Poppy, taken by surprise, lost her balance and fell. She giggled as Ticktock continued to push and playfully ram against her. Without a second thought, Poppy reached out, put her arms around the wiggly goat, and buried her face into Ticktock’s bristly coat.
“I love you, Ticktock,” she whispered.
I’ll never let anyone hurt you, she promised silently.
A little later Claire brought a pillow and blanket out to the goat barn. “Don’t worry. No one saw me, nor do they know you’re out here.” She softened the fresh hay and covered Poppy with the quilt. “After tonight I’ll find you a safe place to stay,” she promised. “But for now you’ll be fine right here.”
“Why are you bein’ so nice to me?” Poppy asked. “Your pa knows I’m not … a good girl.”
“Deep inside, you are a good girl, Poppy. You’re a jewel.”
Poppy bowed her head. “Ma told me I was a good girl when I stole things for her.”
“No one ever explained to you that stealing is wrong, Poppy. You never knew that you hurt people when you steal from them.”
“I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Claire said. “And that tells me that you’re a good girl. And now that you know it’s wrong, you can stop stealing. I’ll help you, Poppy. I promise.” Claire gave Poppy a kiss on the cheek. “Good night, dear.”
“Good night, Miss Claire,” Poppy said.
“Just call me Claire. After all, we’re best friends, aren’t we?”
Poppy nodded and snuggled under the blanket.
After Claire tiptoed back to the house, Poppy called softly to the goat. “Come here with me, Ticktock. I don’t want to be alone.”
Ticktock came into the little barn and curled up on the floor next to the bed of hay where Poppy was lying. No more stealing? It was a scary thought. How else could she live? I didn’t think I was hurting anyone when I stole. It just didn’t matter. But now that I almost have a family … now it does matter. She sighed, turned her cheek to the cool, sweet-smelling pillow, and closed her eyes.
It was still dark when Poppy heard Ticktock’s bell ringing loudly and then felt someone shaking her. She sat up and squinted in the darkness.
Sheila was sitting on the hay. “Ma’s had me watchin’ you, Poppy. I even saw you eatin’ dinner at the Butterworths’.” She laughed. “You sat right at their fancy table … but I see they kicked ya out here to the goat barn rather than let ya sleep in their house.”
“Why are you here? Ma said I had till Friday to get the key.”
“I know. She wants ya to come to Conley’s Patch in the mornin’. If ya don’t show up, she’ll come and getcha herself—and you can say good-bye to that little beast of a goat. Ma’s got plans for that animal.” Sheila pulled the blanket off Poppy. “It’ll be light soon, so ya better come with me now.”
“But I don’t wanna, Sheila. I wanna stay here—even if I do sleep in a goat barn. It’s better than sleeping on that dirt floor with the noise and the dog fightin’ and yellin’ that goes on all night.”
“Listen, just do what Ma wants. Get her a key to the jewelry store and then you can leave and do whatever ya wants. She just needs the key so’s they can rob the store without any noise or trouble.” She yanked Poppy by the arm. “Get up now!”
“No!” Poppy pulled away. “I’m not going with you.”
Sheila put her face close to Poppy’s. “All right, then I’ll bring the goat instead.” The dawn was brightening now and Poppy realized that Sheila had a rope in her hand. “I brought this so I can lead your friend here back to Ma’s. The dogs in the pits might like to make mincemeat out of this goat.”
The pits! Where dogs fight other dogs or animals viciously? Where every night she heard the dogs yelping in pain as the gamblers cheered them on, usually to their death? No! She’d never let that happen to Ticktock.
“Don’t you touch this goat!” Poppy yelled, then put her hand over her mouth. “I’ll come with you, Sheila, but please leave the goat here,” she said, lowering her voice.
“Come on, then.” Sheila yanked Poppy by the hand, dragging her out of the paddock and down to the main street.
WEDNESDAY MORNING,
OCTOBER 4, 1871
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- Who’s to Blame? -
Justin had thought all night Tuesday about ways to pay the store—and Father—the difference between a silver chain and a fourteen-karat white-gold chain. He wondered how he could ever explain the mistake.
Still, he thought Charlie should have recognized that the watch chain was white gold instead of silver. He was the great jewelry designer and the king of salesmen, wasn’t he?
There was no way around it. The fault was really Justin’s. He had rushed to finish tagging the chains, and he had made the mistake. He’d have to own up to it and face the consequences.
When Justin walked through the jewelry store door that morning—school was off that day for teacher meetings—Charlie, who was behind a counter, put up both hands and shook his head.
“Father discovered the chain is missing,” Charlie whispered. “He’s upset, Justin.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. It’s up to you to explain what happened—not me. He wants to see you in his office right away.”
Justin took a deep breath and headed to the back of the store, where his father was working on the books. He looked up when he saw Justin. “Did you know there’s a chain missing? A fourteen-karat white-gold chain? Do you know where it is?”
Justin hesitated, trying to find a way to deflect the blame. “No, Father, I … don’t know … Er … it was here yesterday when I tagged it.” If Father thinks it was stolen … well, he wouldn’t blame me, would he? Sure, that’s the way to go … just let Father think someone stole it.
“Are you telling me someone came into the store and no one was around to keep an eye on things? Where were you? Where was Charlie? This shop should never be open when there’s no one to watch over the jewelry. Why, any street kid could come in here and steal—” Father suddenly stopped speaking and slammed a fist onto the worktable. “A street kid. Of course! It’s that little thief you brought into our house—that Poppy. She’s the one who stole that chain!”
At first Justin was speechless. Sure, Poppy was a street kid from Conley’s Patch, but there was no reason to believe … “Oh, no, Father … Poppy wasn’t even in the store—”
Father interrupted Justin. “Don’t try to protect her, Justin. We both know who stole that watch chain. Don’t we?”
“I don’t think Poppy would …”
“Of course she would … and she did! Who else could it be? Poppy knows the store. You’ve had her in here before. Claire brings her into our house and gives her clothes and food! I said a wild thing like Poppy would bite the hand that feeds her, and she has! That’s the thanks we get for being nice to that … street urchin!”
Charlie came into the room. “What’s going on?”
“You go back out into the showroom right now,” Father ordered, “before someone else comes in and robs us.”
Charlie looked puzzled. “Father, if I have to leave the showroom, I always lock the front door. What do you mean, ‘before someone else comes in and robs us’? Who’s robbed us?”
“Who do you think? Poppy, of course.” Father crossed his arms over his chest. “You know she was brought up in Conley’s Patch. They teach them how to steal from the time they can walk.”
Charlie’s eyes darted to Justin. “Is that what Justin told you? That Poppy stole the chain?”
“No, but the chain was stolen—and who else was around here? Poppy! It’s obvious.”
“Er … I don’t think Poppy was inside the store yesterday, was she, Ch-charlie?” Justin stammered.
“I only heard her out on the sidewalk with Claire,” Charlie said. “Before that, I don’t know.”
“Apparently you weren’t in the showroom all the time,” Father
said accusingly. “Or you’d have seen her.” He turned to Justin. “Don’t try to protect that girl. We all know who stole that chain. You’ve got to get it back, Justin. And Claire will need to know she must not let Poppy into our house again.”
“But, Father,” Justin began.
“Not another word,” Father said. “Be glad I don’t call the police this time. But if she ever steals from us again, I am calling the police.” He walked out into the other room, leaving Charlie and Justin alone in the workshop.
“Why did you tell him the chain was stolen?” Charlie asked.
“I didn’t. He just assumed it was stolen. He didn’t give me a chance to explain what really happened,” Justin whispered.
“You’re willing to let him believe Poppy stole it?”
“We know she didn’t take it, Charlie, but if Father thinks it was stolen, he won’t blame us.”
“It’s not right to put the blame on Poppy.”
“Well then, why don’t you tell Father you didn’t know the difference between sterling and white gold?” Justin challenged.
“I did know the difference. That’s why I went in and checked the invoice list. But you don’t know the difference between eight dollars and eighty dollars and you are the one who put the wrong price on the tag.”
Justin felt a lump in his throat—the kind that came when he was about to cry. “If I tell Father what really happened, he’ll think I’m stupid. He’ll never let me work in the store again.”
“I think the right thing to do is tell the truth. He will be mad, but it’s better than lying.”
“I’ll tell him. Just give me some more time, Charlie. I want to figure out the best way—so he won’t be too mad at me.”
Charlie nodded curtly and left the room, leaving Justin alone with his fears.
WEDNESDAY MORNING,
OCTOBER 4, 1871
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- The Key … or Else! -
Sheila opened the door to the underground room that had been Poppy’s home for many years. Poppy cringed at the foul, musty stench. How could she stand going back after seeing shiny clean floors, lavender-smelling pillows, and sparkling dinnerware? Even Ticktock smelled like sweet hay.
“Here she is,” Sheila announced to Ma, who was counting out coins on the table.
“Oh, it’s our Poppy, who’s come home again. We missed you, dearie.” Ma’s gaze shifted down over the dress Poppy wore. “Oh, you’re wearing that dress that caused all the trouble. Hmm. I thought I gave it to Renee.” Ma got up and strode toward Poppy. She smiled, but her eyes were dark slits.
Poppy knew that look and froze with fear. Her knees felt weak. Would Ma slap her around? Poppy vowed not to argue or make a scene. She’d be Poppy the pickpocket and pretend to do everything Ma wanted.
And then she’d run away from Chicago. She’d always wanted to stow away on a big steamer and go somewhere else. But what would happen to Ticktock?
“Noreen, go upstairs to the tavern and get Mr. Plant down here,” Ma ordered. “He wants to talk to Poppy.”
Noreen, who was sprawled on one of the mattresses, got up quickly and went out the door, but not before she sent a warning look to Poppy and mouthed the words Watch out!
Mr. Plant! He owned the place and allowed all sorts of mobsters, thieves, runaway criminals, and gamblers to live there and do jobs for him. Why does he want to talk with me? Poppy wondered. She took a deep breath and tried to still her shaking hands.
Already she could hear the clomp of footsteps, and then Mr. Plant himself entered Ma’s room, a big smile on his round face. He was much shorter than Noreen and looked like a jolly gnome. However, everyone at the Willow knew how powerful and important he was in Conley’s Patch.
“Well, well, Poppy,” he said in his highfalutin British accent. “I hear you are friends with the Butterworth jewelry family. Moving up in the world, eh?”
Poppy just stood there, not knowing how to reply. Ma Brennan, who was next to Poppy, nudged her sharply with her elbow. “Where are your manners? Answer Mr. Plant,” she snapped.
“Yes, I know the Butterworths a little.”
“A little!” Ma jeered. “You’re practically livin’ with them! Sheila watched you through the window last night, setting the table with real silver.”
“Sure, now, you took a spoon or fork.” Mr. Plant winked at Poppy and held out his hand. “Hand it over, child.”
“No!” Poppy answered angrily. “I didn’t take anything.”
Moans came from Sheila and Noreen. “You ain’t got the brains you were born with,” Noreen taunted.
“Just wait until Julia and Renee come back from the streets,” Sheila put in. “They’ll never believe you had a chance like that and didn’t take it.”
“All that expert training I gave you is wasted.” Ma looked at Mr. Plant apologetically. “Ain’t it a shame? You bring up children, teach ’em all you know, and they turn around and fail ya.”
Mr. Plant shook his head sadly. “Your mother here brought you up like her own flesh and blood—ever since you was a little one. She sacrificed a lot to take you in.”
“I treated her like my very own child,” Ma whined. “Now all I ask of her is to get us a key to the jewelry store, and she won’t even do that for me.”
“But, Ma,” Poppy said, “once you get into the jewelry store, you still have to open the safe.”
“Oh, we can take care of a safe easy enough,” Mr. Plant said.
“After all I’ve done for you, Poppy, the least you can do—,” Ma began.
“Hush, Mary.” Mr. Plant used Ma’s first name as if they were related. “Poppy will help us, won’t you, dear?”
“What will you do if I get the key?” Poppy asked.
“We’ll go in and take a few pieces of the fine jewelry,” Mr. Plant said. “You’ll make it easy for us so no one will get hurt.”
“It’s only right to do this job for us. You owe it to me.” Ma pushed her face close to Poppy’s. “Understand?”
Mr. Plant put his arm around Poppy’s shoulder. “Poppy, look at it this way. You’re not being disloyal to the Butterworths. If you don’t help us, you’ll be disloyal to us—those who’ve taken care of you all these years. We’re not bad people. We’re hardworking, and we use our skills and brains to get what should rightly belong to us.”
“‘Us’?” Ma scowled. “This is my show! Robbing the Butterworths is all my idea.”
“You can’t do this by yourself, Mary,” Mr. Plant said kindly. “And since we’ll be working with some of my best safecrackers, we’ll all benefit from Poppy’s help by splitting the profits.” He turned once again to Poppy. “Now, I understand that your friend, that Butterworth boy, has a little goat. I’m sure it’s a charming little thing.”
Poppy stood as still as a soldier. She knew what was coming now. They knew she loved Ticktock and they’d use the little goat as a means to get the key.
Mr. Plant spoke in a quiet, ominous voice. “You do not want anything to happen to that sweet little nanny, do you? Of course not. We promise you that she’s going to be just fine—as long as you do this one little simple thing for us. That’s fair enough. Right?”
Poppy nodded.
“All right, child,” he said with a leering smile. “I want you to bring the key to us by Friday. That gives you two more days. You’re a clever girl who will have no trouble getting a simple thing like a key.”
“Off you go,” Ma said. “By Friday at suppertime. No later, or that little goat will be served up in a pot of stew.”
Poppy ran out the door and up the steps to the dusty street. The wind was blowing hard and dirt slapped against her face.
If only there was a way out of this! No matter what I do, the Butterworths will be hurt.
WEDNESDAY NIGHT,
OCTOBER 4, 1871
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- Father Lays Down the Law -
“Are you feeling well, Justin?” Mother asked. “You’ve hardly eaten
a bite tonight.”
“I’m just … tired,” Justin replied. He didn’t know himself why he wasn’t hungry. The pressure was off him about that gold chain. Father had it all figured out that Poppy was to blame. I hope she doesn’t show up around here, he thought. Father would be furious, and Poppy wouldn’t even know why. He felt sick to his stomach and pushed his plate away.
“I don’t believe the smoke from the fires is healthy,” Claire said. “We’ve been breathing in smoke day after day.”
“That’s true,” Father agreed. “A leather plant down by the river caught on fire today. What a stink that made.” He cut a large chunk of pot roast from the platter and put it onto his plate.
“The meat is perfect,” Claire said. “I hope I will be as good a cook as you when I get married, Mother.”
“It’s been simmering all day on the stove. That’s why it’s so tender,” Mother said. “But it’s made the kitchen so hot. Maybe we should have eaten in the dining room, where it’s cooler.”
“It is hot in here,” Charlie said, getting up. “I’ll open the back door for a few minutes. The cool air will feel good.”
“There are dozens of fires all over the city,” Father said. “The fire alarms and engines are everywhere. The noise is dreadful.”
“The firemen are exhausted,” Claire said. “Forrest thinks he’ll open the church for refreshments for them soon.”
“That would be nice,” Mother said, nodding. “Forrest is conscious of people’s needs. He’s a good man, Claire.”
“He’s a lucky man to get a girl like our Claire.” Father helped himself to a slice of bread. “But you are too extreme with your kindness, Claire.”
Claire put down her fork and looked at her father questioningly. “How can I be too extreme with kindness?”
“It’s that girl, Poppy,” Father explained. “Didn’t the boys tell you how she stole a valuable watch chain from the store?”
Firestorm! Page 11
