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  And what about me? Justin wondered. I guess I’m only good for sweeping the floors.

  “What’s Charlie been up to?” Grandpa asked.

  “He’s been helping out at the shop, and what a salesman he’s becoming! He’s a real asset to the business, let me tell.”

  Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, Justin thought as he wiped the sticky syrup from his mouth. Once they get talking about Charlie, they never stop. I know as much about jewels as Charlie—maybe more.

  Charlie was eighteen now, and his future in the family business was always the main topic of conversation. “Let’s get my goat into the wagon,” Justin suggested.

  “Justin’s eager to get that little kid,” Father said. “That’s all we’ve heard about since you promised her to him.”

  “She’s a sweet little thing, but she’s lonely since we sold her mother and sister.” Grandma gave Justin a serious look. “You’ll have to make up for her loss, Justin.”

  “I will, Grandma,” Justin promised.

  “Don’t forget—she’s a commitment,” Grandpa added. “Goats can be a lot of work and expense.”

  “I’m working for Father now,” Justin explained, “so I can pay for feed and stuff like that.”

  “You’re working at the shop?” Grandpa asked with a glance at Justin’s father.

  “I already know a lot about gemstones. I wish Father would teach me more about the business—like how clocks work and all that,” Justin answered. “Then maybe I’d get a chance to do something other than sweep the floors.”

  “You’ll have your day, son,” Father said. “It’s just that Charlie’s older and more capable right now.” Then, turning to Grandpa, he added, “He’s sure interested in geology and how stones form. In fact, he’s been asking me more questions about them today, all the way over here,” Father said.

  “Hmm.” Grandpa grinned. “I thought Justin was more interested in goats!”

  “I am!” Justin interrupted. “Let’s go get her.” He got up and headed for the door.

  “Have you decided on a name?” Grandma asked as she followed him.

  “Yep. Her name will be Ticktock. Her tail wags like the second hand on a clock.”

  “There you go.” Grandma laughed. “You can tell Justin is the son of a watchmaker.”

  “I just hope we can talk the little rascal into the wagon,” Father said. “This ought to be interesting.”

  They headed out to the barn. Inside, Ticktock was confined behind a gate that separated her from the other animals. Justin noticed she had a collar on now. He’d use a leash when he took her for a walk.

  “Hello, Ticktock.” Her little white tail began wagging at Justin’s voice.

  “She knows her name already,” Grandma said. “She’s a bright little thing.”

  “I think she likes you, Justin.” Grandpa opened the gate and Ticktock trotted out, her tail wiggling eagerly. She glanced around for a moment and then hurried to Justin’s side.

  “She most definitely likes you,” Grandma agreed.

  Justin put out his hand and offered the kid a piece of bread from Grandma’s kitchen. The goat’s tongue whisked out and grabbed it instantly.

  Justin continued offering Ticktock scraps of bread as they headed toward their wagon. “Come on,” he coaxed, holding out his hand. The kid eagerly followed him. “Come on … we’re going to take you home.”

  Father set a wide plank from the road up to the bed of the wagon. “Bring her up,” he called to Justin. Ginger, the horse, snorted and stamped her hoof. Immediately, Ticktock came to a stop.

  “She’s scared,” Justin said.

  “Try chasing her up the ramp,” Father said.

  “Shoo!” Justin yelled, clapping his hands and stomping his feet behind his new pet. “Shoo! Shoo!”

  Instead of running up the ramp, Ticktock gave a jump and ran around to the rear of Justin. Father laughed. “Who’s chasing whom here?” he shouted.

  “You’re scaring her even more by yelling,” Grandma warned.

  Justin tried running into the wagon and calling her. “Come, Ticktock. Come with me.”

  But she just bleated and ran around again.

  “That goat is too smart,” Grandma said. “She’s plumb stubborn, too. Look at her tail! It’s standing straight up and as still as a pole. No way will she get into that wagon.”

  Ticktock watched Justin quizzically, her head tilted to one side.

  “Aw, she’s just afeard of that wagon. She’s never been in one,” Grandpa said soothingly.

  “That’s right, Justin. New things can be strange—for goats and for people,” Grandma said gently. “It’ll take a little while, but Ticktock will be fine once she gets used to her new home.”

  Justin knelt down and put his arms around the kid. “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” He rubbed Ticktock’s head, where the nubs of her horns had already started to sprout. Ticktock thrust her head against him with a friendly butt.

  “Come on.” Justin picked up the wiggling bundle. She bleated loudly with all four legs extended in different directions. Justin struggled up the ramp and set her down in the fresh hay they purchased the day before.

  “Good! Now she knows who’s in charge,” Father said.

  “Remember, she’s a goat,” Grandpa added. “Which means she’s only letting you think you’re the boss.”

  “I’ll stay right here with her all the way home,” Justin promised.

  Justin waved good-bye to his grandparents as his father climbed up onto the driver’s seat and clicked the reins. Ticktock folded her legs in the hay and cuddled up next to Justin.

  Justin grinned at his new pet. Then he remembered that scruffy girl, Poppy, who had taunted him yesterday: “Goats stink.” He put his head down near Ticktock and sniffed. “You’re not a bit smelly,” he muttered. “Well, maybe it’s the smell of hay. That’s certainly not a stink.”

  On Monday, if Poppy really does show up at the shop, I’ll have Ticktock with me. He patted his goat’s head again.

  Father would never let someone like her into the store. But maybe he’d let me show her my geodes—the ones that have the amethyst crystals inside. And the other stones with crystals. She’d be amazed to see that gems really do come from plain old rocks.

  “Poppy’s just a little girl who doesn’t know much about anything,” Justin told his goat. “She won’t mock me once she sees you and my geodes, Ticktock.”

  Perhaps I’ll get to show her some of the best stones sometime …maybe even the big emerald. Once again, he imagined Poppy’s eyes widening as he opened the velvet cases filled with sparkling jewels. She’ll know I’m a real expert on gems.

  Before long, the jiggling of the wagon and the sound of Ginger’s hooves on the road lulled Justin and his new pet to sleep.

  SUNDAY NIGHT,

  OCTOBER 1, 1871

  CHAPTER FIVE

  - New Girls on the Block -

  Sunday night, just when Poppy, Noreen, and Sheila were about to go to bed, Ma Brennan burst into the small room clutching two girls by their shoulders.

  “New sisters fer ya!” she roared, shoving both girls onto Poppy’s mattress. “You’ll share the bed tonight with Poppy. Tomorrow I’ll look around for another mattress. You two are gonna start learnin’ how to make money—first thing in the mornin’.”

  Before anyone could ask a question, Ma turned into the hallway and headed up the stairs to the nightclub overhead.

  The two strangers parked themselves on Poppy’s bed and gawked at their new surroundings. “This place is ugly,” said the older one. She looked about fifteen and her brown hair was pulled back and tied with a faded red ribbon.

  “I don’t want to stay here, Julia,” the younger girl whined, her blue eyes filling with tears. “At least the orphanage was clean—and we had beds, not dirty mattresses on the floor.”

  “Hush up, Renee! You couldn’t wait to get away from there. Quit complainin’.” Julia turned to Poppy. “I’ve been takin’
care of Renee for ’bout a year now. She gripes a lot.”

  “You’re not sisters, I’m thinkin’,” Poppy said, addressing Julia. “I mean, Renee has such blond hair and yours is brown.”

  “Not even related,” Julia answered. “We’re both war orphans. Our dads were killed down in Georgia somewhere. Don’t even know where they’re buried. Renee here was in the half orphanage till her ma died. Then they were goin’ to send her to the big home when—”

  “That’s when I ’scaped,” Renee interrupted. “I wasn’t goin’ to that orphanage. I know all about that place. People come pretendin’ you’re gonna be part of the family, and then all they want is to make you work for them.”

  Julia agreed with a knowing nod. “Renee would be a slave for the rest of her life.”

  “What about your mother?” Poppy asked Julia.

  “Never knew her. She sent me to my grandma’s and I never heard from her again. Grandma yelled a lot, so I ran away.”

  Wait until she gets slapped a few times by Ma Brennan, Poppy thought. She won’t stay here long, either.

  Sheila came over and squeezed between them on the mattress. “You were smart kids to run away.” She peered at Renee’s short hair. “How come your hair’s so short?”

  “She’s probably got cooties,” Noreen warned. “Don’t get close to her.”

  Sheila jumped away.

  “I do not have cooties!” Renee yelled.

  “Where do you wash up, then?” Sheila asked.

  “In rain barrels,” Renee answered.

  “And just where do you wash up?” Julia snapped. “You three don’t look so clean to me. And this place ain’t no fancy hotel, either.”

  “There’s a room with real runnin’ water down the hall a little ways—right fresh from the new water tower,” Noreen said.

  “And it’s better than livin’ on the streets,” said Poppy, hoping to stop the arguing. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “We’re gettin’ up tomorrow early,” Sheila announced. “Ma’s givin’ these girls a class, and we’ll be there to show how it’s done.”

  “I already know how it’s done!” Julia kicked off her grimy shoes and plopped her head onto the pillow. “I’ve been makin’ my own way practically since I was borned.”

  “And Julia taught me how to lift stuff out of stores, so I don’t need lessons, either.” Renee copied Julia and flipped off her shoes. One flew across the room, landing close to Sheila’s bed.

  “Watch out, you little street urchin,” Sheila bellowed.

  “We’re all street urchins—including you!” Poppy muttered as she curled up on the edge of the mattress. She wished she had the pillow, but since Julia had already put her head on it, Poppy decided she’d do without. After all, she didn’t want cooties.

  Soon Poppy knew the girls were asleep. Their loud, even breathing resounded in the small, bare room.

  Ma came in later, humming a tune, then went to bed. Now the room echoed with her snores.

  Poppy couldn’t sleep. Instead, she thought about street urchins. The town was full of them, all trying to find a place to live, scrounging around for other folks’ leftover food. Poppy had seen the rich people, like the Palmers, who owned many businesses, including the brand-new Palmer House Hotel, in their beautiful clothes and jewels. Why should some people be so rich and others so poor?

  Poppy didn’t want to grow up and be like Ma Brennan or the ladies that came and went upstairs in the Willow resort. She thought again about her five dollars hidden in the old foundation. Not enough yet to run away.

  Tomorrow was Monday. Isn’t that the day that boy, Justin, is going to show me his new goat? Poppy wondered. Yes! He had said he’d be at the jewelry store with his goat after school on Monday.

  She chuckled quietly. How crazy he is … bringing a stinking goat to that fancy store! But he wants to show me how his goat makes a good pet—and doesn’t stink. She snickered again. And he expects me to believe jewels grow out of rocks. He must think I’m stupid to believe that baloney.

  Maybe I’ll go see him and his goat tomorrow—if Ma finishes with her lessons by afternoon.

  Poppy knew Ma would spend some time teaching the girls how to lift things off store countertops when no one was looking—how to shove them quickly into a sleeve or pocket. Then they’d spend more time nimbly picking one another’s pockets—practicing their act of bumping into a mark and causing a scuffle. You’ve gotta work on your skills, Ma always said. And now they’d have to show the new girls.

  Yes, Poppy decided. As soon as Ma’s finished, I’ll make some excuse and leave. Oh, I hope I get to see Justin and his goat. Maybe I’ll even pretend to be his friend. I’m sure he’d show his friend all the beautiful jewels in the shop. Maybe one of those jewels, a good one, would fall into my pocket. Then I could sell it, and I’ll run far, far away.

  Poppy put her hands over her ears to drown out Ma’s snoring.

  MONDAY MORNING,

  OCTOBER 2, 1871

  CHAPTER SIX

  - Randy, Patrick, and Four Fingers Foley -

  Early Monday, on the way to school, Justin stopped at his chum Randy’s driveway. The two boys usually walked together.

  Randy was waiting, standing on his lawn that was yellowed from the drought. “We’re early, Justin. Before we go to school, do you want to see the kittens?” Randy asked. “They’ll all be gone by Friday, when they’ll be six weeks old.”

  “You got homes for all three of them?”

  “Yep. One’s going to your sister, Claire, you know. She’s taking it with her when she gets married to Forrest Belmont in December.”

  “Mother says Claire will need a cat to keep the poor church mice away.”

  “I’d hate to live in a church,” Randy said. “I’d have to be too good.”

  “Claire won’t be living in the church. She’ll be next door in the parsonage.”

  “Still, I wouldn’t want to live there. And I wouldn’t want to live with Forrest, either, come to think of it. He’s so namby-pamby.”

  “Forrest is a good guy,” Justin said. “And he’s no sissy.”

  They walked to a shed in the back of Randy’s yard and peeked inside the open door. The mother cat was curled up in a laundry basket with her sleeping babies. Two black and white kittens were snuggled into their mother’s fur. The third, who was completely black except for white whiskers, lay off to one side. She yawned and looked up with golden eyes as the boys approached, then put her head between her paws and went back to sleep.

  “They sure are cute,” Justin whispered. He picked up the black kitten and cuddled it under his chin. “I had the choice of a cat or a goat. I chose the goat—especially once I saw Ticktock at Grandpa’s. Besides, a kitten is more of a girl’s pet. It’ll be fun, though to have Claire’s kitten at our house, too. At least until she moves.”

  Justin put the kitten back and the two boys walked up to the street. “Whatcha doing this afternoon?” Randy asked. “Going down to State Street?”

  “Yes. I’m going to the shop,” Justin answered. Whoops! Randy probably wants to walk with me, and I don’t want him around if Poppy shows up. He’d never stop kidding me about meeting a girl.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” Randy asked.

  Justin scrambled to think of an excuse. “Not today. I-I’m going to meet someone.”

  “Whom are you meeting—a customer?”

  “Um, yes, sort of.”

  “What do you mean, ‘sort of’? Is your dad letting you sell jewelry?”

  Justin frowned. “No, not until I’m older. You know that.”

  “He lets Charlie sell jewelry. Doesn’t he trust you?”

  “He’ll let me—once I’m Charlie’s age.”

  “So who is this sort-of customer you’re meeting, then?”

  “Don’t be so nosy, Randy.”

  “Well, I don’t want to go anyway. It’s too warm already. It’ll be really hot this afternoon.” Randy took a handkerchief from his back poc
ket and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

  The sound of bells and horses’ hooves seemed close by. The boys looked around and could see fire trucks down the street, where a stream of black smoke spiraled to the blue sky.

  “I nearly got run over by one of those fire engines yesterday.” Randy wiped his forehead again.

  “That’ll teach you not to walk in the street,” Justin said.

  “I don’t envy those firemen, working with those big steamers on the trucks. They must be sweating down to their bones, standing there for hours, shooting water from those heavy hoses.”

  Suddenly two boys jumped out at them from behind a fence. The bigger of the two, Patrick Cahill, was dressed in rough stained overalls and a raggedy plaid shirt. “Well, if it ain’t the fancy-pants kids from the Rotten Academy,” he said, dragging out the word “academy” in a singsong voice. The real name of Justin’s private school was Rodham Academy, but the tough kids from Conley’s Patch, who hadn’t attended any school for years, had their own name for it: Rotten Academy.

  Patrick’s pal, who stood nearby with a sneering grin, was called Four Fingers Foley because he had lost one of his fingers when his hand had got stuck in a warehouse door. Most everyone just called him Fingers. “Why, it’s Justin and Randall, the bigwig boys from the big-shot school,” Fingers taunted. “What are ya goin’ to learn today? How to make a million bucks sellin’ pretty jewels to the rich ladies?”

  “We’re learning to ignore the mudsills of society,” Randy said.

  “Shh! Don’t ask for trouble,” Justin whispered as he pulled his friend by the arm toward the entrance to the school.

  “Go on home—your mother’s calling ya,” Randy sang out over his shoulder. “Your father just fell in a garbage can. Go on home—your mother’s callin’ ya. They’ve come to collect your old man!”

  “Aw, shut up, Randy.” Justin slammed his hand over Randy’s mouth. “You’re just baiting them.”

  “Don’t you say anything about my old man!” Fingers started after them again. But the boys were almost to the double doors of the school.