Chapter 17
Zaira needed another adventure. She was tired of being cooped up at Oakland, and going with Bellamy to look for Seamus and Moya’s father would be exciting.
She hurried after Bellamy, hoping he would let her come along.
He halted abruptly and spun.
In the next instant, she found herself stumbling and bumping against his chest. He steadied her with both hands, but she rapidly backed away from his touch, needing to keep the distance and barriers in place so she didn’t make a fool of herself the way she had at the eating-of-the-gander party.
She’d allowed herself to get carried away with her feelings for Bellamy that night. As a result, his rejection had stung harder than she’d anticipated. Over the past couple of days of moping, she’d decided that to survive their pretend match, she had to be much more careful.
“What will your da and mam say when you don’t show up for supper tonight?” Bellamy’s tone taunted her, letting her know once again that he knew she’d lied to her parents about her whereabouts.
“I told them I was coming into the city to visit you.”
Bellamy cocked an eyebrow at her, as though he didn’t believe her.
She hadn’t necessarily lied about coming to see Bellamy. A part of her had wanted just a tiny glimpse of him—well, maybe more than tiny.
She’d also wanted to see Moya and Seamus.
More importantly, however, the deadline for her chapter was today.
She should have delivered it yesterday, but her revisions had taken longer because the words hadn’t flowed well, and she’d kept getting distracted by her thoughts of Bellamy and the children.
The cloudy afternoon was no longer misting, but the threat of rain still lingered. It was getting late in the afternoon, and she needed to deliver her chapter to Mr. Knapp before the newspaper office closed for the day. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go with Bellamy after all.
“Alannah needed to gather a few items from home that she’d left there, so Mam let us come together.” Technically, Alannah hadn’t really needed anything but had agreed to come with Zaira so she could drop off her manuscript. “She’s waiting at the house. I can send her word that I’ll be late.”
Bellamy crossed his arms, and whenever he did so, he looked overly confident, almost arrogant, but still much too handsome. She could sense that he was going to say no, and maybe she should just gracefully leave before he rejected her again.
On the other hand, a little ride into the countryside down to Carondelet wouldn’t harm anyone. “You can use my help.” She crossed to the trough where she’d left her horse. “After all, I was the one who found Seamus and Moya, wasn’t I?”
Bellamy watched her a moment, then shrugged. “If you’re wanting to spend time with me so badly, just say so.”
“I don’t.”
He smirked but didn’t say anything more as he quickly saddled his horse and mounted. As they started off, he patted a pouch under his suit coat. “I’ll be needing to make a deposit at the bank first.”
“Then you won’t mind if we swing by the Daily Republican after that, will you?” She slapped the pannier bag near the saddle, where she’d stowed her manuscript.
“What are Frannie and Albert up to this week?” Bellamy slanted a look her way. “Is she going to leave with him? Or will she stay with her family and try to protect them?”
Zaira pulled up short and couldn’t hold back a smile. “Why, Bellamy McKenna. You’ve been reading my story.”
“I don’t have much choice.” He kept riding, forcing her to prod her mount into a trot to catch up to him. “One of the regulars at the bar reads the stories in the newspapers aloud each week.”
“Sure, Bellamy. Blame it on a customer. But I know you can’t wait to see what happens next.”
Bellamy snorted as he turned his mount into the alley that ran behind First Bank.
A part of her was thrilled he was reading her story, although another part of her warned that she shouldn’t care.
All that truly mattered was pleasing her new readers, and last week when she’d dropped off her chapter, Mr. Knapp had told her they’d gotten a great number of positive remarks and interest in the story.
“So what do you think?” The question slipped out. Maybe she cared about his opinion on her story more than she wanted to admit. After all, besides Alannah, he was the only other person who knew about her secret writing life.
He was silent, narrowing his eyes on something ahead. It was an area of the city that hadn’t been affected by the fire, and the buildings were some of the oldest in the city with fine architecture.
“You don’t think I have talent, do you? To you, it’s all drivel and worthless and—”
“Hold up,” he whispered, drawing his horse to a halt while reaching for her reins and doing the same for her horse.
“What’s wrong—?”
“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to his lips. His gaze was fixed intently on two men carrying large bags over their shoulders and who seemed to be sneaking down a back stairwell of a large building.
Bellamy nudged his horse back a step into the shadows of the alley, motioning her to do the same.
She moved next to him and waited. What were those men doing? Something nefarious?
Bellamy dismounted and draped the reins of his horse over an iron stair rail. “I’m going to get a little closer,” he whispered, “and try to see what’s going on. Wait here.”
He crept around a barrel, then ducked behind another one.
Not wanting to be left behind, she slid down from her horse, then hurried to catch up with Bellamy.
When she reached him, he was already creeping down the same back stairway the men had traversed only moments ago. As he approached the lower entrance door, he tried the handle, and it opened easily.
His frown deepened. “How in the blazes?”
He peeked inside, then entered.
She caught the door before it closed and slipped in after him.
He drew up short and scowled at her. “I asked you to wait for me.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Aye, I did.”
“You didn’t ask. You ordered it.”
Their whispers echoed in the dark hallway, which was lit only by scant light filtering in through the glass window in the door at the opposite end. The dim lighting allowed them to see that no one else was there, that whoever Bellamy had followed had disappeared.
“Zaira.” His voice was firm. “I wanted you to be staying with the horses, so I did.”
She waved a hand of dismissal. “Where are we, and what are we doing here?”
“This is the lower level of the bank.”
“The bank?” She glanced at the door they’d just entered. “Why would the bank leave their back door open like that?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” He scanned the hallway. “The two men who entered didn’t look like bank workers.”
A chill raced up her spine. “If they weren’t bank workers, who were they?”
“Men who probably shouldn’t be here.”
She dropped her voice to an even lower whisper.
“Do you think they’re hiding in a room and waiting to leave after the bank closes?
” Everyone in St. Louis knew about the robberies that had happened in the spring.
While there hadn’t been any recently, maybe the criminals were getting back to their thieving now that the cholera was starting to decrease in intensity.
Bellamy crossed to the closest door and turned the handle, and the door opened. He glanced at her and hesitated, as if he was calculating the danger. What if the men he’d seen enter were hiding behind one of the doors and had weapons?
At approaching voices from the opposite side of the inner door with the glass window, Bellamy’s eyes widened. With his knife unsheathed and in hand, he pushed open the door of the room beside them, surveyed the inside, then reached for her. “Come on.”
She didn’t hesitate even a second. She hurried after him, and he quickly closed the door behind her, darkness enveloping them.
A second later, the door down the hallway squealed open, and the voices grew louder. “I unlocked the first room on the left,” came a harsh whisper. “I told you to wait there.”
The first room on the left? Was that where she and Bellamy were?
She bumped up against a tall chest of drawers, and her hand brushed a stack of papers on top. A damp mustiness filled the air, as though the room was seldom used, perhaps to store bank archives—old documents, papers, and files.
Beside her, Bellamy grasped her arm to steady her.
Footsteps shuffled down the hallway. Who was out there? The two men Bellamy had noticed entering the back door? And perhaps someone who worked at the bank who’d left the door unlocked to allow the men in?
As the footsteps and whispers drew closer, Bellamy’s hand on her arm tensed. Although the room was dark and she couldn’t see anything, she could feel him lean into the door, probably to keep anyone from entering.
A second later, the door handle rattled, and someone shoved against the door.
Bellamy seemed to be pressing his full weight to keep it closed.
The man on the other side grunted with the effort of opening it. A moment later, a key jiggled in the lock. The man tried again to open the door.
At a distant noise, the man swore. “It won’t unlock.” He stepped away, the keys jangling again. “I guess you’ll have to stay in the maintenance closet.”
“How long should we wait before coming out?” came another voice.
“At least two hours in here,” said the first man with the keys.
A door opened nearby—perhaps the door across the hallway.
“Will that give us enough time to cut through the wall and the safe?” another voice chimed in. “We need as much time as we can get.”
Zaira almost gasped but instead cupped a hand over her mouth. The men were bank robbers. And she and Bellamy had discovered them.
A thrill of excitement wound through her. The men didn’t realize she and Bellamy were here thanks to Bellamy’s quick thinking and determination in holding the door closed. Just as soon as the way was clear, she and Bellamy could tiptoe out and alert the police about the plan.