Indigo Sky

by Ingis, Gail

  “You’re welcome.” He nudged the driver who was slumped in a seat. “Take the buggy behind the building in case the rioters attack this place.”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry I lost it back there.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Come into the orphanage after you’ve hidden the horses and buggy, but don’t unhitch them. We may need to leave in a hurry.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Lord above, folks, get inside.” A tall man ran to them, waving his arms frantically. His white hair and full mustache contrasted with his ebony skin.

  Chapter 10

  Rork guided Leila toward the orphanage steps, but she stumbled on the uneven surface.

  Men in work clothes lounged against the fence surrounding the building, their hard stares filled with resentment.

  Leila pulled free from Rork’s grasp. “I can manage, thank you, Mr. Millburn.”

  Cornelia kept up with them, casting glances at the workmen. “Those men’s stares cut through us as though slicing us up for dinner.”

  Leila straightened her shoulders. “Ignore them. They’re clearly savages.” But her spine tingled, and fear coursed through her. She glanced up at the four-story brick building. The afternoon sun struggled through smoke and clouds, reflecting on small-paned windows the staff had shuttered.

  Rork took Leila and Cornelia’s arms and dragged the women into the building. Sweat ran down his face, and he loosened his stained ascot, expelling a long breath. “Damn that was close.” He put out his hand. “I’m Rork Millburn.” He turned to the women. “These are my companions, Mrs. Dempsey and Miss Hancock.”

  The man grasped his hand. “I’m Dr. James Smith.” He bowed to the women. “Ladies.”

  Cornelia smiled. “I’m so happy to meet you, Dr. Smith, albeit under horrible circumstances.”

  His brown eyes twinkled. “Ah, Miss Hancock. I received your letter volunteering your time to work with us. Come, let’s go to the sitting room.” He shut and bolted the door and walked down a passage. “Those poor men are not savages, Mrs. Dempsey. When President Lincoln declared the abolition of slavery, it shook the South’s economic foundations and started this senseless war. Now the Union needs soldiers, and they started drafting working class people.”

  Rork snapped open his handkerchief and mopped his face. “So that’s what the signs were about. I saw people carrying placards, but I was too busy to take note of what they said.”

  Dr. Smith brushed soot off his sleeve. “I don’t blame them for protesting. They say they’re being sold for three hundred dollars to buy rich men exemption from the war. Initially, they targeted government institutions, but I fear they are now out of control. They burned the New York Tribune. The owner, Horace Greely, is an avid abolitionist. He disapproves of rich men being able to buy their way out of the war.” He blew out his cheeks. “What is a concern is there seems to be growing antagonism toward colored people.”

  Children’s laughter filtered down the passage. Cornelia stared at the doctor, a hand to her throat. “They could attack the orphanage.”

  Deep creases furrowed his brow and bracketed his mouth. “I know, but I don’t want to cause panic.” He shook his head. “I’ve been the physician of this orphanage for almost twenty years, and I’ve never seen this level of violence. Excuse me, I need to see if the children in the yard are safe.”

  Rork followed the doctor. Leila and Cornelia quickened their pace to keep up. They stepped aside as staff herded children into the orphanage.

  A plump woman calmly called out orders. “Hurry along, children.” She caught the doctor’s eye and jerked her head toward the back door.

  He nodded. “It isn’t safe out there anymore,” he whispered to Rork. “We must get all the children in.”

  Leila stared at the chaos. “Surely it’s safe in the yard with that six-foot brick wall?” She looked at Rork. “Where is the driver and buggy?”

  He rubbed his cheek. “Hopefully, safe in the yard.” He waded into the crush of small bodies and scooped up children, carrying them inside.

  “Ladies, please ensure everyone is accounted for,” the doctor shouted above the excited chatter.

  Bile rose in Leila’s throat. She swallowed her fear and ran to assist a motherly woman as she ushered children through the doorway.

  Glancing at Leila and Cornelia, the nurse smiled as she spoke. “I’m Gertrude Adams, the matron. It’s good you’re here.”

  “What do you want us to do?”

  “Go to the hall on the second floor, seat the children for lunch, and count heads.”

  Leila nodded and hurried off with Cornelia.

  An hour later, they’d rounded up the children, counted heads, and fed them. The children chattered happily, unaware of the danger.

  Cornelia and Leila sank into a threadbare couch. Rork joined them and sat on the arm. “I believe we managed to gather all the children.” He glanced at them. “Thank God they don’t understand the dangers.” He chuckled. “In fact, they complained about not being allowed to continue playing in the yard.”

  Leila looked up at him, dabbing her face with a scrap of lace. “I don’t blame them for wanting to be outside. The heat is oppressive in here. Lord, I’d rather be outside.”

  Rork nodded and smiled. “Still keen on volunteering, Miss Hancock?”

  “More than ever. I think Dr. Smith and his staff offer an invaluable service to the public, and I want to be a part of it.”

  Leila sighed. “He said there have been attacks on many black folk. I don’t understand such hatred.”

  “I know, it’s terrible. And Dr. Smith has seen his fair share of hatred on account of his color.” Cornelia looked at the doctor, who was feeding a young boy. “He’s a truly good man.”

  Leila fanned her face with the sweat-soaked handkerchief. She was exhausted and desperately wanted to sink into her bed and sleep. She gazed at the children with longing. When she first married Hank, she’d dreamed of having children, but that dream was quickly crushed—Hank didn’t want children.

  A hand rested on her shoulder, jolting her from her dismal thoughts.

  “Are you all right, Mrs. Dempsey?” Dr. Smith asked, sinking into the chair opposite. He looked at Cornelia. “You also look pale, my dear.”

  Cornelia smiled. “I’m quite fine, thank you.”

  Leila lay back in the couch. “I think we’re just tired.”

  “You, on the other hand, look rather flushed, Mrs. Dempsey.” Dr. Smith patted her hands, clasped in her lap.

  Leila suppressed a laugh. That’s because Rork is sitting so close to me. “No need to worry about me. Do you think we’re safe here, Dr. Smith?” She was almost afraid to ask the question.

  “I don’t know. I heard reports of more riots breaking out all over the city. I pray we don’t become a target.”

  “Why would anyone do such a thing?”

  “I suppose they see this war as being the fault of colored folk. Other than that, not much is clear to me. I don’t know why people do the things they do.” Dr. Smith shook his head, full lips pressed into a hard line.

  Tears pooled in Leila’s eyes. “How can people even condone the practice of slavery? And I don’t understand how anyone can blame the souls who suffer it.”

  “Come, we have work to do.”

  The sound of breaking glass echoed through the hallway. A scream followed.

  Rork surged to his feet, grabbing Leila’s arm. A rock sailed through the window, hitting the wall near her head. He dropped to the floor, taking her with him. She fell to her knees, shielded by his huge frame.

  Dr. Smith pulled Cornelia down and crawled to the broken window and peered out. “My God!”

  They all scrambled to the window on their knees and peered over the sill. Leila suppressed a cry.
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  A mob surrounded the orphanage. People crawled over the high wall, shouting, wielding torches, and throwing rocks as they stormed the building.

  “What do we do?” Leila quavered.

  “Gather the children. We must get them out,” Dr. Smith yelled. Hunched over, he ran to them. Cornelia followed.

  Hand clasped to her mouth, Leila watched more people crawl over the wall.

  Rork shook her. “They mean to set the building on fire. We must help Dr. Smith get the children out.”

  “Yes, of course.” She jumped to her feet. “Oh God, there are too few of us. We’ll never get them all out,” she sobbed.

  “Leila.” Rork said sharply. “Look at me.” She met his steady eyes. “Breathe, calm down. You don’t want to instill fear in the children.”

  Rork’s deep, calm voice steadied her. Acrid smoke filled the hall, and Leila coughed.

  “They’ve set fire to the building.”

  “Leila, let’s go. Get the children out.”

  Shards from shattered windows lay on the floor. Thick smoke billowed around them.

  “Crawl,” said Rork.

  She crawled. Keep calm.

  Chills ran up and down her spine, as though ice enveloped her. She held her head down. The children copied her. Smoke filled her view. Tears ran from her eyes.

  She could hear the crackle of paint chipping.

  “Keep down . . . keep moving,” Rork shouted. “Head for the stairs.” A child clung to his neck. Two under each arm. He looked at them. “Hold tight.”

  Windows were broken. Stones were scattered. Leila crawled faster as she clasped crying children. She looked up. Flames blocked their way. “Rork, look,” she croaked, smoke clawing at her throat.

  “Damn. This way.”

  Crawling, she pushed ahead. Children followed.

  A child emerged with a bloodied forehead.

  Leila said, “Child, here, now!”

  She turned to Rork’s ghostly figure.

  “Leila, move!”

  A boy ran past, screaming. Rork reached out and grabbed his tattered shirt. He held onto the wriggling child.

  “Hang on,” Rork said.

  The boy nodded, his mouth quivering.

  “Hurry,” said Rork.

  Nodding, he wet his lips. “I’m scared.”

  “We’ll be safe,” said Leila.

  “Stay together,” Rork said in a husky voice.

  They stood and raced downstairs. They reached ground level with three more children.

  “Keep together. Crawl.”

  The smoke grew thicker.

  Children’s eyes were tearing. They coughed and gasped for air.

  Rork hollered above the roar, “Get to that door!”

  The injured girl wound her arms around Leila’s neck, weeping. Rork turned to Leila who crouched low beside him. “When we get near the door, run like hell.”

  She nodded.

  Rork coughed. “Run when you hear ‘three.’”

  “Yes,” Leila said in a muffled voice.

  “One, two, three!” Rork jumped up.

  Leila followed with her charges and raced through the smoke. She hoped freedom and fresh air were close.

  “Keep together!” Rork yelled. Children stumbled. He opened a wooden door, and smoke billowed in. “Drop to the ground!” he growled.

  Leila crouched, her heart thundering in her ears. She moved forward, cursing the long skirt.

  “Get down, move.” Leila said, her throat burning.

  An eternity passed. They reached the end of the narrow hallway. She looked back to ensure they were all still together and silently prayed they’d make it out.

  Fire crackled and hissed.

  Something slammed into Leila. The force threw her and the children forward. She twisted her head. Rork was on top of her, his face a fraction from hers. A burning beam fell behind them and sent sparks flying, missing them by inches. Her eyes widened.

  “Go!” Rork roared. “For God’s sake, hurry! The whole roof is about to cave in!”

  She stumbled forward frantically, dragging children with her. “Hurry, we’re really close,” she said, her throat sore and tight.

  “Let’s go.” Rork scooped up children.

  With superhuman strength, Leila did the same. Stumbling through the burning debris, they headed for the open door. Leila fought for air, her throat and eyes afire.

  The doctor and his staff appeared from the murky surroundings and took the children from them. “We need to get out of here!” he said hoarsely. “Take cover behind the shrubbery. We don’t want them to see us.”

  Once outside, Rork ran to the bushes and dropped to one knee. Leila followed him, brushing tangled hair from her face. He laughed. “You look like a chimney sweep.”

  Leila smiled tremulously. “So do you.”

  She looked around and then stared at Rork. “Where is Cornelia?”

  Chapter 11

  Keeping to the shadows of the shrubbery, Rork scanned the chaotic scene, backlit by orange and blue flames.

  “I see Cornelia. She’s with the children, behind Dr. Smith. We need to get to the gates without being noticed.”

  “Listen, Rork,” said Leila, “The fire trucks . . . Oh God, I pray they can save the building.”

  Rork touched Leila’s cheek. “Can you make it to the gate?”

  She nodded. “How can they be so cruel?” she cried, holding her throat.

  “Mobs turn into vicious beasts, losing direction and control.” Rork said as he moved in the shadows, avoiding the crowd.

  A short distance away, Dr. Smith, Cornelia, and the staff urged frightened children away from the conflict.

  Rork supported Leila and hurried to them. He looked back. Flames leapt high, seeming to touch the underbelly of roiling storm clouds. It was like a scene from hell.

  “We need to get the children further away before the crowd attacks us,” Dr. Smith said, running a hand over his soot-stained face.

  Rork narrowed his eyes as the mob surged toward them. “We’d better make it quick, wherever we take them.”

  The children screamed as the mob closed in. An Irish immigrant stepped out from among them and faced the angry crowd, arms spread. His voice rang out above the pandemonium. “If there is a man among you with a heart, help these poor children.”

  “Ya damn turncoat!” a rioter yelled and brought a stick down on the brave man’s shoulders. Then the mob fell on him.

  “Bastards!” Rork roared and moved to help him.

  Dr. Smith grabbed his arm. “Don’t do it. We must get the children away,” he shouted above the noise.

  “They’ll beat him to death. I cannot stand by and watch that happen.”

  Dr. Smith took Rork’s shoulders. “They will also kill you and then probably us and the children.”

  Rork’s mouth tightened. “Fine, let’s get the hell out of here!” Moving with as much speed as possible, they herded the children away from the orphanage. “Where will you take them?”

  “Thirty-Fifth Street Police Station for now. I’ll relocate them to the alms house on Blackwell’s Island when this madness ceases.” Dr. Smith smiled. “That’s where they originally lived.”

  Except for the children’s whimpers, they conducted a hasty retreat in silence. Rork kept his arm around Leila. The panicked whinnies and screams of distressed horses ripped into his brain. The mob had surrounded the buggy and beat the horses. Dear God, they have truly gone mad. The driver broke free and disappeared down the street.

  When they reached the police station, they heard reports of atrocities committed around the city. A constable shook his head. “The mobs were killing colored people unfortunate enough to get in their
way. They’re beating and burning the abolitionists and their homes. God knows where it will end.” He shut the doors and guided them to the back of the station. “How many children do you have, Dr. Smith?”

  He sank onto a bench. “Two hundred and thirty-three. We got them all out, thank God.” He glanced at Rork, Leila, and Cornelia. “I will be forever grateful for your help. Were it not for your assistance, we would have lost some.” He stood and took Cornelia’s hand. “You were courageous, Miss Hancock. I know you’ll be an asset to our orphanage, if and when we rebuild.”

  Cornelia smiled. “Please call me Cornelia. And we will rebuild. I have contacts, and I’ll ensure they donate to your worthy cause.”

  “I will donate,” Leila said, coughing.

  Rork patted her back. “We need to get to the hotel. I’m sure news of the riots has reached Hank by now, and he’ll be anxious about you.”

  Leila shook her head and mumbled, “I doubt it.”

  Rork silently agreed with her and turned to Cornelia. “Are you coming with us?”

  “I need to fetch my luggage.” She put her hand on Dr. Smith’s arm. “I’ll return as soon as I’ve bathed and changed.”

  He hugged her. “Stay at the hotel. It isn’t safe for you anywhere else. I’ll call you when we’re settled at the alms house.”

  “You need me.”

  He smiled. “I promise I’ll call you. The alms house has limited accommodations for staff.”

  She nodded. “Very well.”

  “How can we get to our hotel?” Rork asked the constable.