Page 48 of The Swindler’s Daughter

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After I’d finished with my chores, I walked swiftly toward Rowan’s cottage. It was time for me to stop straddling the line and pick a side.

I was on Rowan’s side. I was on Johnny and Oliver and Tyson and Ansel and Gretchen’s side. I was on the side of those who were being crushed by the unlawful conduct of the magistrate and his men.

And it was time I let everyone know.

I marched up to Rowan’s door and raised my hand to knock, but the sound of voices from around the back of the house made me pause. I couldn’t make out very many specific words because several voices seemed to all be talking over one another.

I dropped my hand and walked around the outside of the cottage, following the cacophony of voices past the herb garden and into the trees.

Rowan, Johnny, Gretchen, Ansel, Tyson, and Oliver were gathered near the archery range. Ansel and Gretchen sat shoulder to shoulder, their backs up against a trunk. Johnny leaned on his staff, arguing with Rowan, who was crouched down, drawing in the dirt with the tip of an arrow. Tyson and Oliver looked on from where they stood just behind Rowan.

“I still think it’s best to go in at night. We need the cover of darkness,” Rowan said.

“Darkness won’t do us any good if they catch us inside,” Johnny pointed out. “We should go in when we know he’s gone.”

“In broad daylight?” Rowan asked, flabbergasted.

“It’s worked for us before,” Johnny countered.

“Hi, Miriam.” Ansel waved at me.

His greeting caught everyone’s attention. Rowan stood, sweeping his foot over the drawing he’d been doing. Johnny looked me over, apprehensive, then gave me a nod. “Morning, Miri.”

I didn’t know what to say. Should I just ask them outright what they were doing? “I just came to speak with Rowan,” I said, since that was the bare truth of the matter.

Rowan immediately jogged toward me, taking my arm and pulling me away from the rest of the group.

A hissed whisper from Gretchen followed in our wake. “We’re going to be in so much trouble.”

Rowan led me to the other side of the cottage, out of hearing range and out of view of the others. “What did you need to speak with me about?” he asked, looking nervous beneath his usual confident air.

I studied him for a moment, remembering my determination—that I’d picked a side, that I’d chosen to trust him. So I took a leap of faith and asked him a question that I prayed he would answer honestly.

“What are you doing?” I asked, gesturing toward the group.

He looked behind his shoulder, even though the cottage blocked our view of the others, and when he looked back at me, there was a portion of defeat in his expression but also determination. “We’re planning something dangerous,” he said.

Odd that such a pronouncement should make me relax. He was telling me the truth, and somehow in the moment, that was the most important thing to me. “What kind of danger?” I asked.

He paused, seeming to note my lack of anger or worry, then took a breath and answered. “We need more information,” he said, his hands gesturing in front of him as he went on to explain. “We know things are being stolen. We see things being stolen. But we also know that things have disappeared without any witnesses. Then there are the taxes being collected. The sum total of all that has been taken is significant. So where is all that money going?”

I didn’t have any idea, so I just waited for him to continue.

“As far as we can tell,” he said, seeming to warm to the subject, “it’s not being spent. So then is it being sent to someone?”

“You think Reeve is working for someone else?” I guessed.

“No.” He shook his head but his eyes were bright with intrigue. “My personal opinion is that he’s in charge. However, I can’t discount the possibility that he could be working for someone else.”

I thought on that for a moment. “If it’s being sent elsewhere, we’ll never get it back,” I pointed out.

“Which is why I’m hoping that Reeve is controlling enough and greedy enough to just keep it all to himself.”

The gears in my head turned for several seconds before clicking into place. “You hope he’s stockpiling it somewhere?” I guessed.

“Yes.”