River of Fire

by Darrell Case

  Chapter 10

 

  Victoria waited until Adam's cab was out of sight before she began the twenty-five block walk to her aunt's house. Leaving the safety of the station, the shadows seemed to reach for her. The quickest way was through one of the worst areas in Chicago but she shuddered at the thought. She had only walked five blocks when she heard running feet and then somewhere up ahead, she heard a woman's screams. Diving into the shadows, she huddled against a building. Two figures ran past; a man and a woman. The woman's dress was torn; the man chasing her was clutching a large knife.

  A glimpse in the street light showed the horror on the woman's face. She screamed again. Victoria stifled a scream of her own. Then the couple was gone. She waited a full two minutes and hurried on.

  She longed for Adam's protection but she reminded herself she couldn't trust anyone, with the exception of Aunt Gertie.

  Dear sweet Aunt Gertie. When Victoria's mother had died, her father's widowed sister was her only living relative. Working in a sweatshop, she barely made a living for herself but she still took on the task of raising the orphaned girl.

  Stepping over a drunk sprawled in her path, Victoria cautiously walked on. Each time that she saw someone coming her way, she would slip into the shadows until they were past. Pressing against the building, she tried to make herself invisible. She held her breath, lest the sound betray her position; waiting until they were swallowed up in the gloom.

  The wind whipped around corners and howled down the streets, the sound chilling her to the bone. She had forgotten how frigid the gales off Lake Michigan could be. She tugged at her ragged coat. The wind found its way into the small tears and rips at the seams. Tears stung her eyes and blurred her vision. She thought of the warm coat in the mercantile.

  She had given her best to the people of Pottsville. She would often work several hours after school, cleaning, painting, and redecorating the classroom. Victoria purchased small gifts as rewards for her students; she even paid for books when the child's parents could not afford material themselves. She never complained about the lumpy mattress on her bed. She slept on the well-worn couch cushion in her room, often waking with a backache from tossing and turning during the night. Victoria had even set aside personal time to coach some students who were slower in their reading.

  And what did they do? They lied about her, they stole her mother's broach. Then they falsely accused her of whipping one of her students and put her in jail!

  From now on she would view each person's actions with suspicion. Everyone would have to prove themselves worthy of her trust.

  Suddenly feeling conviction for her thoughts, she heard her mother's voice softly whisper to her heart: 'Victoria, there's no doubt some very bad people are in this world, as well as very good. Never let the bad sour you on the good.'

  Adam was one of the good; she just knew it in her heart!

  She was within two blocks of her aunt's house when a tall, hulking figure ran out of the shadows of the alley beside her. He was moving fast, very fast. He was coming her way! Victoria picked up her pace, walking faster and faster. Her pulse hammered in her ears.

  She looked back. He was motioning to her, waving wildly and saying something she could not hear. Nor did she care! Terror filled her heart and made her feel faint. The voice sounded familiar but she could not take a chance. She fairly flew down the street. He was right behind her.

  Crying out, she picked up her dress and ran. In front of her aunt's house, she tripped on the root of a tree. She fell headfirst on the ground, ripping the hem of her petticoat and skinning her knees. Glancing behind her, she screamed. He was practically on top of her, reaching out to grab her. Desperately rolling over on her back, she kicked and shoved his hands away.

  He said something she didn't understand. Scrambling to her feet, she limped through the old iron gate. Shaken and confused, she felt blood running down her leg. The gate creaked again. He was coming after her! Finally reaching the rickety porch of her aunt's house, she felt a sense of relief wash over her.

  Grasping the rusty doorknocker, she banged it as hard as she could. She dared not look behind her. She heard his shoes crunching in the snow as she pounded on the door with her fist.

 

  As the cab rounded the corner a block from the station, Adam leaned out the window.

  "Let me out here, driver," he said.

  The man frowned.

  "Here sir? But I just picked ye up."

  He hurried on, afraid of losing his fare. "You're not likely to find another carriage this time o'night."

  "Yes, I know." Adam said, opening the door. "This will do nicely."

  "As ye wish sir," the driver said, reining the gelding to the curb. Before the carriage stopped rolling, Adam jumped out. Shoving the full fare into the man's hand, he disappeared into the shadows.

  "Thank ye sir. Merry Christmas to ye, sir!" the man shouted over his shoulder. Quickly he drove the horse back in the direction he came, hoping to find another late night fare. He didn't notice the young girl hurrying past.

  As the light of the single street lamp fell across Victoria's face, Adam saw fear mingled with determination. Waiting until she was half a block ahead, Adam followed her. Victoria's small figure brought a pang of pity to his heart. 'Lord, heal Victoria's heart. She's so deeply wounded. Help her to feel your love.'

  Ahead of him, a woman screamed. Instantly, Adam was alert. Victoria hugged a nearby building as a man and woman ran past, the woman's face a mask of fear. The man raised a butcher knife, ready to strike. The street lamp illuminated the scene of horror.

  As they ran past, Adam swung his fist into the man's face, breaking his nose. The man fell as though he had hit a brick wall. His feet flew out from under him and the knife clattered to the ground. Picking it up, Adam threw it down the alley. He nudged the man with the toe of his boot; the guy was out cold. Unaware of her protector, the woman ran on, still crying.

  A few blocks down the street, Victoria stepped over a drunk. The prone man made a grab for her foot. Moving quickly behind her, Adam grasped the drunk's wrist. In the brief struggle, he lost sight of Victoria. Panicking, he cut through an alley, then coming out from between two buildings, he looked both ways. Not seeing her, Adam ran down another alley. Breathing heavily, he emerged on the sidewalk a few feet behind her.

  Terror touched her face. He called out her name, hoping she would remember his voice. She didn't and she only ran faster. 'She doesn't know it's me. Then again, maybe she does.' Adam saw Victoria trip and cry out in pain. He ran forward and attempted to help her up.

  "Victoria, I'm so sorry," he said softly. He held out a hand but in the darkness but she could not see his face. She batted it away.

  Regaining her footing, she limped through a gate that led to a ramshackle house and began pounding on the door. Adam started to open the gate then thought better of it. He stepped back into the shadows cast by a huge tree.

  'Adam Wakefield, you fool. You try to protect her and all you end up doing is scaring her half to death,' he rebuked himself. He waited until the door opened.

  "Victoria!" a small round woman cried, wrapping Victoria in her arms. Pulling her inside, the woman closed the door.

  Adam hesitated. Maybe he should go explain himself. Looking at his pocket watch, he was shocked at the time. The hour was way past for him to meet the head deacon. Charging down the street, he sprinted the remaining blocks to the church. He skidded to a halt.

  Market Street was rumored to be the most expensive church in Chicago. Adam believed it. Even in the moo
nlight, the building was impressive. The members bragged the stained-glass windows alone cost more than most church buildings. The spire reached to the sky, topped by a gold cross. On clear days, it could be seen for miles. Ships on Lake Michigan used the cross to guide them. The tolling of its handmade bells had become a landmark. It was said you could set your watch by them. The stone steps leading up to the church reminded Adam of a small hill. Directing his attention to his left, he saw what appeared to be a small mansion.

  "Surely that can't be the parsonage!" Adam remarked. His eyes took in the gleaming columns, the ornate carvings at the roof, and the lead-etched windows. The house reached three stories and was topped by a widow's walk.

  At that moment, the double doors to the mansion burst open. A man with a stern expression barreled down the steps from the house his black waistcoat flying. The man stopped just short of running over Adam.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  RIVER OF FIRE