Free Diamonds in the Dust by Kate Furnivall Page B

swaying alarmingly and his fingers slithered open, releasing the brooches and rings.
    “Now get out of here!”
    “You’re crazy, lady.”
    “I ain’t crazy enough to let you take what’s not yours.”
    “You don’t scare me.”
    “Oh, yes, I do.”
    The rabbity one backed off fast, dragging his wobbly-kneed brother with him, rattling off insults under his breath. Before Hatti could line up for another swing at him, they were gone, scuffling down a nearby alleyway. She took a good long breath and only then stared down at the ground. In front of her feet, in a sparkling heap, lay the equivalent of more than five years’ worth of her slim earnings. The diamonds winked at her. Just asking to be picked up.
    * * *
    “You looking? Or you taking?” a young voice asked.
    Small brown hands started to gather up the rings with quick feral movements. Like a starling stealing grapes. A curtain of poker-straight black hair hid the face of the girl crouched on the ground. Where had she jumped up from?
    “Put them back.”
    Hatti heard the words and was surprised to realize they’d come from her own mouth. What she really meant was,
Give them to me.
    Not far off down the street, a bomb exploded and the girl mewed. When she looked up with huge, fearful eyes, Hatti realized the girl wasn’t much older than the thieving brothers. But her fingers were still hooked on the jewels. She was Asian, with dark, velvety skin and hands as dainty as little koala paws. Hatti felt like a ten-ton truck standing over this slip of a creature.
    “You looking? Or you taking?” the girl asked again.
    “Neither.”
    “I taking.” Her little paw closed around as many rings and gold chains as it could grasp.
    “No!” Hatti said.
    “Yes
, mem
, I taking it before—”
    Her slender shoulder twitched as Hatti laid a ten-ton hand on it.
    “We’re gonna give it back, missy,” Hatti told her.
    Slowly the girl rose to her feet, the jewelry stuck tight as a second skin to her palm, her black eyes fixed fiercely on Hatti’s freckled hand on her shoulder.
    “No,
mem
.”
    Hatti refused to let her eyes be drawn to the winking diamonds. No one was in the street, everyone sheltering from the planes. Explosions from the docks ripped through the silence at intervals.
    “No,
mem
,” the girl said once more, real soft.
    “These don’t belong to us,” Hatti insisted.
    “They belong now.”
    “That’s stealing.”
    “Not stealing. I find all on ground. I pick up.” She attempted to edge her shoulder out from under Hatti’s grip, but Hatti was having none of it. “Not stealing. Just finding.” The girl sneaked a little smile, showing fine white teeth that Hatti envied. “You find too.”
    Hatti felt her gut turn over and her mouth go dry. The girl saw it. Her eyes were quick. She ducked to the floor, scooped up another handful of temptation from the dirt, and thrust it into Hatti’s free hand. They both stood there in Darwin’s morning sunshine, hypnotized by the flashes of blue and green and gold in their hands, by the swaying of a string of milky pearls, by the scintillation of a diamond brooch in the shape of a swan that seemed to swim up in a shimmer of light toward them. They stood in the heat, sweat beading their upper lips, staring and smiling, staring and smiling.
    “What have we here, ladies?” a harsh male voice demanded at Hatti’s elbow. “We don’t take kindly to looters in this town.”
    She turned and found herself face-to-face with another uniform. This time it was the police.
    * * *
    Cheek-scalding shame. It was drowning her. Hatti couldn’t look the desk sergeant in the eye. She mumbled her damn fool name—Hatti Hoot—her age and address, and he wrote them down.
    “Boots.”
    She gave him her boots and watched him remove the laces before returning them to her. He took the belt from her waist too. In the interview room, a man with hard eyes and angular contours to his face listened to her story of the two youths who