by Jo Schaffer
“So, you two planned this together? For what? Revenge?” Stanley said.
Chuckling, Arthur said, “Nah, not a bit. I’ve been planning this for a long time. I used my pigeons to gather all the info I needed, the ball, the program, the so-called ‘Negro band.’ But I needed a way in, and Sandy was more than happy to provide an open door.”
“So, that’s why you were making woo to her, to get an open door.”
Arthur turned toward him and scowled. “She offered. I didn’t ask.”
“And the gun?”
“A parting gift from the Raven. Before they strung him up.”
Stanley didn’t know what to say. He always knew Artie walked the line between good and hate, but now he realized how serious it was. The kid had been ready to tommy gun a room of people. He just couldn’t take it in.
On the other hand, a part of Stanley—that he hated—wished he’d never tackled Arthur. Let him finish the job.
“How many people have to pay for what Charles did?”
“Just the ones on the stage. For now.” He raised his cuffed hands and wiped his arm across his face, leaving a smeared section of white.
Seamus piped in, “It was stupid, Arthur. Whatever revenge you may have gotten, you had to know what this will do to the entire city. It’s going to tear it apart.”
“We’re already at war, don’t you know that? Black people live on the margins in our city. Jews suffer persecutions. You Catholics should get that real well, as none of the Lindell set can stand you, ‘papist trash,’” Arthur said, trying to mimic an upper class voice. “They have been at war for years, but it’s been lopsided, see? Nobody fighting back.”
The cop next to him turned his broad face to them and said, “That is where you’re wrong. Good people have been fighting them. Just behind the scenes.”
Arthur sneered. “Yeah, and they’re doing such a bang up job of it.”
The car stopped. Stanley looked out of the window and saw the huge, green dome of the St. Louis Cathedral rising up above them.
“Why are we here?”
“A meeting,” Seamus said, getting out of the car to open the back door.
Stanley stepped out onto the sidewalk, and the other cop pulled Arthur from the car.
“Can I get these off, please?” Stanley said, raising his cuffed hands.
Seamus unlocked both his cuffs and motioned toward the Cathedral. “Get inside. We’re going to the crypt. And not a word.”
“What about me?” Arthur shook his cuffed hands.
Seamus ignored him. The boys were lead into the Cathedral, and Stanley looked up. He couldn’t help it. The mosaics on the spacious, arched ceiling always amazed him. Father Timothy told him that this church rivaled anything that he’d seen in his travels to Europe. And Stanley, while he preferred the cozy holiness of St. James, never got tired of coming here. But now the shadowed space felt ominous and condemning, as if the dark void above would swallow him up.
They approached the high altar, and Seamus and the cop bowed and crossed themselves. Stanley did the same, a stab of guilt in his chest. He felt to blame for what Arthur had done and how it put them all in danger now.
Arthur scowled over at Stanley and at everything around him and shrugged his shoulders. But he didn’t run or try to get away as they went around the altar to the back of the cathedral.
Finally, they found themselves descending into the crypt. The small stone and marble space was full of people, including Father Timothy, Mr. Malloy, and Peggy again.
“Seamus, why are you here? Why did you bring them? They are not a part of the Order,” a bearded man asked.
What Order? Stanley searched the faces of the people in the dim light of the crypt.
“This boy,” Seamus said, gesturing at Arthur. “Tried to tommy gun the entire VP ball. The only reason he didn’t kill someone is that Stanley knocked him down.” His words echoed off the stone walls. With shocked faces, everyone stared at Arthur.
Arthur’s cuffed hands twitched. He wanted a smoke. “See, I ain’t gonna be part of another group. I’m tired of ‘em. All you do is get in my way.” He looked at Stanley. “Thanks for being my pal. But I ain’t a Knight no more. I’m on my own. You can use my pigeons for info if you want, but I’m out.”
“Artie, please. You swore your allegiance to the Knights.” Stanley ran his hands through his hair. He never thought Arthur would welsh on him.
“Sorry, Stanny. I’m loyal to me. Time to make tracks.”
The cop who had walked him into the crypt put a hand on his arm. “You stay put.”
“I’m sorry to hear this, Arthur. I can’t save you from the law if you go rogue.” Seamus rubbed his face. “Isn’t safe to have you wild.”
In an instant, Arthur stomped on the cop’s foot and then jerked his elbow back into his face. The man hit his knees with a groan, and Arthur darted from the room, his feet slapping a beat on the stone steps ascending from the crypt.
“Get after him!” Seamus shouted.
The cop jumped back up, hand to his face, blood running through his fingers. He turned and chased the sound of Arthur’s retreat.
Seamus shook his head. “He won’t get far. And if he does, he won’t go anyplace without a tail. I have a few guys watching the place.”
“He’s slippery. Even in those cuffs, he might get away,” Stanley worried aloud.
Seamus made a fist and cursed under his breath. “We have bigger fish to fry. Got enough to worry about without havin’ to put on a manhunt for that fool.”
Father Timothy raised his hand in a peaceful gesture. “Seamus, the boy has already set things in motion. Now we need to focus on what comes next.”
Stanley wanted to go after Arthur, make him see reason. But something told him that he needed to stay. “Why was I brought in here? What is the Order?”
Father Timothy sighed. “You know Peggy … Perhaps she can tell you better than I can who we are, Stanley, and why Seamus brought you here, even if it was a bit premature.”
Stanley scoffed. “Forgive me, Father, but I think Seamus did the right thing. I’m tired of being in the dark. I like writing for you and all, but I want to know who I’m working with.”
Peggy played with her hands. “Stanley, there is so much to tell you. I don’t know where to start.”
“Try the beginning.” He removed the jacket he’d worn as a disguise at the ball and leaned against the stone wall.
She sighed. “Well, we are an order, as you’ve been told. The Order of St. Michael the Protector … it started not long after the Veiled Prophet parade began.”
Stanley nodded. “Okay.”
“After the labor strike was shut down and broken and scattered, a group of men and women came together in the old cathedral, near the river, vowing to keep up the fight. That was long before my time, of course. Since then, we’ve had many members, including …” She paused a moment, as she looked at everyone in the chapel. Stanley could see that most of them were her age or older. He was the youngest in the room by far.
“Including who?” Stanley had that weird tickle on his neck again as Peggy walked toward him.
Peggy stood before him, her eyes connecting with his. “Including me and your father.”
Stanley stared at her. “That’s how you knew my dad?”
“It’s how we met …” Peggy pulled out the St. Jude necklace that she wore around her neck. “He gave me this.”
Stanley realized her necklace matched the one he wore. He hooked a finger on his own and held it up. “I got this from my …”
“Mother,” she whispered with emotion.
He looked into Peggy’s bright eyes and realization hit him. Why she seemed so familiar. How could he have not seen it before? His knees buckled, and he sank to the floor, overwhelmed. Stanley’s mind turned inside out, and his heart felt as if it had burst open. He wasn’t an orphan after all. He looked up at Hazel’s Irish maid. “Are you r
eally … my …”
Peggy knelt down and put her hands on his shoulders. She nodded, her eyes shining with tears, and a sad smile on her face. “I’m so proud of you. Your da would be so proud of you. All of us are. You gave us hope to gather again.”
Stanley let her wrap her arms around him. “I didn’t know …” A mix of emotions surged through him. He had so many questions … but there was a room full of people watching, and he felt tears coming. So he cleared his throat and pulled away a bit. “What happened? Why did the order end?”
Peggy frowned and stood, pulling him to his feet. “We were betrayed. And the VP hunted us down one by one. They murdered your father on that ship when he went to Ireland to ask for help. And they committed me to an asylum for ‘hysterics.’”
“And that’s when Seamus took me in.” Stanley glanced over at his uncle who looked a bit teary himself.
She nodded. “He hid you for a while, so they wouldn’t take you to an orphanage. He tried to visit me, but they wouldn’t allow it. And then they took my baby …”
“Baby?” Stanley asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.
“Yes. You probably had a brother or sister. I’ll never know. They took the baby from inside me and then made sure I could never give birth again. Then I was cast into the street. I told Seamus not to come near me, so they wouldn’t suspect who you were. I met a wealthy woman on a streetcar one day, and she offered me a job, said she had a child, and needed all the help she could get. I was so bereft over losing my own children, and Mrs. Malloy was a wild young woman and didn’t know what to do with a baby girl.”
“Hazel,” Stanley said, the connections of his life all falling into place. He looked over at a small icon of St. John, who supposedly wrote the book of Revelation. The poor guy had his whole view of the world changed in an instant. Stanley could relate.
He looked at Mr. Malloy with new understanding. “I can see why you didn’t want Hazel hanging around with me …”
Mr. Malloy gave a mild smile. “Yes, imagine my surprise, Stanley, when Hazel mentioned your name for the first time. I had only learned of Peggy’s past since becoming involved with the Order. I felt it was my duty to protect her secrets and you.”
“That makes sense … does your wife know?”
“Gertrude is unaware that you are Peggy’s son.”
Son. The word hit Stanley with fresh meaning. His mother was alive.
Stanley dared to look at Peggy. The mother he never knew he had. She stared back at him and held out her arms. He stepped into them and let her hold him. Stanley didn’t know what else to say, his brain locked, frozen, or had just fled the building. He didn’t know whether to feel angry, happy, sad, or what. He felt numb in Peggy’s warm arms. That seemed to be the safest emotion for the moment.
He pulled back and said, “I got your smile, don’t I?”
Peggy grinned with tears. “Indeed you do, my boy.”
Seamus coughed and rubbed his face. Trying to control his voice he said, “You’ve got William’s eyes, lad. And his sass.”
Peggy let out a chuckle. “Also true.”
Father Timothy spoke up gently, “Not to interrupt this tender, family moment, but tonight changes everything. The war is on now, everyone. What happened to Peggy is happening to women all over the city.”
“There are hundreds of cases we know of, most hard hit in the slums,” said the man with the beard. A few others in the room nodded.
Father Timothy wrung his hands together. “It has been confirmed by my sources that the Sinclair maid, Maxie, was not shot like the papers reported. Rather she bled out after they took her ovaries, but the coroner filed a false report.”
Stanley took that in. Anger sparked inside of him at the injustice and the deception.
“Thanks to Stanley, we have Evelyn’s diary, and we better understand the master plan now. Sterilization is just one of the tools they are using to cleanse the city. But The Winnowing is much worse. The Vatican has authorized me to do what must be done to help the people of St. Louis.”
Mr. Malloy chimed in, “What does that mean?”
“It means that I’m no longer required to obey the civil authorities, and I’m bound only by God’s law. So we must carefully choose what is to be done. This isn’t just about publishing a newspaper anymore. Arthur’s open attack has put us all at risk and escalated our plan of action.”
“He needs help, Father. Can you?” Stanley said.
Father looked at him for a moment and then slowly nodded. “I shall do my best, Stanley. I promise.” Then he looked around the room. “I need all of your input in the next few days. We cannot decide anything tonight. Go home. Pray. Stanley, no more running things on your own. The Knights are to bring us information only and distribute the newspapers. As for you, lay low for the next few days and hide out. It’s not safe for you after tonight.”
Stanley frowned. He wanted to talk back about how he’d been doing just fine without anyone else’s help. But, he realized, that was not entirely true. He’d been stumbling along in the dark without anyone to guide him in this mess. He just didn’t want to admit that out loud.
“Okay, everyone, get home to your families. Be ready for when I call. Peggy, Mr. Malloy, and I will discuss the next meeting time. Go in peace.” He blessed them, and they headed out, all except Peggy, Stanley, and Seamus.
“Thank the saints, you know everything, Stanley. I hated keeping it from ya, but it was for your own good,” Seamus said, putting his arm on his shoulder.
Stanley nodded, but stared at his mother. His mother … that seemed so strange to say. “I know you were tryin’ to save me. But I needed you.”
She nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I know, Stanny. After they took the baby, I went crazy. When I got healthy, you were just five years old and still in danger. Seamus and I agreed it was for the best.”
“The best.” Stanley just didn’t know what else to say.
“Yes, the best. Seamus might be a knob of the first order, but he did what he could, to be sure,” Peggy said, giving him a half smile.
Seamus gave a sigh. “I didn’t always have William’s patience … and maybe I used the fist a bit much. But I wanted to make a man of you, while trying to be one myself and not always knowing how.”
Stanley patted his uncle’s back. He could be angry at Seamus, or he could accept that his best was all he had to give. “You did all right. You gave me a home.”
“And I thank you again, Seamus, for looking after my boy all these years,” Peggy said, sniffing back tears.
He was someone’s boy. Tears rolled down Stanley’s cheek as he looked at the woman who was his mother. She stepped toward him, and he met her in a hug. Stanley reached for Seamus. They clustered together and wept, with the only witnesses being the dead princes of the church.
Later, they ascended the steps out of the crypt, and it occurred to Stanley that this was a new life for him. One that had a family and a deeper purpose than ever before. He was a part of something that was bigger than anything he had done on his own. Stanley said, “I gotta get back to the boxcar and finish my article. I need to let my Knights know about the changes.” A pang of regret went through him. Arthur would not be gathering with the Knights anymore.
“And I have to get back to the house and find Hazel,” Peggy said. “I’ll watch her for you.” She winked.
“And I have to go explain to the Chief how you two got away,” Seamus said, grinning a bit. “We need to find Arthur and lock him up, I’m afraid.”
Stanley nodded. “That’s the way it needs to be now.”
“May St. Michael guide you both,” Peggy said, right palm raised in a blessing.
The grass was cold through her gown. Hazel sat on the lawn outside of the lit-up building where the elite of St. Louis had been carefree and secure only minutes before. Dancing, talking, breathing, with no clue that death could swoop past their privilege and finery to snat
ch at them.
Now, they streamed out of the building, afraid, suddenly aware of their mortality. These people who survived the stock market crash. The indestructible ones. It didn’t occur to those kinds of people that life was fleeting and could end suddenly and without notice, regardless of money or status.
That was a terrifying thought. But worse by far was to look at her best friend and not know her. How could she have thought such a horrific act of violence could be justified? Sandy stared up at the starry sky with a blank face, as tears streamed down her cheeks. Maybe she realized how insane this all was. Hope rose inside Hazel. It was just a strange moment of madness. Sandy was okay. She just needed to see a doctor and talk things out.
She looked up at her friend who paced a few feet away. “Sandy. You need help.”
“I had help. They just took him.”
“Not Arthur. This whole Bonnie and Clyde act isn’t helping either of you. Can’t you see how serious it is that you were about to allow him to kill people?”
“People? Parasites.”
Hazel stood and faced Sandy. “Human beings. People with families and feelings.”
“I have a family. I had a sister!” Sandy’s voice came out fractured like broken glass, as if the words cut her throat to say.
“I know.” Hazel’s eyes stung as tears filled them. “You of all people know how much it hurts when someone takes away someone you love.”
“He was going to aim for the stage. We just wanted the VP and some of his minions.”
“So, eradicate them, not knowing who is truly responsible and then maybe some others in the process?”
“They’re all the same.”
“Just like all newsies are the same? All debutantes? All humans?”
Sandy scowled. “You know the oppression our class is responsible for.”
“Some. Yes … most of them are guilty of being unaware more than anything. Why, I feel like I didn’t know anything about life outside of my house until I met Stanley. I never meant to hurt anyone. Did you?”
“Sometimes,” her friend admitted. “I liked making Flora and the rest cower and take orders. I sometimes went out of my way to give dirty looks to bums on the street.”