Searching for Home (Spies of Chicago Book 1)

by Jessica Keller

  James studied the square. How many people lay dying? At least sixty protestors, but he wouldn’t be surprised if the number was higher. From what he could tell the police side hadn’t faired any better.

  Fat raindrops drummed against the wooden walkways.

  James bowed his head and let his hat slip to the ground. “Hugh’s right. God, take care of Ellen. I can’t. I’ve never been able to. She’s always been under Your watch. I was foolish to think otherwise. Please let her be safe.” He opened his eyes and scanned the waste of life and suffering surrounding him. “And spare as many as You can tonight.”

  Feeling the weight of his heart in the pit of his stomach, James joined Hugh. Wordless, they worked side by side. They lifted eight different men into Hugh’s wagon and helped ten more find safe passage home.

  James prayed they all might heal.

  ***

  “Alerting her family is a bad idea.” Hugh’s voice stopped James’s pacing.

  One of Hugh’s servants rushed past, holding a pot of steaming water. Wounded men filled the dining room. When they arrived at the house, James had discovered that Hugh was a trained physician. He’d helped the mysterious Englishman patch people back together for what felt like hours.

  James dropped onto the bottom stair, head in his hands. “I don’t know what is best.”

  “Are you certain you saw Miss Ingram? There are many young women in the city about her size.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “In the darkness you could have confused—”

  “It was her.” James ground out the words through clenched teeth.

  “Well.” Hugh leaned against the wall, his fingers stroking his chin. “We know a couple clues then.”

  “Being?”

  “She wasn’t among the dead. So, she either got away, or….”

  James jerked a couple of his hairs from his head. “What if she’s hurt and hiding somewhere? We might have left her there in pain. I keep picturing the worst.”

  “Which is of no use to us at the moment. Save grief for the appropriate time. For now, let’s use our wits and the resources at hand.”

  Hugh hollered for his butler. Mr. Ansley appeared within moments. Deep lines edged around his eyes. The aging man inclined his head.

  Hugh tapped his cane. “Be a good man and summon the elite three of the Brotherhood. Send William to the Danby’s. Have him question the staff about Miss Ingram’s whereabouts. Send Andrew and George to their usual spots to see if they can round up any information. Use the swan stamp on my desk to seal the letters.”

  “Very well, sir.” Ansley bowed again and hustled away.

  “You trust your staff with your secrets?”

  “Ansley’s been with my family since my boarding school days. He was the one who suggested Cygnus for our identity.”

  “Do you think we’ll find her?”

  “Kent, try and relax. I’ll tell you when I have information. If all goes well, in an hour’s time, we’ll get word that she’s safe and sound in bed at her uncle’s.”

  James leaned his shoulder against the railing. “Or she’s out there—”

  “Listen to me.” Hugh stood a few feet away. His shoulders sagged. “Trust me when I say I will do all in my power to find her if she is missing. I promise.”

  Gray walls in the dining room did nothing to alter James’s mood, but helping the hurting did. For the next hour, James occupied himself in ways a Kent had never done before. Hugh’s staff scurried from making food to fetching fabric. Some were gone on Cygnus Brotherhood business. James followed the master of the house’s example and poured water and spirits for the injured. Wrote notes to loved ones and dispatched the information of their whereabouts.

  He bent to offer a glass to a stranger with an impressive black mustache.

  The man gripped his arm and the willow bark tea in the cup James held sloshed onto James’s trousers. Hot liquid left a stinging trail down his leg. He grimaced.

  “I am not a bad person,” the patient wheezed.

  James studied the man. Bedraggled clothes matched his long unkempt hair, and his accent sounded Mediterranean. The gut shot would kill him, more than likely.

  “The physician is asking everyone to save their strength.” James set the cup on the floor.

  “But I want someone to know, I want—” The man’s eyes rolled.

  “You aren’t bad. I know that’s true.”

  His eyelids fluttered open. He locked his coal-black gaze with James. “Will you tell my family?”

  James nodded. “If you give me the name, I’ll deliver a letter to them myself.”

  “I wouldn’t have gone if I knew it’d be dangerous.” The man sucked in a series of shallow breaths.

  “None of us would have.” James’s stomach twisted.

  “Don’t even know if I believe in their speeches. But my girl—my wife—Rose does. She wanted to go. I told her I’d go for her and bring back news. I’m not bad.”

  “We’d do just about anything for the women we love. I understand. You were brave, Mr…?”

  “Antonio Russo.”

  “Antonio … might … would it be all right if I prayed with you?”

  The man coughed, cried out in pain, and then he leaned his head back upon the ground. He seized James’s hand. “Yes. That’s the most intelligent suggestion I’ve heard all night.”

  Nearing midnight Ansley entered, his boots clipping across the wood floor. He spoke in hushed tones to Hugh. Moments later the Englishman motioned for James to follow him from of the room.

  “What’s the news? Tell me. I can’t tolerate another second of ignorance.”

  Hugh remained silent until he clicked the library door closed behind James.

  “Be seated.” Hugh’s lips pinched into a grim line. “Know that I don’t take pleasure in delivering this news to you.”

  Dead? No, don’t say dead. Black spots clouded James’s vision.

  “What is it?” He gripped the edge of a high-backed chair.

  “They have taken her.”

  James’s knees buckled. He landed in the chair. “Who?”

  “Lewis’s militia.”

  James burst to his feet. “She’s not lost yet. I’ll search until there’s some sign … until I’m sure … until I see—and when I find Lewis, I’ll—”

  Hugh strong-armed him back into the chair. “Settle yourself, Mr. Kent.”

  James resisted.

  “I happen to be in agreement with you.” Hugh pulled a note from his pocket and scanned the contents. “If our information is correct, they caught her and are waiting for word from her brother before they do anything.”

  “But they could have her anywhere. This city is huge.” His mind whirled. “How many men do you have? Speak plainly with me. How are our prospects?”

  Hugh grabbed his cane from where it lay on his desk. “They are excellent.”

  “Don’t toy with me.”

  “I know exactly where they have her.”

  “Where? And cut the dramatic pauses already.”

  Hugh folded the letter again and tucked it into his coat. “Cochrane’s Shipping Yard.”

  “Isn’t that where they moved all the explosives?”

  “Precisely.”

  ***

  Apprehended.

  Four heckling men lugged Ellen through a catacomb of buildings at the end of a wharf to dump her into a small office on the second floor of the dockside warehouse. They corded a heavy hemp rope around her middle and secured her to a foundation pole. Then the brutes bound her arms and legs.

  Ellen licked her lips. Her throat burned. She ceased screaming a half hour ago when she realized no one would be coming to her rescue. Not this time. Angry voices of men debating in the next room bled through the thin wall.

  Shadows cast a ghostlike trance over the dank room. The reek of fish and grease permeated the air. It was the kind of smell that sunk into a person’s skin. If Ellen got away, she’d have to soak in a tub for days
and go through two bars of soap to be rid of the stench. The cold floor leached away her body heat through the threadbare fabric of her dress and coat.

  It didn’t seem fair. She hadn’t even been snooping this time. They grabbed her anyway. At least Mary Goodwell hadn’t made an appearance … yet.

  If only Ellen had obeyed Uncle Garret and stayed at the house. He’s specifically wanted to keep her away from Haymarket Square. And where—like a fool—had she gone? Stupid Ellen.

  A tear scorched a trail down her cheek.

  All those lives lost. If not for her—she shook her head and bit back a sob. The men in the other room didn’t need the satisfaction of hearing her cry.

  Hopefully Iana was safe.

  Ellen fought against her restraints, but the tightly wound ropes sawed into the delicate flesh of her wrists and ankles.

  To think she chided James at The Rat Palace that she hadn’t needed his help to get away. If only she had the prospect of him coming now.

  Not that he knew the danger she was in. He’d left the Danbys to protect her. She saw that now. How had she been so stupid—so blind—about that?

  Wounded pride, scorned feelings, stung from rejection, that’s how.

  If she had been the woman society expected, none of the situations in the last week would have happened. She would be across town packing right now. No, she’d be on Carter Hurst’s arm at some posh party. More than likely he’d be introducing her as his fiancé to a flurry of clanking goblets.

  But that didn’t set well either. No. She knew now, in the face of the possibility of death, that existing without James—when she knew he remained single—would have been no life at all.

  Laughter in the adjacent room stalled her thoughts. The scrapes of a scuffle ensued. Chairs grated against the floor. Then the door to the office flew open with such force it rattled on the hinges. Five men shoved a kicking prisoner into the room and tossed him onto the concrete floor.

  “James!” She lurched against her restraints.

  He landed with a thud and a groan, his hands tied behind him. The brutes dragged him to the next foundation pole and tied him there.

  “Might as well give you love puppies a moment alone before Mr. Ingram arrives.” A man with missing front teeth sneered. “Just like Lewis said, that boy followed right after her.”

  “Maybe someone ought to stay in here with them. Make sure they aren’t up to any funny business.”

  “Naw, his orders were to keep ‘em here. The girl’s more dangerous if she has one of us to talk to. She convinced the new recruit to set her free last time.”

  “Right.” They shuffled out and the door eeeked to a close.

  James’s head slumped. Had they knocked him senseless?

  Ellen scooted to face him. Stretching her toes, she nudged his foot.

  He shook his head, opened his eyes. “Ellen. Thank God you’re alive.”

  Her fingers ached to touch his hand, brush back his hair, and caress the horrible bruise appearing along his jawline. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “You must hate me.”

  “Take heart. It’s beyond me to ever hate you.” His eyebrows knit together. “What terrible thing have you got to be sorry for?”

  “They caught you.”

  He scratched his chin against his shoulder. “I didn’t need a reminder, thank you. In the end, that’s my fault.”

  “But you were coming for me … weren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  Water dripped through a crack in the ceiling. It pinged against the concrete floor.

  Ellen shuffled, trying to get close enough to touch him with more than her toe. “Do you think it’s normal to come to the end of life and think about what you did wrong?”

  “The end of life? Oh, don’t give up yet. There are more people out there trying to free us. And if it comes to … to that, I’ll fight them with everything in me to save you. If they’ll listen to a deal, I’ll promise them anything.”

  “If I had been who I was supposed to be, none of this would have happened.” She leaned her head against the pole.

  “Been who you were supposed to be? What does that even mean?”

  “At Madame De Molineus’s school, we were taught to listen to our family, to stay away from excitement, to let others make decisions for us. But me? I’m always running ahead of my brain, and before I know it, I’m in the middle of another big catastrophe. This time there’s no way out. I never feared before, because you or Lewis always rode in and saved me from whatever trouble I found.” She snapped her eyes shut. “But now … now I’ve put you in harm’s way, too. Had I been the compliant girl I should have been, none of this would have happened.”

  “True.” His voice came across the divide like a soft embrace. “Open your eyes, half-pint.”

  She did. And the longing in his eyes made her insides grow warm.

  A sad smile pulled his lips. “That girl you wished you’d banished? The one who teases and pinches and jumps ahead irrationally? She’s the one I’m in love with. So please, as far as it depends upon you, don’t ever make her go away.”

  “In love? But you said—”

  “I lied. Forgive me for that. If I had known leaving wouldn’t keep you safe I would have never subjected either of us to it.” He shook his head. “I should have taken your uncle up on his offer.”

  “I love you, James.”

  He rubbed his foot back and forth over hers. “I know, sweetheart. I should have swept you up when I could have. If I had been the man you deserved, I would have.”

  “I only ever wanted you.”

  James expelled a deep sigh. “I don’t know why. I can’t seem to succeed at anything worthwhile. I can’t do anything right by my parents, I misjudged my best friend, I made a terrible spy, and I couldn’t even rescue you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She smiled. “You sure succeeded at making me fall for you. Besides that, you make me laugh and keep me balanced. You don’t put up with my tantrums, and you let me beat you at chess.”

  His laugh floated to her. “I don’t let you win. Believe me. If I could, I’d trounce you.”

  “Do you think it’s wrong to not want to die? I heard Moody say we should long for our home in heaven, but I don’t want to go there yet. Not when there’s a chance at a life with you. Is it a sin to think that way?”

  “I’m no expert, but I don’t think it’s a sin. As far as I understand it, God created us to be in relationships. Marriage is one of His high callings.”

  Her eyes misted over. “Are you asking me to marry you? Here, in the shipping yard?”

  “Seemed like a good time. I know I’ve bungled things this week, but if we get out of here, would you consider it?”

  “I don’t need to consider anything. I’ll marry you the second we’re free.”

  “Good.” He smiled. “Because I’m not letting you leave my side. Not ever again.”

  Keys jingled in the hallway in time with the sound of boots slapping the concrete at a lazy pace. The door creaked open.

  Ellen’s jaw dropped when her brother strolled in, impeccably dressed in a suit as black as his hair. For all the pleas she’d stored until this moment, her tongue dried.

  Lewis grinned. “These declarations are beautiful and all. I’m truly enjoying them, but I believe it’s time we get down to business.”

  James strained against his tethers. “How dare you. You’d harm your own sister? You’re a demon, Lewis.”

  “Hush, old man. I might grow tired of you before you’ve served your purpose.” He crossed his arms. “I will have to admonish you both for your recklessness this past week. But then, this would have happened eventually, even if you had behaved.” He paced to the doorway and called out to his cronies.

  Clomps announced their arrival. “We did good, didn’t we Mr. Ingram?”

  “I have more tasks for you.” He pointed at a stout man with a red beard. “You, find Downing and have him send Abel and Reuben to meet me by the lakefront. Th
e rest of you are needed at the planning meeting on the west end. We need to rectify the mistakes made at Haymarket.”

  “Where on the lakefront should I have Abel and Reuben meet you?”

  Lewis tossed his hands in the air. “Am I the only person in possession of a functioning brain? Near the spot where we dump bodies! I want to be there when it happens, but—call me old fashioned—I certainly can’t off members of my family with my own hands.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Chicago, May 4, 1886

  Wanted to off his family members….

  Despite the chill, Ellen’s palms started to sweat. Her heart pummeled her ribs like the galloping hooves of a horse and a wave of lightheadedness washed through her brain.

  Would it hurt? Dying?

  Her brother closed the door, sealing away the other men.

  “Lewis?” Ellen’s heart raced. She licked her lips.

  James jerked his head and motioned with his eyes in if-we-get-a-chance-attack-him code. Her gaze darted from him to Lewis’s back.

  Waning moonbeams striped the floor, but Lewis stood in the shadows. Outside the cracked window, boats bobbed against the docks with a loud rubbing sound.

  “Please, Lewis. Speak to me. This isn’t like you.” She heard the edge of panic in her own voice. Rubbing her legs together, she tried to wiggle loose of the restraints. No use.

  Ellen looked again at James. His face turned a deep shade of red as he battled the ropes binding him. The scar on his face stood out, growing whiter.

  Her brother placed one hand on the door and dropped his head. His shoulders heaved with three deep breaths. After a few minutes he pivoted to face them.

  “All right.” Black dress boots scrapping, he strode toward Ellen. “I just heard the front door close, so we have at least thirty minutes before they come looking for me. You can be a good clip away from here by then.”

  “I … I don’t understand.”

  Dropping to his knees, Lewis pulled a knife from his coat. Moonlight glinted off the blade.

  Ellen flinched and tried to scoot away.