by Jody Hedlund
Instead of lashing out, however, he pressed his forehead against hers and was silent.
The off-tune plunking of a piano came from inside the dance hall. The music blended with the distant wail of a baby from a nearby open tenement window, along with the shouts of an escalating argument. Such noises were so commonplace that she almost didn’t hear them anymore. And she almost didn’t notice the stench of the overflowing garbage bins at the end of the alley. After being homeless too many times to count, it was easy to become immune to the realities of street life.
Danny dropped a kiss onto the tip of her nose. “Fine, angel. We’ll wait.”
“You’re not too disappointed in me?” she asked.
“I knew you were as innocent as a babe from the first second I laid eyes on you.” He drew her closer again. “Beautiful and innocent.”
“I’m not that innocent.” She wasn’t sure why his statement irked her, except that as the youngest of her sisters, she’d always been viewed as the baby of the family. Everyone had tried to shelter her from the problems, had thought she was too young to understand what was going on, had ceased their worried whispers whenever she came into the room.
But she wasn’t a baby anymore. Not in the least. She’d had to grow up or give up. She’d had to do things to survive that would disappoint her sisters, things she didn’t like to think about, things that threatened to loosen her carefully concealed guilt.
Danny brushed a kiss against her cheek. “You’re an angel. My beautiful angel. And if you want, we can do things proper-like. We’ll get married.”
Married? She pulled back enough that she could see his face. Was he serious?
A sliver of light from the saloon crossed his face, illuminating his lopsided grin. “What? Don’t you believe me?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” They’d only known each other for a couple of weeks, since the night Anna had dragged her out of the tenement to celebrate their freedom. At first, Sophie hadn’t wanted to leave Olivia and Nicholas alone. But Anna had assured her the children would be safe, that they’d sleep and wouldn’t even notice their absence. After all, Mollie and the other women left their children alone all night while they worked the corners and brothels all along the Bowery.
Was two weeks long enough to know if she wanted to marry Danny?
“My ma keeps telling me I need to find a nice girl and get married,” he continued. “She said I ain’t getting any younger.”
Marriage to him would certainly take care of her housing problems. Thankfully, Mollie was kind enough and hadn’t kicked her or Anna out for their inability to pay for their lodging. However, Sophie knew the kindness wouldn’t last forever. Mollie needed to survive just like the rest of them. Sooner or later the young prostitute would need to find someone who could contribute to the tenement rent, and when she did, Sophie would find herself homeless once again.
Unless she married Danny. Then she’d finally have a home of her own.
How long had it been since she’d lived in a place she could truly call home? She supposed the tiny apartment above Father’s bakery after they’d moved to Kleindeutschland from Germany had been a sort of home, although they hadn’t lived there long before Father’s heart attack and death.
“So, what do you say?” Danny asked. “Let’s get married.”
Sophie hesitated. What about Olivia and Nicholas? Would he be willing to take them in too? She doubted most men would. “It’s a really nice offer,” she started.
“Nice?” His voice rose with incredulity. The muscles in his jaw flexed, and his shoulders stiffened. He started to take a step away from her, clearly offended by what he assumed was her rejection, but she grabbed on to his arm.
“I have to take care of my little brother and sister,” she said quickly, trying to soothe his wounded pride. “I can’t abandon them.”
“I heard those kids ain’t even yours.”
She shoved Danny’s chest, willingly pushing him away, her temper flaring as it usually did whenever anyone insinuated that Olivia and Nicholas weren’t hers. “They’re mine. And if you want me, then you get them too.” She jutted her chin and gave him her fiercest glower.
He glared back. Then his lips began to curl into a grin. “You’re one sassy girl.”
She shrugged. She supposed she was.
Before she knew what he was doing, he grabbed her arm and jerked her against him almost painfully. He locked one arm around her and at the same moment brought his mouth down upon hers. The kiss—if it could even be called that—was bruising, almost punitive. And when he released her mouth, his grip on her arm remained taut. “I like some sass in a woman,” he whispered against her ear. “But don’t ever forget who’s in charge.”
She didn’t respond, didn’t like his attitude, didn’t like how he was hurting her. But she was smart enough to know when to keep her mouth shut.
He loosened his hold and then brushed a hand gently across her cheek. “Don’t you worry now, angel. Two little kids don’t matter to me so long as they stay out of my way.”
His fingers on her cheek were clammy. She wanted to bat his hand away but sensed she’d pushed him far enough for one night. When he lowered his mouth to hers again, this time his kiss was gentle. She tried to make herself feel something for him, tried to ignore the warning clanging in her head, tried to tell herself she liked him and wanted to marry him. But the only emotion that seeped into her chest was hopelessness. It was a familiar visitor, yet unlike guilt, she couldn’t lock it away. Whenever it came, it took up residence and was difficult to dislodge.
“What do you say we get married next week?” Danny whispered.
So soon? The words almost escaped, but she bit them back. The truth was, she needed him. Maybe he wasn’t the perfect man. Maybe he wasn’t the kind of man she’d dreamed of marrying, but he was good enough. After all, he cared about her, wanted her, and thought she was beautiful. He had a steady job as a butcher. He’d give her a home and had offered to shelter Olivia and Nicholas. What more did she need?
“All right,” she said. “Let’s do it. Let’s get married next week.”
He grinned and picked her up in a hug so that her feet no longer touched the ground. He’d started to swing her around when the ringing of a distant bell stopped him short.
It was a fire alarm, the call to all volunteer firefighters to hurry to action.
Danny’s expression hardened. He set her down and jogged away, all thoughts of marriage clearly forgotten.
“Mugs and me’ll guard the plug,” he shouted to the Bowery Boys, who came out of the alley’s shadows. “The rest of you get the fire engine and round up the gang.”
The others rushed off to obey Danny’s orders while Mugs helped him dump over a garbage barrel and empty the contents onto the street. Carrying the barrel between them, they raced out of the alley.
Sophie had observed Danny’s brigade, the Dry Bones, put out a fire last weekend. The flames had engulfed an alley shack containing the overflow of people too poor to afford a tenement home. The shack had been a flimsy structure patched together with loose boards and hunks of metal, and it hadn’t been worth saving. But the volunteer firefighters had attempted to stop the spread to the tenements and businesses nearby.
“Let’s go watch,” Anna said excitedly, her dark hair and eyes gypsy-like compared to Sophie’s fair coloring. She grabbed Sophie’s hand and dragged her along after Danny and Mugs.
Sophie didn’t resist. She’d been fascinated at the last fire, watching the group of men arrive carrying their fire engine. They’d quickly unraveled the leather hoses and hooked them up to a small device on the street called a hydrant that contained pressurized water. With crews of men manning the hoses, the fire was much easier to put out than with the buckets of water that were still used in some areas that didn’t have the hydrants.
As Sophie and Anna ran down the Bowery trying to keep up with Danny and Mugs, the street grew noisier and more crowded the closer they drew to the fire. So
phie allowed Anna to guide her, weaving in and out of the onlookers, mostly hatless men and half-clad women who came out of the taverns and brothels to discover what was happening.
The bright light of the fire glowed above the rooftops, and when they turned a corner, Sophie recoiled at the sight of a two-story tavern with flames shooting out its lower level windows. Patrons stood outside a safe distance away, some gawking like spectators at a dogfight, others daring to go inside to rescue what they could.
Only a dozen paces from the corner was a hydrant, and Danny and Mugs were in the process of turning the empty garbage container upside down over the squat steel water source. When the barrel covered the hydrant, Danny hopped up onto the flat end and sat down.
Why was he blocking the hydrant instead of unplugging it and getting it ready for the hoses that would soon arrive? If they didn’t act soon, the fire would spread to the second floor of the building and perhaps to the other businesses connected to it. Every fire, no matter how big or small, had the potential to burn an entire city to the ground, especially since many old buildings were constructed of wood, not bricks.
From the opposite direction, a group of men wearing fire hats was fast approaching, hauling their engine.
“The Roach Guards!” Mugs shouted to Danny.
Danny nodded and squared his shoulders, his fingers closing around the bludgeon at his belt. Mugs had produced a lead pipe and held it poised to fight.
“I don’t understand,” Sophie said to Anna, who stood next to her. “What’s going on?” Anyone who lived in the city for even a short time learned the names of the gangs. The Roach Guards was a powerful Irish gang and a huge rival of the Bowery Boys. That much Sophie understood.
In fact, she could still remember the riots of two years ago in 1857, now referred to as the Dead Rabbits Riot, when massive gang wars and wide-scale vandalizing and looting had taken place throughout Manhattan. She’d been staying at Miss Pendleton’s Seventh Street Mission with her sisters the last summer they’d been together. While they’d remained safe inside the warehouse, the gangs had waged war until the National Guard and the Metropolitan Police started making arrests, finally bringing the rioting under control.
“The Dry Bones have staked their claim on the hydrant,” Anna said, the flames casting a glow upon her features. Her lovely face was animated, and her luminous brown eyes were dancing. She was a few inches taller than Sophie and pretty in a wild, untamed sort of way. “They want the right to put out the fire and will fight off the other brigades until the rest of the Dry Bones show up.”
“But the Roach Guards are already here. Does it really matter who puts out the fire as long as lives are saved?”
“It matters.”
The men of the Roach Guards moved rapidly in spite of the heavy load of their hose engine. Long fingers of firelight gyrated across the raised bludgeons, brickbats, clubs, axes, and other makeshift weapons they carried in addition to the firefighting equipment. At the sight of Danny and Mugs guarding the hydrant, several of the Roach Guards broke away from the rest and sprinted forward.
Sophie clutched Anna’s arm. “We need to get out of here.”
Anna nodded toward the corner they’d just turned. “Don’t worry. Our boys will be here soon enough to help with the fight.”
As the first two Roach Guards reached the hydrant and swung their clubs, Danny and Mugs beat them back.
Sophie sucked in a breath, her body tense, her mind urging her to move farther away. But her feet failed to cooperate.
The shouts of men from around the corner told Sophie the Dry Bones gang was fast approaching. But would they arrive in time to save Danny and Mugs? The rest of the Irish gang was almost upon the two and would easily overtake them. As if realizing the same, Danny withdrew his revolver, pointed it at the closest attacker, and pulled the trigger.
A shot rang out. The Roach Guard crumpled to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Only an instant later, Mugs aimed his revolver at the second attacker. Seeing what had happened to his companion, the other attacker started to retreat, lifted his arms to shield his head but was too late. Another shot exploded in the air. The Roach Guard’s legs buckled, and he fell to the ground.
Screams erupted, and onlookers scrambled to take cover, now more afraid of the gunshots than the raging fire.
Amidst the melee, Sophie couldn’t take her eyes off the gaping hole in the head of a young man no older than sixteen. Now lifeless, his blood stained the street. She was hardly aware that the Dry Bones brigade had surged from the corner until one of the men knocked into her, nearly sending her to the ground.
Within seconds, the warring gangs converged upon each other, their weapons and fists swinging.
Danny stood on top of the barrel, surveying the fight like a king. He held his smoking revolver in one hand and a bludgeon in the other. On the street beneath him lay the two Roach Guards, both unmoving and trampled in the fighting.
Nausea swirled in Sophie’s stomach. She knew Danny was a fighter. She’d witnessed him battering several men who’d provoked him. But take a life? She hadn’t wanted to believe he’d go that far, had clung to the possibility that maybe the Dry Bones weren’t as violent and deadly as was rumored. Yet how could she deny it any longer?
“Mugs!” Anna shouted and started toward Mugs, who’d been knocked to the ground near the barrel.
At the sound of Anna’s voice, Mugs lifted his head. “I’m fine, baby,” he called to her even though his nose was spouting blood.
More shouting and the distinctive snapping of police rattles echoed above the fighting.
“Get out of here!” Danny motioned toward Sophie and Anna.
He jumped from his perch and reached for Mugs, trying to help him to his feet.
Anna hesitated, watching the two men, the excitement from earlier replaced now with fear.
Danny glanced their way again, and seeing that they hadn’t moved, he shouted again. “What are you waiting for? Run and don’t let the leatherheads get you!”
The swell of people running from the scene pushed against Sophie. She stumbled but caught herself. The blaze from the leaping flames lit the street and the panic on the faces of those around her—men and women, like her, who had no desire to be anywhere near the crime when the police arrived.
With the momentum of the crowd carrying her along, she started to run at the mention of policemen. In the past, an encounter with one could have resulted in a charge of vagrancy and a trip over to Randall’s Island, which was out in the East River.
From the outside, the tree-ringed island looked pretty, even pleasant. But everyone knew that the institutions on Randall’s Island were nothing more than deathtraps. There were whispers that three out of four children who went to the unsanitary and overcrowded asylums there ended up dead. Some even said that common domestic animals were more humanely provided for than the almshouse inmates.
Sophie glanced over her shoulder only to see that several policemen had converged upon Danny and Mugs. Their leather helmets set them apart, as did their oak-handled rattles, which served as noisemakers as well as weapons.
“Don’t look back,” Anna said breathlessly, grabbing Sophie’s arm and falling into place next to her.
“Shouldn’t we do something to help them?” Sophie asked.
“The best thing we can do to help them is to disappear.”
“Disappear? Why?” Someone jostled Sophie, and she tripped. Only Anna’s hold kept her from going down.
“So that the Roach Guards don’t find us.”
“Why would the Roach Guards want us? We didn’t do anything.”
Anna released a humorless laugh. “If they catch us, they’ll use us to get Danny and Mugs to admit to killing two of their men.”
Fear crawled up Sophie’s spine, and she picked up her feet and ran faster. She might not be good at much, but running away was something she’d learned to do well.
Chapter 2
; “You have no choice,” Mollie said in a whisper that was thin and taut with anxiety. “You have to leave the city.”
Sophie peeked through the slit in the threadbare curtains to the street below. The light of dawn hadn’t broken through the tall tenement buildings, and the shadows of the passing night lingered. Through strings of laundry that still hung in the narrow corridor between buildings, she couldn’t see anyone on the street below, but that didn’t mean Roach Guard gang members were planning to leave them alone.
“You don’t think we’re safe hiding here for a few days?” Anna’s whisper was equally tight.
“Oh no, honey. You’re not safe anywhere in the city.” Mollie leaned against the door, not having moved since she’d arrived home thirty minutes ago. The fancy gown she’d donned at the beginning of the night was askew and wrinkled, the pretty coils in her hair were flat and lifeless, the rouge on her lips and cheeks faded.
If there had been even a hint of glamour when she’d left earlier, it was long gone. Instead, Mollie had dark circles under her eyes, made darker by the pallor of her skin. And her expression held an emptiness, as if every night she gave away more of herself. Perhaps eventually she’d have nothing left to give.
For prostitutes, the selling of their bodies night after night took its toll. Sophie had seen it often enough. Many of them turned to drinking to drown their guilt. Some were battered and bruised by their customers. Others succumbed to diseases. Whatever the case, very few of the women could stay fresh and pretty for long, and Mollie was no exception.
“The Roach Guards might not be on the lookout for you yet,” Mollie continued in a low whisper, attempting to keep from waking the children who were all still sleeping in the next room. “But once they realize the two of you were there, they’ll attempt to find you and make you testify against Danny and Mugs.”
