Firestorm! Page 6

  “You can go back now. I’ll be okay. No one’s goin’ to hurt me. I’m Ma Brennan’s girl, and she’d fix any varmint who laid a hand on me.”

  “Well, that’s excellent,” Justin replied. “She takes good care of you, then.”

  “But she’s not like your mother,” Poppy said. “Your mother talks nice, and I’ll bet she never clobbers you.”

  “Of course not. Does Ma Brennan clobber you?”

  “All the time.”

  They crossed onto Wells Street and stopped. “Uh-oh. You’d better go home now,” said Poppy. “I see trouble ahead.” She gestured to two boys up the street who were looking their way. “That’s Four Fingers Foley and Patrick Cahill.”

  Justin turned to go back. “I’m getting out of here before they see me.”

  “Hey! Rotten!” yelled Patrick. “You just wait a second.” He started running toward Justin and Poppy, with Four Fingers close behind him.

  Sure, they come after me when I’m alone with a girl, Justin thought. He was about to turn and run but then stopped. What would happen to Poppy if he left her? That would be a dishonorable thing to do, he thought.

  “Scram, Justin!” Poppy yelled. “They’ll make mincemeat out of you.”

  “I’m not leaving you with those guys, Poppy.”

  “I don’t think they’ll hurt me. Run! Run, Justin.”

  But Justin had hesitated too long. The two rowdies were already on him, cuffing and punching.

  “Get off me! Leave me alone! Leave Poppy alone!” Justin fought back, kicking and swinging, while Poppy clouted the two boys with her satchel.

  “Get away from him!” she yelled. “I’ll get Roger Plant’s kids after ya! You know who I mean. He owns the Willow, where I live!”

  At the mention of Roger Plant, the two boys immediately stopped their attack on Justin. “Well, well, you’ve got a little girl to save ya,” said Fingers. “Ain’t you the brave one.”

  “Next time we’ll get you when you’re alone,” Patrick promised.

  “Why? What did I ever do to you?” Justin brushed off his suit and retrieved his cap. His eye was swollen and his belly hurt where Fingers had slugged him.

  “What did I ever do to you?” mimicked Patrick in a whining voice. “You just are. That’s enough.”

  “I’m telling Mr. Plant on you. He’ll fix you good,” Poppy yelled, giving Fingers a final swat with her satchel. “Now get out of here.”

  The two boys skulked away. “We’ll be watchin’ for you,” said Fingers. “And you, too, Poppy.”

  “My knees are knockin’, I’m so a-scared,” Poppy taunted.

  The boys disappeared into the shadows of an alley.

  “Go on home, Justin. I’ll be all right.”

  “Looks like you will,” Justin agreed. “You settled their hash just fine. That name you flung around scared ’em off good.”

  “I live here, and I know the ropes,” Poppy said. “Mr. Plant is the big boss of Conley’s Patch.”

  “I feel sorry for you, living around people like that,” Justin said.

  “Nah, don’t feel sorry for me,” Poppy said. “I can take care of myself.”

  She nodded to him and headed down the wooden planks that made up the sidewalk.

  MONDAY NIGHT,

  OCTOBER 2, 1871

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  - Nowhere to Go -

  The sound of Poppy’s footsteps clattered on the planks. Where were those two boys—Fingers and Patrick—who’d taunted Justin? She hoped she wouldn’t run into them again.

  The satchel she carried swung from her arm, and she suddenly remembered the new dress she wore, the one Justin’s sister had given her.

  Why was Claire so nice to me? She don’t even know me. Yet here she gave me this pretty dress and brushed my hair—as if I were part of their family or someone like them—and she never said a bad word to me. And when I cried and told how I wasn’t a real good girl, she said she loved me. She showed me that rock—the one with the green crystal. What was it she said? “You’re like this stone, Poppy—deep inside, there’s a sparkling crystal of goodness.”

  Poppy felt warm whenever she thought of Claire and the things she had said. Even the rest of the family had been nice to her, too. Mrs. Butterworth had given her soup and had said she was charming.

  Her heart raced and she was breathless as she ran toward the Willow. Across the street was the empty lot where she had hidden her five dollars. Suddenly she stopped, remembering the wax impression of the key to the Butterworths’ jewelry store. She had planned to have a key made so she could steal something from the shop and run away.

  How would Claire and her mother and Justin feel if they knew Poppy had robbed their store?

  What should she do? She needed to think about it. But first she’d hide the key impression—for now, anyway.

  It was hard to find the gray rock in the wall where she’d hidden her money. All the stones—even her sparkly one—looked alike in this light, so she tried jiggling several until she came upon one that almost fell into her hand as she wiggled it. Reaching into the cavity, she pulled out the can where she had secreted the money.

  She tipped the can upside down and the bills fell out into her palm. The money was still there, just as she had left it! She reached into the satchel, where she had placed her old clothes. The small matchbox was still tucked inside the pocket of her pinafore. She removed the box carefully—if it bent, it would ruin the impression of the key. Then she inserted the box into the can, put back the bills, slipped the can into the hole, and replaced the stone.

  I don’t have to do anything yet, she decided. I’ll make up my mind later what I’ll do with the key.

  It was darker now, and she stumbled over rocks and junk until she got onto the street again. Lantern lights glistened in the windows of the Willow just ahead. The girls were probably home by now, and Ma might be mad that Poppy was returning empty-handed. And how would she explain the dress? Poppy would say she had stolen it out of a shop and had put it on after. Sure. They’d believe that, wouldn’t they?

  As Poppy approached the Willow, she could hear boisterous singing from various parts of the resort and yelping and barking from the pits where gamblers brought dogs to fight. She headed down the dark stairway to the cellar hole where she lived. She thought of Justin’s goat and her little shed and how Justin tended her. He’d never let anyone hurt that goat, she thought. But Justin came from a different world.

  The door to Ma’s room burst open before Poppy had a chance to open it herself.

  “Where have you been, lady?” Ma grabbed Poppy by the hair and pulled her into the room. “You’ve been gone all day, and you’d better hand over money to me. I’m not puttin’ up with you if you don’t come through.” She was about to clout Poppy once she had her inside the room, but she stopped, her arm in midair. Ma’s expression changed in the lantern light as she looked at Poppy’s dress. “Well, lookey here! Girls!” she called to the others, who were standing by the beds. “See how fancy our little Poppy is in her new getup. Where did you get that new dress?”

  “I was sick of wearin’ the same old dirty dress and apron. So I stole this. It’s mine and I got it for myself.” She tossed the satchel onto the bed next to Renee. “Here, you can have my old clothes. I’m wearin’ this from now on.”

  Ma’s eyes narrowed. “I know what you did, you little sneak. You picked a few pockets—that’s what you did. And then you went into a store and bought that dress—with money you should have brought home to me. That money was rightly mine! And you used it on yourself!”

  The four girls gasped and huddled together.

  For an instant Poppy wanted to say, None of the money you get is rightly yours! It’s all stolen! Instead she said, “I didn’t spend any money for this dress. I told you, I stole it!”

  The palm of Ma Brennan’s hand came across Poppy’s cheek like a knife. “You ungrateful little liar! After all I’ve done for you—givin’ you a home and food on the
table.”

  She pushed Poppy onto the floor. “Take that dress off. You’re givin’ it to little Renee here. You put on your other clothes, missy. The ones you feel aren’t clean enough or nice enough.” She gave Poppy a kick. “Do it now!”

  Poppy held back the tears she felt coming. She knew how Ma felt about tears—Poppy would get more slaps if she cried. So she took a deep breath and said, “This dress is the nicest thing I’ve ever had. Why should I give it away? It’s mine!”

  “And the money you used to buy it was mine!” Ma yelled. “Take it off before I hit you again.”

  Poppy tried to unbutton the back of the dress but couldn’t reach.

  “See? She had to have bought that outfit. She had someone help her into it!” In the lamplight, Ma’s face was wrinkled with rage.

  “I’ll help you unbutton it,” Julia said as she knelt on the floor next to Poppy.

  Poppy let Julia undo the buttons and pull the garment over her head. The green ribbon that Claire had used to tie Poppy’s hair back came tumbling off and fell to the floor.

  “There!” Ma said. “The dress is yours, Renee. You’re about the same size as Poppy, maybe a little smaller. Now, Poppy, you get into bed. I’ll deal with you more tomorrow. Everyone else had supper. You’ll go without. Maybe gettin’ a little hungry will give you some appreciation for all I’ve done for you.”

  Dressed only in her underwear, Poppy climbed into the bed she now shared with Julia and Renee. Her face smarted and her knees bled where Ma had pushed her to the floor. But she held back the tears and the angry words she wanted to scream.

  I’m getting out of here tonight, she thought, as soon as everyone falls asleep.

  But where would she go? There was no one to take her in. No one she could trust or turn to.

  I’ll find a place. And I’ll hide there until I know what to do. I’ll never live here with Ma Brennan again. She remembered Ticktock’s clean little shed and the bright quilt hanging on the wall. That’s where I’ll go, she decided.

  MONDAY NIGHT,

  OCTOBER 2, 1871

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  - Claire’s Warning -

  “What happened to you?” Charlie asked Justin when he walked in the door.

  Father jumped up. “Justin, did you get into a fight?”

  “Your pants are torn and … you’re bleeding!” Mother grabbed a clean dish towel, ran water over it, and began wiping the dirt from Justin’s knees, which were poking through his ripped trousers.

  “Two boys got hold of me,” Justin told her. “Patrick Cahill and Four Fingers Foley.”

  “Not those ruffians!” Charlie shook his head. “Man alive! You sure got yourself into a fine fix.”

  “I’ll bet you went right down to Wells Street, despite what I said,” Mother muttered.

  “I didn’t want to let Poppy go down there by herself.” Justin cringed as his mother swabbed iodine on his cuts.

  “That girl can take care of herself,” Father said. “She’s one of them.”

  Claire, who had been standing by quietly, finally spoke up. “I think Justin was trying to protect her—like a gentleman should.”

  “He shouldn’t be associating with anyone like her,” Charlie said. “She’s trouble.”

  “Well … just because she’s poor doesn’t mean she’s trouble,” Claire argued. “I think there’s good in her.”

  “Oh, you’d think there was good in … the devil himself,” Charlie said.

  “I think there’s some good in everyone,” Claire shot back.

  “That’s ’cause you’re marrying a preacher,” Charlie insisted. “You’re a dreamer, Claire.”

  Claire was about to flare up when Mother interrupted. “It’s better to be like Claire, Charles, and to look for the good in everyone.”

  Charlie is such a know-it-all, Justin thought as he sat at the table. Mother served him up a bowl of stew. “Let’s not talk about Poppy anymore,” he said. “I’d just as soon forget everyone from Conley’s Patch.”

  No one spoke for a while, and then Justin changed the subject. “So, how did Mrs. Palmer like the emerald, Father?”

  “She thought it was just the thing,” Charlie answered.

  “I was asking Father,” Justin snapped. He’d had enough of Charlie for one night.

  “Yes, she was pleased,” Father agreed. “She likes the setting, so now I just have to secure the emerald into the pendant.” He looked over at Charlie. “Mrs. Palmer wants me to create a tiara in diamonds for a Christmas party. Why don’t you do a few designs, Charlie? It would be good practice, and I think you’d come up with something she’d like.”

  Charlie grinned, obviously happy with his father’s suggestion. “Do you really think I have the artistic flair that you do?”

  There he goes, hinting for more compliments, Justin thought. Why doesn’t Father give me a chance to design something? It’s always Charlie!

  “Absolutely,” Father said. “When I retire, I want to be sure my son …” He cleared his throat. “I mean, sons … will carry on. In fact, I’m hoping our business will become well known throughout the country. Perhaps you’ll open a shop in Boston, or New York—”

  Justin interrupted. “Maybe I could be in charge of one of them?”

  Charlie laughed. “And will you bring your goat with you? I can see it now. New York City. ‘Butterworth’s Jewelry’ in big letters.” He gestured grandly with his hands. “And a goat tied up by the doorway.”

  Everyone at the table burst out laughing—except for Justin. “I’m going out to check on Ticktock,” he grumbled. “And if I ever had a business, yes, I would bring her. She’s a lot better company than some people I know.” He picked up a lantern from the side table and headed out.

  “Don’t get that goat excited,” Father called after him. “Each time you go out there at night, she cries for an hour after you leave.”

  When Ticktock heard Justin coming, she ran to meet him. He set the lamp on the fence post and undid the latch. As soon as the gate opened, the little goat pushed her head under Justin’s arm.

  “You are my best friend, aren’t you, girl?” Justin whispered. “Did you hear them all laughing at me in there?” Justin put his cheek against Ticktock’s neck and the goat nibbled on his collar. Charlie makes me spitting mad, Justin thought. He’s such a bigwig with his sales pitch and his smooth talk. Father says Charlie will run the store someday. He doesn’t even consider that maybe I could be a jeweler. Nobody gives me a chance to do anything except sweep the floor. I’ll bet Charlie doesn’t know half as much as I do about geology and gemstones and their cleavage and refraction.…

  Justin rubbed his belly where Fingers had punched him. “And then there’s Poppy. Father and Charlie think I’m plumb loco to be bothered with her,” Justin said aloud. “Maybe I was stupid to go down to Conley’s Patch, but I was trying to do the right thing and not leave Poppy when those tough eggs showed up.” Justin sniggered when Ticktock’s tongue tickled his ear—but only for a second, because tears came rushing into his eyes. He fought to hold them back. No way would he cry. Only sissies and babies cried. He’d be called a sissy for sure if Charlie saw him crying.

  “I’ll be okay, Ticktock,” he murmured. “I’ll show them all someday … I’ll do something that will make them real proud—and sorry, too—for treating me like that.”

  “Justin?” Claire was standing by the fence. “Are you hungry? I brought you a pastry.”

  Had she heard what he’d been saying to Ticktock? “I’ve had enough pastries,” Justin said, “but thank you.”

  “Are you all right, Justin?”

  “I’m fine.” Justin jumped up and brushed off his hands. “I was just saying good night to Ticktock.”

  “She’s sweet and I can see why you love her.” Claire opened the gate, came into the enclosure, and then sat on the threshold into the shed. “Come here, Ticktock.” The little goat turned and headed to Claire to nuzzle her hand. “It looks like your goat wants the
pastry.”

  “Let her have it. I’m not hungry,” Justin said.

  Claire held it out and the goat took it eagerly but gently from her hand. “Good girl. Good, sweet little kid,” Claire crooned. Ticktock’s tongue flickered out, looking for more.

  “You did the right thing, staying with Poppy,” Claire said.

  “I know.”

  “Poppy shouldn’t be living down there. Did you go to her house?”

  “No. She insisted I leave. She said Ma Brennan would take care of her.”

  In the lamplight, Justin could see sadness in Claire’s face. “Poppy cried and told me all about her life when she was in my room. She doesn’t want to live with Ma Brennan. She wants to run away.”

  “Who’s Ma Brennan, anyway?”

  “Ma Brennan teaches girls to steal for her.” Claire stood up. “From what I’ve heard, Ma Brennan is a wicked woman.”

  “Poppy told me Ma Brennan beats her.” Justin swallowed the lump he felt in his throat. “I … I kind of feel sorry for her. She’s tough but …”

  “She’s had to be tough to survive. If that woman is Poppy’s guardian, the poor child hasn’t had much of a life. No wonder she fell apart when I gave her a dress. She’s never had any loving attention.”

  Justin felt a sick feeling in his stomach. “Do you think Poppy is a … pickpocket? Do you suppose she’d steal from us?”

  Claire put her arm around Justin’s shoulder. “I think Poppy is torn between wanting to do what’s right and having to do what’s wrong. I so wish I could help her.” Claire bent over and kissed her brother’s cheek. “You must be careful, Justin. You don’t know where this friendship with Poppy might lead you—especially if she lives under Ma Brennan’s thumb.”

  LATE MONDAY NIGHT,

  OCTOBER 2, 1871

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  - Poppy’s Safe Place -

  Poppy waited until she was sure everyone was asleep. Then, moving quietly, she rolled off the mattress and onto the floor where her clothes had been thrown.