A Girl Like That (12 page)

Twenty

“Katie, wake up.” Her father’s voice broke through the sleep-filled fog. He shook her shoulder. “Katie.”

“What’s wrong?” She bolted upright, her eyes landing on her fully dressed father.

“More fires. Get dressed and come downstairs. We’ll talk then.” He rushed out. The door closed, and his running footsteps receded down the stairs.

Katie flung the covers aside, jumped out of bed, and grabbed the first dress her hands touched. She jerked it from the closet and threw it on over her shift and pantalettes. No time for a corset. Pa’s voice sounded frightened.

Five minutes later, curls flying unconfined around her shoulders, she hurried downstairs. Voices sounded in the dining room. She hurried inside, finding the entire troupe there. “What’s wrong?” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Is there fire heading this way?”

“Come sit down, daughter.” Her father took her arm and led her to one of the straight-backed chairs by the table.

She looked at the small clock on the mantel. Ten thirty. No wonder she was so disoriented. She’d only slept a few minutes.

“Daughter, fire is out of control across the river. They’re sayin’ it started in someone’s barn on DeKoven Street. The southern branch should stop it, but with all the oil floating on the surface, that’s not certain.”

She gasped. If the fire jumped that part of the river. . . “But the gasworks are near there. And, and. . .”
Conley’s Patch and Bridget and. . .

“I know, child.” He patted her shoulder.

“What can we do?” Her knees weakened, and dizziness clouded her thoughts.

“A group is forming to help evacuate. Most of us men are going to join them. We’ll be needin’ your prayers.”

“I’m going with you. I can’t stay here when Bridget and her mother and Betty are in danger. And the children.” She gasped. “They’ll need all the help they can get over there, Father. Surely you can see that.”

“She’s right. I’m going, too.”

Katie could have hugged Rosie. She sent her a grateful look.

“Now listen here, Katherine. I know you’re worried about your friends, but you’ll not be going, and that’s that.”

“Pa, please. Am I more important than those babies across the river?”

A look of anguish crossed his face. “No, but. . .you’ll not be goin’.”

“You have to let me go, Pa. God is able to protect me.”

He stared at her as though memorizing every inch of her face. “All right, there’s no time to be arguin’. But ya have to be careful. If ya see any sign of the fire getting close, get out of there.”

Katie flinched at the panic in his voice. Was she doing the right thing? But she was supposed to go. She felt it deep inside.

“I’ll take care of her, Michael.” Rosie laid her hand on his arm. “I promise I won’t leave her side.”

Katie watched in awe as her pa stroked Rosie’s cheek.

“And who will be takin’ care of you, I’d like to know?” His voice broke.

“I will.” Katie put her arm around Rosie’s shoulder. “We’ll watch out for each other.”

“Here,” Ma Casey’s booming voice rang out as she walked into the room, her arms piled high with blankets. “Take these. If the fire gets bad, you can wet them down and wrap them around your heads and shoulders.”

Dubious, Katie took one of the blankets.

She filed out of the door with Rosie and the rest of the troupe. They hurried to the theater and squeezed into Harrigan’s three-seater carriage.

To Katie, the conveyance seemed to crawl down the board streets toward the river. Katie’s stomach and chest were tight. The longer it took to get to the fire, the less time they had to help those in danger.

Rosie’s hand moved under hers, and the older woman flinched.

Katie glanced down, realizing she was squeezing the life out of the poor woman’s hand. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, dropping the hand.

What if the fire had already jumped the river? They might run right into it. Could they outrun it?

Blocks away from the river, screams and the pounding of feet rose above the crunch and squeak of wagon wheels on the wooden street. Mr. Harrigan shook the reins. The horses sped up, the links on the harness and single trees jingling. They turned onto Clark Street. Terror filled the air. Mothers grabbed the arms of screaming children, pulling them onward. Men pushed carts filled with household goods. Barking dogs dashed among the human wave.

Katie peered forward to see if the fire was nearby. She could see flames in the distance, but they were still on the other side of the south branch.

“We’ll never get the horse and carriage across the bridge,” Pat yelled. “We’ll have to go on foot.”

Her heart pounding, Katie jumped from the carriage, still clutching the blanket Ma had pressed in her arms.

Harrigan unhitched the horse and slapped him on the rump. Startled, it whirled then took off.

“But. . .what about the carriage?” Katie whispered.

“Let’s go.” Rosie grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the bridge.

Katie forced her way through the crowd, her eyes glued to Rosie’s back. Suddenly, a burly man pushed by and knocked her to the side. She stumbled, struggling not to fall. Disoriented, she looked around. A wall of bodies met her sight. Where was Rosie? And Father?

She shoved her way between elbowing, shouting people.
Oh God. Oh God.
Fear rose in her, and her heart raced. Finally, she found herself on the other side of the bridge.

“Miss O’Shannon!”

Even distorted with fear, the voice was familiar to Katie. Molly Sawyer. She looked around, but people blocked her view. Coughing and gasping, she pushed in the direction the voice came from. The crowd parted, and she saw Molly and her family. They stood by the dock, bundles tied to their backs about to step onto the bridge. “Molly, have you seen the Thorntons?” she yelled. She pushed her way through and grabbed Molly’s shirt to stop her.

“They were still at home when I left. Out on their porch. Mrs. Thornton seemed in a daze. She wouldn’t budge. Bridget was shakin’ her and shakin her, but it didn’t seem to do no good.”

“Molly, what are you standin’ there for? Come on!” Her husband grabbed her hand, and Molly turned and followed him onto the bridge. Instantly they were lost from sight in the crowd.

Frantic, Katie looked around. Flames roared just blocks away with only the south branch of the river containing it.

“Katie, over here!”

“Pa!” she cried out with relief as he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. She held on as he led her to Rosie and the rest of the group who stood behind a small shed.

He turned and gazed at her. “We’re crossing over the south branch to try to help those on the other side. You go with Rosie and look for your friends. Don’t wait for us. God willing, the fire won’t cross the main branch of the river, but I don’t want you waiting to find out. Do you hear me, Katie girl? Help those you can to get out of here and then head north.”

She grabbed for her father. “No! Please! Don’t go over there. It’s not safe.”

He gripped her hand. “Daughter! Pull yourself together. Trust God.” Then he dropped her hands and was gone toward the flames.

She shuddered and took a deep breath. He was right. She swallowed to ease her smoke-sore throat. “God go with you,” she whispered.

❧

Sam stood by his father on the porch and watched the flames in the distance. “I can’t tell exactly where it is, can you?”

“Not for sure, but it looks like it’s near the river.” He furrowed his brow and squinted.

Sam fidgeted. “Which side?”

“If you can’t tell, how could I? Your eyesight’s a lot better than mine.” He continued to gaze eastward in the direction of the fire. “If it’s on the east side of the south branch, the gasworks could go.”

A knot formed in Sam’s throat, and he swallowed.
If the gasworks blow, the Patch will be next.
“I think I’ll ride down there. Check things out.”

His father gave him a startled look. “Let me send Fred. You don’t want to worry your mother.”

Irritation shot through Sam. If he went himself, he could check on the Thorntons and the Flannigans. But his father was probably right.

A few minutes later, the coachman, lantern in hand, rode off on Fritzie, one of the bay mares that his father prized so.

Sam paced to the end of the porch. He stared eastward but could see no better than he had from his former position.

“Stop fidgeting. What are you so nervous about?”

“I have friends in Conley’s Patch, remember?”

His father’s face stiffened. “I’d forgotten. Well, chances are the fire won’t reach them. I’d think the fire department should have it under control soon.”

Sam gave a short laugh. “Like they did last night? The fire department has a scarcity of supplies, and such as they have are of inferior quality.”

His father nodded. “I know, I know. I intend to address that at the next city council meeting.”

Sam pulled out his watch and peered at the numbers. Ten minutes till twelve. Fred had been gone twenty minutes and should be back soon.

Katie.
He dropped to the top step. Could she possibly be in any danger? The boardinghouse was north of the downtown district and should be fine as long as the fire didn’t cross the main branch of the river. Still, a thread of concern planted itself firmly in Sam’s mind.

The sound of hooves came from down the street. His head jerked in that direction.

Fritzie galloped up the street with Fred leaning forward, almost touching her flying mane. He yanked on the reins, bringing Fritzie to a stop in front of Sam, then swung from the saddle. “The fire’s jumped the south fork! Oil on top of the water ignited. There was no stopping it.”

Boom!

Sam grabbed his ears to protect them from the deafening explosion. The street and house lights flickered then died.

“What on earth?” his father bellowed from behind him.

Sam jumped to his feet. “That was the gasworks! I have to go.” He ran down the steps and snatched the reins from Fred then swung painfully into the saddle. “Father, stay here, please. If the fire jumps the main branch, I’ll check on the office. You stay with Mother.”

Swinging Fritzie around, he headed east. Before he’d gone a quarter of a mile, he realized his mistake. Why had he thought he could get to the Patch this way with the fire converging on the area? He’d have to go around. He yanked on the reins, turned Fritzie, and then headed north.

Veering back east in the direction of the Patch, he galloped head-on into a mob. The panic shocked him. Shouts and screams rent the night. Men, women, and children, pushing carts and leading goats and cows, milled toward him. Time and again, he turned east, only to be turned back by a human mass that plunged forward into the night, with the fire a red backdrop in the distance.

“Ye half-wit! Why ye headed toward the fire?”

Two shadowy forms stood beside his horse. Sam peered at them in the darkness. The toothless old man gasped for breath and tightened his arm around his wife. The woman looked up, terror bright in her eyes.

“I have friends in the Patch. Has the fire reached there?”

“If it ain’t yet, it soon will. The flames are a solid wall. It’s gonta jump the main river soon. Bound to.”

“God, help me. Show me what to do.” Sam pressed his heels into Fritzie’s side, and she quickened her step. What if the man was right and the main branch was breached? He had to get to Katie.

He steered Fritzie north again toward the business district. Smoke filled the air, biting his throat. He coughed. Fritzie tossed her head, snorting. Her ears turned back, and she reared up, her front feet pawing the air.

“Easy, girl.” Sam patted her neck.

She relaxed a little, lowering her feet to the ground, but her ears remained back.

“It’s okay.” Sam patted her neck again. “We have to reach Katie.” He swallowed and squeezed his legs tighter around Fritzie’s sides to encourage her onward.

As he neared the business district, pandemonium filled the area. People stood in the streets in their nightclothes, hollering to each other. Demanding to know what happened to the lights. Had the fires reached them? Others ran from their homes clutching bundles.

Dear God, this whole city is a firetrap. There aren’t more than two or three so-called fireproof buildings in all of Chicago.
Tension tightened the muscles in his neck and stabbed at his chest.

Policemen strode up and down the street, shouting through cupped hands. “Everyone go back to your homes. There’s no danger. The fire can’t cross the main branch of the river.”

A few people drifted back to their homes, but most ignored the police officers.

Sam urged Fritzie on, skirting the business district and finally arriving at Ma Casey’s. He swung from the saddle, tore up the front steps, and banged on the door. Peering through the diamond-shaped window, he searched for Katie.

Ma Casey opened the door, holding a lamp high. Seeing Sam, she flung the door open.

He pushed past her. “Ma, where is everyone? Where’s Katie?” He looked around. Surely they weren’t sleeping through all the excitement.

“They’ve gone to help evacuate.”

“What? Katie, too?” Fear surged through him. Surely Michael wouldn’t have allowed her to go.

“There was no stopping her. Bridget didn’t come home last night.”

Dear God, please no. Katie at the Patch?

Leaping onto Fritzie’s back, he whipped the reins and kneed her sides. She snorted but leaped forward. Through the business section. Onto Clark Street. The air heated as he went. Toward the bridge. He yanked the reins.

Horror hit him. A solid mass of screaming people flowed toward him. Behind them, a raging monster of flames, smoke, and debris licked at the banks of the river, swallowing up buildings, boats, everything flammable in its path.

“God, have mercy.”

TwentyA Gone

A red-hot ember flew over Katie’s head and landed two feet in front of her. Sparks spewed up. Searing pain shot up her arm. She screamed and jumped to one side, tightening her hold on the tiny, squirming, crying child in her arms. The boards beneath the still-burning embers began to smolder.

“No!” The cry burst from her throat. Ashes rained down on them, coating the wet blanket she’d wrapped around the little girl.

“Katie, watch out!” Bridget’s shout came from behind her.

She turned to see a bay horse, eyes rolling and hooves thrashing the air. She stumbled forward just as the horse’s hooves crashed down on the spot where she’d stood.

“God, help us!” Mrs. Thornton’s anguished cry was almost lost in the greater, almost solid sound of people, animals, and the roaring fire. Always the fire.

Katie clung tighter to her charge and ran with the fear-driven mob of people.

Betty, running hand-in-hand with Bridget, screamed a continuous scream.

Katie sobbed.
Sam.

Lord, I trust You. Don’t let me look back.
The fire must be close behind.

Sam.
Katie’s neck and ears burned from the raging heat borne along with the wind. Her chest was so tight. She slowed her pace. If only she could stop but for a moment.
No. Don’t think that.

Sam.

God, help me. Help me run faster.

Glass shattered somewhere near, the sound assaulting her ears. She turned to see a figure hurl itself from a third floor window.
Oh God.
She averted her eyes and ran on. The child was still, and no sound issued from the blanket.
Oh please, don’t let her be dead.
What if I’ve smothered her? Should I stop? No, I dare not.

Sam.

Oh God, please don’t let him search for me. Keep him safe.

No, I mustn’t think of him. Concentrate on the child. Is she breathing? Don’t think of anything but getting her to safety.

From somewhere came a burst of energy, and she quickened her pace.

Rosie.
Where is Rosie? She was by my side when we crossed the bridge. I promised Father.

She took a deep breath and gasped. The air was getting hotter against her blistered skin and in her throat.

Shouts from behind. She threw a quick glance over her left shoulder. A building less than a block behind her was burning, its flames already licking hungrily toward the one next to it.

Oh God.
Her legs and feet seemed to move of their own volition. Buildings at her side were aflame now.

The courthouse loomed before her. Then the lapping flames caught the dry, wood frame, and it began to burn. Men squirmed through windows on the lower floor and some jumped from the second floor. Suddenly a mass of humanity shoved through the doors, tripping over each other, trampling one another in their terror. They’d freed the prisoners. Thank God. They had a chance. Katie ran on.

More embers sailed through the air, falling all around. Screams of agony told Katie that some had landed on people.

Oh God,
she prayed, unable to form any other words.

The crowd in front of her veered to the right. What were they doing?

“To the lakeshore,” someone shouted. “It’s our only chance.”

Hope rose in Katie as she ran after the crowd. Of course. They’d be safe on the shore of the lake. She ran faster.

Suddenly she couldn’t feel her legs. A wave of dizziness hit her, and nausea rose in her throat. Her head began to bow.
God, I can’t.
The blanket in her arms squirmed, and a hard kick landed on her side. She gasped and jerked upright.
Oh, thank You, God.
She’s not dead.

Katie stared forward as she ran. Just a few feet more and she could rest. Her shoes hit sand, and she stumbled onto the edge of the water. Shouts and cries of relief pierced her ears, and she watched listlessly as people plunged into the lake, splashing water over blistered faces and necks. Katie’s knees buckled, and she sank to the sand.

❧

Fritzie screamed in terror and reared, her hooves lashing out.

Sam hung on, berating himself for bringing her into this. If he could get her to calm down enough, he could dismount. If he covered her head with something so she couldn’t see the flying sparks or hear the roar of the fire that got closer every minute, he could lead her. Her hooves crashed down, and she sidestepped and reared again, her legs flying as she whirled in midair.

Sam hit the ground. Pain seared through his neck and shoulder. A braying, bucking donkey ran past him, followed by a large, barking dog. He stayed still until a wave of dizziness passed.

Bounding to his feet, he looked around for Fritzie.

“She took off.” A young man with a cap perched sideways on his head yelled above the shouting people and mixed clamor of animal sounds. “I tried to grab her, but she was too wild. You shoulda seen the crowd make way for her. Scared ’em nigh to death.”

“Thanks. Did you see which direction she went?”

“Nope. Crowd closed in behind her.” The boy took off running.

Sam rubbed his shoulder and stood on tiptoe, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Nowhere in sight. Doubling his fist, he hit his other hand hard. What now? He had to find Katie. Had to keep her safe. According to a policeman, everyone had escaped the Patch before the fire got to it. Where would the troupe have gone?

A young woman stumbled and fell against him. A mewling sound came from the bundle she held in one arm. He caught her and steadied her, placing his hand against her back. She threw a look of hopeless fear his way and stumbled on, leaning heavily on a stick, her other arm holding tightly to the infant. Were they alone? A lame woman with an infant? She’d never outrun this fire.

He took one quick step and reached her. “Ma’am, would you allow me to help?”

She turned grateful eyes up to him. More than grateful. Maybe a little less than adoration. Now that he had a closer look, he realized she was younger than he’d thought. Probably not much older than Katie.

She stopped and the crowd rushed against them, almost knocking them apart. With a pleading look, she held the wrapped bundle toward him. Did she think he’d take the baby and leave her? His heart wrenched.

“No. You hold your baby.” He reached down and picked her up in his arms, and the stick fell from her hands. He kicked it aside and took off running with the crowd. Embers flew over his head, and some landed near him.

Through the cacophony of sound, he heard a loud cry up ahead and looked that way. A body hurtled to the ground from a third floor window. His stomach churned, and he clamped his teeth together.

He was near the rear of the crowd. The flames roared like a train. Fiery heat burned his neck. The fire wasn’t far behind. Screams sounded just behind him. He glanced back,and his heart lurched with fear. A building just a few yards behind him was engulfed in flames which reached out, threatening adjacent buildings.

He sped up with the crowd, and flames reached out to the buildings beside him, consuming them. The shrieking mob ahead turned toward the lake.

Shifting the woman in his arms, he ran after them. Pain stabbed his ribs. He gasped for breath as the smoky air filled his lungs.

The woman tugged on his shirt. “Please,” she shouted. “I’m slowing you down. Take my babe and let me make my own way.”

Ignoring her plea, he ran, stumbling as his weak ankle almost gave way. Gasping for air, he reached the edge of the lapping waves. The crowd pressed close around him.

“Make way,” he yelled, wobbling where he stood. “I have a lame woman and her baby here.”

People scattered to clear a small section of beach.

He set her gently on the sand and held on to her until she was seated with the baby in her arms. Then he fell to his knees, bending over, panting for air. He glanced over at his charges. The woman’s head had fallen forward. Was she ill?

The mewling sound began again. Groaning, Sam pushed himself to his feet. He had to check on them. The mother’s head jerked up, and she pulled the blanket from the baby’s face. Sam inhaled sharply. A newborn. Very newborn.

He stooped down beside the woman and leaned close so she could hear his shouts above the crowd and the roar of the fire. “My name is Sam. Are you all right?”

She nodded and shouted, tears running down her ash-smeared cheeks. “Lucy Owens. God bless you, sir. You saved our lives.”

“How old is your infant?”

Her face crumpled and tears filled her eyes. “He was born less than an hour before you found me.”

“Do you have family?” He leaned closer to hear her better.

She shook her head. “My man died of the fever just three months ago. There’s no one but me. And him.” She nodded at the baby.

“Are you lame or just weak?”

She blushed and ducked her head. “I’ll be fit as a fiddle when I get my strength back.”

Sam looked around, frustrated. He had to look for Katie. But he didn’t feel right leaving Lucy alone. Heat and ash from the mile-wide fire fell on them as it raged past, less than a block away.
Dear Lord, please don’t let it spread closer to the shore.

“Sam Nelson, is that you?” The cry was followed by arms flung around his neck. She pulled away, and his eyes rested on the exhausted face of Rosie Riley.

❧

The child slept on the sand, one hand under her soot-coated cheek, oblivious to the terror and bedlam around her. Betty had fallen exhausted on the shore and lay motionless, covered by the damp blanket Bridget had thrown over her.

Katie leaned against a trunk and shut her burning eyes. The roar of the fire filled her ears. She forced them open. Why did it seem louder with them closed?

“Katie! Daughter!” She jumped up at the sound of her father’s voice. His wonderful face was glowing, a smile stretching across his face as he ran toward her, followed by several members of the troupe, almost unrecognizable from the soot and ash. When he reached her, she fell into his arms, leaning against his strong, safe chest.

Now she could close her eyes. But immediately they flew open. “Pa, I’m so sorry. I got separated from Rosie. I don’t know where she is.” She hid her face in her hands.

She felt his hand gently remove hers from her face.

“Daughter, it’s not your fault. The city is a madhouse. We’ll trust God to keep Rosie safe.”

“We’d just crossed the bridge when someone pushed this little girl into my arms. I looked around to see who it was, and when I looked back, Rosie was gone.” She wiped at the tears that rolled down her cheeks. “Should I have searched for her, Pa? I had to get the child to safety, didn’t I?”

He pulled her head back to his chest and patted her. “Of course, Katie girl. You did the right thing. Don’t fret yourself now.”

“Do you think Sam’s all right? What if he’s trying to find me? What if he got caught by the fire?” Panic clawed at her, like something wild attacking, draining her strength.

“Katie, stop it. You’re imaginin’ all sorts of things that aren’t so. Sam can take care of himself. They’re both in God’s hands.”

Katie swallowed and took a deep breath.

Of course, they were in God’s hands. She had to stop falling apart like this. She stood straight. “I’m sorry. I’ll be all right now.”

Emma Gallagher knelt beside the sleeping child. “You don’t know who she belongs to?”

Katie shook her head.

“Katie. Look.”

At her father’s excited voice, she glanced his way. Sam was running down the sandy beach, his face and clothing gray with ash, just as hers were.

Then she was in his arms, and he was holding her tightly.

“I couldn’t find you. I searched everywhere and couldn’t find you. I was so afraid.” He held her at arm’s length and stared into her eyes then pulled her to him again.

Her father cleared his throat, and Katie pulled away from Sam. She looked into his eyes and smiled.

Sam turned to her father. “Sir, Rosie Riley is down the beach. She’s helping someone there. I told her if I found you, I’d let you know.”

Katie watched joy brighten her father’s face. He started off running down the beach, heedless of the wall of fire that had stretched closer to the shore, consuming building after building.

Tiny pieces of ash and debris floated on the wind. How close could the fire get to the lake? Would they be safe here?

Emma reached down and picked up the sleeping child. She trudged off across the sand.

Katie tugged at Bridget’s arm. “Come. We have to go with Pa.”

Bridget lifted Betty, and she and Mrs. Thornton dragged themselves after the others.

Sam took Katie’s hand, and they tripped and stumbled across the sand through a red glow as Chicago burned.