“So you’re saying I can get a bargain.”

“I’m saying you can get a fair price.”

“I’d be happy to take them off your hands,” he says. “But I’ll have to stable them at the hotel until I find a buyer, so the best I can offer is seventy-five each. Ninety if you throw in the wagon.”

“They’re a matched driving team and saddle-broke to boot!” The man perusing mining equipment glances our way. I force calm into my voice. “Worth at least two hundred and forty for the pair.”

Free Jim leans forward, resting his arms on the counter. His voice is so low I must strain to hear: “I don’t keep much money on hand. Man like me has no place to put it.”

It’s a split second before I realize he’s talking about the bank. They won’t open an account for a Negro.

“So I mostly trade in goods and store credit, understand? If you want to hear the jangle of gold eagles, and I suspect you do, you’ll have to let it all go for one hundred and eighty dollars, and I’ll be doing that as a favor to your late father.”

“Oh.”

His gaze softens. “Tell you what. I’ll throw in a few men’s shirts.”

“Men’s shirts?”

“I’m sure your uncle could use some new ones.” Whispering, he adds: “Light. Easy to carry. They’ll be worth ten dollars or more to the right person at the right time.”

“I see.”

The stranger picks up a pan, turns it over in the light, as if pondering how such a thing could possibly help in the search for gold.

Free Jim asks, “Ever heard a mockingbird?”

I’m not sure what he’s getting at. “We had one last summer, sounded just like an oriole. Mama would get so excited, then she’d look and look and never see it.”

“You understand what I’m saying, then. If someone’s looking for an oriole, that mockingbird is going to slip right by them.” He pauses. “Anyway, I’ll throw in some men’s shirts. I’m sure your uncle will find a good use for them.”

I swallow hard. “I appreciate that, sir.”

“So. People might come around asking after . . . Jefferson. Which way should I say he went? By land or sea?”

“By sea. He went by sea. I’m sure of it.”

“All right, then.” I’m not sure why Free Jim is so keen to help me out. Maybe it’s because he was such good friends with my daddy. Maybe he has his own suspicions about Uncle Hiram. Regardless, I need to get out of town fast, before Free Jim isn’t the only one who figures what I’m about.