Firestorm!

by Joan Hiatt Harlow

  “It ain’t Miss Tessie May’s place, is it?” Poppy held her breath, waiting for the answer.

  “Well, yeah, as a matter of fact, it is,” Julia said. “Why?”

  “I’ve heard stories about that woman. You better get out of there.”

  “She’s been nice,” Renee said. “We sleep in a real bed.”

  “From what I’ve heard back at the Willow, she’s not givin’ you a room ’cause she likes ya. She’ll be usin’ you like Ma—or worse,” Poppy insisted, remembering terrible stories about Miss Tessie. “How come you left Ma, anyways?”

  “Whenever we stole good stuff for Ma, she took everything we got. We can get along better by ourselves.” Julia pulled a leather wallet from her pocket. “Look at this nice little boodle I fanned from a man leavin’ the bank yesterday.” She opened the wallet and shoved a bundle of money under Poppy’s nose. “Renee’s getting to be a real good little stall. She tripped and fell in front of my mark and screamed her head off.”

  Renee smiled happily at Julia’s words.

  “Yep, it was easy to lift that leather right out of his pocket while he was pullin’ Renee up from the sidewalk,” Julia went on. “Easy as pie.”

  Poppy watched Julia count the money. Although Ma had never taught her “students” to read, she had taught them the numbers on dollar bills, and they were quick to learn.

  “There’s thirty bucks in here. That’ll keep us goin’ for a while,” Julia said.

  “‘Us’?”

  “Yeah, Renee and me. We worked for it.”

  Poppy held out her hand. She hated to beg, but that was better than stealing, wasn’t it? “How’s about givin’ me a few of that bundle? I ain’t got any money, save a few coins. I’m not goin’ to steal anymore.”

  “Then how do you ’spect to live? You’re crazy, Poppy. Go get your own,” Julia said, snapping the money out of Poppy’s sight. “You know how as well as I do!”

  “Don’t let Tessie May know you got that money. She’ll prob’ly take it, too,” Poppy warned as she walked away.

  Julia yelled after her, “I ain’t goin’ back to Ma’s, so don’t worry—I won’t be tellin’ her I saw you. But she’s gonna get you, Poppy. She’s mad as a hornet bee.”

  Poppy sighed. She’d probably have to go back to stealing in order to eat. As she walked up the streets and alleys, trying to figure out what to do, she thought of Claire. How much she wanted to be like her—at least the way she seemed to be, sweet and kind and smart.

  Then she thought about Justin. Had he found Ticktock yet? She could only imagine how happy he must be. She hoped the boys really had warned Justin about Ma Brennan’s threats to his goat. Did Justin now believe Poppy hadn’t stolen Ticktock to get even?

  She hadn’t realized how far she’d gone—or even paid attention to where she was. Across the street was an empty meadow. Poppy was tired, sad, and lonely, and it was getting dark.

  She trudged through the strawlike uncut hay until she found a spot that was far away from the road. She beat the tall stalks down with her feet until it lay flat. Then she flopped onto her back. A strong wind blew in gusts around her, whistling through the trees. Poppy looked up at the sky, where the stars were shining brightly.

  Had Claire said there were all kinds of animals up there—bears, snakes, dogs? She squinted and tried to see them but couldn’t.

  Suddenly, in a burst of stardust and flame, a shooting star soared across the sky. Would that star hit the earth? she wondered. Or would it burn out up there?

  Poppy didn’t make a wish this time. Wishes never came true.

  She closed her eyes and was soon asleep.

  SUNDAY AFTERNOON,

  OCTOBER 8, 1871

  CHAPTER FORTY

  - Flee! -

  Justin hugged Ticktock, who snuggled under his arms, pushing gently with her little nubs of horns.

  Forrest sat on the porch steps watching. “That goat sure likes you,” he said, smiling. “And it looks as if the feeling is mutual.”

  “Forrest, will it be all right for my goat to stay here for a while?” Justin asked his soon-to-be brother-in-law. “She’s in danger,” he explained. “Someone in Conley’s Patch wants to punish Poppy by hurting Ticktock.”

  “Of course you can leave her with me. I’ll enjoy having her here.” Forrest reached out and petted Ticktock. “Why would anyone ever hurt Poppy or this sweet little nanny?”

  “I worry about Ticktock, especially at night … ,” Justin began.

  “I’ll put her in the barn at night. She’ll be safe here. I promise.”

  Justin put his hand out. “Thank you. This goat is … my very best friend.”

  “I understand,” Forrest said, clasping Justin’s hand.

  “I’ve got to find Poppy. She trusted me and my family—and we’ve hurt her.”

  “I understand that, too,” Forrest said. “But for now, Justin, let it go. Sometimes when we try too hard to solve a problem ourselves, we get in the way of God’s plans. Give it a rest for today.”

  Justin thought about this, then nodded. “I’ll try to let it go—for now.”

  It was early evening by the time Justin and his family got home. “We should have taken Ginger and the buggy,” Mother said. “The walk to church seems longer when it’s dark.”

  “In the time it would have taken for me to go down to Thompson’s barn to hitch her up, we’d have missed the sermon today. Next time we’ll go by carriage and we’ll all be ready earlier,” Father replied.

  “Since we had such a big dinner at the parish house, I’m just making scrambled eggs for supper,” Mother said. “I’m too tired to cook.”

  They ate scrambled eggs with ham and cheese, and then everyone, except Father, went to bed early. “I’m going to sit here and read,” he said. “I’ll be up a little later.”

  The bed felt good when Justin climbed in. And things were better today than they had been yesterday. At least Ticktock was back and safe at the parish house.

  It seemed as if Justin had just fallen to sleep when he heard banging on the front door. Then Father burst into his bedroom. “Get up quick, Justin! The neighbors just came to warn us. There’s a fire up the road and the wind is wild. The whole sky is ablaze and it’s coming this way. We’ve got to get out of here. Now!”

  It was pitch-black outside Justin’s window, but when he looked out the other side of the house, he gasped. The entire sky was aflame in a whirling, twisting blaze.

  “Our horse isn’t here, so we’ll have to go on foot. Hurry! We’ve got to stay ahead of that inferno!” Charlie yelled from downstairs.

  Claire was up and dressed and had a pillowcase in her hands. “I grabbed the wedding things I felt were most valuable,” she said breathlessly, “along with my jewelry. I honestly don’t know what’s the most important—”

  “Our lives are most important!” Mother shrieked. “Let’s leave now.”

  “I just want to get to the church and take Ticktock with us before the fire gets there,” Justin begged.

  “Yes, let’s head for the church,” Claire agreed. “I must find Forrest and be sure he’s all right. But first I’ve got to find Mew.” She headed back into her bedroom while the rest of the family hurried outside.

  Charlie ran into the barn and pulled out a wheelbarrow. “We can carry some things in this,” he said.

  “Have you seen little Mew?” Claire shouted from the door. “I can’t leave her.”

  Mother raced back and pulled Claire out with her. “Never mind the kitten, Claire. Look at the fire!”

  The wind blasted the flames, showering soot and sparks around them. Claire ran to the driveway. “My kitty! She’ll be burned.”

  “She’ll find a place to hide, dear,” Mother consoled her. “But you can’t lose your life looking for her.”

  “We’re going now!” Father commanded. “We’ll go to the shop. The fire may burn out before it reaches State Street. I’ve got to empty the safe with all the jewels …” Father�
�s voice was drowned out by the sounds of the wild wind and the cracking of tree limbs.

  It was as if the sun had risen, lighting up the neighborhood like daylight. The fiery skyline was brighter and closer.

  Justin felt something hot on his face. Cinders! “Get going! Run!” he howled.

  “The dry grass is catching on fire from the sparks!” Father yelled.

  The family raced to the street. Charlie led the way, running awkwardly, trying to balance the wheelbarrow. Justin ran alongside him, with their parents breathlessly keeping up behind them.

  Claire followed the procession. “Go to the church,” she cried. “I need to find Forrest.”

  “Forrest has probably left the church by now,” Father replied.

  “No, he won’t leave the church. He’ll stay there until it burns around him.” Claire’s voice rose to a high pitch.

  “The church is on the way to the lake,” Mother insisted. “We’ll stop there if the fire hasn’t reached it yet.”

  “Very well. We’ll go to the church first,” Father ordered. “Then I’m heading to the shop. All the jewels in the safe—they’re irreplaceable.”

  “Your family is irreplaceable!” Mother yelled. “Which do you care about more? Your jewels? Even little Mew’s life is more irreplaceable than those jewels!”

  Justin glanced back in surprise. His mother’s face was stern, her lips a straight slit. He hung back and followed his family silently. His mouth and eyelashes were dry and filled with soot from the ashes that flew in the gusty air.

  “Mother!” Claire’s sudden scream rang out over the wind.

  Justin stopped and gasped in horror. His mother’s long dress was in flames!

  SUNDAY NIGHT,

  OCTOBER 8, 1871

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  - Get to the River! -

  “Ouch!” Something hot and sharp smacked Poppy’s cheek, waking her. She sat up and brushed the object from her face. “What’s going on?” The sky to her left was scarlet with boiling clouds of flames and smoke. Small fires erupted in the dry grass of the meadow and were coming closer to where she had been lying. Sparks scattered and fell from the hot wind.

  “The world is on fire!” She scrambled to her feet. Where was she? She hadn’t paid attention when she had found the meadow.

  It didn’t matter. She had to get away from that terrible glowing sky and the sparks that were blowing and lighting dried leaves and trees all around her. She stumbled over the grass until she reached the road. Then she headed in the opposite direction from the fire, trying to get a sense of where she was. She remembered she had come up several side streets, so she tried to race back the way she had come.

  A frightened procession of families pushed wheelbarrows filled with belongings. Baby carriages were loaded with crying children, birdcages, mattresses, and family treasures. People packed the thoroughfares and alleyways, jostling themselves and their burdens away from the blasting hot wind and flaming sky. Frantic horses driven by fear and whips wildly raced through the streets without a pause for anyone in their path.

  One side roadway was so crowded that Poppy could hardly make her way through. When she finally reached the next crossing, she turned in another direction, hoping to find it less congested.

  Suddenly she realized where she was! It was Justin’s street, and his house was right up the road. She flew to the driveway and looked up at the house. There were no lights on in the windows. Had they left? Did they know the fire was heading this way? She had to warn them.

  She ran down the driveway, and as she got closer to the house, she was comforted to see the kitchen door had been left ajar. The family had obviously left in a hurry. Poppy realized with relief that the goat barn was empty. She was about to go back to the street when she heard a familiar cry coming from the kitchen.

  It was little Mew! Poppy went back to the porch, calling softly, “Come, kitty.” The kitten purred as Poppy picked her up. Why had Claire left her? She’d said she’d love the kitty forever. “I won’t leave you here, little Mew,” she whispered gently. “You’re coming with me.”

  A gust of wind blew the kitchen door open wide. In the light from the burning sky that shimmered through the windows, she spotted Claire’s apron draped over a chair. Poppy grabbed it and quickly placed it over her head. “Now you’ll feel safe,” she murmured as she tucked the kitten into the front pocket.

  Mew cried while Poppy ran to the street, but when she put her hand into the pocket, Mew soon snuggled down and began sucking on Poppy’s finger.

  Already houses behind her were in flames. The cracking and snapping of burning wood was loud and close. Poppy coughed and gagged as smoke gusted around her. She held one hand over her face and kept one hand in the pouch on Mew’s soft fur.

  Once again she found herself struggling in a frantic parade of men, women, and children, who pushed and shoved and stepped on one another in their terror.

  Poppy let herself be swept along in a stumbling, hysterical maze of humanity.

  Now the structures around them were burning. “Help!” a man cried from a window high on the fourth floor of a nearby building. Flames spit out the windows below.

  “Jump!” came calls from the street.

  The man disappeared for a moment and then reappeared. He struggled with a bed mattress that he finally threw out the window onto the ground below.

  “Jump!” the voices of the crowd called again.

  Poppy held her breath as the man backed out the window and hung by his arms, trying to reach the windowsill of the floor beneath him. The fire was spreading and one of the walls on the side of the building was already crumbling.

  “JUMP!” the crowd demanded.

  He did, tumbling through the air to the ground below, missing the mattress.

  Folks ran to him, but it was no use. He lay motionless.

  Poppy felt sick and turned her head away. She tried to run, but it was impossible to move ahead through the wall of people.

  She struggled to slip to the side of the street and stopped. A little girl was standing on the burning wooden sidewalk, screaming, “Mama! Mama!”

  Her long blond hair was on fire!

  “Help her!” Poppy screamed, not knowing what to do. A man standing nearby with a drink in his hand stepped closer to the girl and then threw the liquid on her.

  “Stop!” his companion yelled. “That’s alcohol!” In an instant the child’s dress caught on fire.

  Poppy put her hands over her ears to drown out the girl’s screams and watched helplessly as the little girl turned into a blue pillar of fire.

  Poppy felt faint. Everything seemed to be spinning. Then her legs buckled and she fell to the ground.

  Someone stepped on her; a shoe dug into her ribs like an axe. More people stumbled over her without stopping.

  I must get up or I’ll be crushed here. Poppy tried to push the horrible sight of that burning, screaming little girl from her mind.

  Little Mew cried and was about to creep out of the apron pocket. No! I can’t let anything happen to my kitten! I’ve got to get up.

  She pushed Mew gently back into the pouch on the front of her apron, then tried to stand. It took several tries as grown-ups and even children pushed her out of their way, knocking her back to the hard-packed dirt street. She kept one hand over the pocket to protect Mew, but her hand was bleeding. A sharp pain shot through her right leg where someone had crushed it with a heavy boot.

  One woman stopped and pulled her up. “You’ll be killed if you stay on the ground, dearie,” she said. “Now keep movin’ toward the water. The fire won’t hurt you there.”

  Poppy nodded and limped along slowly. The pain in her leg shot up to her hip. She could no longer hold back tears. Ma had hit her many times for crying, so she rarely cried. But now the pain was too much. She sobbed as she hobbled along, trying to hold her own with the rough crowds. With each breath, her lungs burned with the hot, fiery wind.

  A large building on the other sid
e of the street buckled under the flames and then, with a crash, collapsed into sparks and cinders.

  “God help us!” someone yelled.

  “Don’t give up. Get to the river. Once we cross a bridge, we’ll be safe!”

  “That’s right! Fire won’t cross the water!”

  “Yes! To the river!” came the cries.

  Poppy felt Mew’s little tongue licking her hand and then sucking again on a finger. She ignored her pain and walked faster. “Don’t be afraid. We’ll be safe once we cross the river,” she promised little Mew.

  LATE SUNDAY NIGHT,

  OCTOBER 8, 1871

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  - Stampede of the Prisoners -

  “Your dress is on fire!” Charlie dropped the wheelbarrow and, with his bare hands, began beating the tongues of flame that licked his mother’s full dress.

  “Be careful, Charlie!” Father tugged off his jacket and wrapped it around Mother, finally smothering the flames.

  “Are you burned?” Father asked anxiously. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, just singed a little. I’ll be all right,” Mother said in a trembling voice. “Did you burn your hands, Charlie?”

  “Not badly.” But Justin saw that he cringed when he took hold of the wheelbarrow again.

  “Even though the fire is still behind us, the sparks and flames are blowing in the wind,” Father said. “So watch out for sparks on your clothing.”

  “More fires are starting everywhere with this gale.” Claire pointed to a building where dark smoke had suddenly burst into flames.

  “We’ve got to get to the lake,” Charlie suggested. “The fire will have to stop once it reaches the shoreline.”

  “Sure, it’ll stop when it gets to the water—but we could be driven into the lake,” Father said. “We’d be safer heading across the river.”

  As they continued their flight, hundreds of people crowded the streets.

  “Where are my children?” a woman screamed. “I can’t find them!”