Fire: Chicago 1871 (8 page)

Standing alone, Julie felt a new fear slide upward along her spine. She let people stream around her, bumping her shoulders as they passed, sometimes cursing her for blocking their way. Then she began to walk again, slowly, filing onto the outer walkway of the bridge, suddenly aware of the worn planks beneath her feet. They were covered with drifting black ash. The river below her was wide and dark—much wider than it had seemed earlier when she and her father had crossed this bridge. Maybe Nate would be back in a few minutes. She said a silent prayer that he wouldn't just leave her here.

“Get out of the way!”

The shout was close and angry, and Julie spun around. There was a tall man carrying a squealing piglet. He was glaring at her. She stepped out of his way, and he went by slowly, catching her eye and grinning. Julie was so unnerved by his sudden smile that it took her a moment to even notice the woman who walked close behind him, her head down, her hair in strings across her face.

As the couple went on, Julie stopped and bit at her lip, trying to calm herself. She would just cross the bridge as Nate had told her to do. She would wait for him for a while, and if he didn't come. . . .

Julie pulled in a deep breath. The end of the Madison Street Bridge opened into Conley's Patch. It was the last place she wanted to be on this awful night. She looked back across the bridge at the traffic on Canal Street. Everyone was running from the fire.

As she started walking again, Julie heard shouts and screams. A ship was ablaze on the west bank. Its rigging burned like straw in the wind, falling, kindling a fire on the deck. Julie could hear the captain shouting orders to his men, but the wind lashed at the flames, and they were spreading fast.

Julie felt a sudden hand on her shoulder and
wrenched away. She glanced sidelong at the crowd. Whoever had touched her was either gone or had no further interest in her. The faces around her were blank, flushed with heat. Julie realized that people were quieter now, most of them walking in silence.

On the east end of the bridge, Julie worked her way to the edge of the crowd until she could stop. She stood on her tiptoes, straining to see farther down Madison Street. The foot traffic was thick, slowing as it had on the other side. People had to maneuver around belongings stacked in the streets.

Julie stood, scanning faces as people came onto the bridge. Why would they be heading toward the fire? Maybe they had relatives on the west side, living in sections where the fire hadn't spread yet. Her uncle Jack lived out on the west edge of the city. Would the fire spread that far? She shuddered.

Cinders and ash were dropping from the sky, then scudding along the ground, tumbled by the wind. The night was lit by the fire, pink and orange, like a false dawn. Julie looked downriver, and her stomach clenched. There were flames on this side of the river now—in the South Division. She heard a man shout, and turned to see him pointing at the new fire.

“That's the Parmelee Building. They don't even have it finished yet. God, what a shame.” His companion nodded, and they stood a moment, staring. Then they went on, joining the uneasy parade of people crossing the bridge.

Julie pressed back against the guardrail as another wagon full of wounded people rolled past. Just behind it came a fancy rig, driven by a uniformed coachman. Julie tried to see in the carriage windows—perhaps it was someone she knew, someone who could help her get home. But she didn't recognize the carriage, and the unfamiliar faces inside the windows were all turned back toward the fire, eyes wide. Julie could see a girl gesturing, laughing as the driver sped up to cross the dark chasm of Conley's Patch as quickly as possible.

As the carriage wheeled past her, Julie involuntarily took three or four steps, following it. She felt, somewhere beneath her fatigue and her fear, a strange sense of being out of place. She did not belong on this dirty roadway by herself, her dress filthy and her feet aching. She stared down at the river, the sweet, heavy smell of the water rising to tickle her nose. Her throat ached fiercely, and she wished for a cool glass of water.

“Better be careful, miss,” a rough voice said, so close that Julie whirled around, frightened. The man who had grinned at her was standing there, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at her shoes, then up to meet her eyes again. “Shame about that fancy dress.”

Julie could feel her heart thudding. “You startled me.”

“And I suppose that's a crime where you come from, miss?” The narrow eyes became slits.

Julie wondered where the woman had gone. “It is a crime to bother people in the streets,” she said. She meant to sound haughty, the way her mother always did when someone inconvenienced her. But instead, she sounded whiny and scared.

“My woman would give anything for a frock trimmed fancy like the one you have on,” the man said, and for an instant his expression was wistful. Then it hardened again. “You'd best come along with me.”

Julie shook her head, trying to back up, but his hand shot out, dirty fingers closing around her arm. His grip was painfully tight, and he steered her along, forcing her to walk fast. She tried to pull free, but he held on, talking fast.

“Now don't you be frightened. I won't hurt you. I just want whatever reward your parents are going to pay to get you home safe.”

Julie screamed, and three or four people paused midstep, then went on. She struggled, wrenching back and forth, but the man only shifted his grip a little and kept her walking. No one who passed seemed to notice. Their eyes were on the fires.

Just off the bridge, the man turned Julie to the right and pushed her along an alleyway. Julie could see the sad-faced woman standing at the far end. She was holding the piglet now. It wriggled in her arms.

“Hurry up,” the woman called. “Someone is going to see.”

“No one so much as spoke up when she screamed back there,” the man said flatly. “They all have their own worries tonight.”

Julie walked four or five paces without struggling, letting her shoulders sag. His grip loosened a little. Abruptly, she whirled and tried to run. The man caught her, spinning her around as though they were dancing.

The woman laughed. “Sweetheart, there is just no use in trying to get away. You are our blessing.
There has to be some good comes from all this.” The woman waved one hand in a vague gesture that encompassed the dirty alley, Conley's Patch, the fire.

Julie tried to run again, but the man stopped her. She felt a scream rising in her throat, but it sank again. The man was right. People weren't going to help her; they wouldn't even notice that she needed help.

“Just come along with us,” the woman said. She turned to lead the way, and Julie saw a low door set into the end of the alley she hadn't noticed before. The man pushed her through it, and Julie stood uncertainly in the darkness. She could hear them both breathing, then a candle flared to life and she could see the room they had brought her into.

At the sudden light, two rats bolted, disappearing into a hole in the wall. There were sleeping pallets on the floor, three soiled mattresses with tattered blankets on top of each one. Julie's eyes flooded. “I want to go home.”

“And that is exactly what you are going to do,” the woman said. “Just not quite yet.”

Suddenly, Julie heard the courthouse bell begin to toll. Usually, it called the volunteer firemen to their
posts, ringing for less than a minute, then fading to silence. This time, it kept tolling, the huge bell hammering out the fire warning like a frantic voice in the night.

◊ ◊ ◊

Nate stood, braced against the wind, trying to catch his breath. The smoke wasn't as thick here, but it still burned his throat and made him cough. He had run as far and as fast as he could, dodging wagons and people, jumping up onto the boardwalk, then leaping down again—and none of it had done any good.

The driver had kept the horses at a canter all the way across Conley's Patch, then down into the decent part of the South Division. Nate had chased the wagon onto La Salle Street, then had fallen farther and farther behind as the driver had whipped the horses into a full gallop on the nearly empty street. Finally he had lost sight of the wagon altogether.

He turned back, feeling sad and alone. He shivered, hunching his shoulders and pulling his collar tight. Here, away from the fire, the wind was cool, almost chilly. It was dusky, too, the ruddy light of the fire much dimmer.

Nate shook his head angrily. Ryan might get help, but most likely there wouldn't be enough beds or doctors for all the people who needed them tonight. Nate kicked at a pebble. If he could have caught up, he could have made sure that Ryan got water and a blanket—that at least he would be warm.

Nate looked once more in the direction the wagon had gone, then turned back. Still breathing hard, he hurried down La Salle Street. The clanging of the courthouse bell startled him. It continued to ring like a metallic pulse as Nate turned onto Madison.

At the bridge, Nate slowed, expecting to see Julie's bright yellow plaid dress among the drabber colors, but she wasn't there. He started back across the river, watching everyone who came toward him from the Canal Street side. Maybe she had stopped right where he had left her and would see him coming. A few minutes later, he had to admit to himself that she wasn't on the bridge at all.

Nate pulled in a long breath. He had made a terrible mistake in leaving Julie, and he knew it. She had no idea how to take care of herself, and he had put her in grave danger. He pictured her walking with her chin high, her eyes full of anger at him. But then
what had happened? Had she been foolish enough to walk right off the bridge into Conley's Patch? She would have to be the most sheltered girl in the city not to know what a rough, dangerous place it could be, especially at night. He shook his head. He never should have left her alone.

Turning, he noticed the flames on the east side of the river. There were six or seven men lined up at the guardrail. Two of them wore police uniforms. Another had on the belted rubber coat of a fireman.

Nate walked closer, excusing himself, then waiting until the fireman turned to face him. “Where would be a safe place to go, sir?” Nate asked.

The man looked at him gravely. “The parks, if you can't get any farther. Some are fleeing the city altogether. Do you have a wagon?”

Nate shook his head, stunned. “Is it all going to burn, then?”

The fireman shrugged, and Nate noticed his swollen eyelids. His skin looked boiled. “We were just trying to decide that for ourselves. Most of us seem to think so.”

Nate glanced involuntarily to the west, back toward Randolph Street and the boardinghouse.
“You don't think they are going to be able to stop the flames, sir?” he asked, unable to take in the idea of the whole city burning.

“Get whoever and whatever you love to the lakeside, or one of the parks, son. There's not a minute to lose.”

The men began talking again. Nate stood numbly for a few seconds, then started running. He had to find Julie, then he had to get home. Somehow, he had to manage both.

Julie shook her head, crossing her arms. “No. I won't do it.” She was scared, but she tried to keep her voice from shaking.

“Yes, you will,” the woman hissed at her. “You'll say we saved you and that you are very grateful to us both.”

Julie watched as the piglet nosed through a pile of corn husks in the corner of the room. It had taken Julie a long time to understand why these people would have brought an animal inside, but once she thought about it, it made perfect sense. They had no pen for the piglet because it wasn't theirs. They had stolen it.

“You'll do what we tell you to do,” the man said.
He had a softer face than the woman's and he scared Julie less. But he listened to the woman and seemed to go along with whatever she said.

Julie pulled in a deep breath. “My father doesn't keep money in our home.” She tried to make herself sound calm. She didn't think they would hurt her, but they might. She wrinkled her nose. More than anything, she wanted to get out of this stinking room. She wanted to go home. Her parents would be frantic.

“If he has no money close to hand, he can just go get some,” the woman said angrily. She leered into Julie's face. “He owes us something. You could have fallen into the river if Ned hadn't brought you here. Or you could have gotten into far worse trouble trying to get home alone.”

Julie moved away, glancing back and forth between them. The woman looked as bitter and mean as anyone she had ever seen. The man's face was blank. Julie wasn't sure what to do. But if they did take her home, her father would know how to handle them.

“I want to go now,” Julie said abruptly. “Right now, or I won't say you saved my life.”

“Ned?” The woman kept her eyes on Julie.

“Where do you live?” he asked.

Julie thought about lying, then decided to tell the truth. What was the point in deceiving them? They weren't going to let her go without talking to her father first, anyway. She looked into the woman's eyes. “On Michigan Avenue.”

“By the Tremont?” the woman asked sharply.

“No, by the lake,” Julie told her.

“A town house? Your father is richer than I thought.”

The woman glanced at Ned. He was looking at the pig. “What'll we do with the—”

“We'll leave the animal here,” the woman snapped at him. “We can figure out what to do with it later.” The woman jammed a tawdry hat onto her head and started toward the door. As she passed Julie, she caught her hand and pulled her along. Julie tried to resist, but it was impossible. The woman's grip was incredibly strong. Ned took Julie's other hand.

Sandwiched between them, Julie stepped outside. The smoky wind swirled around them as they came up out of the alleyway and turned east on Madison Street. Julie wrinkled her nose. They both smelled of tobacco and sweat.