Firestorm! Page 4

  “That’s it—run away, like rats,” Patrick howled. “Next time we’ll beat you up!”

  “Yeah! I’m not forgettin’ what you just said about my old man,” Fingers added.

  “I sure hope we never see them again,” Justin said. “They’re probably already thinking of ways to beat us up or rob our shop.”

  “Nah. They’re just a lot of talk,” Randy said as he pulled open the door and went into the large oak-paneled hallway. “Are you going to the shop after school? Or are you going home to change clothes first? I suppose you have to dress up when you go into your dad’s fancy place down State Street.”

  “Of course. My father expects me to look decent at the shop. After all, Butterworth’s is the best jewelry store in Chicago—and my father is the best watchmaker,” Justin said. “I’ll go home and change into better clothes. So meet me after school. We’ll walk home together—just in case Fingers and Patrick show up.”

  The walk home after school was uneventful, but nevertheless, Justin and Randy walked close together and avoided the area where Fingers and Patrick had darted out from behind the fence.

  Once Justin got home and changed his clothes, he hitched his goat to a leash and petted her. Ticktock rubbed her head against Justin’s hand and butted him gently. “Come on—let’s go down to the shop, just in case that Poppy shows up. I’ll show her what a good pet you are. And we’ll prove that goats don’t stink.”

  He paused, thinking. Then he quickly raced into the house and returned with a bottle of his father’s best shaving lotion.

  “Here you go, Ticktock,” he said, rubbing the lotion over the goat’s head and neck. “A little help in the smell department won’t hurt.”

  MONDAY MORNING,

  OCTOBER 2, 1871

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  - Ma Brennan’s School for Girls -

  It was hard to tell when dawn came, as the cellar holes where Poppy lived were so deep that the rooms were gloomy and dark all day, even when it was bright and sunny outside.

  Poppy lay still, cramped onto a small section of mattress, and her neck felt stiff, but she didn’t dare pull the pillow out from under Julia’s head. The thought of cooties horrified her. She remembered the time she and Ma’s girls had cooties and how Ma had washed their hair in kerosene oil. Sometimes when their hair needed washing now, the smell of kerosene still lingered. Poppy wondered what would happen if she got too close to a kerosene lantern with that stuff in her hair. Would her hair catch on fire? She pushed the thought out of her mind.

  Ma snorted a long grunt, then slowly sat up in bed. “Get up, girls. School today. Be out in the kitchen for breakfast in five minutes.” She pulled on a faded housedress over her nightgown and stumbled out into the kitchen across the hall.

  Breakfast was toast with jelly and tea. Renee and Julia picked at the toast, complaining that they wanted bacon or oatmeal. “You’d think you were brought up in Buckingham Palace, instead of being low-down street kids,” Sheila said with a sniff.

  Poppy couldn’t help laughing. “And we aren’t street people?”

  “No, we’re not!” Noreen snapped. “We have a nice home here with Ma.”

  Ma turned on her heel and glared at Poppy. “You’re nothin’ but an ungrateful guttersnipe. Don’t forget for one minute that’s where I found you—in the gutter. Your own mother didn’t want you.”

  Poppy could put up with Ma and the girls calling her ugly names. But whenever Ma reminded her that she was a foundling—that her own mother had thrown her away—it wounded Poppy to the pit of her stomach. She could feel hot tears rising and turned away quickly before they slipped down—before Ma and the girls could see them.

  “Finish up, and let’s practice your skills,” Ma said, leading them down the hall to a large, windowless room. Ma lit an overhead lantern near a big pool table in the center of the room. “Let’s pretend this table is a store counter. I’ll put things on here, and I want to see how well you lift the stuff—and see where you hide it.” She gestured to a pile of bags and purses, jackets, and clothes that were too large for any of the girls. They all put on garments that had large pockets inside and outside.

  Ma spread purses and various kinds of junk jewelry around the edge of the table. “I’ll demonstrate first.” She stood back, arms crossed, as she sauntered around the room, then casually slid up to the table, pretending to examine the purses and paraphernalia. Over the span of several minutes, Ma skillfully and silently slipped a few pieces of jewelry and a small purse into her coat and pockets. “See how easy it is? Now it’s your turn. My girls will go first. Go ahead, Sheila. Show the new girls how it’s done.”

  “We already know how it’s done,” Julia grumbled.

  Ma slapped Julia’s back. “Shut up and watch!”

  “No one does it better than me,” Sheila said as she wandered around the room, as if she were in a store. Then little by little she made her way to the “counter,” pretending to show an interest in the jewelry. She picked up one sparkly brooch, turned it over, and was about to set it down when she “accidentally” knocked it to the floor. She quickly put her foot over it. After looking around, she bent over, picked it up, and shoved it into the hidden pocket in her coat.

  “That was pretty good, Sheila,” said Ma. “But you could have moved your foot over the piece quicker.”

  Sheila’s mouth drooped angrily. “But, Ma …”

  Ma ignored her. “Your turn, Noreen. You show how much better you are.”

  Noreen had her turn, this time stealing a bulky purse from the counter and shoving it into an inside pocket.

  “No!” Ma screamed. “Don’t pick the biggest purse. You can see that huge bump in your coat. Can’t you see how risky it would be?”

  Poppy watched as Noreen’s face reddened. “What did you put it out there on the table for, then?” Noreen yelled.

  “To see if you’d be stupid enough to steal it!” Ma yelled back. She took a deep breath. “Your turn, Poppy. I hope you can show Julia and Renee that you’ve learned something here. My own daughters are a disgrace!”

  Julia and Renee giggled behind their hands while Noreen and Sheila fumed. Poppy began her walk around the pretend store, stopping here and there to look at various objects on the counter. After examining a dozen or more items, she walked away.

  “What are you doing?” Ma asked. “Go back and take one of the things I put on the table!”

  Poppy reached into the cuff of her coat and displayed a shiny silver bracelet.

  “Oh! That was slick!” Julia said admiringly.

  Poppy reached into the cuff of the other sleeve and brought out a jeweled ring.

  Ma, Julia, Renee, and Sheila clapped their hands, while Noreen turned away, pouting.

  Poppy grinned. “Biggest isn’t always best.” She held up the ring. “Small things are easier to steal, and a real piece like this could be worth a lot more than a big purse that might be empty.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a square of wax in a small matchbox.

  “Now, just look at that,” Ma said. “Poppy never forgets her wax. She’s always prepared for anything that might come up—like makin’ an impression of a key. Which of you girls still have the wax I gave you?” Ma waited, but Sheila and Noreen dropped their gazes to the floor and didn’t answer. “See? Poppy gives me more trouble than any of you, but she’s my star pupil.” Ma grinned. “So, Poppy wins the prize.”

  “A prize?” Sheila exclaimed. “You didn’t tell us we’d get a prize.”

  Noreen stomped her foot. “Ma! You always treat Poppy better than you treat us.”

  Humph, thought Poppy. Since when?

  “She always does better than you—my real daughters. Poppy gets what she deserves all the time—and that includes a slap now and then when it’s necessary.” Ma turned to Julia and Renee and pointed to Noreen and Sheila. “Just because these two are my flesh and blood doesn’t mean I play favorites. Poppy was best today, so she gets the prize.” She pulled a bag of candy fr
om her pocket and handed it to Poppy. “Here you go, Poppy. And never say I’m not fair.”

  Poppy offered candy to everyone, but Noreen wouldn’t take any. Instead, she turned away and faced the wall when Poppy held out the bag to her. “Ma thinks you’re so smart, Poppy. And you’re so cute. Once again, you get the prize.”

  “Don’t get yourself into a pucker, Noreen,” Poppy said. “It’s only a bag of candy.”

  “Enough, girls. Time to get out there and bring home the sugar,” Ma said. “I have new rules. Each of you must find five hits today. If you do, you’ll have a chance at another prize.”

  “Five hits!” Julia exclaimed. “That’ll take all day and we’ll end up in the cooler!”

  “Not if you do it right,” Ma argued. “Poppy, you can do some work at the bank counters with Sheila. Here’s a couple of ten-dollar bills. I want these back when you come home.” She gave both girls a warning look as she handed the money to Sheila. “You two know the game—you’ve done well with it before.”

  “We can’t do five hits apiece, then. It’s too dangerous,” Sheila argued. “The banks will be searchin’ for us.”

  “Right you are. Five between ya both,” Ma agreed. “Now, Noreen, you can work one at a time with Julia and Renee. Take a few stores and try what you’ve learned today. It will be good practice for them. Renee ought to be able to get some sympathy just sittin’ on the sidewalk and cryin’ that she’s hungry. Folks will toss her a few coins just to keep her quiet, if not out of pity.” She led the five girls into the hall and up the steps to the outside. “Off with ya, now. Get back before dark. I worry when you’re late.”

  “Yeah, she worries, all right,” Poppy whispered to Julia. “She worries that she’s missin’ out on money. She never worries about us.”

  Several banks had businesses down by the Chicago River. Sheila and Poppy chose one that was on a side street. They casually glanced into the foyer, where several businessmen were counting money from checks they had cashed. “Wait until there’s just one man there,” Sheila whispered. “Once we’re inside, you be the one to drop the money.” She slipped the ten-dollar bills into Poppy’s dress pocket.

  The girls walked up the street so as not to bring attention to themselves. When they returned, one man was left at the counting table, where he had placed money in neat piles of ones, fives, tens, and twenty-dollar bills.

  Sheila walked into the bank and up to the next table, taking out one of the withdrawal forms. Sheila had taught herself how to write a little. As she pretended to be making out the form, Poppy entered the bank and looked around, as if she were deciding where she should go.

  Then, as if she had changed her mind, she headed back toward the front door by way of the counting table. As she passed, she let Ma’s ten-dollar bills fall to the floor unnoticed.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she said innocently. “Did you drop that money?” She pointed to the ten-dollar bills on the floor and looked at the man at the counting table.

  “I must have,” he said, bending over to pick them up. “Thank you.”

  While he was retrieving the bills, quick as a blink, Sheila grabbed a handful of the twenty-dollar bills, stuffed them into her shirt, and walked swiftly out the door. Poppy was already outside and racing for a back alley up the street.

  Before the businessman realized he’d been robbed, both Poppy and Sheila would have disappeared.

  “How much did you get?” Poppy asked as Sheila counted six crisp new bills.

  “Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, one hundred. What comes after that?”

  “I dunno,” Poppy answered. “After a hundred, I think you start countin’ again.”

  “I’ll start over. Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, one hundred, twenty dollars! Holy cow—Ma isn’t going to believe her eyes. That was a real good haul, Poppy.”

  “But you don’t have Ma’s two ten-dollar bills anymore.”

  “No, but we have all this!”

  Poppy often lived in fear of Ma’s wrath. “Ma said she wanted them back.”

  Sheila rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you go and ask the man to give them back to you, you dumbbell.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Poppy said, feeling stupid.

  MONDAY AFTERNOON,

  OCTOBER 2, 1871

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  - Ticktock Goes to Town -

  All the way to State Street, people stopped and grinned to see Justin with his little goat in tow. “Cute little kid,” was the usual comment. Folks reached out to pet her, and when they did, Ticktock’s tongue flicked out much like a snake’s, hoping for something to eat. She never pulled against the leash but stayed close by Justin, her little legs trotting at a fast pace to keep up with him while her short tail wagged like a flag.

  When they arrived at the shop, Justin remembered Father’s warning: “Don’t bring that goat into the front of the store. It wouldn’t be proper, and other shopkeepers will complain to have a farm animal tethered on the front steps.” So Justin took his pet to the courtyard out back where Ticktock could nibble on a grassy plot, although the grass was dry and yellow from the drought. Ticktock seemed content, and Justin knocked at the back door, which was always locked.

  “Who’s there?” It was Father’s voice.

  “It’s me. I came down for a walk and brought Ticktock with me.”

  Father unlocked and opened the door. “Come in, Justin. I’m busy right now. I’m about to set the big emerald into this white-gold pendant for Mrs. Palmer. She’ll be coming to approve it soon.” He held the necklace up to the back window, where it picked up the sunlight and cast rainbows on the wall. Then he placed the jewelry and chain into Justin’s hand. “The stone isn’t set in permanently yet. Once she approves it, I’ll set the prongs and do a little more soldering.”

  Justin held the lacy pendant in his hand. The gold prongs that would firmly clasp the emerald were formed into tiny leaves and flowers. “Oh, Father! If this don’t beat all,” Justin whispered in awe. “It’s the most beautiful thing in the world. I’d say the best you’ve ever done!”

  “I’m glad you think so, son. I hope Mrs. Palmer does, too.” His father took the piece back, rubbed it with a soft cloth, and then deposited it into his pocket.

  “She will. I’d reckon no one in the whole city of Chicago ever saw anything as handsome as that.”

  Charlie appeared from the sales room, where they displayed all the jewelry. “I’d sure love to try my hand at setting a valuable stone.”

  “There’s a nice topaz in the safe. Why don’t you give it a try? I think you’ve got just the artistic flair to be a great jeweler, Charlie.” Father clapped his hand on Charlie’s shoulder as the two men went back to the office, leaving Justin by himself.

  Humph! Charlie—the artist! No wonder he’s so good—Father gives him every chance to try new things. All I get to do is sweep the sidewalk.

  Oh, well, perhaps I should go out on the sidewalk and sweep, Justin thought with a resigned sigh. That way I’ll be able to spot Poppy if she shows up. He pulled the broom and dustpan from the closet, then went to the front entry.

  “Good idea, Justin,” Father said when he saw Justin head out the door with the gear. “The way the dust is blowing, the whole city will be knee-deep in dirt before long.”

  “We sure need rain,” Charlie commented.

  Once outside, Justin began sweeping. The wind had again blown the dust into ridges of dirt, the way the lake left creases in the sand as it lapped against the shore.

  He had just finished the entry and was moving out to the sidewalk when he saw Poppy skipping up the wooden walkway like an eight- or nine-year-old. How come she dresses like a little kid? he wondered. Perhaps she can’t be picky. Her clothes are probably hand-me-downs, and since she’s so small anyway, she looks younger than she really is.

  Justin knew by the way Poppy spoke—with a tough and angry tone—that she was one of the street kids. She was probably from Conley’s Patch, the toughest neighborhood around.
It was easy to spot those rowdies with their out-of-style old clothes and surly manners, especially on State Street, where everyone else was well dressed and mannerly.

  “Well, well, look who the cat dragged in,” Poppy called out as she came to a clattering stop, dust blowing up around her legs. “I don’t see any goat here today. I’m bettin’ you don’t have one after all.”

  “Ticktock’s out back. Come with me and I’ll show you.” Justin set the broom down and motioned for Poppy to step inside.

  “Yeah, and I want to see those rocks with jewels growin’ out of ’em, too.”

  “We’ll go out this way,” Justin told her, leading her through the store to the back room. Poppy followed him, her eyes taking in the glass showcases. “It’s beautiful in here,” she whispered as she paused to gape at the sparkling jewels and watches.

  Charlie came out of the office and stopped in his tracks when he saw Poppy. “Who is this?”

  “Um, this is Poppy, Charlie,” Justin answered awkwardly. “She just came to see Ticktock.”

  “Well, don’t bring her through the store!” Charlie said. “Take her out and around to the back.”

  Justin grabbed Poppy’s arm and was about to go through the front door when the bells jingled and a tall, well-dressed woman in a large hat stepped inside. She looked at Poppy quizzically and then at Justin.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Palmer,” Charlie was saying graciously. “My father has been working on your beautiful pendant. I’ll go get him.”

  But Father had heard the door and came out from his office. He looked surprised when he saw Poppy and whispered with an undertone, “Uh, Justin, bring this … this child out back, please.” He propelled Justin and Poppy into the back room and shut the door.

  Justin could hear his father’s warm exclamation to his well-paying customer. “Oh, Mrs. Palmer, let me show you the setting I’ve chosen for the pendant. You will be absolutely thrilled, I promise.”