Page 69 of The Swindler’s Daughter

“I like it,” Rowan said. “There are plenty of items that I recognized in the hoard. Gem talismans from Garnet. Watches from Mr. Dewey. Jewelry from Mr. Harper.”

As the boys’ voices raised in excitement, I felt I had to tamp down a bit of their excitement. “Do you really want to go back into the village?” I asked. “What if we walk right into Reeve’s path?”

“I think we can avoid the lawmen easily enough. And since we won’t be trying to take anything from them, it should be fairly quick.”

“Just don’t get overconfident,” I advised. “We got away last night, and I’m honestly not sure how we managed it. Most of it was luck.”

“That hurts, Miriam,” Oliver said as he placed a dramatic hand to his chest. “It hurts right here, knowing you don’t have any confidence in our skills.”

I rolled my eyes. “I would hardly have been in that house with you yesterday if I didn’t have confidence in your skills. I’m just pointing out that you still need to rely on those skills. Don’t go strutting into the market thinking you can get away with anything just because we got away with this.”

“All right, all right,” Oliver said, waving me off. “Go ahead. Be the voice of reason.”

“I happen to have a vested interest in the safety and freedom of everyone here,” I pointed out. I didn’t want them thinking of me as the mother hen, but laws, sometimes that’s what they needed.

Oliver grinned at me. “I know it. I’m only teasing.” Then he turned to the others. “We are going to do it, though, right?”

John set a heavy hand on Oliver’s shoulder and squeezed. “Always anxious to get into more trouble.”

Rowan came over and put an arm around my shoulder. “Thank you for being the voice of reason,” he said so that only I could hear.

“They don’t seem to like it,” I pointed out as the others continued to plot our reverse theft with glee.

“They don’t think they need to hear it, but they do.”

I breathed in relief, grateful we were of the same mind.

***

We went through the contents of the wagon, each grabbing items that we knew were likely to belong to a specific seller, then we divided things up, making sure none of us were too heavily laden. At first we thought each of us should return all the items belonging to one person, but we soon realized it would be difficult to return five or six items unseen. It would be easier if we each took items belonging to several different vendors. That way each small item could be easily placed as we passed by and would be less likely to draw notice. We each also grabbed several fistfuls of coins, knowing that the food vendors had been stolen from just as much as those who had valuable pieces.

I just hoped it would work.

We all worked to hide the wagon even more thoroughly than the night before, then we set off toward the village. It was a fairly lengthy walk since our flight had taken us deep into Murrwood Forest, and we made marks in the trees along the way to be sure that we could find our way back to the wagon.

When we finally reached the road, we sent Ansel and Gretchen on their way with the horses. “Do not go through the village,” I advised for what felt like the hundredth time.

They both rolled their eyes. “We know,” they said in unison before taking off.

I breathed easier once they were on their way. Having them with us had been dangerous. The magistrate knew Rowan’s face as well as mine and John’s, which made what we were about to do seem bold. Too bold. Reckless even.

The five of us all entered the market, but none of us were together. The constables knew there were several of us. Our best defense was to go about as individuals and do it as quickly as possible.

I kept the hood up on my cloak, but I’d also torn a length of linen from my underskirt and bound my hair with it. My red hair had given me away once already. I wasn’t about to risk it again.

We arrived when market hours were well underway, the stalls busy and the street crowded. I strode through the throng with purpose in my step, swinging by Miss Garnet’s stall to drop off a trinket in the shape of a caterpillar. Then I went by the spice seller, looking over the bowls of pungent offerings while sliding three coins onto the table and tucking them behind one of the bowls.

Wick was next. I didn’t try to be coy. I just went up and shook his hand with a smile, leaving several coins in his palm as I said, “I believe our esteemed magistrate would wish you to have this.” I left him baffled as I faded into the crowd. When I reached the jeweler’s stall, I stooped down to the ground and then stood with a bracelet dangling from my hand. “This seems to have fallen from your table” was all I said as I handed it to the jeweler.

He made a noise of surprise but let me go without causing a fuss.

No. The fuss came from a different direction entirely. When I heard the shouts of Magistrate Reeve, my heart jumped, assuming that one of my friends had been caught or at least recognized. But the magistrate’s anger wasn’t directed at any of them.

As the people in the market backed away from the irate lawman, I had a clear view of him. He was throwing one hand in the air as he leaned heavily on a cane, his face red as he screamed.

“I don’t care what piddly concerns you think you have! This is my village, and if you want to continue to be safe here, you will abide by my laws!” As he tried to pace in agitation, he limped horribly, the wound in his thigh clearly making movement difficult.

Good, I couldn’t help thinking. I might have felt bad if he hadn’t been harassing the woman who sold grains from the fields south of town. Though she stood stoically, refusing to yield, her three-year-old son was not so brave. He cowered behind her, burying his head in the back of her knees and clutching her skirts in his little fists.