Page 1 of The Swindler’s Daughter

Prologue

Before

I’d nearly been caught today, picking the pocket of a man at the festival. Luckily, when he’d turned and looked straight at me, all he saw was an innocent ten-year-old girl. Papa always told me that my honest face was my biggest asset. I’d mastered looking wide-eyed and curious when I was four.

Unfortunately, Papa had seen today’s near miss and made me work longer hours to make up for the fact that a mark had nearly caught me. And even after I’d climbed into bed dead tired, I couldn’t fall asleep. Papa had met some men, and they were talking around the fire, bursting into loud, annoying laughter each time I was on the verge of sleep. When I finally did drift off, it was a fitful sleep. I kept having dreams about being caught. A mark would reach out and grab my arm before I could run away. Or I would make a clean grab, only to be confronted by a lawman, which was even worse than being caught by a mark. Or my father would be shaking my shoulder, screaming at me for not being careful enough.

He just kept shaking and shaking.

“Miri!” someone hissed in my ear.

That’s when I realized the shaking wasn’t a dream. I groaned and rolled over, trying to shove my brother away. I knew it had to be Hunter. He was the only one who called me Miri.

“Go away,” I muttered, in no mood to wake up when I knew it wasn’t morning.

A hand clamped over my mouth. “You have to be quiet,” Hunter warned in a whisper, and suddenly I was wide awake. Hunter wouldn’t risk scaring me for no reason, and the panic in his voice was definitely scaring me.

I looked over at him, but there was nothing but shadows inside our peddler’s wagon. I could hear Hunter’s shallow breathing, along with my father’s snoring that came from the other end of the wagon. I finally nodded so Hunter would know that I understood.

He slowly removed his hand. “We have to leave, Miri.”

“Leave where?” I asked in my quietest whisper.

“Just help me gather some things and come with me. I’ll explain later.”

“But where are we going?” I asked as I pushed myself up from my pallet, rubbing at my eyes.

“Shh,” he warned again. Then he sighed. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Of course I do.” That had never been a question. I’d always known I could rely on my brother. He was almost five years older than I was, and he had always taken care of me. He made sure I got something to eat when Papa forgot about such things. When Papa got upset, he took the blame even if it was my fault.

“Then come outside with me. Make sure you grab your shoes and shawl.”

My face scrunched in confusion, but I pushed my blankets off and got up to do as he asked. Soon Hunter was lifting the latch on the door, then he jumped out before helping me to the ground. He kept quiet, closing the door again in complete silence before strapping a large pack to his back. Then he took my hand and pulled me away from our camp.

I wanted to ask him where we were going, but I held my tongue. He’d promised to explain, so I would wait until he thought it was time.

We found the narrow, rutted path that led to the main road and walked along it. And still Hunter didn’t talk; he just kept walking farther and farther from the wagon, from our home. From Papa.

I gulped and couldn’t keep my questions in anymore. “Are we running away, Hunter?”

“Yes,” he said, his pace quick and steady.

“Are we running away from Papa?”

“Yes.”

My thoughts tripped over the idea for only a moment. It was easy to know how I felt about it. It was scary, but also a little exciting. My stomach felt uncomfortable. “Who will take care of us?” I asked. Papa was always grumbling about how hard it was to take care of us, how lucky we were to have him. Even though I didn’t feel lucky all the time, I figured he would know better than I would.

“Me,” Hunter answered. “I’m going to take care of both of us.”

“We don’t have a wagon to live in.”

“I know, Miri, but trust me. It will be better this way. It will be safer.”

“How?”

Hunter’s steps slowed, and he finally stopped and turned to look at me. I could just make out his features in the light of the half-moon. “Do you know what Papa was doing with those men around the fire?”