Before the Dawn

by Denise A. Agnew

  “Needed the fresh air. Fresh air was on short supply in my cell. The facilities there weren’t flushed every day. At least not the first year I was there. The stench sure wasn’t like a lady’s finest perfume. The venting in the skylight…it didn’t always work well. And the sun…damn if it didn’t feel good on my face today.”

  “You got a hat?”

  “Didn’t buy one.”

  “Best you get one.”

  “It’ll feel good to have the wind in my hair for a while.”

  “You’ve got a long time now to feel the sun.”

  “I won’t if my plans work out.”

  Zeke’s gaze centered on him, hard with questions. “What do you mean?”

  Elijah would let him have a safe illusion. “Like you said…finding a job. Just not as a blacksmith. Maybe I’ll go back to being newspaper boy on a street corner or head out west and become a mail order cowboy. A minor thing for a murderer.”

  Zeke grunted and put his hands on his hips. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, little brother. You aren’t a murderer. I proved that.”

  “And now Maureen’s real murderer is gone, and I’ll be a murderer once I find him.”

  Zeke’s eyes widened with apprehension. “You what? Now get that idea right outta your head. The law will find him.”

  Seeing his brother’s disapproval didn’t chill the fire burning in Elijah’s gut. “There’s nothing for me here anyway.”

  Zeke closed his eyes and threw his head back. Elijah remembered he used to do that when they were kids when he wanted to show disapproval or disbelief. Looked like he’d never lost the habit.

  “Save us, St. Patrick,” Zeke said. “Amos will be punished. The law will catch up to him.”

  Though Elijah wanted to say he didn’t give a tinker’s damn about the law, he knew it wouldn’t sit well. Better to let this subject curl up and die before it caused bad blood.

  Elijah pondered his options. He could try and find a room for the night, but his body protested the idea and so did his mind. Only one day out of prison, and he felt so tired he didn’t know which way was up. “I need to find some people in Kensington.”

  “Who?”

  “Old friends of Amos.”

  Elijah gave that weary, older brother sigh. “Dad blame it Elijah, if you go there and start asking questions, your life won’t be worth half a cent.”

  Elijah’s temper started to boil, but he drew a deep breath and held back. “If I can find one of Amos’s friends to tell me where he is, I’ll be in luck. You really think I’m afraid of asking?”

  Zeke rubbed both hands over his face. “You’re not afraid of anything. You never were, even when you should’ve been. It’s me that’s afraid, little brother. You’re damned fearlessness helped get your arse thrown into that penitentiary in the first place.”

  Elijah grunted. “Maybe. I’ve made many mistakes in my life already. What’s one more?”

  “Then you’ll forget this ridiculous idea of going after Amos, right?”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  “Then I won’t give you any more money if you ask. I won’t finance my own brother’s murder.”

  Elijah’s body stiffened. “Who’s? Mine or Amos’s?”

  “Either. Because I know if you go after him, he’ll try and kill you.”

  “Try he might. He’ll fail.”

  “But you wouldn’t fail to kill him, would you?”

  Silence dropped between them, and Elijah knew he’d arrived at a crucial junction in his relationship with Zeke. His insides twisted. If he agreed to abandon his search for revenge, Zeke would be happy. Yet if he truly dropped this need for revenge, he would have nothing left to strive for in this world. How did a man deal with that? What else did he have left?

  “I can see your mind working.” Zeke walked towards him until he could clap a brotherly hand on his shoulder again. “Why don’t you sleep on it? Give your mind a rest and make a decision in the morning.”

  Elijah didn’t acknowledge at first whether he would comply. He vacillated from wanting to say “go to hell” and remaining humble because of his brother’s generosity. “I need to do something now. Can’t wait.”

  Zeke released him and tucked his fingers into his vest. “If you’re all-fired determined, then I have information for you. I didn’t want to tell you this, but I figure it’s better than you tearing through Kensington. Amos fled to Pittsburgh.”

  Anger tightened the muscles in Elijah’s jaw until it ached. “And when did you plan to tell me this? Or were you going to tell me at all?”

  “I found out from the authorities that they did an investigation in Kensington while cleaning up another nativist riot there two weeks ago.”

  “There was another one? I figured them bastards would have packed up and moved away a long time ago.”

  “Hell, no. Fact is they still have way too much pull in Philadelphia and beyond. The authorities discovered Amos is off to Pittsburgh. They’ve alerted the sheriff to be on the lookout for him.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you? Are you satisfied now that they will bring him to justice? You’re free and clear of the criminal life. Start your life over today. Forget about Amos.”

  Elijah made a sound of disbelief. “Sure, and I’d be Judas if I forgot what he did to Maureen and to myself.”

  “Maybe being Judas in this case is the right thing to do.”

  Confusion didn’t enter into the picture. Elijah saw clearly what must be done. “Not this time, Zeke.” He reached out and took his brother’s hand. “Thank you again for the money.” He started towards the door and as he opened it, he paused long enough to take one more look at Zeke. “If I don’t see you again, have a good life.”

  With a heavy weight tightening around his neck like a hangman’s noose, Elijah left.

  Chapter Two

  Philadelphia & Columbia Railroad

  Philadelphia to Lancaster

  Two days later

  Mary Jane Lawson felt the man staring at her from across the train, and everything inside her screamed that he was dangerous. She had noted the man’s presence since she boarded the train in Philadelphia. He never seemed far away, always keeping her within viewing distance. She tried ignoring him, but it rarely worked. She always knew when his gaze rested upon her.

  When she dared swing her gaze in his direction, everything inside her froze. His observance, so rude and intent, should have brought on moral indignation. The fact she could not find fault with his staring disturbed her. Mary Jane tightened her grip on her skirts, her gloved hands too warm in the black leather.

  She noted his thickly lashed, dark green eyes. His attention swept over her in more thorough assessment, as if he had never seen a woman. She had never witnessed eyes that intense, and something within them scared her in a way she could not understand. Light flickered over him as clouds parted outside the train window. His mahogany hair, full and thick, curled in an unruly toss around his collar. Macassar oil or bear grease didn’t tame his hair as it did most men’s locks. The side part was a little imprecise. While he wore no beard or mustache, his sideburns were long.

  She sniffed, lifted her nose and looked away. There. He deserved a cut, a refusal of acknowledgement, for not following common manners.

  Since when has a man’s direct attention ever bothered me?

  Her mother’s indignant voice rang in her head. Good heavens, you do not ask a man to dance. You wait for him to ask you. And stop staring. It is rude and implies you are a loose…well…loose with your attentions and affections. Do you want to garner a reputation?

  Drawn to the green-eyed man’s presence, Mary Jane glanced over at him and saw he still stared at her, as she might be the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Most civilized man were too…well…civilized to make interest so obvious. This man didn’t seem to care what she thought.

  Hmm. Now that was another thing she was not used to. She started to smile at him and stifled her inclination. Now was n
ot the time to allow it free rein.

  Mary Jane opened her reticule and extracted a handkerchief. The wood stove at the far end of the car behind her generated too much heat, even for an unusually crisp June day. She dabbed at her cheeks and the cloth came away slightly sooty. Awful. See if she ever took another train.

  On the other hand, the lure of adventure drew her into excitement, and if it were not for the terrible reason behind her train trip, she would almost enjoy the soot and grit and the loud hustle bustle.

  She did not know whether to feel exhilaration or amazement at what she accomplished so far on this excursion. After the train had left Vine Street in the center of Philadelphia, they had crossed the Schuylkill River on a huge viaduct. All along the way she had marveled at the beauty displayed to the north where farmhouses and stone barns dappled the land. Their railway coach was hauled up a high area called the Belmont Plane. After that, coupled to steam locomotives, they made their way to the canal basin where they’d soon traverse the Susquehanna River near Columbia.

  The speed was terrifying, the noise deafening, the entire ride uncomfortable. The rattle, rattle, rattle of the car over rails irritated her. From what she had gleaned at their last stop, they would try to make it all the way to the town of Columbia. If bad weather dictated, they would finish their trip for tonight at Lancaster around three o’clock. A stagecoach would not have proved much better for comfort and certainly not for speed, and transporting Father relied on the train. Returning to her mother and sisters would prove a trial as well, but in the meantime she could take some comfort in the hours it would take to reach home.

  Home. She should not feel eager to return to the one place she longed to escape. She closed her eyes and sighed, glad for the relative emptiness of the railcar. As she sighed, she still felt the green-eyed man’s attention. It made her want to squirm. Weariness dragged at Mary Jane’s eyelids. Heat threatened to choke every drop of air from the compartment. Her neck itched. Her palms sweated. She swallowed back the lump in her throat that threatened to grow with every hour. Tears prickled and she drew a tight breath. No, she would not. She could not lose control. Staying strong was more important than purging feelings. She tugged at the ruffled lace neckline. She unfastened two buttons. More than once she’d wished she’d forgone wearing a crinoline. But no, that wouldn’t do. Simply wouldn’t do.

  Thank goodness her chaperone Prudence could not see her opening the blouse. Her long nose would tilt high with pure disapproval. On the other hand, when her mother and sisters discovered she had left Prudence in Philadelphia, well, she would never hear the end of it. She sighed. Soon, this would all be over. Father would find his eternal place in Pittsburgh—his body laid to rest near his ancestors.

  Movement to her left started her out of her reverie. The mysterious man stared at her again. Seconds slowed as their gazes locked, and that look seared awareness into her brain and all through her. Her lips parted in soundless amazement as his eyes warmed with interest…and if she dared think it, a nameless heat. Then he looked away and she wondered if she imagined that brief moment of connection. She straightened, stiffening her back as if it would deny the outrageous sensation that she’d stepped into danger. Her heartbeat quickened. Good thing Prudence wasn’t with her. The lady would have vapors for certain.

  Two men Mary Jane had seen earlier in the day wandered past to sit in the seat in front of her. Her gaze tangled momentarily with one of the men, but something…something felt different. With blond hair, sharp nose, tight mouth and pale skin, he took her in with cold eyes so washed out she could not tell if they were ice blue or chilly green. Hairs on the back of her neck prickled despite the insidious heat. A horrible chill, soul-deep and profound shivered through her.

  She yanked her gaze away from the man as he slid into the seat and scooted over for the other man. His companion, a skinny man with frayed trousers and frayed waistcoat, was far friendlier in appearance. Seedy, but without the cold eyes. As he reached his seat, he tipped his hat, nodded, and said with a raspy voice, “Ma’am.”

  With reluctance, she nodded in acknowledgement. His gaze took in her black silk traveling dress and hat. She returned his bold stare with one of her own. No. This man’s stare did not make her feel anything like the green-eyed man across the aisle. Her mother’s nagging voice followed her in the same indignant voice.

  You have been disgraced. No fine Pittsburgh man will be the least bit interested in marrying you.

  Mary Jane sighed. She could not allow indiscretions in her past to ruin her future. Not when her bold nature had created havoc in her life up to this point.

  The blond man made a sound in his throat, and she realized he had aimed and missed the spittoon near his feet. Her stomach roiled. Honestly, some men are perfect swine.

  The skinny man turned around in his seat and gazed at her point blank. Then his blond friend did the same.

  “Ma’am.” The skinny man lifted one eyebrow as his insolent attention swept over her. “You a widow?”

  Startled at the question, she did not speak right away.

  The skinny man wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Seems a bit strange you travelin’ by yourself.”

  Repulsed, she did not know what to say.

  “She isn’t traveling by herself,” said the deep, Irish-accented voice to her immediate left. “She’s with me.”

  Both men in front of her glanced over at the green-eyed Irishman. Startled, she did the same.

  The Irishman’s expression stayed neutral, but his eyes held a warning. “She’s my wife. Her mother died recently.”

  Stunned by the man’s declaration, she could only think he meant to save her from the other travelers’ attentions. She did not know whether to be frightened, angry or both.

  “That true, Mrs…?” the blond man asked.

  “Mrs. McKinnon.” The Irishman man didn’t miss stride.

  She opened her mouth, and the words flowed naturally. “Please, sirs, I would like to remain quiet. My father—my mother’s death has been difficult.” Her voice broke. “Let me mourn in peace.”

  Tears filled her eyes. Before she could catch her emotions, they ran away with her. She fumbled inside her reticule for the handkerchief. When she located it and held it to her eyes, a shuddering sob slipped out.

  A big, warm grip clasped over her gloved left hand. She quickly glanced over at the Irishman. His gaze filled with genuine concern and a caring she had not expected from the hard glances he had bestowed on her before.

  Irishman squeezed her hand gently. “You all right?”

  Mary Jane didn’t resist his grip. “Yes, I am fine.”

  Skinny man nodded. “We’re sorry, ma’am.”

  After the skinny man and his friend turned around, a heavy sigh left her. Good.

  For a second she thought the Irishman would leave his touch on her hand forever, but he slowly released her. As she looked at him, his intense perusal raked over her one more time before he turned his attention forward. Not one smile. Just hard, cool dismissal.

  Well. What should she think about the bizarre episode? Why would he take such lengths to help her? If he had simply told the blackguards to leave her alone, they might have picked a fight. Instead, he concocted a story she would have to stick to until skinny man and blond head departed for good. Which she hoped would be soon. Bemused by the event, she remained tensed, ready for anything. Certainly the need for a chaperone presented itself now. Her mother would never let her hear the end of this. She sighed and dabbed at an errant tear that remained on her cheek. Her heart ached with not only sorrow for her father, but a profound loneliness she did not understand. Once secretly thrilled to the idea of traveling alone, now she experienced it, she recognized the perils all too well. What if the Irishman thought she owed him…well, she would not even dare to think that far.

  The steady motion and clack, clack of the train lulled her into a trance. She watched the scenery, recalling the trip to Philadelphia after they received word that
her father had died most horribly. She cringed inside. Somehow, in the back of her mind, she had known he would come to this. Now her family must mourn. Heaviness weighed down her eyelids and soon they drooped. So tired.

  Time floated until she sank into a dream. A man chased her, cloaked and hooded, his evil certain, and his laugh as hideous as a hound from hell. Behind the man chasing her stood the warm, welcoming protection of the Irishman with the intense eyes.

  A horrendous screech sliced through her dreams, and a gasp escaped as she awoke with a start. As predicted, the train had stopped at Lancaster because rainstorms between Lancaster and Columbia demanded they shorten the trip.

  Frustrated by the slow progression, she took a deep breath and glanced at the Irishman. She expected him to stare, but this time he maintained cool distance.

  She noted the bustling station with people walking to and fro with energy. The conductor asked the Irishman and Mary Jane to disembark. They would make the remainder of the trip to Columbia in the morning.

  As she stood, the Irishman caught her gaze once more. “Come on, darlin’.”

  The mysterious man urged her to move into the aisle in front of him. Men around them heard his accent. Some looked at him with distain, others polite indifference. Two red-haired twins, handsome and stoic, left the carriage ahead of them.

  She played along as his wife, an anticipatory shiver adding to the adventure. The devil on one shoulder found this thrilling while the angel on the other berated. Soon they alighted from the car, and the man in front of Mary Jane waited at the steps and held his hand out to her.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said out of habit for a gentleman’s chivalry.

  As he helped her down to the platform, she took in the sights and sounds with curiosity. The town certainly did not boast the size of Philadelphia or Pittsburgh, but it hummed with activity. On the outskirts, one-story buildings dominated, but she could see a square populated with three-story brick buildings. Various transports lumbered down the streets, from omnibus, curricle and numerous freight wagons.

  To her surprise the Irishman took her upper arm in a possessive grip. Though his touch in no way bruised, he urged her along. “This way, darlin’.”