Hello! This is Charlene Bates (Elaine Dawkin's sister). Yes, she did write this chapter, it is just that she is SO busy that I am typing it up and posting it FOR her. She didn't want all you guys to have to go without reading it for days. So, just pretend I am her. Here we go with chapter 4, right?
December 4, 1828
I pulled up my grubby pants, wrapped myself in the filthy great coat, donned my hat, and put my pistol in my pocket. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror and sighed. I had not told anyone at the orphanage about my new criminal side – the one I am, to this day, ashamed of. I hoped that some good would come of it. Maybe there was a link to the abused child – or maybe there wasn't. At least, I mused, no one would recognize my in this clothing. But just to make sure, once I stepped outside, I grabbed a handful of dirt from my garden and smeared my face with it.
I had actually loaded my pistol (something I rarely do). I decided that I would not use it except for in self-defense – if Bill got any ideas about me being a good target!
Beginning to walk towards Henderson Creek, I wished that I could use a chaise carriage. It would look funny, though, if a person of my apparent poverty had enough money to afford it. I strode on without too much delay trying to ignore the cold wet darkness. An hour later, I finally reached my destination.
Bill was already waiting and he had brought a suitcase. I came over and he put a lantern close to my face.
"Good ide'r that muck," he put down the lantern and squatted next to the bank. Bill scooped up a handful of dirt and covered himself with it. I was actually a little pleased with myself for this bit of genius – especially since it pleased Bill.
"Now, yer see this here suitcase…," he tapped it with a crowbar, "These are my insterments for the job," he grinned and continued, "No need for yer to know what they are; I'll be usin' them myself. You brought yer pistol?"
I pulled it out a little shakily, just long enough for Bill to see, and put it away again. He nodded.
"Now see here, I want yer to go first and I'll follow behind. Wer headin' straight for that house over there," he pointed ahead. "They're asleep by now. When we get there, yer gonna look in the window. If all's clear, give me the signal." He put both hands in the air. "That's the signal. If it is not clear, come straight back, yer understand?"
I said "yes", but I didn't' much like the signal. It looked too much like surrender – like asking to be shot at.
"Good. If all's clear, I'll come up with this crowbar and open the winder. We'll both go inside and look for the good stuff – you know, jewelry, money, anything that can be grabbed and carried."
Bill now poked me with the crowbar and I went ahead towards the house. I kept running over the plan in my head. I was worried that I would make a mistake because of my nerves. This was not what I should have done. I should have just run in the other direction. So what if he would have shot me? I, at least, would have died with integrity and gone to heaven! But no, I was a chicken and have paid for it ever since with my guilt.
I came closer and closer. I shook uncontrollably, but tried to hide it. Now I reached the window. Peering inside, I noted that all was clear. I lifted my hands and Bill crept over…
All right! That's it. Reviews please! – Charlene Bates (and Elaine Dawkins, the actual author)