September 6^th, 1911 

The summer seemed to continue well into September that year. The searing temperatures of July had turned into sweltering humidity in August, and the beginning of September didn’t seem to promise any relief to the people of New York. The accidental rain on some afternoons didn’t really help in the oppressive heat that was weighing people down. For weeks it had felt as if a storm was brewing, but it never materialized. Instead, the air felt heavier by the day.  

There were no clouds in the sky now, Joseph observed languidly. There hadn’t been one all day even though it had rained yesterday. It was a quick shower, didn’t last longer than half an hour, and it left the air more humid than refreshing. The sun had moved from its highest point and started its descend on its diurnal journey toward the eastern horizon, but it was still beaming mercilessly above him. Joseph wasn’t sure if it was the sun or if it was the pain from his jaw that radiated to the back of his head. The punch had taken him by surprise, and the pain was still sharp, though it was turning into a dull ache. 

He was lying on the ground, looking up at the blue sky and the unrelenting sun. It was his third summer here and he still wasn’t used to the near tropical summers of New York. It was so different back home where summers were milder, and it rained a lot more. The weather wasn’t the only difference between New York and Dublin, but it was the most pressing one now. How could the same sun be so different across the ocean? How could it be so bright here, so fierce? Touching his nose, Joseph felt something wet. Lifting his hand, he could see blood smeared on his fingers. Figures, he thought. It had been a good punch.  

“Shit, Kieran. I think you hit him too hard,” a voice said, and Joseph recognized him as Dan O’Rourke, a weasel of a boy who always followed Kieran like a lost puppy. 

“I didn’t hit him that hard,” another voice answered. “But I will. Get up, Quinn! I’ll punch your brains out.” 

Kieran Byrne was a hothead with a mean right hook, and he really didn’t like Joseph. Joseph’s aching jaw could attest to both facts. Joseph couldn’t say for sure why this was or when the animosity had started between them, but it was there, the deep dislike that made them lock horns almost every time they saw each other. It had been like this for as long as Joseph could remember. It didn’t matter if it was on a street playing a game of pennies when they were younger or working various jobs to earn a buck or two when they were older. Whenever Joseph Quinn and Kieran Byrne met, a fight was never far-off.  

The bad blood between Joseph and Kieran might have been due to the fact Kierran had most of the boys of eastern Red Hook following him, and the Quinn brothers lived across the canal in Gowanus. There had always been friction between the two neighborhoods, so it wasn’t a surprise when the two gangs – or groups of boys really – started competing in almost everything when they were young. When the boys got older, things turned more serious. When earning money and reputation on the streets of Brooklyn came to dominate their lives, it was inevitable that the games of boys escalated into actual fist fights. 

The streets of Brooklyn’s waterfront, which included both Red Hook and Gowanus and many more districts, were almost a perfect place to brew even violent rivalry between young boys living there. A lot of Irish immigrants stayed in the waterfront of Greater New York. Though many children of immigrants could attend school and eventually move out from the waterfront, some couldn’t or chose not to. Life on the waterfront was hard, but it did offer freedom to some. Especially to those ready to work in an illicit line of work. 

The word on the street was Kieran Byrne belonged to the White Hand Gang, a group of gangs that did everything from petty thefts to real time crimes of racketeering, arson, illegal gambling, smuggling, and even murder. Kieran himself never said anything whenever the subject came up, he would just smile that smug smile of his that made you want to punch him in the face. Joseph didn’t believe Kieran belonged to the White Hand Gang. It was because Joseph actually knew some people who did. Though he couldn’t ask them if Kieran was part of the gang, there was something decidedly different between those men and Kieran. Joseph couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Joseph’s brother Robert always said Kieran just had a big mouth. It was easy for Robert to talk, Kieran always seemed to respect Robert more than anyone else – save the adults. ‘He’s not worth our time,’ Robert would say and focus on something else. 

Unfortunately for Joseph, Kieran was an unavoidable obstacle he had to overcome. But it had nothing to do with their rivalry. All of them were still relatively new to the underworld life of New York, and it would be years before the Quinn brothers would earn the notoriety they would be remembered for. No, the reason Joseph Quinn was lying on the ground, marveling at the blood on his fingers, was Fallon, Kieran’s younger sister. 

Joseph had first seen her the fall they arrived in New York. He would remember that day for the rest of his life. It had been at a street market. She was a fiery-haired girl, not much younger than him, and she outran all the boys that day. A snotnose boy named William Tripke tried to push her to the ground, but instead of calling for help or crying about it, Fallon punched poor William in the nose. Bleeding from his nose, William stared at her bewildered before he started crying and ran home to his mama.  

Maybe it was because all the boys were embarrassed, but they whispered later that Fallon got an earful from her mother and a belt from her father for what she had done. The latter, however, was not true. She did get an earful from his mama, but her father had just patted her head and called her his cailín. That was one of the last good memories Fallon had of her father, before he drank his life down the gutter. Fallon’s father worked at the docks like so many others in Red Hook. And like so many others, Fallon’s father spent most of his free time at a local bar, drowning his hard-earned money in beer and cheap whiskey. He wasn’t a mean drunk. He didn’t hit his wife or children, but he was prone to melancholy and long periods of despair. Later, he drunk himself to an early grave, leaving a ghost in his daughter’s mind. 

Maybe she was encouraged by her father to want more from life than what was usually offered to poor immigrant children in Red Hook. Or maybe Kieran gave her an example by running with a motley crew of neighborhood children, trying to earn more money than the normal dock work offered. Or maybe she was born with an inextinguishable fire in her heart. Whatever it was that gave Fallon Byrne her strength and resolve, it caused her to end up in trouble more often than not. Life in Brooklyn was hard, and quite regularly Fallon was faced with someone tougher than William Tripke. Her brother, though protective of her, wasn’t always around. Not that she wanted him to come to help her. Whenever Kieran heard that she was in trouble, he would demand her to go back home; to go back to Ma who would look after her. But her will would not allow her to back down.  

It was funny how lying there on the ground, Joseph couldn’t think of escaping or fighting Kieran. All he could think of was the first time he spoke with Fallon. 

It had been a spring day in May. The streets were full of people coming and going, horses pulling wagons full of goods and people. The air was full of noises from the dry docks or various construction sites. It was a busy day for most, but Joseph had nothing to do that fine afternoon but walk leisurely in Cobble Hill. His younger brothers were in school, and Robert had something to do in Vinegar Hill. At that time, Joseph was helping their uncle Tom, who was running a small bar in Gowanus, but that morning his uncle had given Joseph the morning off. He liked walking around in the city, talking to people who weren’t too busy. He often talked with James Martin, a native Brooklynite and a cobbler on Union Street. Joseph liked hearing stories about the past, especially about the Civil War and the Whiskey Wars that reshaped Brooklyn in the 1860s. He had dozens of questions ready when, turning a corner on Henry Street, something ran into him, hard.  

“The hell! Look where you’re going!” Joseph heard a voice exclaiming. Those words left an unforgettable impression on Joseph, and he would often tell how he had been just walking and enjoying a warm spring day when a devil had run around the corner and hit him hard. Fallon, who was the devil in question, would tell the story of how a slow ox had lumbered in her way when she was trying to deliver an important package to her sick aunt. 

“Me? Look where you’re running, you…” The other thing Fallon always remembered to mention from their first meeting was how Joseph Quinn, the well-known smooth talker, was at a loss for words.  

“Me what?” Fallon challenged him. “What were you going to say, Scarecrow?” 

“Scare- what?” Joseph asked dumbfounded.  

“Geez, sorry, I didn’t know you were this slow.” Fallon glanced over his shoulder. “Oh shit.” She cursed and bolted, leaving Joseph behind trying to form a coherent thought. She had bumped into him hard, so hard in fact that he had felt her body pressing against him and he had instinctively wrapped his arms around her, though only for a second. The memory of her slender body in his arms would haunt him every day and night for weeks. As would her eyes, green and bright, full of strength and determination. Joseph never learned what, or who, Fallon was running from. When he had asked her about it later, she would just smile and say “It was your feet, they smelled really bad that day.” 

The following weeks Joseph was feeling agitated and nervous. He was angry at himself for how stupid he had been, mentally kicking himself every time he thought of Fallon. And it was quite often, so he wasn’t in the best of moods during those weeks. He kept catching himself glancing around and irrationally he expected to get hit again at street corners as if fate would repeat itself and give him another chance to answer Fallon with a complete sentence. 

It was one night about two weeks later when Joseph was walking with a few friends on the waterfront when he saw Fallon again. They were in Columbia waterfront, next to Cobble Hill and north of Red Hook. The sun was already setting, and the docks were slowly quieting down. Across the East River was Manhattan’s silhouette against the darkening sky. It was so close you could make out the buildings, but it felt impossibly far away for the likes of Joseph and his friends. Sure, you could cross the Brooklyn Bridge and go there, but you would still be a stranger on those streets. It was better to focus on the here and now, to make sure you had enough on this side of the river. That was what Joseph thought. 

That night, on a quiet stretch of the waterfront, he saw a lonely figure sitting at a pier, looking at the lights of Manhattan. As they walked closer, his heart skipped a beat. It was Fallon, sitting on a crate. Joseph mumbled some excuses to his friends, who just shrugged and went on their ways. Joseph took a few deep breaths, waiting to make sure his friends were really gone before stepping closer to Fallon. 

“Hey,” he said when he stood a few feet away from her. 

“Go away,” she responded, not looking at him.  

“What are you doing here all by yourself?” Joseph asked, deciding to ignore her words. 

“Oh, it’s you, Scarecrow.” Fallon had turned to see who was stubborn enough to ignore her commands, but she was secretly pleased that it was Joseph.  

“Why do you call me Scarecrow?” Joseph asked, not really annoyed but curious about the reasoning behind it. 

“You’re tall, lanky, and you scare all the birds away. I think it’s rather fitting, don’t you?” 

“Well, no, no I don’t. I don’t frighten birds.” He didn’t. Joseph was pretty tall and though he wasn’t as robust as some other boys, lanky seemed a bit harsh. He did have nice features, even Fallon admitted this much. His nose was regal, he had a strong jawline, and his brown eyes were nice to look at. His dark hair was impossibly stubborn, refusing to be combed in any way. It didn’t help that Joseph kept his hair a bit longer, so sometimes it did really seem like his hair was just pointing in every direction.  

“You just don’t see them, because they fly away when you arrive.” But Fallon didn’t really want to argue, and her comment was made only halfheartedly. She kept looking across the river, not paying Joseph much mind. 

“What are you looking at?” Joseph leaned against the crate she was sitting on, and when she didn’t protest his presence anymore, he relaxed a little. His heart was still pounding, but he was calmer now, and he formed coherent sentences in his mind. He still had no idea what to say to her, but at least he realized this with a clear mind. 

“Nothing. Everything. Just wondering how these docks look from the other side.” She sounded distracted with a dreamy look in her eyes. 

“I suppose they look pretty much the same.” Joseph answered. 

“You really are slow,” Fallon sighed and looked at Joseph angrily. “How could it look the same?” 

“I mean,” Joseph answered quickly, trying to think of something to say that would calm the rapidly escalating situation, “they are both docks. So, I would imagine they look pretty much the same. You know because they are… docks.” 

“Honestly, you sound like my brother.” Joseph could hear the disappointment in her voice. “It’s not what you see, but where you are looking from that matters,” she explained patiently. 

“I don’t see how that makes a difference,” Joseph answered and scratched his head. “Sure, I’d say there are more piers on this side, and the buildings are bigger on the other side, but how does that make a difference?”  

“You just said it yourself,” Fallon exclaimed triumphantly. “There are less piers and bigger buildings there.” 

“Yes.” Joseph answered, still not getting her point. “What does that have to do with you seeing other things?” 

“You’re hopeless,” she sighed. “Of course, it matters. Where you are looking at things changes how you see them. Have you ever climbed to a really tall building and looked down? People look smaller, right?” Joseph nodded and she continued. “Well, it’s the same thing. You go over there, and these buildings look smaller.” 

“So, the answer is that this dock would look smaller from the other side?” Joseph answered cautiously. 

“I don’t know,” Fallon shrugged. “I’ve never been there. But I imagine it does.” 

“But why would you want to go there?” Joseph asked. “There are a lot of good places here.” 

“Not as nice as there, I bet,” she answered and suddenly she jumped down from the crate. “I know who you are, Scarecrow. I’ve seen you butt heads with my brother.” 

“Your brother is a bonehead,” Joseph replied defensively.  

“I know,” she smiled and looked at Joseph keenly. “But you’re going to break your fist on his thick skull if you keep trying to fight him.” 

“I can win him,” Joseph answered. There was a clear tone of defiance in his voice, and to Joseph it was an unimaginable possibility that he would lose to someone like Kieran Byrne.  

“Boys,” Fallon sighed. “Well, it’s your choice. But I’m just saying you could look for other options. Besides,” she added and looked at Joseph with a strange look, “it would be a shame if Kieran redid your face. You have a nice face, for a scarecrow.” With those words she left, leaving Joseph looking after her and trying to decipher those cryptic words and various meanings behind them. 

From there on, Joseph would always feel a twinge of excitement around those tight corners in Cobble Hill, and he would take the long way home, walking along the waterfront. Fallon never accidentally bumped into him again, but he did see her again. Quite often it was on the streets where they couldn’t really talk, but sometimes he found her sitting on the docks, gazing across the East River. 

“What were you doing with my sister, Quinn?” Kieran Byrne shouted. Joseph lowered his hand to his nose and felt the blood on his cheek. “I’m going to kill you, Quinn!” Joseph believed him. At that moment Kieran was probably thinking of different ways of killing him. He really should get up and run, or fight, or do something. But he didn’t. Instead, he thought of a wintery day when he and Fallon were at the waterfront. They were actually in Brooklyn Heights this time, the fanciest neighborhood on this side of the East River. It had beautiful houses and a hill that offered a view like no other. But Fallon wasn’t interested in Brooklyn Heights; she had her mind set on Manhattan. 

“I don’t understand why you think Manhattan is so much better than here,” Joseph blurted out.  

“You don’t?” she asked without looking at him.  

“No, I don’t. My uncle says that it’s not much better for us in Manhattan either. It’s worse, actually. The buildings are shit and people ruder. And everything is more expensive. Here you can buy your own home one day.” 

“Your uncle is probably right,” she nodded. “But there is also so much more there. Beautiful buildings and dresses. Opportunities for people to work in different places. And I bet there are dozens of nice restaurants there where you can order whatever you want.” 

“I guess,” Joseph agreed. “But we’re never going to be able to move there. Our home is here. And we can actually buy a house here.” It wasn’t a bad place to live. Not if you got some money so you could move out of Gowanus or Red Hook. “You can never afford a house in Manhattan.” 

“But it doesn’t have to be like that,” Fallon said and waved her hand in front of her as if she was trying to conjure something into existence. “There could be more. We could have more.” 

“You sound just like my brother,” Joseph snorted. It was what Robert always said, trying to convince Joseph and his brothers that they could be more than just a street gang in Gowanus. That they could create something bigger for themselves than uncle Tom’s bar. “Maybe you should talk to him.” An irrational jealousy gripped Joseph’s heart when he thought how similarly Fallon and Robert talked. Maybe they should spend time together; maybe they could create something bigger together.  

“Idiot,” Fallon said and touched Joseph’s cheek, turning his head so he had to look at her. She was smiling, but it was a kind and warm smile. “Robert has manners of a cold steel bar in a frozen lake. And though he is easy on the eye,” She laughed when he frowned and looked ready to bite rusty nails. She held his face with both hands. “I don’t want to talk with Robert about the future. I want to talk about it with you.” 

The feeling of relief was almost dizzying. He was absurdly happy, but still, he couldn’t do anything except look into her green eyes. He was helplessly lost. He liked it when she smiled. It was even better when he managed to make her smile or laugh. When she smiled it made him feel like he had done something right, and everything was just a little bit easier. At that moment, when he could feel her soft hands on his cheeks in the cold wintery evening, everything was easy and light as a feather. There was no rational thought, only a feeling that guided him closer to her until she was everything there was. He had dreamed of her in ways that made his blood run hot in his veins and made it difficult to look her in the eyes. But that evening, when the sun had set, and the darkness around them was broken only by the lights of the city, he couldn’t turn away. Those city lights didn’t exist for him, only she did. He moved closer still, until he could feel her lips on his.  

It was a quick kiss, and to Joseph’s relief, she didn’t recoil, slap him, or laugh at him. She just smiled a small, knowing smile. It might have been the chilly weather, but her cheeks seemed a little redder than before. “Why did you do that, Scarecrow?” she asked quietly. 

“Because I wanted to,” Joseph answered, raising his hand to her cheek. He had learned during the year he had spent with Fallon that she wanted a man who wasn’t afraid. But neither did she want a man who was a foolhardy bonehead, which Joseph sometimes was, according to her.  

“Did you now? Well, it was about time.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I have to go.” 

“Are you leaving already?” Joseph asked, surprised and worried that he had still managed somehow to do something wrong. 

“My Ma needs me,” she answered ruefully. “But don’t worry, Scarecrow. You can walk me home.” Her smile was all the reassurance he needed.  

They took the long route back and talked all the way. Fallon told about her two older brothers who had left and gone west. Last she heard they were in San Fransisco, working on a steel mill. Before that, they had been in Pittsburg, Chicago, Iowa, and in various places before reaching the Pacific coast. They hadn’t written in few months now, but that was to be expected, Fallon said. Liam and Finn had never been ones to write home regularly.  

“Do you miss them?” Joseph asked, thinking about his own family back in Ireland. 

“I do and I don’t,” Fallon smiled sadly. “Liam was always bossy, but I liked spending time with Finn. He could whittle any animal I asked.” She then told him about the different animals Finn had whittled, and how a simple sheep was her favorite.  

It was late, almost midnight when they finally stopped outside Fallon’s home. It was a tenement building on Carroll Street in Red Hook. The building was made of wood, and it looked pretty rundown like so many other buildings in the neighborhood, or anywhere in the waterfront of New York. It housed people working mainly in the dry docks of Red Hook or in one of the factories close by. It wasn’t that much different from the building Joseph was living in with his uncle and brothers in Cobble Hill. It was pretty much the lowest level of housing you could find, but it usually kept you warm and dry. 

“This is me,” Fallon said. “Listen, Joseph,” she paused and took his hand in hers. “About Kieran, he can be really protective of me.” 

“I can beat him,” Joseph said firmly, squeezing her hand. “Don’t worry.” 

“No, you idiot.” Fallon sighed and pulled her hand away. “Why do you always have to think with your fists. You’re not even that good of a fighter.” There was sadness in her eyes he couldn’t quite understand. “I don’t want you fighting my brother. There’s more than that in you, Joseph. Or are you just a scarecrow after all?” She looked into his eyes. What Joseph didn’t know at the time was that Fallon’s brothers had always been hotheaded fighters. Fallon later told him that it was something they got from their mother, because their father was a kind man, even if he lost his soul to the bottle. Fallon herself had a temper like her brothers, but she always remembered her father sitting at the table, looking at his sons. He never disciplined them with a belt or a stick like so many others did. He would always just scold them and look disappointed. “Can’t you do anything but fight each other? Is that what you’re good for?”  

Things were different for Fallon. Her father knew that a girl had to have a strong will and determination on these streets. If she punched someone like poor William Tripke in the nose, it was just her defending her place. It was later, after many unsuccessful fights against bigger boys, that Fallon realized her father had been wrong. Nevertheless, she didn’t want Joseph fighting her brother because in her heart she loved them both, and she was tired of petty fighting between family members. 

Throughout the following summer, Joseph and Fallon managed to keep their feelings secret from others. It wasn’t easy, but they resigned themselves to their fate, knowing that the alternative was worse. Fallon tried to talk with her brother all summer, but Kieran was too busy creating what he thought was a great opportunity for himself. He had acquainted a street gang that was working with a local crime boss called Calhoon at the waterfront. Their business model was simple: either a ship or its owner paid Calhoon a sizable sum, or the ship’s cargo might go missing mysteriously. It was a crude operation, but not uncommon in the numerous piers of Greater New York. There were so many ships coming and going every day that it was impossible for local government to uphold law and order everywhere. Not to mention the willingness of various officials and cops to receive their fix or a small monetary reward for looking elsewhere. Quite often captains or ship owners realized it was easier to just pay the extra fee. 

The new line of work did, however, keep Kieran away from home quite often. Which gave Fallon more opportunities to meet with Joseph. The summer came and went, and nothing seemed to change, except Joseph’s feelings toward Fallon. He had never experienced anything quite like it. He had a tough time concentrating on anything he was supposed to be doing. Whether he was working at his uncle’s bar or helping Robert to form a distribution network that could ship bootlegged alcohol to other neighborhoods, Joseph was almost always preoccupied with thoughts of Fallon. He quite often reminisced about their first kiss or one of the many kisses that followed. They hadn’t done anything more, but it was more than enough already. 

Joseph returned quite frequently to one particular memory. It happened on summer solstice. It had been a hot day followed by a hot night. Fallon had acted strangely all day. She was lost in her thoughts, not really taking part in conversations. She was clearly distracted by something, but Joseph had no idea what it was. They were walking on the empty waterfront, and he was about to confront her about her absentmindedness when she suddenly pushed him behind large crates. Surprised by her decisiveness, he let her push him down. He was sitting on a big bundle of rope that was almost the size of his wrists. 

“What are you doing?” Joseph asked. 

“Shhh,” Fallon hushed, pressing a finger on his lips. Then she gathered her dress and straddled him. She looked at him for a moment, and he saw a new fire in her eyes. Then she kissed him. It wasn’t a quick or soft kiss, but a passionate kiss that took Joseph completely by surprise. He felt Fallon’s body pressing against him, her breasts against his chest, her hands around his neck while he had his hands on her hips. It was the first truly impassioned moment between the two, and a moment when they both knew they had fallen for each other. Up until that summer night they had been intrigued by each other, and they both had feelings for each other, but that night changed it all. After that night they knew they wanted more.  

Fallon, who had still hesitated with Joseph, had battled her desire that night to tell Joseph about her feelings. How she felt about him and how he was annoyingly almost always present in her thoughts. But she couldn’t find the words to tell him, so she had acted on her desires to feel Joseph’s strong hands on her body, to have him kiss her the way she had seen some men kiss women. She wanted that, and that night she realized she wanted that with Joseph. 

Joseph had already dreamt of Fallon in a more carnal fashion but feeling her body pressing against him and her lips against his, was the last drop. “I want you, Fallon,” he whispered when they finally broke the kiss. “I don’t care what comes next, but I want you. All of you. Not just late-night walks, but all of you.” He looked at her unwaveringly. “You hear me, Fallon Byrne. I want you for myself.” 

“I hear you, Joseph Quinn,” she answered seriously. “But do you hear yourself? Do you hear what you’re saying?” 

“I hear,” he said, touching her cheek in a gentle, loving way. “You have my heart; you’ve had it from the first time we met. I love you, Fallon Byrne. I love you with all my heart.” 

His words made her smile. She had feared his reaction tonight. He could have tried to use her to get to her brother in some twisted way, but she didn’t see deceit in his eyes. She saw his feelings, and that his words were true. At that moment Fallon knew she loved him. “And I love you, Joseph Quinn.” She kissed him again, gently this time. “And you have my heart, now and forever.”  

They both knew they had to take vows before God later, but their words that night somehow meant more than just a simple I love you. There was intimacy in their words; a mutual promise of never-ending companionship. They gave themselves willingly to each other, tying their future together. They stayed there the whole night, holding each other and basking in the warmth of their love.  

“Get up, Quinn,” Kieran demanded. “I’m not done with you yet. You dare to harass my sister?” 

It wasn’t a fair fight, or a fight at all. Kieran had ambushed Joseph with some of his goons and sucker punched him. It was a good hit. It wouldn’t have knocked Joseph down if he hadn’t tripped on some trash on the street, but it was still a good punch. Lying there on the ground, Joseph thought of Fallon. It was clear even to him that Kieran had found out about them, and it was useless to deny it. He could fight Kieran; he had done so many times in the past. But this time something was different. Joseph realized he could fight Kieran all day, but it wasn’t going to change anything. It was more likely he would just give Kieran more reasons to hate him, and he would probably lash out on Fallon as well. If he hadn’t already. He had to try something else. 

“I’m not going to fight you, Kieran,” Joseph finally said and sat up. Kieran looked absolutely furious: both his hands were closed in fists, his nostrils were flaring, and he had a slightly mad expression in his eyes. He had three boys with him, but they all looked shocked and fearful, as if they wanted to be anywhere else but here.  

“It doesn’t matter,” Kieran snorted. “I’m going to kill you.” He looked like he was ready to jump Joseph, but he didn’t make a move.  

“No, you’re not.” Joseph said and got up, rubbing his jaw. “Damnit, that really hurt.” 

“Not as much as the next one,” Kieran promised. 

“I love your sister,” Joseph said unceremoniously.  

“Take that back!” Kieran yelled.  

“No, I won’t.” Joseph said, forcing himself to relax. “I love your sister, and she loves me.” 

“She will not have anything to do with a filthy Quinn,” Kieran spatted. “I’ll whip her ‘till she’ll never want to hear your name again!” 

“Do you listen to yourself?” Joseph asked, trying really hard not to get agitated by the mental image of Kieran whipping Fallon. “Are you really going to beat up your own sister because she loves me?” 

“It’s only right,” Kieran answered, but the fury was gone from his voice. Maybe Kieran did stop to think about what he had just said. 

“And you’re going to kill me?” Joseph asked and continued when Kieran didn’t answer right away. “You know Robert would retaliate. He would probably kill you. You know that, don’t you?” Again, Kieran didn’t answer, but he didn’t look quite as ready to attack Joseph anymore.  

Seeing his chance, Joseph brushed some dirt from his clothes and looked at Kieran. “You can’t change this. If you insist on fighting me, you will only make Fallon hate you. And I don’t want her to lose her brother. I’m tired of our stupid rivalry, Kieran.” 

“Yeah?” Kieran asked and straightened up, relaxing his fists. “You always were too soft to win.” 

Joseph smiled and shrugged. “Maybe. But I’ve also been talking to old Tom and others. Do you think it’s the best use of our time fighting each other, when we could be making some money?” 

“What are you talking about?” Kieran asked, but now he sounded intrigued. He wasn’t ready to trust Joseph and he might never like him, but Kieran had heard some rumors about Robert setting up some interesting businesses. 

“Let me tell you over a glass of whiskey,” Joseph said and smiled a little more. 

********************* 

Fallon was walking anxiously in Cobble Hill. She was trying to find Joseph or her brother. Kieran hadn’t been home in the morning, but their mother said he had left early cursing the name of Joseph Quinn. Fallon had a bad feeling in her gut, fearing what her brother might do to Joseph. She cursed the fate that she hadn’t been able to talk with Kieran about Joseph. She could have explained everything to him and stopped her brother from going berserk. Now she had no idea what was going to happen. 

She walked for hours, asking everyone she knew whether they had seen Joseph or Kieran. No-one had. She was starting to panic. She didn’t know what she would do if Kieran had done something to Joseph or Joseph had hurt Kieran. She wanted to scream. Yes, she loved Joseph, but Kieran was her annoying brother, and she didn’t want Kieran to get hurt. 

When she was about to give up hope, she saw Joseph walking toward her. She stopped and her heart leapt with joy. But she was instantly taken aback when she saw a bruise on Joseph’s face. Fearing the worst, she stepped to close Joseph’s way. 

“Fallon.” Joseph smiled, but she raised her hand to stop him from coming any closer. 

“My brother, what have you done with him?” she asked in a low voice. 

“Your brother? Nothing,” Joseph answered. 

“Don’t you lie to me, Joseph Quinn. Your face tells the truth. Where’s Kieran?” 

Joseph touched his face and winced from pain, but he also smiled. “Kieran? He’s probably drunk by now.” 

Fallon blinked. “Drunk? What are you talking about?” 

“I just left him at the Spring’s Dew.” Joseph had taken Kieran to his uncle’s bar. Robert had been there, and Joseph had gone through his plan with both of them on how they could help each other out. He had also poured them a whiskey, then another, and another, and finally left the whole bottle to him. “And that’s when I decided to come look for you.” 

“That’s when you decided to come look for me?” Fallon exclaimed and punched Joseph in the arm, and it wasn’t a light punch. 

“Hey, what’s that for?” Joseph asked, surprised. 

“You were drinking with my brother? While I was worried sick that he would hurt you, or worse?” Fallon didn’t know how to feel. A whirlwind of emotions gripped her heart. She wanted to kiss and slap Joseph at the same time. Especially now when the man looked at her with that dumb expression on his face. “You bastard.” She slapped his arm again. 

“Fallon,” Joseph said, holding her by the wrists. “Listen, I’m sorry. I should have come to find you sooner, but I had to talk your brother out of beating me to death. But listen, listen,” he repeated, holding her gently, but firmly. “It’s done. I’ve made peace with your brother.” 

“You’ve made peace with him?” she asked incredulously. 

“Yes. Without fighting. No more fighting, Fallon.” He smiled and let go of her hands. “Just the two of us.” 

She looked at him and she couldn’t believe what he was saying. It was too wonderful to be real. But when he leaned to kiss her, she knew he wasn’t lying. She knew their future could finally start. 

“In that case, you better come with me.” She said and took his hand. He smiled and walked next to her, not minding the autumn wind that carried the promise of winter with it. It would be a winter they would