New York City, 1902
Manhattan
Becky spotted Hannah as soon as she stepped on to the street. "Hannah! What are you doing down here? And are you alright, I heard about what happened down at Avery's yesterday, was it awful? Are you okay?"
Hannah forced a small smile, "I'm fine, just a small cut, is all." She hesitated as she turned to walk in step with Becky.
"Are you sure?" Becky asked, watching her from the corner of her eye, "You're acting a little strange. First Elijah, and now you. You two aren't planning on eloping or anything, are you?"
"No, of course not!" Hannah exclaimed, her cheeks flushing. She fought the sensation before sighing in resignation. Becky's incredulous look was too much and, perhaps, it would be better for her if she had someone she could talk this over with – someone that was not Elisabeth. "Becky… if I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone else?"
Becky's face turned serious, her teasing melting away. She stopped walking, causing Hannah to stop as well. "This is serious, isn't it?"
Hannah nodded, biting her lip nervously.
"Of course, Hannah. I won't tell a soul. What is it?"
Hannah shook her head, her nervousness still written across her face. "Not here. Can we go to your apartment? It's closer then mine."
Becky nodded, her eyes immediately showing her concern. "Of course."
They walked the two blocks to Becky's flat in silence. When they arrived, they were greeted by Becky's mother, who had been sitting in a wooden rocking chair, mending a pair of men's trousers.
"Hello Mrs. Carter, how are you?" Hannah greeted the older lady politely, a sincere, albeit somewhat strained, smile on her face.
"Why, Hannah! It's so good to see you dear, it's been too long," Mrs. Carter pushed herself out of the creaking chair, crossing the room to kiss her daughter on the cheek, before turning to Hannah, and kissing her cheek sweetly, too. For some reason, the small gesture caused Hannah's heart to clench in her chest, and she had to blink to hold back a sudden wave of tears.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat, mentally chiding herself for the sudden flood of emotions. She felt like a small child, and that everything would be okay again, if only she had her mother with her.
Becky pulled on Hannah's arm. "We'll be in my room, Mama."
Hannah followed Becky into the small room she shared with her younger brother, glad that the little boy wasn't around.
"Benny's out selling newspapers," Becky answered Hannah's unspoken question.
Hannah nodded, settling down onto Becky's neatly made bed, as Becky perched across from her, resting on Benny's mattress.
"So, are you going to tell me what's happening?"
Hannah pulled out the crumpled note once again, pausing before showing it to Becky. "You can't tell anyone, alright?" she asked, making sure that Becky understood her request.
Becky nodded, and Hannah gave her the note.
Becky scanned it, reading the scrawled writing twice before looking back up at her friend. "Where did you get this?" she asked, her voice a few octaves higher then it usually was.
"It was wrapped around the brick."
"Wrapped around—you mean the one that broke the window at Avery's? That was meant for you?!"
Hannah nodded miserably, "I don't know what to do. What has Elijah gotten himself into?"
"Oh, Hannah," was all Becky could say, as she moved to sit down next to her friend. She slipped her arm around Hannah's shoulders. "Did you show Elijah?"
"Yes. This morning. He told me to go inside and not to go back out until I heard from him again. But I couldn't just sit there and do nothing, Becky. It was driving me mad!"
Becky squeezed Hannah's shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm sure there's a logical explanation for all this. I mean… it's Elijah." She attempted to grin, trying to calm her friend with her words.
It did not seem to work. "I know. It just doesn't add up. But he wouldn't give me a straight answer." Hannah sighed, leaning her head on Becky's shoulder. She felt lost – lost and alone.
New York City, 1902
Brooklyn,
The Glass Factory
Bolt sighed, shaking his head wearily. He felt as if he'd aged forty years in the last two days. "I don't know," he told Spot, wiping his hand over his face, "it doesn't matter anyways." He pulled his father's pocket watch from his vest, clicking it open and glancing at the time, "Besides, I'll know who it is in a few hours."
"I take it you think it's someone from your days in the ring?"
"Yeah. It's gotta be. What I don't get is why whoever it is waited so long. I mean, it's been, what? Two years now?"
Spot nodded. "Maybe because whoever it was couldn't reach you."
Bolt furrowed his brow at that. "What are you getting at?" Spot wasn't one to voice an empty theory.
"Well, the timing's kinda perfect, aint it? What with Conners getting out of jail last week, and all." Spot delivered the news casually, almost as if he were commenting on the weather.
Bolt sat up straighter. "Conners? Joe Conners is out of jail?"
Spot's lips twitched in amusement; it had been the reaction he was looking for. "Aint that somethin'? Let him out last Friday. Word on the street is Judge Porter is pissed as hell. Sentenced him to ten years, only to have the powers that be shave off eight of them."
"Judge Porter put him away?" Bolt asked, the surprise evident in his voice.
"It's his name on the papers."
"Well," breathed Bolt finally, as the initial shock of the news wore off, "I guess that explains more than it doesn't."
Spot rubbed his chin thoughtfully, studying Bolt's face. "So, what are you going to do about it, Henderson?"
Bolt ran a nervous hand through his hair, shrugging. "Wish I knew. I guess I'll just take it as it comes."
Spot rolled his eyes. "That's the problem with you fighters. You don't think. Use your brain, Henderson. You can be sure Conners is going to be using his."
"Right now, the only thing I'm thinking about is Hannah."
Spot snorted at Bolt's sincerity.. "Touching, I'm sure," he smirked before pausing – as if he was thinking about something. His eyebrow quirked. "Do they know about her?"
Bolt nodded, almost dejectedly. "Yeah. They definitely know about her. Sent a brick through a window, note to her attached."
Spot whistled appreciatively at that. "You better get her out of town, if you want to keep her alive."
Bolt winced; it wasn't a fate he wanted to entertain. Spot caught the look. "You can't ignore it. Covering your eyes aint going to make it go away."
Bolt nodded. He knew Spot was right. What he didn't know was how he was going to convince Hannah to leave town without telling her everything.
But he could use his savings to get her far away, out of danger, until this all blew over. At least that was something.