Page 64 of The Swindler’s Daughter

We transferred each armful out the window and into the front half of the wagon.

“Do we have something to hide this?” I had to ask. “Or are we going to drive off with it in plain sight?”

“Father Tucker threw in a large piece of canvas. I guess he uses it when he makes deliveries to the parishioners that live farther out,” John explained.

“And who’s going to drive?” I asked Rowan. “It can’t be you. They know your face.”

“Tyson and Oliver will be up front. You can drive a cart, can’t you, Oliver?”

“Yes,” he said as he hefted another bag to the window, handing it out to John.

“We’re going to get caught,” I muttered.

“Don’t lose your nerve now,” Rowan said close to my ear. “We can do this if we just keep our heads.”

I snorted, not bothering to tell him that it was the fear of literally losing my head that had my chest aching with worry. But I kept working, my arms and back straining with the effort.

And then it was done. Both trunks were emptied and the last few bags were stacked by the window.

Rowan pulled up his hood and put his scarf over his face then went out of the bedroom. I followed him to the doorway of the kitchen where the maid was tied to a chair, facing away from me.

Rowan gestured for Tyson to go back to the bedroom, then he stood where the maid could see him but where he would not seem an immediate physical threat.

“I’ve no doubt you will report our crimes to your master, so I want to make one thing clear. I only stole what was stolen from others. And I will continue to dog your master’s heels until he stops grasping for money and power. I’m sorry that we must leave you tied up, but our objective is important and I can’t risk you sounding the alarm early. I hope that by leaving you this way, it will assure your master that you were loyal to him. I’m also sorry we scared you.” He bowed, holding his hands together in front of him as though begging forgiveness, then he crossed to the door, taking my hand when he passed by. “Time to go,” he murmured.

We left through the back door. Oliver and Tyson were on the cart’s bench, and Oliver was waving Gretchen and Ansel over.

“Get in, Ansel,” Rowan said.

I grabbed his arm. “We weren’t going to involve them,” I reminded him. “Having them borrow the wagon is one thing. Being caught riding away on a pile of stolen money is entirely another.” I turned to face Gretchen and Ansel. “You must return to the festival, do you hear? Tell no one what happened. Tell anyone who asks that you lost track of us and don’t know where we are.”

John stepped up, placing a hand on his sister’s shoulder but looking at me. “And what if Reeve comes home, sees the missing loot and goes looking down the same road they’ll be traveling?” he asked.

“It’s more dangerous for them to be with us,” I countered.

“I disagree. Gretchen, get in the wagon.”

I huffed a sigh but knew that I didn’t have any right to interfere with John and his sister. “Ansel, you at least should go back.”

Ansel gave a simple shake of his head. “I go where Gretchen goes,” he stated as he stepped onto the wheel and threw his leg over.

“No,” I said in frustration. “Rowan?” I said, hoping he would support me.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he tied off the last rope that held the canvas down. “I agree with you. But the longer we argue, the more likely we are to get caught. We have to go now.”

“I’ll stay with them. I’ll go back to Sutton with them. There’s not room enough in the cart for all of us anyway,” I said, pointing to the very limited space in the back half of the wagon.

Rowan paused for just a moment then shook his head. “They know your face, Miri. You can’t risk staying.” He turned to the others. “Tyson, Oliver. She’s right. You can both stay with Ansel and—”

A crash from inside the magistrate’s house made us all freeze.

Then the maid we’d left tied up started screaming.

“Never mind. We’re all going. Now.” Rowan lifted me up and into the wagon, where I landed with an undignified thump.

“Get under the canvas,” he said as he, John, Gretchen, Ansel, and I all squeezed into the back portion of the wagon, lying practically on top of each other.

Oliver snapped the reins and the wagon lurched forward.