“Linda,” Uncle Ernest called as he opened the front door.
“Don’t forget the glaze, Agnes,” Linda said over her shoulder as she headed for the door.
As soon as the couple had gone, Uncle Stanley said, “Agnes, perhaps we ought to be on our way as well. We only meant to stop in for a moment.”
“Yes, of course,” she replied. “I’ll just get Freddy.”
In another moment, they were gone as well.
Rachel looked up at Papa. “Will Uncle Stanley and Uncle Ernest be friends again?” she asked. “When the strike is settled, will they stop fighting?”
Papa sighed. “I hope they stop fighting no matter what happens with the strike. They are both bigger and stronger than this petty arguing.”
“But they don’t think it’s petty,” Sam said. “They’re on opposite sides, and they both think they’re right.”
“Then we must help them to see the truth,” Papa said. “Both Mr. Lowry and the unions have some good arguments. They have to learn to listen to each other—and that includes Ernest and Stanley.”
CHAPTER 8
Lost!
Can we go? Can we go?” Eight-year-old Carrie twirled to make her new pink Easter dress spin.
“What’s your hurry?” Sam asked. “Easter dinner is not for two more hours.”
“I want to play with Freddy,” Carrie said.
“Be careful of your new dress,” Mama said. “Perhaps you should take an old frock along to play in later.”
“No!” protested Carrie. “I want to keep my new dress on. I’ve hardly worn it at all—just to church this morning.” Carrie twirled around the kitchen. The wide skirt of her new pink cotton dress spun in a perfect circle.
“Everyone looked beautiful in church today,” Rachel said. “Cousin Miranda should always wear that color of green. And Molly looked so wonderful sitting next to her beau.”
Mama took a pie from the oven and set it on the counter. “Carrie, please stop spinning. You’re going to knock something over.”
“I’m being careful!” Carrie protested.
Mama warned her with a raised eyebrow, and Carrie screeched to a halt.
Rachel gently touched the top of the pie, testing for doneness. “Mmm.” Sam smacked his lips loudly. “Maybe we should have a snack now.”
“Don’t you touch my pie!” Rachel said.
“It looks perfect, Rachel,” Mama said. “You should be proud of yourself.”
Rachel was proud. “Let me wrap it up, Mama.” She pulled open a cupboard and reached for a towel. “I want to carry it.” “Mama, is Freddy really going to be there?” Carrie asked. “Of course he is. The whole family will be there.” “Everyone?”
“Everyone. The Browns, the Stockards, everyone.”
“Even Uncle Stanley?”
“Why, of course Stanley will be there.”
Carrie stuck her lower lip out thoughtfully. “Freddy’s family did not sit in front of us today at church. They always sit in the row in front of us.”
Mama started wrapping up a basket of biscuits. “Church was very crowded today because it was Easter. Freddy’s family had to find a seat in the back.”
“No, they didn’t,” Carrie said. “They were there early. I saw them. Freddy said his father did not want to sit near Uncle Ernest.”
Rachel watched Mama carefully. How would she explain why the two men were angry with each other?
“What else does Freddy say?” Mama asked casually. She laid a linen napkin over the top of the biscuit basket.
“He says that his papa says Uncle Ernest doesn’t understand about the streetcar strike. He says Uncle Ernest is being too stubborn for his own good.”
Mama nodded. “Yes, that’s what Stanley thinks.”
“Is he right, Mama?” Carrie seemed to genuinely want to know.
“It’s very complicated, Carrie. Why don’t we talk about it another time? But I promise you that Freddy will be there today, and you can play with him all afternoon.”
“Then let’s go!” Carrie cried.
“I believe we are ready,” Mama said.
Rachel’s stomach was a little nervous. If her two older cousins sat down at the same table, how long would the family dinner last? Aunt Linda had a long table, and there would be fourteen people there—fifteen if Molly brought her new beau. Uncle Stanley and Uncle Ernest would not even have to talk to each other. But would they be able to control themselves? Would they want to?
Mama and Carrie were ready to go.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Papa?” Rachel asked.
Mama shook her head. “He had to see a patient at the hospital. I told him just to meet us at the Stockards’.”
“I suppose it would be silly for him to come all the way back here first.” Rachel buttoned her new sapphire cloak under her neck.
“Especially with no streetcars running,” Sam added.
They gathered their things and started out. Rachel carried the cherry pie, while Mama carried the apple pie and corn pudding. Carrie had the biscuits. Sam lugged a sack of potatoes destined to be peeled, boiled, and mashed at the Stockards’ house.
As they walked, Carrie chattered about her new dress and the new wooden top she carried in her pocket to show Freddy. Rachel concentrated on keeping the cherry pie level. Even through the thick towel she had wrapped around the pie plate, she could feel the warmth and smell the sweet cherry filling. Her stomach growled.
Sam scanned the neighborhood. “A lot of people are out walking today,” he observed. “Most people stay home on Sunday afternoons.”
Rachel could see that Sam was right. A lot of people were in the streets. “Maybe they are out for the same reason we are,” she said.
“Waiting for their Easter dinner.”
Sam squeezed his eyebrows together. “I don’t think so. They’re not carrying food. And most of them are not really walking. They’re just standing around.”
Once again, Sam was right. Rachel was starting to feel nervous.
“Mama?” she said quietly.
“I’m sure everything is fine,” Mama said. “People are a bit restless with the strike, that’s all.”
Rachel was not convinced. She looked at Sam. He seemed to be watching the street carefully.
“We’re walking too slow,” Carrie announced, paying no attention to the conversation. She proceeded to skip.
“Carrie,” Mama warned. “Don’t get too far ahead of me.”
“Here comes a streetcar,” Carrie said, pointing.
The car was empty, of course. Rachel could see straight through it. The car was headed toward downtown.
“Isn’t that Annalina’s father?” Sam asked.
“Where?” Rachel’s eyes darted through the crowd.
“In the streetcar,” Sam said. “I think he was driving.”
The car stopped at the next corner, and an elderly woman boarded. Immediately two young men swung aboard. Even from down the block, Rachel could hear them heckling the driver.
“Scab!”
“Management sympathizer!”
The car rumbled down the street. Rachel could see the two young men hovering over the driver. At the next stop, the elderly passenger got off.
“She’s an old lady,” Sam said, disgusted. “Why don’t they leave her alone and let her ride?”
“Do you really think that was Annalina’s father?” Rachel asked.
“I didn’t get a good look,” Sam said, “and I’ve only seen her father once. But she told you he had started driving streetcars.”
“Do you think we could catch up with it?”
“Now, Rachel,” Mama said, “I understand your concern about your friend’s father. But you cannot put yourself in danger. He made his own choice to drive a streetcar.”
“I just want to know if it was him.”
The car had stopped again, three blocks up. Rachel peered down the street, trying to focus on the driver’s profile. “Carrie!” Mama called. “Wait for me.�
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Rachel did not turn around at her mother’s voice. Why couldn’t Carrie just be patient and walk with the rest of the family?
Try as she might, Rachel could not see the driver clearly. He was too far away.
“I can’t see him,” she said, disappointed. No one answered her. Now she whirled around. Where was Mama? And Carrie and Sam?
In the last few minutes, the street had flooded with dozens of people. Where had they all come from? And what were they doing? They seemed to move like the current of the Mississippi River toward downtown Minneapolis. Caught up in the pressure of the growing crowd, Rachel stumbled along for a few feet, clutching her still-warm pie. She examined the crowd for her mother’s bright blue shawl or Carrie’s new pink dress. They were nowhere to be seen.
“Sam!” she cried aloud. “Mama!” Rachel could feel tears of panic springing to her eyes.
A couple people passing by turned to glance at her. But there was no flicker of recognition in their eyes. They were strangers.
Stay calm, Rachel told herself. They can’t have gone far. You only turned your head for a moment.
Against her will, Rachel was moving down the street with the flow of the crowd. Cradling her pie, she pressed her way out of the mainstream. Mama always told her that if she got lost, she should stay where she was and someone would find her. She was lost now. Rachel determined to get out of the crowd and stay put.
Rachel pressed herself up against a fence. She recognized the well-tended home before her. It was Mariah Webster’s house. The picket at the top of the fence was poking into Rachel’s back. But she hardly felt it. She poured all her energy into looking for her family in the throbbing mob.
The murmurs of the crowd had swelled to a roar. Mumblings had become shouts. Rachel could hear what the people were saying.
“We’ll teach them a lesson they won’t forget!”
“We’ll show that Thomas Lowry that he needs us more than he thinks he does.”
“We have to get rid of those scabs.”
Get rid of the scabs? What do they mean? Rachel wondered.
Three men charged down the middle of the street, shoulder to shoulder, marching in step.
Over the noise of the crowd, Rachel cried out, “Mama! Sam!”
“Rachel!”
Relief swept over Rachel at the sound of her brother’s voice.
“I’m here, Sam, here!”
She still could not see him.
“I’m coming!”
And then he was there.
“What happened?” Rachel asked.
Sam shook his head. “I’m not sure. Mama chased after Carrie, and when we turned around, you were gone.” “But I didn’t go anywhere!” “Never mind. I found you.” “But where are Mama and Carrie?”
The crowd around them thickened by the moment. Dozens had turned into hundreds, perhaps even thousands.
“I’ve never seen so many people,” Sam said, “except at the ballpark or a parade.”
“Sam, where are Mama and Carrie?” Rachel asked again, more urgently this time.
Sam turned to look at his sister and sighed. “I don’t know.” “Are they waiting for you somewhere?”
“I don’t know. Mama was worried about you, and I said I would find you. And now—”
“And now it will be impossible to find them.”
“Let’s not give up yet.” Rachel could see the concentration in her brother’s dark eyes. “We haven’t even started looking yet.”
Rachel swallowed a sob. “I never did like crowds.”
Still carrying the sack of potatoes, Sam offered his elbow. “Here, hang on to me. Whatever you do, don’t let go.”
“Believe me, I won’t!”
“Let’s go back to the corner where you saw the streetcar,” Sam suggested. “That’s the last place we were all together.”
Rachel thought that was a good idea. But it was harder than it sounded. Everyone else was swarming down the street in the other direction. With one hand, she held her prized pie. With the other hand, she squeezed Sam’s elbow. Together, they forged their way against the ever-growing stream.
Men of all ages filled the street, and women and children, too. The men marched with determination toward a goal Rachel could not see. The children whooped and hollered. Rachel heard the edge of her new cloak rip when someone pulled on it. She jerked herself away and held on to Sam’s arm even more tightly.
“Sam, what are all these people doing?”
“What did you say?” Sam shouted.
“I said, what are all these people doing?”
Sam shook his head in confusion.
“Do you think Mama and Carrie are all right?” Rachel asked anxiously.
They had arrived at the corner where they had seen the streetcar, but there was hardly room to stand there. Hundreds of people flooded the intersection. But Rachel could see no sign of a bright blue shawl or a new pink dress.
“Sam, what if we don’t find them?” Rachel said. “Mama always says to stay put when you get lost.”
“We can’t stay here,” Sam said. “Even Mama would say that this is dangerous.”
Rachel’s heart raced. Where was Mama?
“We have to get out of the way of this mob,” Sam said.
“But what about Mama and Carrie?” Rachel pleaded.
Sam hesitated only a moment before answering. “Mama will do whatever she has to do to keep Carrie safe. And she would want us to keep ourselves safe.”
Rachel nodded. Sam was right. “But where will we go?”
CHAPTER 9
The Easter Riot
Come on,” Sam said. “This way.” “Where are we going?” Rachel asked. Sam must not have heard her. He did not answer. Rachel held on to his arm a little tighter. She thought how silly they must look carrying a sack of potatoes and a cherry pie through the mob.
Rachel realized Sam was leading her straight into the heart of the crowd. “What are you doing?” She tugged on his elbow. Sam shouted over his shoulder, “Trust me!” Rachel got bumped from the back. The cherry pie started to slide. She jerked her arm from Sam’s elbow and gripped the pie more securely with both hands.
Sam turned around to see what had happened. “I told you not to let go of me.”
“I’m sorry. The pie started to fall.”
“Forget about the pie.” Whatever calm Sam had managed to hang on to was disappearing. His dark eyes darted back and forth, alert to every movement of the crowd.
Rachel took Sam’s elbow again, but she kept her grip on the pie. They were carried along by the crowd until they came to the next corner. Sam steered them down a side street where they rested.
Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat.
Sam was breathing heavily. “We have to figure out what we’re going to do.”
Rachel watched the crowd around them and wished she were somewhere else, anywhere else. She kept looking for Mama and Carrie. Everything looked brown and gray. Nothing was blue or pink.
“We should keep going to the Stockards’,” Rachel suggested. “Everyone will expect us there.”
Sam shook his head. “It’s too far—at least another mile.”
“But Mama will go there.”
“I’m not sure what Mama will do. If she’s trapped in the crowd like we are, she won’t be able to get to the Stockards’ either.” “We could go home. It’s closer.” “We’d have to go against the crowd,” Sam said. That seemed like an impossible task.
“We’ll take the back streets,” Rachel said. But even the back streets were filling up.
“I know!” Sam said suddenly. “The hospital. It’s only a few blocks from here.”
“Yes, and Papa might still be there.”
“Even if he’s not, we could use a telephone.”
“All right, let’s do it.”
With new determination, they turned to join the still-swelling crowd.
“Sam, how many people do you think are here?”
“M
ust be thousands,” Sam answered. “They just keep coming. The crowd goes on for blocks and blocks.”
They walked a block toward the hospital. Rachel felt as though they were going only a few inches at a time. It was hard to keep the pie level. Cherry filling had started to seep through the towel wrapped around the pie tin. It stuck to Rachel’s hand and dampened her sapphire cloak, turning it a deep purple that reminded her of blood. She shivered.
They came to a standstill, pressed in on every side.
“What’s happening, Sam?” Rachel shouted. She could hardly breathe. “I can’t see.”
A tall man next to her leaned toward Rachel. “I’ll tell you what’s happening. We’re going to teach that Thomas Lowry a lesson once and for all. You can be proud to be here today. This will be a day Minneapolis will not soon forget.”
Rachel did not answer the man. Without looking up at him, she moved even closer to Sam.
Sam was craning his neck, trying to see through the crowd.
“I think there’s a streetcar up there,” he said. “I saw it a minute ago, but I can’t see it anymore.”
Rachel was too short to see anything. A jolt from behind pushed her into the woman in front of her. The pie oozed some more.
“Wait!” Sam cried. “The streetcar is still there. It’s just covered with people.”
“People are riding the streetcar?”
“No, they’re climbing all over it.”
“Climbing?”
“Yes, standing on top of it, hanging out the windows.”
Rachel’s stomach was flipping. “Sam, I’m scared.”
Then she remembered the streetcar they had seen earlier. “Sam! Is it the same streetcar we saw earlier?”
“Probably. There haven’t been any others going by.”
“Annalina’s father! What if that was Annalina’s father driving the streetcar?”
Sam was silent.
“Sam, we have to find out!”
“I never said I was sure it was him. It just looked like him. It could have been another Swedish immigrant.”
“Or it could have been Mr. Borg.”
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