Firestorm!

by Joan Hiatt Harlow

  “Whatcha doin’, kid?” A man dressed in raggedy clothes staggered up to Poppy. “Got any food?”

  “No!” She turned away. Although she was a street person herself, especially now that she had nowhere to live, she knew she had to be wary of beggars who killed for just a bite of food.

  She was hungry, too, but she wouldn’t allow herself to think about food right now. She had to take the wax impression she had made of Mr. Butterworth’s key to Ma Brennan straightaway.

  As she headed up the dusty road, she stopped suddenly. Was that Justin coming down the street? For an instant she wanted to run toward him and call his name. Then she recalled the accusations the Butterworths had made about her. She’d vowed never to see them or speak with any of them again. She ducked into the next alley and ran around trash and garbage to the next street. Then she suddenly realized that the boy could not have been Justin. He’d be in school at this hour of the morning.

  There was no one around the empty lot where the wax impression was hidden. Once again Poppy found the loose stone and reached inside the cavity. She pulled out the small matchbox and the four dollars that were left. Yes, everything was exactly as she had left it.

  Poppy would need the money now that she had decided to stow away on the Highland. It wasn’t going to last long, but at least it was something.

  She stuffed the money and the little box containing the wax into her pocket and replaced the stone. She’d probably never come back to this place. She’d be far away in a few days. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of what lay ahead. At the same time, she was scared. Who would have anything to do with a girl her age who had no family or friends? Perhaps she could clean houses—become a maid. That wouldn’t be bad. Maybe the people in the household would learn to love her … like she thought Claire had.

  Poppy didn’t want to think about Claire, but all the sweet things that Justin’s sister had said and promised came back like the smoke on the wind and then disappeared in the sky.

  Tears welled up again. Only stupid people let their hearts believe anything, she decided. Poppy took out the box of wax, opened it, and studied the impression of the key to the jewelry store. It was a perfect cast. Ma would have no trouble making a key from it.

  Still, Claire told Poppy she was learning to love her. And Poppy had felt like Mew must feel—warm and loved, tucked away in a safe place next to Claire’s heart.

  A safe place. That feeling of belonging was gone now, but at least, for once in her whole life, she had felt part of a family—part of a friendship—in a safe place. That was something, wasn’t it? Something to remember—the rest of her life.

  She took the wax impression out of the box and held it in her hand. Then, with a sudden decision, she threw it to the ground and stomped on it hard.

  THURSDAY MORNING,

  OCTOBER 5, 1871

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  - Gentleman’s Agreement -

  Justin walked the same streets they had the night before. Where had Poppy gone? Back to that awful place where she’d lived? He hoped not.

  Justin tried to take in everything—every shadow, corner, alley, and doorway. But Poppy seemed to have vanished off the earth. Please, God, let Poppy be all right.

  Suddenly his eyes fell upon a girl at the end of the street. It’s Poppy! She looked up at him and it seemed as if she was about to call to him. But then she ducked into an alley and disappeared.

  “Stop! Poppy!” Justin flew down the street, raced into the alley, and threw aside the many crates, boxes, and trash cans that were strewn haphazardly everywhere. “Poppy!” he yelled.

  She was not there.

  I’ll go down to the wharves by the lake, which was my original plan. Since she wanted to run away on a steamer, I’ll check every boat that’s hitched up by the lake and then I’ll check the river.

  On the way to the lake, he passed a park where a few mothers were walking their children in prams. One vagrant stumbled around picking up trash and looking in rubbish bins.

  Justin headed toward the grubby hobo, who seemed to be searching for food. “Have you seen a girl, about twelve, who might have spent the night on the streets around here?”

  “Hmm,” said the man. “I saw one little girl. She seemed younger than twelve, though. She had no food, so I walked away.”

  “Poppy looks younger than twelve. Where did she go?”

  “Up the street over there.” The man put on a pitiful face. “Hey, sonny, ain’t you got any money or food for me? Be a kind boy. I’m real hungry.”

  “Sorry,” Justin said, and ran across the road and up the hill. “I think that was Poppy I saw earlier,” he said to himself. “But where would she go from here?”

  He was about to head back when he stopped in his tracks. Patrick Cahill and Four Fingers Foley were running toward him. “Hey, Rotten!” Patrick called. “We warned ya we’d get ya if you showed up in our territory.”

  Justin wanted to run, but he thought maybe these thugs would know where Poppy was. Still, would they tell him? “I’m not bothering anyone,” Justin said as the boys came close.

  “You’re botherin’ us,” Fingers said with a sneer. “And we’re goin’ to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”

  Justin turned to run, but it was too late. Fingers caught him by his jacket and pulled him back. Then he punched Justin in the gut.

  Panic and the blow to the stomach were too much, and Justin’s breakfast came up in a gush. He threw up—right in Fingers’s face and all over his pullover sweater.

  “Yuck!” Fingers screamed, backing away.

  Patrick stopped his forward pursuit of Justin and backed up cautiously. But then, seeing Fingers covered with vomit, he doubled over, laughing.

  “It ain’t funny!” Fingers yelled, looking down at the stinking mess. He began to pull the sweater over his head, but now his face was buried in the vomit. He yanked the sweater back down again, and then, as his head emerged, now covered with even more slop, he heaved a gushing fountain of his own breakfast out of his mouth—this time all over Patrick!

  All three boys stared down at their soggy, smelly clothes. Then they looked up at one another. Justin, who was about to run away, started to laugh.

  “You are a hog,” Fingers said to his chum, Patrick. “I should take ya to the slaughterhouse.”

  “You are a stinkin’ rotten swine yourself,” Patrick hollered.

  Justin said, “I’m not walking all the way home in this stink.” He took off his jacket and threw it into a nearby rubbish bin.

  Patrick did the same. Fingers took a pocketknife out of his pants and cut away at the sweater. “This was my best sweater,” he moaned.

  “You mean it was your only sweater,” Patrick said.

  Fingers turned to Justin. “It’s all your fault!”

  “Well, I hope you’ve learned not to punch me in the stomach,” Justin replied. Then he added, “If you guys need sweaters or jackets, come on down to the Methodist church on Wabash Saturday morning. There’ll be a load of good clothes there—free.”

  “We don’t need any help from you!” Fingers said.

  “If you find another sweater, you won’t have to explain what happened to that one,” Justin said.

  “I told you, we don’t need charity from you!” Fingers said in a saintly voice.

  “Oh, forget it, then,” Justin replied, turning to walk away.

  “So why are you down here—and on a school day, too?” Fingers asked.

  “I’m looking for Poppy.”

  “Poppy? Everyone’s lookin’ for her,” Patrick told him.

  “Like who?” Justin asked.

  “Like Ma Brennan,” Patrick answered. “Poppy was real stupid to run away from Ma. Now she’s in real big trouble.”

  “Serves her right. No one dares to run away from Ma,” Fingers added.

  “Listen,” Justin said, “if you see Poppy, tell her to come to my house right away. Let her know she’s not in trouble with us. It’s real
important.”

  “Why should we do any favors for you?” Patrick asked. “What’s in it for us?”

  “I’ll see that you get a new sweater and shirt at the church fair. That way you won’t get in trouble with your mothers. How about it?”

  Patrick was silent for a moment, thinking. Then he said, “We’ll tell Poppy if and when we see her.”

  “Be sure you live up to your end of the deal,” Fingers said. “A sweater for me and a shirt for Patrick.”

  “Methodist church. Wabash Avenue. Saturday morning,” Justin said. “Bring Poppy, if you can.”

  THURSDAY MORNING,

  OCTOBER 5, 1871

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  - Scary Plans -

  Poppy looked down at the smashed and broken wax on the ground. Now you’ve done it! she thought. She’d destroyed the key and she’d have to answer to Ma and Mr. Plant. But worse, Ticktock was in real danger.

  What could she do to save Ticktock? Ma said that Poppy had to give her the key to the jewelry store by Friday night or Ma would go after the goat. There was only one thing to do. Poppy would steal Ticktock from the Butterworths’ and hide her. She’d find a place somewhere, somehow, where she and Ticktock would be safe.

  Poppy spent the day in the small park, falling in and out of sleep on one of the benches. Now she was restless.

  It was late afternoon and soon it would be dark. She was hungry, starving for something to eat. She wandered up the street to a little café near the park and went inside. A waitress looked her up and down. Poppy knew her pretty dress was now soiled and becoming tattered, but it was all she had to wear.

  Poppy sat at the counter and ordered one cup of chicken soup for ten cents. She was happy to see that it was served with a plate of crackers. When no one was looking, she stuffed all the crackers into her pocket. Then she downed the soup slowly, enjoying every bite of chicken and carrot and potato. It was so good, she wished she’d ordered a whole bowl, but she knew she had to use her money carefully. Before she finished, she beckoned to the lady behind the counter. “Could I have a few more crackers, please?”

  “I sure hope you have money to pay for this,” the waitress said with a scowl as she slapped more crackers onto the plate.

  “Course I do!” Poppy snapped. “But those crackers come with the soup, don’t they?”

  “Yes … but your soup is gone.” The waitress took a long look at Poppy. “Well, you look like you need more crackers. There’ll be no extra charge this time.”

  After Poppy paid, she went to the restroom, where she washed up. She again wished she had a comb, but since she didn’t, she wet her hair and braided it, tying the bottoms with knots to keep the braids from falling apart.

  It was dusk when she left the restaurant and started up the sidewalk toward the Butterworths’ house. It would be dark by the time she got there. A wheezing steam fire engine pulled by two horses raced by, heading toward a glow in the distance—another fire. Sparks and cinders from the smoking chimney on the truck flew through the air. I would think the smoke from the engines could start even more fires, Poppy mused.

  When she arrived at the Butterworths’ house, lights in the windows showed the family was up and about inside. Perhaps Justin would be coming out to feed Ticktock. She’d wait until the lights went out before going down to the paddock and the goat barn. Justin would be brokenhearted when he found his goat was gone. He’d probably figure it was Poppy who’d taken her. He couldn’t know she was trying to save his pet.

  Poppy sat on a rock and waited until some of the lights had gone off. She then crept closer to the goat’s enclosure. The cheery tinkling bell on Ticktock’s collar jingled loudly as Poppy approached. Ticktock was waiting eagerly by the gate when Poppy went inside. “Oh, you sweet little thing,” she whispered, opening her arms. The goat came closer to get hugged, and Poppy fed her one of the crackers from her pocket. “I do love you, Ticktock. I wish I could stay here forever with you, but it’s not safe anymore.”

  She took off the collar with the bell and put on the old collar and leash that hung on the wall. “We have to be real quiet,” she told the goat. “I have to hide you so Ma won’t get you. That bell would give you away.” She found some grain and stuffed it into the pail, then put the pail over her arm.

  She led the goat out of the paddock and down the hill to the main road. Then she looked back at the quiet place she’d left. “I’m sorry, Justin,” she murmured. “I wish I could explain why I have to do this. You think I’m a thief anyway. Now your heart will bust when you find your little goat is gone. You’ll hate me for sure. But trust me—this is for the best.”

  Where would Poppy and Ticktock spend the night? She recalled a deserted shed near the docks. That’s where she’d go, and as soon as she found a place on a ship, she and Ticktock would sail away.

  FRIDAY MORNING,

  OCTOBER 6, 1871

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  - Ticktock Is Missing -

  Friday morning Justin went out to feed his goat. Ticktock was the only one who still loved him. Father and Mother were disappointed in him. Charlie was mad because everyone put some blame on him for allowing the gold watch chain to be sold as silver. Claire was sad and hardly spoke to anyone except Forrest and little Mew. The whole family was gloomy and grumpy. But Ticktock’s little tail wagged and she bleated happily whenever she saw Justin.

  So Justin was surprised that morning when he didn’t hear the merry jingle of Ticktock’s bell and when she didn’t come out to greet him. “Ticktock!” he called. “Come here, little nanny.” There was only silence. A cold dread swept over Justin as he tiptoed into the goat barn. It was empty! “Ticktock!” he yelled. “Where are you?”

  Where could she be? Had she escaped from her enclosure somehow?

  Justin looked around the barn. The pail was gone, and the grain bag was half empty. Ticktock’s bell collar was hanging on the wall, but the old collar and leash were missing. Had Charlie or Claire taken Ticktock out of the stall? Justin ran back to the house, calling, “Claire! Charlie! Where is Ticktock?”

  Charlie, Mother, and Father, who were all eating breakfast at the kitchen table, looked up in alarm. “Isn’t she in her barn?” Charlie asked.

  “No, and her leash and pail are gone—and some of her food, too.” Justin ran to Claire’s room. “Claire! Are you in there?”

  The door opened and Claire peered out. “What’s going on?” she asked sleepily.

  “Ticktock is missing.”

  “Oh, no! Did she get out through the fence?”

  “No! Someone took her.”

  “It was undoubtedly Poppy,” Father called from the kitchen. “She took your goat to get even for your blaming her about the watch chain.”

  “Would she be that mean?” Justin asked as he came back to the table. His throat was tight and his eyes were about to overflow. “She knows how I love Ticktock.” He slumped onto a chair, lowered his head onto the table, and buried his face in his arms. “I can’t stand it. My poor little goat.”

  Claire came into the kitchen, dressed in a robe. “Poppy would never hurt Ticktock,” she said.

  “Why would she steal her?” Charlie asked.

  “I told you why. She’s getting even with us.” Father sipped his coffee. “Another lesson in trusting scalawags.”

  “Father, someday you will be sorry for saying unkind things like that,” Claire warned. “If we could find Poppy and talk with her, we’d know a lot about what’s happening. I can’t believe she’d do something so spiteful.”

  Justin looked up at his parents. “I have to find Ticktock. Please let me stay home from school today. Please!”

  “We can’t just take a day off whenever a problem arises,” Father stated. “And you cannot stay home from school to look for a goat.”

  Justin looked away. If Father ever knew I played hooky yesterday …

  Claire spoke up. “Father, you can see how upset Justin is. He loves that goat. If he goes to school to
day, I’m sure he won’t be learning much when he’s so worried about Ticktock.”

  Justin glanced at Claire gratefully. “You did tell me that Ticktock would be my responsibility, Father.”

  Father’s face was stony cold. “No.” He slammed his cup down with a bang, and coffee spilled onto the tablecloth.

  “I’d say this is a family emergency,” Mother insisted. “When there’s an emergency, everyone should pitch in and lend a hand.” She touched Father’s shoulder. “You could help, too, dear. You know all the policemen in town. Why don’t you go down to the police station? They might know something.”

  “I’ll take care of the store,” Charlie offered. “You’ll have more success with the police, Father. They respect you.”

  There was a long silence in the room. Then Father spoke up. “Well, I guess it does make sense for Justin to look for his goat since he can’t concentrate on his schoolwork while Ticktock is missing.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I suppose I can help, too, down at the police station.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Mother whispered.

  “Charlie, we won’t open the store today. We’ll all look for Ticktock.” Father got up from his chair. “After I go to the police, I’ll check the riverfront down by the wharves. Charlie, you and Justin go down to the lakeside.”

  “We already made plans to work at the church all weekend, distributing clothes to the poor. We’ll ask everyone who comes in if they know Poppy and if they have any idea where she might be,” Mother suggested.

  Claire nodded eagerly. “Yes, there will be lots of people coming—especially on Saturday. Someone must have seen a girl with a goat.”

  “So you suspect Poppy, too,” Father said pointedly.

  Claire looked hard at her father. “Perhaps someone broke her heart enough to set her back into a life of crime.”

  “Perhaps someone did.” Father looked away, his fingers tracing an embroidered leaf on the tablecloth. Then he sighed. “I know I share in the blame, too. Once we bring Ticktock home, maybe we can make things right with Poppy.”