Footsteps padded down the veranda her way along with a small light.
Had Charlie come onto the porch now?
As the light drew nearer, she stiffened and waited for a shout that would alert Shaw of her whereabouts. But at the sight of a full skirt and Zaira’s womanly figure, Alannah breathed out her relief.
Zaira ambled over to the wicker chair, placed a candle on the side table, then began to lower herself.
What was the young woman doing? She needed to finda different spot to sit, a spot that wouldn’t be so close to Alannah and wouldn’t draw unwanted attention.
As Zaira reclined, she scooted the chair closer to the plant. Then she spread out her skirt, drawing one side over her crossed leg in such a way that it blocked the opening between the chair and the pot.
Alannah could no longer see anything. But that also meant neither Shaw nor Charlie could see her. Had Zaira guessed she was hiding on the veranda and purposefully positioned the chair to conceal her even more?
There was no other explanation.
Zaira was so sweet. Alannah wanted to reach up and squeeze the young woman’s arm to silently communicate with her, but she couldn’t risk moving. She also wanted to ask Zaira how she’d known about the hiding place. Maybe Zaira had passed by when Alannah had been so engrossed in a book that she hadn’t realized anyone had noticed her.
Some of the tension in Alannah’s body eased. Even so, as the two men continued to call out to each other, she waited, unmoving.
After a few moments, the lantern light grew brighter, and Zaira drew herself up and flounced her skirt.
“Did you find her, Mr. Farrell?” Zaira’s tone held a note of accusation.
“Any more buildings on the property?” His reply was curt, almost frustrated.
“I guarantee if there were more, she wouldn’t hide in any of them, not if she knows you’re coming after her.”
The gang leader was intimidating, and Alannah was surprised at how composed Zaira was remaining while talking to him.
Even so, the young woman was playing a dangerous game with one of the most notorious men in St. Louis. Alannah couldn’t let her come to harm. But she had the feeling someone was going to get hurt, maybe even killed. And there would be nothing she could do to stop it....
22
Flames greeted Kiernan as the brickyard came into view. The fire roared into the dark night sky above the drying sheds, above the cabin serving as his office, and above the wooden frame of the new tenement that was halfway built.
With dread coursing through him, he kicked his stirrups against his stallion, urging it faster.
During the ride over, all he’d been able to think about was Torin. That’s why Shaw had come out to the brickyard—to finally capture Torin and make him pay for leaving the gang. From the extent of the destruction, it was clear that Shaw was also punishing Kiernan for sheltering Torin.
Kiernan’s pulse thundered in tempo with his horse’s hooves, and he prayed that Torin had escaped Shaw’s clutches.
Blast. Why hadn’t he taken better care since meeting Shaw in the woods to warn Torin, to even encourage him to go into hiding? Now, maybe it was too late.
A gust of smoke hit Kiernan in the face, and he ducked his head. But his eyes were already stinging, and he coughed.
This was madness. Did Shaw think he and the rest of his gang could get away with this kind of destruction? Kiernan would hire the best lawyer in St. Louis—or beyond, if necessary—to take up a case against the gang leader.
Shouts rose into the air, and men were racing everywhere. Were they still battling against the gang? Or were they only fighting the fire now?
As his horse pounded past the worker tents and low campfires, now deserted, he was grateful the men had risen to the challenge and rushed out to save the brickyard, but how many had been hurt?
As he reached the new tenement, he reined in his horse a safe distance away and dismounted. Men formed a line from the nearby well to the building, and they were passing buckets to one another as fast as they could work. But it wasn’t enough. The fresh wood frame, even if damp from the rain earlier in the day, was alight with dozens of small fires.
If they had a fire crew with hoses spraying the framed building down, maybe they would be able to save it. But from what he could tell, it was a lost cause.
“The Farrell gang?” he called to the closest fellow, one of the miners.
The man paused and nodded at Kiernan. “Took us by surprise, that they did. But they’re gone now.”
