“Put the compass away, Mateo,” said his mom in a calm voice that did not match the turbulent chaos.
Matt slipped the compass beneath his shirt, and Blossom righted herself, and then there was a flash of light and everything went dark.
17
Sure Shot
July 4, 1893
Chicago, Illinois
The travel did feel different this time. Less jarring, yes, but also Blossom made some interesting sounds, rhythmic honks and taps and dings like she was beatboxing. Matt felt things shifting around him, the floor beneath his feet, the seats. The ceiling must have rolled back because he suddenly felt a rush of hot, humid air. He saw a smattering of light, and the next thing he knew Blossom plunged down into water and rocked from side to side.
“Well, hot Chicago dog!” said Chuck as Blossom steadied herself in the water. “Blossom turned herself into a boat! Isn’t that something?”
She had indeed turned herself into a boat. Sort of. From what Matt could tell, she was essentially the same vehicle as before, only a little wider and the top half had been removed so they were exposed to the elements.
Matt looked around. They were floating in some kind of lagoon, surrounded by huge white buildings built in a classical fashion with pillars and arches and domes. There were statues and fountains and bridges, and little boats and gondolas floated in the lagoon.
“This doesn’t look like Chicago,” said Ruby. “Not like any pictures I’ve seen of it anyway.”
“This is a special time for Chicago. They’re hosting the World’s Columbian Exposition,” said Mr. Hudson, turning every which way, trying to take it all in. “It’s to celebrate the four hundredth anniversary of Columbus’s arrival in the New World. They built all this just for the fair. Can you believe that? It was an astounding thing in its time. It still is.”
Matt had time-traveled plenty before of course, but he never lost any sense of awe by the newness of everything, the people and clothing from another era, the buildings and streets, the smell, the feel of being in a totally different time and place. He’d never been able to explain it before, but now he thought it was a little like being in a dream, but with more physical power and control. Misplaced, but present all the same.
The city was crowded with pedestrians walking between buildings and over bridges and walkways. They floated toward a place where other boats had been docked, but when they reached it Blossom didn’t stop. She rammed right into the walkway.
“Chuck, stop!” said Mr. Hudson.
“I’m trying!” he said, clearly pushing on the brakes. “Sometimes Blossom gets a mind of her own.” Chuck honked the horn and people screamed and rushed out of the way as the strange boat crashed onto the walkway. The engine roared and groaned, then made a series of clinks and clanks, and the next thing Matt knew, they were driving on the walkway. The crowd parted for them but watched in awe as this strange contraption moved along the fairgrounds, until a man in an official-looking uniform came marching up to them with a sword in hand. Mrs. Hudson whipped out her dagger, but kept it hidden from the guard’s view.
“Say, what do you think you’re doing here?” said the guard, tapping on the front of the bus-boat. Or boat-bus.
Chuck rolled down his window and without skipping a beat said, “Hello. The name’s Chuck. I’m here to display this marvelous machine!”
The police officer looked over Blossom. “This some kind of newfangled streetcar?”
“Uh . . . yep!” said Chuck.
“Well, do you have a permit?” said the officer.
“A permit?” said Chuck.
“Permits are required for all displays.”
“Oh, sure. Sure, sure, sure. Just let me find it. I know it’s around here somewhere.” He searched around, opening compartments and drawers. “Here we are!” He pulled out a four-by-six index card from a little compartment beneath the steering wheel. “Signed by the mayor and all!”
“Mayor Harrison?” The officer squinted down at the card. Matt could tell he couldn’t see it very well in the bright sunlight.
“Says here that I, Chuck, am an esteemed inventor and have permission to showcase this here contraption”—he tapped the side of the car—“wherever I like in this here fair.” Chuck began talking in an almost-Southern twang, like he was trying to put on some kind of act, but not very convincingly.
“Our instructions say each exhibit is to have a specific showcase location . . . ,” said the guard.
“See here, Officer,” said Chuck, “this is a moving contraption! She can go from water to land, and even fly!”
“Fly?”
“Yes! Fly! Like a bird!” Chuck flapped his arms. “I can’t very well showcase her in a single location, can I? There’s no sense in that. That’s why it’s signed by Mayor Hamilton himself.”
“Harrison,” Mr. Hudson muttered.
“That’s right. Harry and I go way back. Back to the . . . revolution.”
Mr. Hudson put his hand to his forehead.
The guard wasn’t paying all that much attention, however. There was a commotion somewhere in the crowd, shouts and shoves. It looked like a fight was breaking out.
“Okay, move along,” said the guard, and he took out his sword and marched toward the commotion. Matt thought he saw two men fighting. One was in a red jacket and top hat. The other had a pipe in his mouth. Matt squinted, trying to get a better look, but crowds overtook them, and he couldn’t see.
Chuck quickly honked his horn, so people jumped out of the way.
“What did you show him for a permit?” Ruby asked.
“A recipe,” said Chuck.
“Are you joking?” said Ruby. “All you showed him was a recipe?”
“Hey, it worked,” said Chuck.
“What was the recipe?” Ruby asked.
“Tuna and Jell-O Pie.”
“Hey! I had something like that as a kid,” said Mr. Hudson. “My mom used to make it all the time. One of my favorite meals as a kid.”
“Mine too!” said Chuck.
“What the barf?” said Corey. “Let me see that.” He reached for the recipe card, but Chuck slipped it into the little compartment below the radio. “Sorry. Secret family recipe. Not allowed to share.”
“Yeah, I was really hoping to steal that secret,” said Corey.
They drove along, honking for the crowds to move as they rumbled over a bridge. The air was sweltering, like a humid oven, and it was baking and fermenting everything, all the body odors, the pungent spice of perfume and cologne, the grease of meat, and the musk of animals and waste.
“Almost smells worse than Elizabethan England, doesn’t it?” said Ruby, covering her nose.
“So hot,” said Tui. She started shedding all her furs, revealing a bright blue tunic beneath and a gold belt accentuating her slender waist. She uncovered her hair, revealing braids shaped into whorls and spirals. Matt thought she looked remarkably fresh after how long she’d been in the Siberian Ice Age, though of course she was still quite thin.
Smells aside, the sights of Chicago were incredible. They were driving around the lagoon now. Matt gazed at the fountains and bridges, and the gleaming white classical buildings with pillars, domes, arches, and elaborate sculptures and statues. At one end of the lagoon stood a huge golden statue of a woman in Roman-style robes holding a globe in one hand, with some kind of bird perched on top, the wings stretched, and a long staff in the other with a sign that Matt couldn’t quite read. At the other end of the water’s edge stood a magnificent fountain, with a sculpture in the center of a barge with people holding long oars and winged creatures with trumpets, and surrounding the barge were groupings of mermaids and horses. And in the distance was the Ferris wheel. It rotated slowly in the light blue sky.
“I’m sure there’s an extra-large crowd here today,” said Mr. Hudson. “Since it’s Independence Day.”
Blossom inched forward at a snail’s pace. The crowds were growing thicker by the minute and weren’t r
esponding much to Blossom’s honks and growls. There were likely so many unusual things to see at the fair, this was just one more exhibition.
“I think we should find a place to park Blossom and go on foot,” said Mr. Hudson. “We’ll move faster.”
“No, it will be too easy for us to be separated,” said Mrs. Hudson.
“Belamie, if we’re going to confront Vincent, we’re not going to be able to do it from the comfort of Blossom.”
“Don’t worry, Captain,” said Tui. “I will take care of Vincent myself. No harm will come to your family.”
Matt watched his mom clench her jaw, but she didn’t have any rebuttal. “Park over there, between those buildings,” she said. Chuck honked the horn and turned into a narrow sort of alley between two of the large buildings.
As everyone got out of Blossom, Matt tried to move out of the alley and into the open, but his mom pulled him back by his arm. “No wandering,” she said. “We all must stick together. Come on.” Mrs. Hudson took hold of Corey with her left hand, and Mr. Hudson took Ruby with his right hand, and they each had hold of Matt in the middle. Tui walked ahead of them, with Chuck traipsing behind.
The fair was certainly a place that drew people from all over, but no one looked quite so out of place as the Hudson crew. They got plenty of stares and guffaws at their jeans and sneakers and T-shirts. Chuck especially stood out in his shorts and bright tie-dyed T-shirt with the peace sign, and his fishing hat and sunglasses. One woman stopped them and asked where in the world they were from, and when they told her they were from New York, she looked confused and said, “I must visit New York next, then.”
People pointed at Tui, too, though they didn’t laugh or snigger. Matt thought she looked intimidating and regal, every bit a princess, and guessed people probably would have stared at her even if she were in her own time and country.
“Are we sticking out too much?” Matt asked his mom. “People are looking at us like we’re from outer space. Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Yeah, Brocco always said it was important to dress in the time period,” said Ruby. “Otherwise won’t we cause a glitch or get in trouble somehow?”
“Sometimes that’s true,” said Mrs. Hudson. “Dressing properly for the time period and culture is certainly the safe thing to do, but we should be fine here. People will always try to make sense of whatever they see, find some explanation. That’s a natural brain response. We like to categorize and place things. But if they can’t find a place for you, and if enough people begin to wonder if you’re really from another world or time, or just don’t belong here, then strange, inexplicable things can happen. But we should be okay here. We do stand out, but there are enough strange people and things that most simply chalk it up to the wonders of the fair.”
And there were many wonders at the fair, Matt decided. So many, he could barely take them all in, and he almost forgot the purpose for which they had come. They were past the big buildings and exhibits now and were in a place with smaller exhibits. Some people displayed their art and crafts. Others were sharing songs or dances from their countries. They saw hula dancers in grass skirts, accompanied by ukuleles. A woman was surrounded by people, her dress decorated in bangles that tinkled as she moved and swayed. A belly dancer, Matt realized. Some of the women watching looked scandalized. Some of the men tried to look scandalized, but didn’t fully succeed.
And food. There were stalls selling roasted corn on the cob, sausages, fresh fruit, and pies. Corey asked if they could get some of the food here, but Mrs. Hudson said they didn’t have the proper currency for that. But then Tui pulled out a little pouch attached to her gold belt and shook it.
“Not for nothing is my father the richest man in the world,” she said, and pulled out a gold coin that had a head stamped in the center, with letters and symbols around the edges.
“Oh, your dad rocks,” said Corey, snatching the coin.
“Vincent let you keep a sack of gold?” said Mrs. Hudson, one eyebrow raised.
“He made no search when he discarded me,” said Tui, “and it’s not as though it would have done me any good in Siberia. The beasts there do not trade in gold.”
“We’ll have to exchange some of the coins,” said Mr. Hudson. “I saw a money exchange back that way.”
Just one of Tui’s gold coins gave them enough money to buy everyone as much food as they could possibly want with plenty to spare. They got stacks of pancakes, cabbage rolls, and tamales. They also got Cracker Jacks, which the vendor said were a brand-new treat, as well as brownies, which Mr. Hudson announced with professorial authority and pride had been invented by some hotel chef in Chicago just for the fair.
The Hudsons traipsed through the fair, searching every face, which was a big job seeing as there were a lot of faces. Matt started to lag. It was so hot and smelly and crowded, and he was tired. They came to a huge stadium just outside the fairgrounds. A giant sign read:
BUFFALO BILL’S WILD WEST AND CONGRESS OF ROUGH RIDERS OF THE WORLD
Big posters on a wall displayed different acts and attractions, scenes of cowboys on their horses with their guns and lassos and Native Americans in feathered headdresses, shooting bows and arrows.
Another poster caught Matt’s eye, one of a young woman with dark hair and sharp, penetrating eyes, wearing a cowgirl hat and holding a rifle. At the top of the poster in large letters were the words “Little Sure Shot.”
Mrs. Hudson came up to the poster and stared. She brushed her fingers over the picture of the young woman.
“It’s Annie, isn’t it?” said Matt. “From your crew.”
His mom didn’t say a word, just stared at the picture.
Tui came and stood next to Mrs. Hudson and studied the picture. “That is Annie, isn’t it?”
“Annie Oakley, huh?” said Chuck. “You know her?”
“The Annie Oakley?” squeaked Ruby. “Annie Oakley was a member of your crew?! How come you never told us that?”
“I didn’t . . . I never . . .” Mrs. Hudson stumbled over her words. Matt was guessing she hadn’t realized who Annie was while she was on her crew. He felt a bit silly that he hadn’t drawn the connection before, but it hadn’t crossed his mind at all when he’d met Annie just a few days ago. She’d been quite a bit younger when he’d seen her on the Vermillion. Here, she looked like she was maybe in her early twenties.
Mrs. Hudson peeled her eyes away from the picture. She walked over to a ticket counter and asked if she could buy tickets for the show. The ticket seller said the show was already underway, but Mrs. Hudson gave him a stack of bills that Matt was guessing were worth a lot more than was required because the man gave her seven tickets and told her to enjoy the show.
They didn’t sit down when they entered the stadium. They didn’t make it that far. They stood at the edge of the arena while a parade of horses trotted around in formation. Both rider and steed were in elaborate costumes, and not just your typical western cowboys and Indians clothing. There were representations of countries and cultures from all over the world, waving flags and wearing special costumes or uniforms.
There were reenactments of Wild West battles and demonstrations of skills. A cowboy showed tricks with a lasso, twirling it over his head and around his body; a man rode on four white horses at once, and Will Cody demonstrated why they called him “Buffalo Bill” as he shot down a huge buffalo, charging right at him.
A man shot his gun while standing on his head and bending over backward, hitting his mark every time.
Then a young woman came in riding atop a horse, rifle tucked beneath one arm.
Mrs. Hudson stood frozen, rapt with attention, as the girl shot her gun. She shot clay jars, bursting each to smithereens. The crowd cheered. The girl rode to another spot and shot a target fifty yards away. She dismounted her horse and stood in the middle of the arena while another rider rode in circles around her and threw disks in the air. She hit every single one. And then more riders came out throwing smaller and sma
ller items in the air for Annie to shoot until she was shooting nothing more than black marbles that burst into little clouds of dust when she hit them. The crowd went wild, and Annie blew kisses all around.
“Wowie!” said Chuck, clapping loudly. “She’s something, isn’t she?”
“I want her to teach me to shoot,” Corey said.
“Yeah,” said Matt.
Annie continued her act, splitting cards from the side, snuffing out candles. If she ever missed, which Matt had a hunch was intentional, she’d pout dramatically and then shoot something else.
A flash of red caught Matt’s attention to his right. He looked over and did a double take.
A man wearing a red velvet coat and a black satin top hat was climbing over audience members in the stands, and with him was another man in a brown suit and fedora, a pipe bobbing in his mouth.
“It’s Brocco and Wiley!” said Corey.
“Where is Vincent?” said Tui, drawing a knife.
Brocco pulled out a gun and aimed it right at them. Matt froze on the spot. He felt paralyzed. Mrs. Hudson shoved him to the ground so hard his knees cracked. Wiley yanked at Brocco’s arm just before he pulled the trigger.
Bang!
“Oh, look at that, Margie!” said a man in the audience, pointing to Brocco and Wiley. “They planted shooters in the audience too!”
“How splendid,” said his wife, looking through a pair of brass binoculars.
Brocco jumped over audience members. Wiley stumbled after him, holding on to his hat as he tripped over a woman, apologizing profusely for his rudeness.
“We have to get out of here,” said Mr. Hudson. “Now.” Matt was suddenly yanked up by his arm, and half dragged away. Brocco took aim again.
“Watch out!” said Corey.
Bang!
Brocco dropped his gun. He howled and hopped around, shaking his hand.
Matt looked out toward the arena. Annie was back on her horse, aiming her gun at Brocco.
Time Castaways #2 Page 20
