumbs littered his otherwise empty plates.

Ezra shrugged. "The floor didn't fit securely to the bottom of the cabinet. Certainly, a fine clock such as that would have been made better. The floor was probably meant to be lifted with greater care, but I didn't have time to find a proper tool."

"What are you going to do with it?" JD glanced at the skeleton key on the table. It was a distinctive looking piece, engraved with curly-cues along its length.

Ezra shrugged. "I was hoping to find the family jewelry secreted in the clock's base. Instead I have a worthless key to nothing."

JD picked up the key and scrutinized it. "Bet it goes to something important. I've never seen a key so fancy."

"Pity we have no idea what that might be." Ezra looked disappointed and intrigued at the same time.

"That fella Jenkins said he bought the clock at a sale. Someone was selling a bunch of stuff for a guy that died. Maybe the lock that goes with this key is there somewhere?" And JD lifted his gaze to meet Ezra's eyes. "It makes sense, don't it?"

And a light seemed to come on in the gambler. "Yes," Ezra declared, shoving back his chair and standing. "Perfect sense, Mr. Dunne. Let's see if the sale is still going on that this hour. Perhaps we can get a little lucky." He snagged an appropriate amount of money from his pocket, and left it at the table. As he leaned, he took the key from JD.

JD looked momentarily annoyed, but followed the gambler nonetheless.

"Delightful," Standish told the serving girl as they moved past her. "Please thank the cook."

"I done the baking," the girl said hopefully.

"Yeah, I loved your biscuits," JD told her, and blushed before he followed Ezra out through the door.

The streets were dark with early evening, but lively with people. The town of Bernard was an up and coming burg, on the new rail line and eager to attract commerce.

JD and Ezra had traveled overnight to the locale. The judge had sent them on a mission to drop off some important paperwork at the city hall. Their work done, they'd spent the rest of the day at their leisure, and Ezra found a game where they'd spent most of the evening - much to JD's disappointment. Dunne had been hoping for something a little more exciting.

JD kept stride with Ezra on the boardwalk, ducking and darting to keep from running into anyone. "What if the key opens a treasure chest?" JD asked. "What if it opens a safe? What if it opens a secret cabinet filled with secrets and things like that? What if there are jewels and gold coins and untold riches?"

Ezra looked hungry for a moment, and then glum as he sighed. "We have no idea if we will be able to find the right lock at this shop. There's no telling how long that key has been in that clock. It may have been there many years before it fell into Dunkirk's possession. It probably opens nothing of significance, some old musty keepsake box – empty save for a few dead moth carcasses… but…" and he grinned at JD. "One never knows, and I love a mystery. Especially one that might lead to…" and he licked his lips as he kept striding. "… untold riches."

JD beamed at the thought. "I get half of whatever you get," he said. "It was my idea to go lookin'!"

Ezra chuckled and mumbled, "We'll see about how things are divided." And then he declared, "Ah!" as they came to a little shop, still lit at that hour. They peered into the dusty window. The room was lined with shelves and plumb full of second-hand merchandise. The sign above the store declared the place to be "Lucky Pete's Take it or Leave it."

"This looks like the place," Ezra declared as he put his hand to the doorknob. Suddenly, he turned to JD and whispered harshly, "Say nothing about the key."

"Right!" JD replied in a hushed tone and gave Ezra a conspiratorial look. Ezra responded with a roll of the eyes as he opened the door.

"Good day, sir," Ezra called as he strode into the quiet yet crammed store.

A leathery-looking old man, mostly likely Lucky Pete, looked up from his seat at the back of the store.

"Lovely store," Ezra went on.

"You lookin' for anything in particular?" the old man asked, seeming to hurry them along.

"Not… particularly," Ezra said. And then after a moment, "Anything new come in lately?"

"Fella named Dunkirk got killed the other day. He had some good taste. His stuff is over on those tables. But everything I got here is good. Ya'll should take a gander."

"Gander we shall," Ezra responded.

JD lifted his head to Ezra to give him a wink, but thought better of it, and then turned toward the indicated tables. He was stopped when Ezra's hand fell on his arm. "Why don't you go lookin' over there, JD," Ezra said. "No need to crowd this area any further than it already is. You might find something that you need."

JD snorted in annoyance, but when Ezra gave him a glare, he backed off. "Yeah," he said. I could use some new used things, I guess. I'll look around."

Ezra grinned and then turned toward the tables that Lucky Pete had indicated.

JD moved to the other side of the store and started to peruse the shelves of the Take It or Leave It. There was so much to see – every surface was jumbled with cast offs - the flotsam and jetsam of a world that kept moving on. There were coffee grinders, bellows, stirrups, crystal vases, china plates, tin cups, doilies, seat cushions, empty canning jars, stringy-haired dolls that looked as if they might have been haunted, portraits of unpleasant looking people with eyes that followed you around the room, lids without pots, pots without lids, this that and everything, all in shadow and the glow thrown up from the lanterns that illuminated the place.

"Ezra," JD called as his gaze flashed across something. "Ezra? Come see this!"

The conman appeared at his side almost instantly, his eyes alight in anticipation.

"Did you see this?" JD asked. "It's incredible!"

"What? Behind the snow globe?"

"Snow… globe…" JD repeated the name as he gingerly touched the article. "I've never seen anything like it before."

Ezra sighed, and then stated instructionally, "It's a newfangled thing. All the rage in France, I've heard. If you pick it up and shake it, snow will appear to fall inside." He didn't look impressed. "Not good for anything but holding papers in place."

JD smiled and grabbed the clear glass globe with the winter image of a house and trees inside. He tipped it and then set it upright. Then, in amazement, he watched the snow drift inside. "Wow!" JD proclaimed and did it again.

He looked up to Ezra, delighted to share his fascination, but Ezra had already wandered back to the other side of the room. JD mumbled, "I like it anyway." He raised his voice and asked, "How much for the snow globe?"

The man shrugged. "Two bits, I guess."

JD grabbed the knick-knack and kept searching the shelves, picking up anything that looked like it might have a lock. It'd be great if he was the one that found it! Then he could be the one who won the mystery prize.

There was all manner of piffle and gewgaw, but nothing had a lock that matched the pattern on the key.

JD kept looking. He found a soft red blanket that would be perfect for his bed and a dusty watch that seemed to work once it was wound. He needed a new one. Next, he found a leather bag filled with marbles. "I would've liked these when I was a kid." He couldn't pass that up.

There was a clever little travel lamp with a lid that clamped down tightly and enclosed reservoir of oil. It was perfect for his saddlebag so that he could have some light to read his dime store novels.

Then he saw the squirrel. It stopped him dead in his tracks and he almost shouted for Ezra again – but thought better of it. It might have been real, but the pose was too staged. A gray squirrel waited on the shelf, stuffed and mounted so that it sat on a tiny rocking chair, reading a book and smoking a pipe. So realistic

Delighted, JD reached for it and pulled it close.

It was incredible! The taxidermy squirrel looked almost human in its pose. Beady glass eyes seemed to regard him intelligently. Its clenched toothed grimace almost said, "take me with you."

He couldn't leave something like this behind! He piled it on top of his other treasures

Suddenly, from the back of the store, a tired voice said, " Lamp oil ain't cheap. I'd like to be closing up soon."

"And so you will!" Ezra responded, sounding triumphant. "Mr. Dunne, I think we've done all the shopping we need to do for one night." He moved on the other side of the shelves. "Let us settle our bill and be off."

"Hey… ah… okay…" JD twisted about with his load, knowing that there was certainly more here to check out, but the shop was closing. Maybe they could come back in the morning?

He brought his choices to where the old, impatient-looking man waited.

Ezra appeared with a pretty wooden chest that had been tied up with twine. He looked unimpressed, but JD could see that light of excitement hiding in those eyes.

Standish settled the chest beside JD's pile and froze a moment, noting the rocking chair and squirrel tableau. He gave JD a searching look. Maybe he was hopeful that Dunne would tell him it was all a joke, but JD just returned the gaze with his own earnest expression.

Ezra let out a long-suffering sigh, and then turned to the proprietor. He smiled winningly and asked, "How much?"

TBC
There's probably nothing important in that chest