Billy grinned. “We got the warden up and made him open the doors. They’re allowed out on bail! Andrews is getting burned for it in the big papers. They think he’s being too soft on us.”
“So they’ll be back! Is Mr. Armstrong here?” she said.
Billy sobered a little. “Well, in order to make bail, they had to swear they wouldn’t be involved in the strike or the Labour Committee at all anymore. So none of them are allowed near us or this place at all.”
“What will we do without our leaders?”
“Oh,” said Billy, “haven’t you been paying attention? The Citizens’ Committee’s mistake is thinking they can just arrest a few leaders and make this all go away. They don’t realize that the leaders are no different from the rest of us. That’s the whole point of a union. They take away the leaders we have, we’ll just find new ones, that’s all.”
Cassie hugged her tired brother — and no wonder he was tired, up all night rescuing strike leaders from prison — and walked to her corner, buoyed by the news.
* * *
A few hours later, Mary came out of the café to tell Cassie what she’d just learned: The returned soldiers had met an hour earlier in Old Market Square and decided to call a silent parade for two thirty the next afternoon — Saturday, June 21. They would march to the Royal Alexandra Hotel to ask Senator Robertson what he’d been doing during the strike. Only the returned soldiers, with their wives and children, would march. The strikers would all watch silently to give their support. Everyone was going, including the Hopkins family and Mary and her mother.
On Saturday morning, however, Billy told Mary that Mayor Gray had issued a proclamation that any women taking part in a parade would do so at their own risk.
“The mayor must think women are weaklings or something,” Cassie said to Billy and Mary as the two families walked down Portage Avenue to Main Street to see the parade.
People filled the sidewalks, everyone heading north on Main Street to City Hall.
“I think we should stick together in case anything happens,” suggested Billy. “But the crowd is quite calm.”
“What time is it, David?” Mrs. Hopkins asked, holding onto her hat with one hand.
Mr. Hopkins pulled his big gold pocket watch from his vest and flicked it open. “Just two thirty now,” he said, snapping the watch shut.
Billy strained to look over the crowd. “I can see the soldiers assembling ahead. They’ve got their wives and children with them.”
Cassie saw Mary and her mother exchange a quick look, clearly remembering the soldier missing from their own family. Mary took her mother’s hand and they both looked back to the crowds, trying in vain to see overtop all the other onlookers.
A man in front turned around and said, “The soldier committee is still interviewing Senator Robertson. When they come back the parade will start.”
All Cassie could see were backs and legs and straw hats and ears. She hoped Billy would offer to put her on his shoulders.
“You can’t see anything from down there,” he said as if he could read her mind. “Climb up on my shoulders.” So she climbed up on his back and Billy slowly straightened up.
Now she could see everything. In every direction, there were people milling and waiting to take part in a peaceful protest. She couldn’t believe the masses of people! More, even, than attended Labour Church.
But the blossoming warmth in her heart was quickly chilled by what she saw. She grabbed Billy’s hair and pushed his hat over his eyes.
“Hey! Don’t do that!” Billy exclaimed.
“Billy! All these Mounties on horses are riding right towards us, and they’ve got baseball bats and they’re swinging them! They hit someone — and someone else!”
“What?” yelled Billy. “Mounties! Why, those— This is a trap!”
“Some of them are Specials. And I see soldiers. Soldiers on both sides!” She thought back to the encampment she and Mary had seen by the new Legislative Building. That puzzle piece slid into place. Not all the returning soldiers were on the strikers’ side. Some were clearly working for the government, against the workers.
“David,” said Mrs. Hopkins in a nervous voice, tugging at his arm. “Let’s get over to the sidewalk where it’s safe.”
“Us too, Mama,” said Mary.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Smith. “I’d rather not be caught up in this.” They hastily retreated and disappeared, swallowed by the hordes.
“The crowd is opening up and letting the horses through,” Cassie reported. “Now the street is full of people again.” All around them, they could hear angry hisses and boos, and people were picking up rocks from a building site and throwing them at the Mounties and the other men with them.
“Booooo!” jeered the people, and rocks flew through the air. Cassie saw two horses without riders galloping down Main Street. She was clinging to Billy’s hair with one hand, and he was holding her by the leg and trying to hold on to his hat.
Squirming around, Cassie saw her mother disappearing to the safety of the City Hall grounds, with her father limping along behind. He turned and motioned with his hand for Billy and Cassie to follow.
But the Mounties were swinging around again. This time they had drawn their revolvers, which glinted menacingly in the sunshine. Cassie was aware, suddenly, of how high her head was sticking above the crowd.
“Billy! Let me down! They have their revolvers!” The Mounties were charging straight into the crowd across the street, firing their revolvers. Bang! Bang! The guns cracked into the air, and people scrambled and stumbled over one another to get out of the way. Screams tore through the air as Cassie fell from Billy’s shoulders. She clutched at his trouser leg with both hands as he was trying to run, and then he took her wrist and they were pushed along with the crowd as it rushed away from the guns.
As they ran towards the Union Bank, Cassie felt her foot brush against something soft and just avoided tripping. She looked down and saw a person — an old man. There was blood running down his face and his eyes stared straight up into the sky. Cassie covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to be sick. This man was dead. The bullets were real. One might hit her or Billy, might hit their parents or Mary or Mrs. Smith or any of the innocent people who had come here to protest today. Billy pulled on her wrist till it hurt, but a big man blocked her way and pushed Billy ahead of him and his grip on her wrist soon hurt so much that her hand was turning blue. His hand finally slid away and disappeared between bodies and legs. Cassie stumbled at the curb, afraid of falling and being trampled by the running people and never getting up again. Her heart beat very fast, and she felt that her body would fall apart before she got somewhere safe. She wondered if she would survive.
The Mounties were firing at people’s legs as they ran. There was more space now, and she stopped to catch her breath. She saw the Mounties riding back, twirling their smoking revolvers in the air like cowboys.
Then Cassie heard a great noise nearby. Volunteers — scabs — had been running the streetcars to make the strikers mad, and it looked like a striker had pulled the trolley off. A crowd of men were trying to push the streetcar over. Some boys were ripping off a piece of the streetcar and left it lying in the street. Then the seats were on fire and Cassie could smell smoke. The burning streetcar swayed and toppled above the heads of the crowd.
Cassie was panting, trying to catch her breath, as she looked desperately around for Billy or her parents, or even the useless Freddy. Her hair was falling in her eyes, and her face was smudged with dirt and tears. Suddenly she felt an arm around her shoulders. Gasping, she turned, ready to fight off the Mountie holding on to her, but to her relief it was Mary.
“Where’s your mother?” she asked quickly.
Mary shook her head. “We got separated. I can’t believe I found you. What about your family?”
“Separated. I saw a d
ead body. People are dying. We need to get out of here. Come on.” She grabbed Mary’s hand and ran towards City Hall, the last place she’d seen her parents. In the distance, she could see lines of Specials forming across Main Street, swinging big clubs. The Mounties had gotten off their horses and were lined up across the street. Mary pulled her and they ran behind the City Hall to Old Market Square.
The girls stopped in their tracks and gasped. Soldiers in armoured cars with big guns mounted in the back were driving up and down the street.
“The city must be under military control,” Mary said. “Ma Armstrong worried this would happen.”
“Do you think the soldiers really mean to use those guns on us?” Cassie was quaking down to her toes.
“The Mounties already have,” said Mary. “But they’re not shooting right now. We need to get back to your house before things get worse. Maybe we can make it. Come on.”
“But our parents, and Billy —”
“Would correctly point out that we’re just children and we do not belong here. We need to go now.”
They slipped off down a side street, then broke into a run, still gripping each other’s hands. Cassie pulled them into a lane to get away from the fray but saw a man with a dirty white armband on his sleeve, the sign of the Specials, lying on his back. Another man was straddling him, punching him again and again in the face. It must have been a striker. Weren’t they supposed to be protesting peacefully? But then, it was the Mounties and the Specials who had changed that.
Cassie could feel Mary pulling toward the men, as though she could stop this. Cassie yanked her firmly back, and Mary seemed to come to her senses. They turned and started to run again, and Cassie could hear footsteps coming behind her, getting closer and closer, until a man passed her, running full tilt away from a Special brandishing a club. Nearby, a riderless horse was tripping over its reins and whinnying. On a street corner, Cassie saw a Mountie holding a gun pointed toward the crowds rushing by. She yanked Mary along even faster.
“Did you see?” she said breathlessly.
“Yes. Keep going,” said Mary.
Cassie could barely believe what was happening in her city. The Mounties were meant to be noble protectors of the people. But they were just working for the rich bosses, threatening and killing — actually killing — peaceful protestors.
The girls raced down Princess Street, past all the warehouses and clothing factories and fur traders. Cassie dodged down a shortcut through the space between two of the buildings and pulled Mary down a narrow alleyway. But the passage ended in a tiny opening strewn with broken glass and closed in by a jagged, unpainted fence. Mary and Cassie looked at each other. Then before Cassie knew it, Mary was over the fence. Cassie heard her yell and scrambled up behind her friend. Once at the top of the fence, she paused a moment to heave her legs up behind her. There below her was a group of boys standing around someone lying bleeding on the ground, Mary looking on in horror. The boys looked up in surprise to see her. It was Nick the Stick and his friends. And the boy they were beating up was Freddy!
“The Bolshie!” cried one boy. “And the papergirl!”
“They’re both Reds,” said Nick the Stick. “Don’t let them get away!”
“Freddy!” screamed Cassie, pausing long enough at the top of the fence to make sure it was her friend. Freddy didn’t respond. But it was soon clear that the boys were turning their attention away from the bloodied boy and toward her, and she dropped down to the ground and turned to run back in the direction she’d come from. As she fell, she saw Mary dropping to the ground to help Freddy. Good. The boys would stay away from her friends if they were chasing her. The boys pushed a loose board in the fence and squeezed through one by one, then picked up speed as they followed Cassie between the brick walls.
They hollered and hooted like a hockey team on the move. “Let’s get her! We’ll show her who runs this town now!”
Cassie headed back to City Hall, where she hoped there would be more people who could intervene. The boys were picking up rocks as they ran and were throwing them at Cassie, roaring as they charged.
“Hey, Red! Red!” She could hear Nick the Stick’s voice closing in behind her. “Slow down a minute, Red!” Cassie wondered who could help her now that the city was under military control. She couldn’t ask the Specials; they were on the side of these hooligans. And so were the Mounties.
She had never been so terrified in her life.
Suddenly something heavy hit her on the back of the head, and her knees went wobbly. She fell face first with the force of the blow. Everything went black.
CHAPTER 11
The next thing Cassie knew, somebody was turning her over gently. She tried to open her eyes, but the light was too bright, and she closed them tightly again. Her head hurt all over. She kept her eyes closed as someone’s hand pressed her back and helped her sit up, very slowly. She tried to resist in case it was Nick and his friends, but the world whirled around her. She reached up and felt the back of her head with her hand. Through her tangled hair, she could distinguish a large lump. When she took her hand away, she finally opened her eyes to look at her fingers. They were red with blood. The sight of it made her feel as if her stomach had come loose and was floating about inside of her. Then she noticed out the corner of her eye the ring of legs around the spot where she sat on the ground. Somebody was crouching down close to her with an arm around her shoulders, and a hand smoothed the hair away from her face.
“Cass?”
She looked up. Billy!
“You okay, Cass?”
“Oh, Billy!” cried Cassie, throwing her arms around his neck and then regretting the sudden movement as her stomach lurched. “How did you find me?”
“You ran right into me. My friends and I were searching down the back alleys stopping fights when you came around the corner with a screaming pack of young hoodlums in hot pursuit. As soon as they saw us, they turned and ran, but we managed to catch this one. He’s the biggest, but he can’t run very fast. Bertie here brought him down like a ton of bricks.”
Cassie’s blurred vision slowly focused on the notorious Nick the Stick, who was being held up by the collar of his jacket like a sack of flour. He looked pretty scared. All the bravado and sneering confidence he had with his gang had drained right out of him.
Then Cassie remembered.
“Freddy!” she cried. “They were beating him up. I saw him lying on the ground. They were kicking him and punching him. Eight of them. Mary’s with him.” She saw movement beyond the circle around her and squinted. “There they are!”
Cassie pointed at a forlorn pair approaching the gathering. Freddy was limping, his shirt was torn and bloody, and he was holding his ribs and scowling. He was leaning heavily on Mary, whose arm was around his waist. But at least he was walking. People parted and let them into the centre of the ring.
Cassie stood gingerly and staggered over to them, dizzy and sick. She hugged both her friends. “Freddy!” she said. “I thought you were done for!”
“Nah,” said Freddy, wincing a bit. “I’ll live. I’m pretty good with my fists, y’know. I can usually take care of myself. But eight against one … I’m not sure what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come along and distracted them. And Red M — I mean, Mary. She helped me once you all left.”
“I was sure he was dead. I’m so sorry I didn’t go with you, Cassie. Are you okay? You look terrible.”
“Thanks a lot. I think I’ll be okay. I’m so glad I got those boys away from you two. But why’d they pick on you, Freddy? They usually leave you alone.”
“’Cause when I saw what the Mounties done, and I saw those boys cheering them on, I lost it. I decided I was proud to be a Ukranian, and so I told them. I tried to fight Nick the Stick alone, but the others wouldn’t stand for a fair fight, so …”
“Is he the one who hit you with the rock?�
�� one of Billy’s mates asked Cassie in a kind voice.
“Lord,” sighed Cassie, “I don’t know who hit me with that rock, but I’ll tell you this, Nick definitely owes me four dollars and twenty cents.”
“Let me at him,” growled Freddy. “I’ll bust his nose in.” Freddy tried to separate himself from Mary’s supporting arm and nearly fell to the ground.
“I don’t think you’ll be busting any noses in for at least another few minutes,” Mary said drily, lowering him gently and sitting beside him.
“Wait a minute,” said Billy, squinting at Nick’s face. “This is Nick MacKenzie, isn’t it? Son of Clyde MacKenzie, one of the biggest lawyers in town and a ringleader of the Committee of One Thousand? With a daddy as rich as his, I’m sure he’s got four dollars and twenty cents to spare for the strike committee. Hey, Richard, turn the kid upside down. See if his pockets are jingling like I think they are.”
The man holding Nick dropped him suddenly, then picked him up by the ankles and shook him hard.
“Wait a minute!” squealed Nick. A few pennies fell to the ground and bounced away. “Put me down! Put me down! I’ll pay you, you money-grubbing Bolshies.” Richard lowered Nick to the ground. Nick stood up, brushed himself off carefully, and dug deep in his pockets. He pulled out a carefully folded five-dollar bill, which he held out to Cassie.
“Just let me punch him in the nose,” Freddy growled menacingly again, but if anything, he started leaning more heavily on Mary.
“You might as well take the fiver,” said Billy. “Keep the whole thing. I’m sure the MacKenzies can spare the change.”
Cassie reached out and took the bill from Nick the Stick, then tucked it into her dress pocket. Her head hurt something awful, but she felt better. Lighter.
Suddenly, it came to her in a flash. She had been paid back. Nick had wronged her and hurt Freddy badly, but things were coming right again. He had been caught, and good people had made him own up, and a knot she hadn’t even realized was inside her had come untangled.
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