Chapter 10 #2
The outlaws had worked through most of the night with picks and hammers to smash their way through multiple brick walls, some as large as three feet thick, to reach the safe.
Once there, apparently they’d hammered away at the thick sheet iron until they had a hole big enough for one of the robbers to climb through.
They’d emptied the safe and gotten away undetected.
Thanks be, the police captain had been able to track down and catch the crooks two weeks later.
But the robbery had triggered a string of crimes.
More businesses had been targeted by safecrackers.
The fire in May and then the return of the cholera shortly after that had tempered some of the crime, but it was only a matter of time before the problems escalated again.
Even so, Zaira didn’t seem overly worried about the nighttime crime in St. Louis.
She didn’t seem to be afraid of much anymore.
Not like that night long ago when Bellamy had helped her back home after she and her friends had been threatened by some ruffians.
She’d been relieved to be with him, and he’d been so worried about her.
Regardless, there was no way he would let any woman walk alone this late at night, especially someone as special as Zaira.
As soon as the thought floated through his mind, he almost tripped. Zaira special? Where had that come from?
“You should know,” she said, “I won’t say anything about your . . . secret. And I hope you’ll be kind enough to do the same for mine.”
“Rightly so.”
She halted abruptly and clutched his arm, cautioning him with a finger to her lips not to speak.
His muscles tightened, and his body was alert for anything. He wanted to ask what she’d noticed. Instead, he waited motionless, listening for danger.
Soft sniffles came from behind the rubbish heap that sat to the side of the alley only a few feet away.
She released him and took a step closer.
He latched on to her arm and drew her back.
“Is someone there?” she asked.
He tensed, ready to defend her if needed. He didn’t carry a gun, but he did have a knife sheathed at his side, one he’d had to pull out a time or two during fights in the pub. Only to threaten unruly drunks. Never to harm anyone.
He prayed he never would have to hurt anyone with it, not now or in the future. He wasn’t the type of fellow who relished fighting, not even watching other men throwing punches. He much preferred to find peaceful, nonviolent resolutions to problems.
However, he wouldn’t hesitate to use his knife to keep Zaira safe. Not even a heartbeat.
At a slight movement and a soft cry behind the rubbish, Zaira took another step forward, as though to discover whoever was there.
He held her in place while at the same time sidling in front of her. As he did so, the stench of the refuse reached him—a mixture of human waste and rotting food.
“What are you doing?” she hissed as she struggled to break free.
“What in the wee devil do you think you’re doing?” he hissed back. Sometimes she was too impulsive for her own good.
At another cry—like that of a young child—they both grew motionless. Who was there?
“Hello?” Zaira said gently.
A voice came again but was quickly muffled.
Was someone hurting a child? If so, Bellamy couldn’t stand back and let it happen.
He unsheathed his knife and strode to the rubbish heap, an urgency prodding him.
With his knife at the ready, he stepped around the refuse.
Although the darkness prevented him from seeing much, he could distinguish the outline of two children.
One appeared to be slightly bigger and was holding another child on his lap.
Bellamy wasn’t an expert on children’s ages, but he guessed they were somewhere around the range of five and three. The older one, wearing trousers and a flatcap, had his hand over the younger child’s mouth. Attired in a dress and a bonnet, she was fighting against the boy to free herself.
Before Bellamy could ask the children any questions or even ascertain if they were with anyone, Zaira brushed past him.
The little girl grew motionless, but the lad bolted into action. He shoved the lass to her feet, hopped up, and dragged the little girl forward. “Nip along, we have to go.” The lad had a heavy Irish accent that told Bellamy he was a recent immigrant.
“No, Seamus,” the lass whined.
“Wait.” Zaira held out a hand toward the two. “I can help you.”
“We’re getting along.” The boy didn’t stop.
“But where are your parents?” Zaira persisted.
Bellamy didn’t need the children to say anything to know the answer.
Their parents had died from cholera and left them orphans.
From what he’d heard, the orphanages were overflowing with children like this, whose parents had succumbed to the disease and who had no other family or friends to take care of them.
“My parents are just there, so.” The boy, Seamus, nodded down the street. “We’ll be on our way.”
“I can walk with you,” Zaira offered.
Before Seamus could say more, the little lass chimed in. “We’re trying to find our da.”
“Moya,” the lad scolded, “I told you not to be saying nothing.”
“But I’m hungry.”
Seamus was still attempting to drag her away, but she was making his efforts difficult.
“I have food for you.” Zaira crouched down to their level.
Bellamy had to give Zaira credit. She was persistent, and she was kind to care about these two orphans. But the boy was scared of them, didn’t want to encounter anyone.
“Come on with you now, Moya.” The lad stumbled forward down the dark alley.
She began to cry again. “I want Mama.”
Zaira rose and followed them. “I don’t know where your mama or da are at, but I’ll do my best to help you find them if you’ll let me.”
Maybe their da was still alive. Maybe just their mam had died. “I’m the matchmaker,” Bellamy said, hoping to convince them along with Zaira. “I’m sure I can find someone who knows about your da.”
The boy paused.
Oh aye, the child believed his da was alive somewhere, and that was the hook in helping these two. “I know lots of people, so I do. If anyone’s to be helping you locate your da, ’tis me.”
“He’s right,” Zaira added, continuing to inch toward the pair. “Bellamy McKenna can do just about anything he sets his mind to.”
Did she really believe that? He tucked her comment away to analyze later.
For now, he had to use his persuasive powers to sway Seamus to come with them.
“I know almost everyone in the Kerry Patch.” Most likely the children had been staying in the Irish district of the city since new immigrants headed there because of the cheap housing.
“Do you know Seamus O’Reilly?” The hope in the boy’s tone again told more of his story, that his da had come ahead of the family to St. Louis and the children with their mam hadn’t connected with him.
It was possible he’d already died of cholera, and they just hadn’t been able to uncover that information.
“Seamus O’Reilly?” Bellamy searched through the many names of men who had come in and out of the pub over recent months. He’d met some O’Reillys, but none who went by Seamus.
“From Galway.” The boy was still holding tightly to his sister, but she was no longer trying to get away.
“Seamus O’Reilly from Galway.” Bellamy recognized the Connacht dialect spoken by those from County Galway, different from the dialect he’d grown up speaking in County Wicklow. “I can’t recall anyone by Seamus, but I can promise that if he’s in St. Louis, I can track him down.”
“You can promise?”
“Oh aye.”
Zaira had reached the children and now gently touched the little girl’s head. The child peered up at Zaira with interest.
The lad didn’t back away this time, which hopefully meant he didn’t see Zaira as a threat either.
How long had the two been trying to survive on their own? Bellamy could see enough in the darkness to know they were both thin and dirty. They might have arrived in St. Louis that way. It was also possible they’d grown more ragged from living on the streets.
“Would you like to come home with me for the night?” Zaira asked. “I have a nice home—”
“No.” Seamus pulled his sister away, his voice filling with a note of fear.
“How about the shed behind the pub?” Bellamy asked quickly.
The lad shook his head.
Bellamy continued before the child could turn him down too. “It has a latch on the inside of the door. You can lock it, and no one can get in unless you unlatch it.”
Seamus didn’t immediately speak, which was a good sign that he was considering Bellamy’s offer.
“I’ve got some Dublin Coddle leftovers.” It wouldn’t be hot but would be better than anything the two had eaten in a while.
“I’ll eat it,” Moya said eagerly.
“Just for tonight.” Seamus’s voice rang with a warning to his sister.
Bellamy wasn’t sure how he’d get the children to stay longer than one night.
Because he would need more than a day to get information on their da.
But at least they were safe for the time being.
And Zaira looked relieved, even pleased, and that made him feel as though he’d accomplished something great.