He knew at a glance that there was little difference any one man’s efforts could make. Even if every able-bodied soul in San Francisco tried his best, it wouldn’t be enough to alleviate this much suffering or save even half the lives he knew were presently being snuffed out like candles in a wintry gale.
His intent had been to report for duty. He would have, had there been anything left of the office at his station. The collapse of the second floor had buried the alarm system as well as the telephone he had hoped to use—not that there was even a remote chance either was still operable.
Coughing from the dust, eyes smarting, he picked his way through the rubble toward what had once been the stables, dreading what he might see and expecting the worst.
That was exactly what he found. Although all but one of the horses seemed to have broken free and escaped the carnage, the lifeless body of James O’Neill lay half buried by tons of wood and masonry. So did every single piece of their expensive fire equipment.
There was also a gaping hole over the standby boiler in the basement and Michael could see its pipes hissing and spitting streams of hot water. The only good thing about that was the moisture dribbling down and quench ing the hot coals before flames could escape the firebox and cause more destruction. If more destruction was even possible.
Stunned, Michael dropped to one knee beside his friend’s body and automatically checked for signs of life.
“Ah, James,” he murmured. “’Tis a sad, sad day. I’m so sorry.” Touching the man’s exposed wrist, he felt for the pulse he knew would not be there. Tears gathered in his already smarting eyes and he heaved a sigh.
“Father, take my friend to be with You,” Michael said. “He had his faults, as we all do, but he was Your child.”
Rising after a quick “Amen,” he did the only thing he could. He left and went to look for the rest of his comrades, continuing to ask God’s favor and mercy upon them as he picked his way over and between piles of fallen bricks and stone.
To his relief, he found most of the other men gathered in the middle of Howard Street, gaping at the building that had been the pride of Company #4 only minutes ago. There, they were being formed into a loosely knit workforce by a junior officer who had assumed temporary command since their captain didn’t seem to be thinking clearly.
“I just came from the stable. We’ve lost O’Neill,” Michael announced, managing to keep his voice strong and steady for the sake of the others. “Looks like most of the horses ran off but the engines are good and buried. There’s nothing left to work with. All we can do is concentrate on helping the living.”
The officer gestured toward a pile of splintered wood on the corner that had been the American Hotel. “Michael’s right.” He pointed to individuals. “You three start digging over there where you hear cries.”
Although the firemen were clearly in shock, they complied.
“What about me?” Michael asked.
“I was going to go try to find Chief Sullivan,” he said, “but I’m sending you, instead. Tell him we need to know if he wants us to join another company or stay and work here, on our own.”
“Do you really think it matters?” Michael asked, staring at the destruction and shaking his head as he tried to accept all he was seeing. “What if I can’t find him?”
“Then do whatever you feel is right. I won’t be holding my breath waiting for you to come back. At this point, we’re all pretty much on our own.”
“I agree.”
Michael turned and started off. Stone facades of notable buildings that were now unrecognizable extended in drifts into the street. Miles of flat paving stones were buckled like crumpled paper and there was a rift in the street as if the land had been split apart by the hand of an angry giant.
The sight of water gushing from ruptured pipes within the chasm made Michael shiver. If the main supply lines had fractured, as he now believed they had, firemen would have to tap cisterns that were strategically placed throughout the city in order to get enough water to quench the fires.
Suddenly a disheveled, gray-dirt-covered young woman lurched toward him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop and pay attention to her. He started to explain his mission and shake her off, then caught his breath. “Annie? Is that you?”
She was muttering unintelligibly. All Michael could make out was, “Tess…”
His heart nearly stopped. He grabbed Annie by the shoulders. “Tess is here? Where?”
“She, she…”
As he watched, Annie’s eyes rolled back in her head and she swooned.
He knew he couldn’t abandon the helpless young woman to the milling crowds that were beginning to fill the streets. Nor did he dare place her inside one of the already tottering buildings. There were sure to be deadly aftershocks and more buildings would collapse. That was a certainty.
Just then, another, lesser quake rumbled. The land beneath Michael’s feet vibrated like a bowl of warm gruel. He crouched over Annie, using his back to try to shield her from additional falling debris.
Dust rose in roiling clouds that choked lungs and burned eyes even more than before. In the distance, he could hear the rapid clanging of bells, meaning that some fire equipment was still in service and gallant crews were responding to the columns of smoke he could see starting to rise at all four points of the compass.
“Dear God, what do You want me to do?” Michael prayed fervently. “It’ll take too long to carry her up Nob Hill through all this.”
Casting around for answers, he noticed a group of loose horses. Five heavy-bodied work animals were congregated around one of the bubbling waterholes that had so recently appeared in the middle of the street. One of those horses, a huge gelding with a roached mane and braided tail, was wearing a harness that bore the fire department insignia.
Michael whistled. The dappled gray’s ears perked up. It turned toward the shrill sound, then slowly began to approach, head down, the damp, dusty hide of its withers quivering.
The escaped fire horse was far too tall to mount while bearing his semiconscious burden, so Michael took hold of its halter and led it over to a fallen column. He wouldn’t have tried to ride most other horses without a proper saddle but he knew this one, and as far as he was concerned it might as well have been heaven-sent.
Climbing up on the fluted edges of the stonework, Michael eased a groggy Annie onto the horse first, then swung a leg over so he could sit behind and keep her from sliding off. She moaned without totally regaining her senses.
Michael paused, his loyalties torn. Since his station had no teams and no usable equipment, there was little he could do other than proceed to try to ascertain where he and his fellows would be needed, as he’d originally been ordered. However, he’d also been told that he was free to use his own discretion so he would first ride to the Clark estate, deliver Annie and inquire about his mother and Tess.
If they were safe there, as he hoped, he’d be able to relax and return to try to find the chief or to simply concentrate on rescue work. If Tess was missing amid all this terrible wreckage, however, he wouldn’t stop searching until he found her.
His heart would not let him.
Tess was passing the bay windows in the parlor when she caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye and saw a figure on horseback drawing nearer.
Far from prepared, she nevertheless hurried to the front door and threw it open, expecting to welcome the first of the refugees. Her jaw gaped when she recognized who had actually arrived.
Tess’s hand flew to her throat where she felt her pulse fluttering madly. It was Michael! And he’d brought Annie home. Praise God!
“I’m glad to see that this house stood,” he said by way of terse greeting. “Are you all right?” His voice sounded so hoarse Tess barely recognized it.
“Yes. Fine. And so is your mother. I just left her.” She hurriedly approached. “What’s happened to Annie?”
“I don’t know. She’s been pretty groggy.” He
scooted back so he could lift the young woman more easily and lower her to the ground. “Come and take her. I have to be getting back.”
Tess held out both hands.
Michael eased his burden down.
Annie immediately recovered enough to begin to cling to Tess, sobbing quietly as if she were an injured child seeking comfort in the arms of its mother.
“Where did you find her?” Tess asked him.
He slid to the ground beside the horse and grasped its bridle as he answered, “She found me. Near Union Square. She fainted before she could tell me if you had been with her.”
“Why would I be with her? You knew I was going home after the opera last night.”
“I assumed so, yes, but I’d heard that a lot of nabobs did stay late to party at the Palace with Caruso. If she hadn’t called your name before she fainted, I wouldn’t have been confused.”
“I sent her visiting in the city last night because I wasn’t going to need her here. Her mother’s house is on Geary Street, not far from where you say you found her.” Tess managed a smile. “Your mother is busy cooking up a storm in case we need to take people in.”
He took a few steps closer. “Good. I’m surprised to hear you still have enough gas for the stove. Don’t count on it for long, or telephones or electricity, either. And guard your use of water till we see how bad that damage was. I suspect most of the mains are gone.”
“All right.” She continued to gaze at him with affection, hoping he would understand how much she cared. “Be careful? Please?”
“I will.” The way his penetrating gaze met hers reminded her of the night before, only with even more empathy and concern. She yearned to reach for his hand but managed to restrain herself. Barely. “How bad is it down there?”
“Worst I’ve ever seen or ever hope to see,” Michael said soberly. “A lot of buildings are either already down or soon will be. I know there can’t be much left of Chinatown or the shacks along the waterfront, either.”
“That’s terrible. Wait. Why aren’t you fighting fires?”
Averting his face, he seemed to concentrate unduly on patting the horse’s neck. When he did speak again, Tess understood why he had looked away. He’d been hiding the depth of his emotions.
“I was off duty, sleeping, when the quake hit,” Michael said. “It’s a wonder I survived. The whole station is in ruins.”
“What about the other men?” Her heart ached for him, especially after he told her about finding his fellow fireman in the collapsed stable.
“I could just as easily have been the one staying down there with the horses,” he added. “O’Neill made the choice to work all night because I’d let him sleep off a hangover earlier in the day.”
That was more poignancy than Tess could resist. Keeping one arm around the still-weeping Annie, she grasped Michael’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” He gave her fingers a quick squeeze before releasing them and starting to back the horse away. “I’m going to stop by the kitchen before I go. I want Ma to see for herself that I’m okay, in case she hears rumors about the station.”
“Of course. Have her give you food and water. Take more than you think you’ll need,” she called after him as he walked away. “I’ll tend to Annie.”
Before Tess could finish shepherding her maid through the front door, however, the young woman dug in her heels. “No! I have to go back.”
“Whatever for? It’s dangerous down there. You heard what Michael said.”
Annie was adamant. “I don’t care. I couldn’t find my mother anywhere. The whole house fell down on top of us.” Half sobbing, half hysterical, she gasped for breath. “You have to help me, Tess. We can’t just leave her there. What if she’s still alive and waiting for me to dig her out?”
Tess was ashamed that she hadn’t thought that far ahead, hadn’t considered Rose Dugan’s welfare. Of course Annie was frantic. Any good daughter would be. Apparently, the disaster had rattled Tess’s brain more than she’d first imagined or she would have remembered to ask about Annie’s mother immediately.
“Do you think you can manage another trip this soon?” Tess asked, her heart aching for her friend.
“I can do anything for Mama.”
“Then we’ll go. Together. Just let me gather some supplies.” She guided Annie into the house with an arm around her shoulders. “You go tell Mary to pack us a big basket of food, then have one of the men harness my mare to the smallest buggy. I’ll go upstairs and collect sheets for bandages.”
“I looked and looked and called for her as soon as I crawled out,” the young woman insisted with a tremulous voice. “She didn’t answer me. I couldn’t find her anywhere. Not anywhere.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll find her,” Tess promised boldly.
In her heart, she was praying fervently that Annie’s beloved mother was still alive. Judging by the indications she’d had so far, a great many people were not going to survive to see today’s sunset over the Pacific.
Michael was just bidding his mother a fond farewell when Annie burst into the kitchen. Her hair was still ratted and her face streaked with dirt and tears. To his chagrin she was behaving irrationally, hurrying around the room and throwing food into a basket without bothering to even wrap it in a napkin.
He was about to tell her that he already had all the supplies he needed when she suddenly froze, covered her face with her hands and began to sob.
“There, there,” Mary said soothingly, taking the young woman in her arms and patting her back. “You’ll be all right. Sit down while I make you a nice cup of tea.”
“No!” Annie pushed her away. “I have to go back to my mama’s. I have to help her.”
“Oh, darlin’,” Mary crooned. “You can’t be goin’ down there all alone again. It’s too dangerous.”
Sniffling, the maid swiped at her tears and shook her head. “I’m not going alone. Tess is going with me. I have to get the buggy ready.” She broke away and dashed toward the back door, brushing past Michael as if he were invisible.
Watching through the open door, Michael saw her race toward the carriage house. His heart sank. Until a moment ago, he had thought the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse. Now, he knew better.
Giving his mother a peck on the cheek, he turned to leave.
“Are ye goin’ back to work?” Mary asked.
“In a manner of speaking. The first thing I need to do is stop Tess.”
Mary snorted. “Oh? And how do ye propose to do that?”
“I’ll reason with her. Tell her how bad it is down below. She’ll have to listen.”
“Will she now? I’d like to see that.”
“What else can I do? It’s bedlam out there.”
“I don’t know. But giving that hardheaded girl orders isn’t the way to go about it. You’d have a better chance of standin’ on the tracks in front of a steam engine and expecting to hold back the train with your bare hands.”
That opinion was so accurate it made Michael smile. He nodded. “I’ll think of something.”
By the time Tess reached the stables and joined Annie, there was a horse hitched to a buggy all right, but it wasn’t her faithful mare.
She stopped, hands fisted on her hips, and stared at Michael. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Helping you get back to Annie’s mother’s safely,” he replied, standing tall and showing no sign of being cowed by her display of righteous indignation.
“I’m taking my own horse,” Tess insisted. “Unhitch your animal immediately.”
Michael was slowly shaking his head as he held the gray gelding’s bridle and led it a few paces, then fiddled with the length of the trace chains before he looked back at her. “No,” he said flatly. “This horse is used to noise and strange smells. He’s far less likely to bolt.”
“My mare is fine.”
“Here, she may be. And even that’s not certain. Drive her by the worst of the damage and she�
��s bound to smell death or fire and start to act up.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” In the back of Tess’s mind she could see Michael’s point but a rebellious tendency kept her from admitting as much. She stood her ground. “Well? I’m waiting. Remove your horse this instant.”
“If I do—and I don’t promise I will—how long do you think it will take you and Annie to get your mare into harness in his place? Do you have that much time to waste? Or should you stop arguing and get in the buggy so we can all be on our way?”
Tess felt Annie grab her arm and hold so tight it pained her.
“Please,” the maid pleaded, “let’s just go. You can argue with Michael all you want after we find my mama.”
Although it went against her personal preference, Tess had to agree. “All right. Get in. I’m driving.”
Instead of offering his hand and assisting her to climb into the buggy as he had in the past, Michael leaped into the driver’s seat and took up the lines.
Tess pulled herself up and tried to shove him aside with no success. “Move over, sir.”
“I think not,” he said, giving her one of those grins that always used to curl her toes.
In this case, however, Tess seemed immune to his Irish charms. Disgusted, she plunked down on the seat next to him while Annie climbed into the back to ride amid their provisions.
Tess kept her arms crossed and her spine rigid until they pulled out onto the road and started down the hill. She had to give up and grab hold when the buggy began to zigzag around piles of fallen masonry and bump over ridges of buckled cobblestones.
Thankful that Michael was driving, she watched him expertly squeeze the rig through newly narrowed passages and past hazard after hazard as they traversed the normally broad, open streets.
What she beheld was horrendous beyond words. Horses lay on their sides, unmoving though still in harness. Buggies and wagons were smashed. Whole city blocks of row houses had been reduced to matchsticks or were leaning so precariously they looked as if the slightest push would send them tumbling down one after the other.
Rescuing the Heiress Page 10