Over the following days, Karl and the Sergeant worked out a plan of defense. My part was simple. I was to take “the child” and withdraw to my room – barricading the door behind me, and standing ready with my Colt. It was also decided that, for the present, I would not take “the child” to town, but confine our excursions to nature.

After Karl outlined his plan, he became quite serious. “While I am confident in our plan of defense, one should always consider the worst. It may come to pass that you will need to flee with the child, If so, the Sergeant will accompany you.” He outlined a well-conceived design for this eventuality and finished by handing me a belt concealing gold coins and notes drawn on Mr. Hamilton’s Bank of New York. I had never seen such notes, but Karl assured me they were “as good as gold.” I put the belt in the secret compartment of my wardrobe against the contingency of flight.

Instead of taking Sandy to town, I split our mornings between nature excursions and teaching her to sew. The berry season was over, so I started teaching her plant lore and the reverence for nature I had learned from my father and from Agnes. Wednesday, I wanted to instruct her about willow bark. A fine specimen grew on the bluff of the Hudson. As it happened, the path to it led by Agnes’ cave.

As we passed the cave, I thought it would make a secure meeting place should Sandy and I be separated in a time of danger. I led Sandy down the bank, pointing out landmarks, to the hidden entrance. Agnes had left candles and a flint and steel, so I was able to show her the interior, with its deeper hiding places.

Thursday morning Sandy sewed a bow to the neck line of her everyday dress, finishing it. I helped her put it on. I had never seen a child blush so! Still, she radiated happiness – swinging back and forth letting the skirt brush her legs – all the while staring into the glass at her reflection. I had no doubt of her being a girl in her soul.

After her French lesson, Sandy was worn out, so I put her down for a nap. As Mary was in town purchasing supplies, Constance and I had a chance to speak privately. She had told Mary she was with child. After an initial peak of anger and disappointment, her mother had embraced her and assured her of her continuing love.

Liam, her beau, had taken the train to White Plains and obtained the position of boilermaker and assistant blacksmith. Once he found them a home, they would be married – perhaps in a month or two. Meanwhile, Mary had arranged for their priest to announce the banns.

I was relieved to see Constance’s “problem” on its way to resolution.

Anne Cummings had written, saying she would come to Yonkers Friday to seek an apprentice at the Asylum. Since I knew the girls, she asked if I would be kind enough to accompany her. After checking with Karl, I agreed to meet her Friday morning. Constance would watch Sandy while I accompanied Anne.

I rose early Friday, harnessed Becky to the trap as the Sergeant had showed me, and drove to the station. Just as the train steamed away, I saw Anne and Peggy on the platform.

“Peggy hoped she might play with Alexander, but you have not brought him.”

“He is being attended by Constance, the maid. We can stop by the mansion on our way to the Asylum.”

“I am sure that would please Peggy – would it not, dear?”

“Oh, very much, mother.”

“Before you see Alexander, I must say that since he has a feminine soul, and she is to be raised as a girl – named Alexandria. I hope that will not cause either of you upset.”

“Oh Miss Winston, Alexandria always was a girl to me. He never acted like a nasty boy.”

“I am neither surprised nor shocked. I have a distant cousin in a similar situation. For whatever reason, God gives some girls the body of a boy,” added Anne.

Jane and Mrs. van Hoff met us at the door of the asylum. They had gathered the three girls approaching their fourteenth year for Anne to interview. I knew them well. Alice Witmore was hard working, but not quick of wit. Penelope Smyth was very immature and flighty. Fortunately, Cora van Duff was both quick-witted and industrious. I sat in silence, letting Anne interview each to form her own opinion. Then, the four of us convened to discuss the matter. As I expected, Cora was chosen, and arrangements were made to pick her up in three weeks, on her birth date.

I was driving back to the mansion at a leisurely pace, enjoying the air and chatting with Anne, when I heard four booms, interspersed with sharper cracks. The booms were the unmistakable report of a Colt Walker.

My heart raced as I whipped Becky to a gallop. The trap rattled on at a frightening speed as I retrieved my colt from my purse. Anne was ashen as she hung on for dear life. At the last bend, I stopped and urged her to hide for her own safety.

“My death is nothing if Peggy is gone.” Her face had transformed from ash to stone.

I snapped my Sheffield open, handed it to her and urged the tired mare to one last effort. Both trap and horse almost overturned as we careened to a stop in front of the broken door. I approached cautiously, my Patterson held with both hands. Two ruffians lay in the hall with horrible wounds, doubtlessly from the Sergeant’s Colt. Beyond, the Sergeant lay bleeding – his colt still smoking. I ran to him, but to no avail. He was dead. I could not hold my tears.

“Peggy!?” called Anne.

Now was not the time for tears. I hardened my heart and gripped my pistol tighter. In the library a man lay run through by a saber – and the captain, wounded in the chest. Thank God, he was still alive!

“I’ve sent Constance for Doctor Robinson,” he wheezed. “Find Alexander and flee with the Sergeant … as we planned.”

“Yes, sir.” I could not bring myself to tell him the Sergeant lay dead.

“Anne, hide Becky and the trap while I bind the Captain’s wound. There is a meadow behind those trees.” I tore strips from my petticoat and bound his wound as best I could, then gave him a draft of laudanum. Having done what I could for him, I ran upstairs to gather my bag, potions and money belt.

Anne returned as I came down. We left to search for Alexander and Peggy. As we stepped out of the kitchen we saw Mary O’Grady laying dead of a bullet to the back.

“Oh Lord! What more? … Anne, whoever shot Mary might still be lurking. Keep a sharp lookout!”

“At least there is no sign of my Peggy ... or Alexander.”

“That, at least, is good news. I know where they may have gone.”

I concealed my carpet bag in some bushes before leading Anne stealthily through the woods, my Colt still cocked and ready. We broke out of the trees onto a prominence overlooking Agnes’s cave.

“There is a cave hidden behind that thicket.” I whispered. “I told Alexander to use as a refuge. Hopefully, he and Peggy are within.”

“Peggy! Alexander!” Anne shouted. “It’s mother, dear!”

There was no answer. I picked my way down to the cave, but could see only blackness as I peered into its mouth. I bent down and went in. A voice cried “Look out!” I shot deafened me. I saw stars, and collapsed. Hands were squeezing my throat. Then, all was black.