Alannah clutched Zaira’s cloak, a fine light linen that wasn’t as heavy as a winter coat but would provide covering for the cooler temperatures that had blown in with the rain. It was soft, almost velvety, and smelled of roses. Even though she couldn’t see the color in the darkness, she knew it was a rich plum that contrasted Zaira’s red hair.
Zaira was so pretty and sweet and innocent.
’Twas a bad idea to involve her, especially with how dangerous Shaw and Charlie were. “Zaira, wait.”
Only silence came from the library.
“Zaira?” Alannah whispered louder.
After a moment with still no response, she sank back against the wall and closed her eyes. Zaira wasn’t like most women, was more determined, more adventurous, and morecunning. Alannah suspected that even if she tried, Zaira wouldn’t be swayed from this mission.
A hooded and cloaked figure raced past the veranda from the direction of the servants’ entrance at the side of the house. As the person started across the backyard, Alannah held her breath. Wearing the ragged cloak and simple black skirt, Zaira looked like a poor maid, to be sure.
Alannah was tempted to call out and put a stop to the plan, but Zaira was hurrying too fast. All Alannah could do was wait.
After disappearing into the barn, Zaira rode out a few minutes later. She bobbled her reins, slipped down one side, and then led the horse the wrong direction before seeming to struggle to rein the horse the opposite way.
Zaira was not only a good writer, but she was also a good actress. Of course, Alannah wasn’t quite so terrible on a horse, but Zaira was at least making her lack of experience believable.
As soon as Zaira disappeared from sight, Alannah counted the minutes. When at least five had elapsed, she crawled out from her hiding spot, sidled off the porch, and then darted toward the barn. She kept to the shadows, not wanting the moonlight to illuminate her if by chance anyone from the Farrell gang was staking out the place.
When she reached the barn, a horse stood just inside the entrance. The coachman was nowhere in sight, which meant Zaira had saddled both horses, likely because she’d wanted to keep their plans as secretive as possible, and probably because she didn’t want the fellow to try to stop her from going.
Alannah hesitated a moment, then she hoisted herself up into the saddle. As she started out of the barn, her gazesettled on Kiernan’s bedroom window at the back of the house. It was dark.
This was it. The last time she would see Oakland. The last time she’d have anything to do with the Shanahans.
“Good-bye, Kiernan,” she whispered. “I thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
A lump pushed up into her throat. She would miss him. She couldn’t deny that. In fact, she couldn’t imagine she’d ever want another man again, not after getting to know Kiernan. No one else would be able take his place in her heart.
She slid her hand into her pocket and fingered the newest book he’d given to her. It had been lying on her pillow when she’d rushed up to don her cloak. The sight of it had brought tears to her eyes, especially at the realization that he’d placed it there after everything that had happened at the pond, after she’d turned down the match and walked away from him. He’d still been as kind and giving as always.
“Good-bye,” she whispered again. “You’re a wonderful man.”
As several tears spilled over and slid down her cheeks, she urged her horse to move onward. Shaw and Charlie would learn soon enough that the woman riding south wasn’t her and only a decoy.
She had to push herself hard, just as Zaira had instructed. She couldn’t let the young woman’s efforts and sacrifice be for nothing.
With a shake of the reins, the horse began to gallop. It moved past the house, circled around front, and then headed down the lane without Alannah having to do anything but hang on.
As she guided the creature onto the road and toward town,she lifted two prayers heavenward—the first for Torin, that he was safe, and the second for Kiernan, that he wasn’t in any trouble.
She hoped this time God would find favor with her and not let anything happen to the two men she loved.
24
Kiernan sat stiffly on the wagon bench. He didn’t know if any Farrell gang members were closing in, but he was prepared, his revolver in hand and at the ready on his lap.
Donahue sat beside him, driving the wagon as it jostled over the rutted lane leading to Wayfair Cemetery, a graveyard where the poorest immigrants of St. Louis were buried. Kiernan had learned Donahue’s brother’s name was Dustin, and the fellow sat in the back, holding the casket steady.
Apparently, the archbishop of St. Louis had recently authorized the expansion of the graveyard into the nearby woodland and was no longer requiring burial payments from the very poor who could instead obtain a Poor Ticket that would allow for a free burial.
Located on the outskirts of the city, Wayfair Cemetery was the best cemetery for the plan—the only plan Kiernan had been able to devise in so short a time.
The carpenter in charge of making the brick molds had been able to rapidly construct the casket from one of thestacks of lumber that had survived the burning. After loading the casket into the back of the wagon, no one had questioned their hasty departure or the explanation that they were taking Torin to the graveyard and then going to the police to report the murder.
Kiernan glanced behind him at the man-sized wooden box Dustin was sitting against. As with the half a dozen other times Kiernan had wanted to open the lid and check on Torin, he refrained and instead surveyed the shadows of the thick forest that surrounded the cemetery.
