Fire: Chicago 1871 (5 page)

Someone grabbed at Nate's arm. Startled, he jerked free, turning to see a dapper gentleman staring intently at him. “Can I hire you?”

A heavyset woman elbowed Nate to one side. He stepped back to let her pass.

“Do you want a job?” the man demanded, almost shouting. “I own the bookstore, just over there.” He pointed.

Nate hesitated, glancing around once more, hoping to see Ryan's face among the throng of strangers.

“Are you looking for someone? Do you have family near here?” The man's face was intense, his eyes narrowed against the acrid wind.

Nate shook his head. “I can't find my friend.”

“He probably ran home. Now, do you want a job or not? I have to find somebody fast. This fire looks like it might spread before they get it under control.”

Nate scanned the crowd. Maybe Ryan
had
gotten scared and gone home. After all, he had never seen a big fire up close like this. Nate looked at the man. He was still waiting, glaring.

“I'll pay well. All you have to do is help me load books into my wagon. Then you can be on your way.”

Nate nodded. The man was probably right. And Ryan wasn't foolish enough to walk straight into the fire. Aunt Ruth might even forgive him for sneaking out if he brought home a little extra money.

“This way, then,” the man said, pushing his way through the crowd.

Nate did his best to keep up as the man ran back along Taylor Street. As they neared the little bookstore, Nate saw the girl he had noticed before. She was still standing on the boardwalk, her face pale, her hands clasped.

“Mr. Black! Are you all right?” she called.

“I'll have you out of here in no time, Julie,” he answered as they got closer. “This boy is going to help us load the wagon.”

The man slowed his step enough to escort the girl back inside. Then he gestured for Nate to follow him through the shop and out the back door into the alleyway. There was a wagon, the team tied to a hitching rail. Both horses were wild-eyed, fidgeting in the harness, their manes blowing in the wind. Nate looked up the alleyway, then down it. It ended less than a block east of where he was standing, at a tall wooden fence that had been built straight across it.

Mr. Black pointed at the rig. “We'll load my collection first, then as much of the other inventory as we can.” Without another word, he went back inside. Nate saw the girl standing in the doorway. She stared at him. She looked scared.

Nate studied the buildings across the alley. They were silhouetted against the weird orange glow of the sky. He turned into the wind, squinting. At the other end of the block, the wooden roof of a livery stable was smoking. He could hear the horses squealing in fear. Mr. Black's team answered, stamping their hooves and shifting nervously in their harness.

Nate made a sudden decision and ran down the alley. Black silt underfoot made a strange scraping sound as he ran. There was a wide door at the rear of the stables. Nate lifted the bar and swung it wide. Smoke billowed out, and after a moment, Nate could see inside.

Every stall had one or two horses in it, frantic, kicking at the rails. Where were the livery men? Ryan's father would never leave animals to die like this. Running, coughing in the thick smoke, Nate went from one stall gate to the next, flinging them wide.

Some of the horses plunged through the open gates immediately, heading for the wide doors at a panicked gallop. Others were afraid to move until Nate slapped their rumps, startling them into action. Luckily, none of them balked, and within seconds
Nate was out in the alley again, choking and gasping for fresher air. He watched the last three horses gallop to the end of the alley and plunge to a halt, whinnying at the confusion in the street.

Nate turned back toward the bookstore, glad to have set the animals free. Some of the horses would probably die in the fire, anyway, but at least now they had a chance.

Heart pounding, Julie followed Mr. Black into the shop. The air was so smoky that it stung her eyes and burned her lungs. All she wanted in the whole world was for her father to drive up Taylor Street, lashing the horses into a gallop as he came to get her.

“Julie?” Mr. Black was sweating, his face flushed. “Where's the boy?”

“I don't know,” Julie answered. She turned to look toward the back door just as the boy was coming inside.

“Come in, boy,” Mr. Black said. “I need your help.”

“My name is Nate.”

Mr. Black was already pointing at the shelves that held his collection of fine old books. “I want to
start with these, Nate. All the dark leather bindings on the top two shelves. Once you finish, we'll load those.” He indicated the gold-embossed volumes of Shakespeare's works. Julie stared at him. His gestures were awkward, stiff. His voice was rough, grating.

He was terrified, she realized. But if he was that afraid, why were they staying? Why couldn't they just get in the wagon and leave now?

“Have you got crates or boxes I can put them in?” Nate asked.

Julie watched Mr. Black's face. For a second, it was blank, as though he hadn't understood the question. Then he strode to the back of the shop, jerking open the storeroom door. “In here.”

Nate went past Julie, shooting a glance over his shoulder. “Will you help me?”

Julie nodded hesitantly and followed him. Maybe Mr. Black would leave once his rare books were safely in the wagon.

“I'll pay you a day's wages for an hour's work, Nate,” Mr. Black was saying. “But you're going to have to work
hard
.”

“Yes, sir,” Nate said evenly as Mr. Black came out of the storeroom, hurrying past them.

Nate disappeared and came back a second later, carrying two crates. “Can you take these?”

Julie reached out, then stared at him for a moment, holding the rough wood gingerly away from her dress. He went back into the storeroom and emerged with four crates stacked in his arms. In seconds, he was loading them with books.

Julie stood still, watching Nate work. Mr. Black was stacking his account books. He glanced up. “Please help, Julie. The books are very valuable.”

Awkward, holding the crates almost at arm's length, Julie made her way to the front of the shop. She set them down near Nate.

He glanced at her. “I'm taller. I'll keep pulling the books off the top shelves. This isn't going to take very long. You can start down there.”

Julie hesitated, looking toward the door again. The air was sharp with smoke.

“You expecting someone to come?” Nate asked.

She nodded. “My father.”

Nate took down ten or fifteen books, placing them in the crate. “Does he know where you are?”

Julie blinked back tears.

“Don't worry,” Nate said. “We'll be all right.”

“Load each crate as soon as you have it filled.” Mr. Black almost had to shout over the street noise now.

Nate looked at her. “Can you carry these once they're full?”

Julie bent and tried to lift the heavy crate. She managed to straighten up, then stood, swaying for a few seconds before she had to put it down.

“If you could drag them as far as the back door, it would help,” Nate told her.

Julie gripped the topmost slat and walked backward, taking tiny steps. The front of her skirt dragged the floor, and she had to be careful to keep it clear. She managed to drag the books to the back door and stood straight again, peering out.

The buildings weren't afire yet, but the alley was filling with people and the air was hazy with smoke. Everyone seemed to be intent on getting out. Mr. Black had talked to the firemen. Maybe they had told him it was safe to stay long enough to load his books. Julie wiped at a trickle of sweat at her temple, then ducked inside. She carried empty crates on her way back.

Nate looked up. “Thanks.”

Julie met his eyes for a second. “It's getting hotter
in the alley.” Her voice sounded odd in her own ears, small and frightened.

“Could you see flames?”

Julie shook her head. “Not yet.”

Nate gestured toward the front. “Go see if it's moved any closer from that direction.”

Julie nodded and went to the door. As she looked out, the wind whipped her skirt against her legs, making the woolen stockings itch even more. The street was choked with people now. Wagons, jammed with piles of their belongings, stood end-to-end from the corner all the way past the shop and down to Canal Street.

Julie stared. Men, women, and crying children weaved in and out of the wagons, carrying bundles of clothing, stacks of papers, chairs, lamps, anything they could manage. One woman balanced a wailing baby and a struggling newborn calf in her arms.

As Julie watched, amazed, two loose horses plunged through the crowd, knocking one old woman onto the boardwalk. A man helped her to her feet, and they stumbled on together.

“How close is it?” Nate yelled.

Startled, Julie turned to face him. “I can't tell.
There are so many people. I don't see flames.”

“Keep working, Nate!” Julie heard Mr. Black shout. He was hoisting a full crate to his shoulder, hurrying toward the alley door.

Nate glanced after Mr. Black, then came to stand beside Julie. He whistled between his teeth. “We need to get going or we'll be trapped.”

Julie could feel herself trembling. “But what if my father comes.”

Nate shrugged. “How? Can he fly over these crowds?”

Julie shook her head angrily, but before she could answer, Mr. Black shouted again. “Come on, you two. We haven't got time to waste!”

Julie faced him. “The street is too crowded. You'll never even get the wagon out of here.”

Mr. Black shook his head. “But I have to get the books—”

“She's right,” Nate cut him off. “We should leave.”

Mr. Black stepped back, pulling out his wallet. “Thank you for the help, then.” He pulled out five dollars and handed it to Nate. His eyes flickered around the shop. “Just help me load a few more. Then you can be on your way, and I'll take Julie home.”

Julie watched Nate pocket the bill, a frown on his face. He stepped out onto the crowded boardwalk, looking up the street, toward the fire. Julie edged out into the wind, straining to see through the thick crowds and the haze. “What are you going to do?” She pulled her hair back and held it out of her face.

Nate spoke without looking at her. “I'm going to load three or four more of his stupid crates, then I'm leaving. This whole block is going up.”

Julie looked nervously back through the doorway. Mr. Black was working frantically. She called out to him, but he didn't answer or even pause to look at her. He had started on another shelf of books.

She glanced at Nate and was startled at how pale his face was. He pointed. “I can see the flames.”

Julie stood on her tiptoes and caught her breath. Across the street, at the end of the block, flames were darting in and out of the smoke like glowing snakes.

◊ ◊ ◊

Nate gestured at Julie, and she followed him back inside. Working like a demon, he emptied two shelves' worth of books. Julie helped, straightening the volumes so that more could fit, dragging the full crates out.

“I'll load these,” Nate announced. “Then I'll be on my way.”

Mr. Black nodded vaguely, without looking up. His face was flushed, and he was muttering to himself. Nate shot Julie a look, hoping she wouldn't insist on staying. He was relieved when she turned to come with him.

The hot wind hit Nate the second he stepped into the alley. There was a stunning jumble of noise in the air: voices, screams, and the cries of terror-stricken animals. He set the books in the wagon, then turned to look at Julie. “Let's go. Right now. Before he notices.”

Julie was shaking her head, blinking back tears. “We can't just leave him. You saw how close the fire is.”

Nate stared at her, astonished. “So did he. And, somehow, those books are more important to him than his own life. He's crazy.”

Julie knotted her hands together. “No, he isn't,” she argued. “My father says that Mr. Black is the smartest man he knows.”

“Not tonight he isn't.” Nate watched anger darken her face. The smell of smoke was sharp, painful. He knew the fire could burst out around
them at any second, cutting off any chance of escape. He had heard enough of Mr. Oliver's stories to know that flames traveled faster than anyone ever thought they could—especially in a wind like this. He thought about Ryan and said a silent prayer for his friend. “We have to leave now,” he said aloud.

Julie backed toward the door. “I'll go get Mr. Black. He can come with us.”

Nate shook his head, but she was already gone. He could hear her voice at first, then the hubbub in the alleyway drowned it out. He fought with himself. He knew it was foolish to stay a second longer, but he couldn't just leave Julie. He slammed the heel of his hand into the wagon gate, then turned and went back inside.

Mr. Black was standing with his arms full of books. Julie was tugging at him, pleading. Mr. Black looked up and focused on Nate. “Is the wagon loaded?”

Nate nodded. “Not quite, but almost. If we leave this minute, we just might make it out of here.” Mr. Black's eyes were odd and glittery. He didn't answer. “Julie,” Nate said quietly. “Let's go now.”

Julie looked at him over her shoulder, and he
could see that she was crying. “He'll come. Just let me talk to him for a minute more.”

“We don't have that long,” Nate said flatly. “Mr. Black?”

Without answering, Mr. Black went back to the bookshelves. Nate reached out and took Julie's hand. Startled, she spun around, and he pulled her toward the front door. Mr. Black didn't even look up as they went out onto the boardwalk.

The instant they came out into the wind, Nate saw the flames almost directly across the street. He glanced upward, looking at the front of the bookstore. High above his head, the planks were starting to smoke.