Above the Harvest Moon Read Online Free PDF

had to drag the body to the landing near the wharf and shove it under the platform as far as it would go. With any luck it would bob about there for days before it was discovered, and with every hour it was in the water it would deteriorate, which was all to the good.
     
    The last thing he did was the most important for his plan to succeed. From a lad he’d had a lucky rabbit’s foot on a small chain which he always carried with him, making sure it was in his pocket for everything from the odd tinpot game with his father and brothers to the real gambling schools like those with the McKenzies. He’d had his name carved in the pewter base surrounding the foot by one of the travelling engravers at the annual Michaelmas fair years ago, earning himself a good ribbing from his family in the process.
     
    ‘You make your own luck in this world, lad,’ his father had scoffed, ‘and it’s nowt to do with a dead rabbit.’
     
    But his father had been wrong. This piece of luck was everything to do with a dead rabbit. Smiling to himself, Silas knelt beside the dead man and made sure the rabbit’s foot was still in the pocket of his coat and that the clip was holding to the material inside. The rabbit’s foot was going to confirm he was dead while at the same time buy him a new life. A life that would start with plenty of money in his pocket, good clothes on his back and a fine pair of boots on his feet. No matter they were too big, they were of the finest quality and that’s what he intended to have from now on. No wife, no squawking brat hanging on his coat-tails. He was a free man again. It felt heady, euphoric.
     
    Once the body was in the water under the landing, Silas returned to the alleyway, thanking his lucky stars the night was such a raw one with the snow reaching blizzard proportions. This area right on the waterfront was always quiet once the engine works and rope works and other extensive industry lining its banks closed for the night, but some of the streets nearby had one pub to every half a dozen houses and the dockside dollies who frequented such establishments often brought their customers to just such a secluded spot.
     
    The big fat snowflakes were starting to hide what had occurred in the alley although here and there red stains were still visible. But it wouldn’t be long before all evidence was under a layer of snow and it was unlikely anyone would come this way now. Silas picked up his hobnailed boots and tucked them under the thick warm jacket which was like nothing he had owned before. Glancing around one last time, he pulled his cap low over his eyes and made off, keeping his head down.
     
    He walked swiftly, his only desire to put as much distance between him and Monkwearmouth as he could. He had already made up his mind to go down south, Sheffield maybe or even further afield. If the weather had been better he would have walked all night, he felt so good.
     
    Mind, if the weather had been better, he reminded himself in the next instant, likely there would have been more folk about and he wouldn’t have found himself in this position. The dead man might still be walking about with his money belt in place. No, he certainly wasn’t knocking the weather, far from it. It had served him well the night.
     
    He reached North Bridge Street without meeting a soul apart from one or two scurrying figures in the distance.The bridge into Bishopwearmouth was equally deserted, the weather and the late hour having driven most Wearsiders indoors.
     
    Walking wasn’t easy in the blizzard but the unaccustomed luxury of the expensive, richly lined jacket and thick trousers meant he was as warm as toast. He cut through the town and veered east towards Hendon where he slung his hobnailed boots into the back of the cricket ground. Someone would find them in due course and it would be finders keepers and no questions asked.
     
    His fingers caressed the money pouch which now resided in the pocket of his jacket as