Into the Whirlwind (22 page)

“The land I sold is on Columbus Street,” she said. “I will have no trouble paying you back as soon as the bank releases the funds.”

Mr. Durant whistled. “I should think not. I hope you sold it for a pretty penny.”

“I did,” she confirmed, remembering the day she’d signed the agreement of sale with Zack. They had both been so foolishly excited that day, flirting and daydreaming about the future. “I got two thousand dollars for half an acre, which is a handsome sum, considering the street is utterly destroyed.”

Mr. Durant’s hand froze as he was writing out the check. “Two thousand dollars?” He stood and fixed her with a serious look. “The value of land on Columbus Street has soared since the fire. The street was too narrow to become the grand type of avenue people wanted it to be. Now that it is a blank slate, it is some of the most valuable land in the city. I would not have settled for less than fifteen thousand.”

Mollie stared at him in drop-jawed amazement. She felt dizzy, then hot. Mr. Durant caught her elbow just as she began to sway. “Let me help you to a seat,” he said, guiding her into a chair. “Poor thing, you look as white as a ghost. Now, what scoundrel got that land off you so cheaply?”

Zack! Zack did this to her.

Although he didn’t actually buy the land for himself, he was acting for Hartman’s, wasn’t he? “Louis Hartman,” she said faintly. “It is where he intends to build his new store.”

Mr. Durant’s face darkened even more. “That man is a wizard, no doubt about that. He and that lawyer of his have managed to win their entire insurance claim, worth eight hundred thousand dollars, the rumors say. Can you imagine? More than three-quarters of a million dollars for a building that burned down. I gather they had their insurance spread out amongst a number of carriers on the East Coast, which is why they were able to score a full settlement.
Kazmarek
, that’s the man’s name. Rumor has it he’s the toughest lawyer in Chicago. A real street thug Hartman found on the docks and dusted off to become his lawyer.”

Mollie couldn’t say anything as she curled over in the chair. Mr. Durant leaned over to pat her hand. “You haven’t been paid for the land yet?”

“No.”

He rubbed his jaw. “I’m no lawyer, but it seems to me you should be entitled to a slice of that eight hundred thousand in addition to the value of the land. No wonder the lawyer wanted to close the deal so quickly.”

Mollie felt sick. She had never wanted a piece of that store or the insurance money; she simply didn’t want to be swindled. Frank had mistrusted Zack from the moment they’d met, and she should have listened to his advice.

She was such a naïve fool. For three years, she had triple-checked her accounting, researched suppliers, and overseen every aspect of production. The first move she’d made without relying on Frank had been a disaster, all because Zack Kazmarek had flattered her.

The pity in Mr. Durant’s eyes was unbearable. She had to get out of there.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled. She made a dash for the door and down the hallway. There had to be some room where she
could collapse in private. At the end of the hall was a room with a double-wide opening, with tubs and heating kettles within. The laundry room. Blessedly, it was empty.

Breathe, just breathe.
She bent over the sink and clasped her hands over her face. She had survived worse than this and could do so again. She just felt so
stupid
. Stupid for being taken in by a pair of flashing black eyes. For believing a dance by the firelight of the braziers meant anything. Tears leaked between her fingers as she tried to steady her breath.

“I’m mad about what happened to Frank too.”

Mollie whirled around. Sophie stood in the doorway, staring at her with a somber expression. She wore a velvet dress dripping with layers of lace. A porcelain doll dangled limply from her hand.

Mollie swiped her tears aside, ashamed to be caught sniveling over a street-thug lawyer when even Sophie knew who the real victim was. She wiped her face. She had just shed her last tear over Zachariasz Kazmarek. She had allowed herself the indulgence of a pathetic cry, but that was over. “Sophie.” Mollie painted a pleasant expression on her face. “How pretty you look in your new dress.”

“It’s wrong to beat up a blind man.”

What could one say to that? “Yes. Yes it is.” Mollie straightened and adjusted the collar of her blouse. “Do you like living in your uncle’s house? It certainly is splendid.”

“I hate it,” she said. “It’s boring here. I want to go back to the church.”

“My goodness. I thought you hated living at the church too.”

Sophie’s sullen expression did not waver; she merely shrugged. “So? I hate it here too. My uncle and my little brothers are stupid.”

What is wrong with this girl?
“Sophie, you are far too young to hate everything and everybody.”

“I didn’t hate Frank.” With that, Sophie turned her back and walked away, dragging the porcelain doll on the floor behind her. The doll’s head bounced along each seam in the tile floor.

Mollie felt like that doll. Dragged along and buffeted by the whims of fate. Every muscle in her battered body was exhausted from struggling against the wind.

That ended today. She had a check for a month’s rent at the brewery and the ability to make the world’s most beautiful watches. She had been betrayed by the man she loved, but wallowing in pity was a luxury she could not afford.

Mollie was ready to take her life back, and it would happen without Zack Kazmarek by her side.

15

I
t was time to leave the church and find shelter somewhere else. Mollie folded her few belongings and set them in a crate. By noon today she would leave this church behind forever, just as most of the others had already done.

The ruined church had once been a place of comfort to Mollie. It did not matter that it was dirty and uncomfortable and she nearly froze in the mornings. The people who had found shelter here had lingered for a good reason. Some of Mollie’s best memories had happened right here. Sitting on the steps in the evening to share memories and dreams with other refugees who had been wiped out by the fire. Listening to the Germans in the nearby post office sing in the evening. There was something about a shared crisis that brought out the best in people. The warmth of the camaraderie she had found within these crumbling walls would be engraved on her soul until her dying day.

But it hurt too much to stay. The temporary barracks built by the city had just opened their doors. The hastily put-up buildings were like giant boxes, made of unfinished pinewood boards and stocked with bunk beds and a small coal-fueled heater. She and Alice would begin living in the women’s barracks tonight.
It would be crowded to the rafters with strangers, but Mollie was eager to get there.

After paying her rent at the brewery, the owner had loaned Mollie a few crates to help her move out of the church. All of her belongings fit into a single crate. One spare skirt, a shirt, a blanket, and a scorched green paisley scarf. As Mollie folded the scarf, her fingers touched each of the burn holes. How terrified she had been the night of the fire, when it had seemed like the whole world was burning around her, but Zack had been so brave. No matter how badly he’d deceived her, he had been a hero that night. Zack had risked his life when he could have stayed in the safety of his townhouse. How could she look at this scarf and not be reminded of him?

She dropped the scarf to the ground. She would leave it there with the other memories that were too hard to endure.

Alice’s voice interrupted her dreary thoughts. “Will you help me with this tent, Mollie?”

All the tents needed to be folded and returned to the relief society. There were surely other homeless people who would need them. “Let’s gather them up and fold them outside,” Mollie said.

Ulysses and Gunner were sharing a pipe on the steps of the church. “Need any help, Alice my love, light o’ my life?”

“Mollie and I will do it,” Alice said. “I am wise enough not to stand between a man and his pipe.”

Mollie glanced around the street. It was hard to believe how attached she had become to this ruined landscape. If she ever came back to this place, it would look entirely different. The contorted lampposts would be removed and replaced with straight ones. The church would be torn down, and it was anyone’s guess what would stand in its place. Who would remember the infant that had been born in the chancel? Or the wonderful stories they’d told one another, huddled around the brazier?

A movement caught her eye at the end of the street. A group of men were headed this way. Strange, it seemed as though they were marching in a square, like a platoon of soldiers. Mollie shielded her eyes from the sun and squinted to be sure she was seeing correctly.

“Declan?” Sure enough, Declan McNabb was at the head of the group of men heading toward the church, and he was smiling. She’d never seen Declan smile before, but there was another man beside him who looked familiar. She couldn’t put her finger on where she’d seen that handsome blond man before. . . .

Ulysses shot upright, bracing himself against Alice’s shoulder. “I don’t believe my eyes,” he said in a shattered voice. “I don’t believe my eyes!” he repeated, shouting this time as he reached for his crutch. He tucked it under his shoulder and launched toward the group of men as fast as he could hobble. “Colonel Lowe!” Ulysses shouted. Old Gunner went racing to join the crowd of men as well.

The men in the distance broke ranks and started running toward Ulysses, who sent up a hearty round of laughter. Mollie glanced at Alice, who looked as bewildered as Mollie felt.

By now, the group of men had circled around Ulysses, laughing and pounding one another on the back. Mollie wended her way through the rubble on the street toward the group. As she drew closer, she noticed some of the men were wearing sack coats and caps from the Civil War.

The blond man moved away from the group to stand before Mollie. With faultless posture and high cheekbones beneath clear blue eyes, he was certainly a handsome man. There was a cleft in his chin, and he was smiling at her. “Miss Knox?” he asked.

At her nod, he saluted her. “Colonel Richard Lowe, commander of the 57th Illinois Regiment. At your service.”

Her eyes widened. Her father had praised Colonel Lowe
so highly she thought he probably walked three inches off the ground. Colonel Lowe was one of the youngest colonels in the Union Army and had led the 57th through one fierce battle after another.

“I’m pleased to finally meet you,” she said, her gaze tracking to the other men who were still clustered around Ulysses and Gunner. “But what? Why?”

Before the colonel could reply, Declan stepped forward. He looked flushed with good health, but the laughter faded from his eyes as he approached. “After Frank died, I figured we needed help,” he said. “I knew the men of the 57th wouldn’t let us down. Not after what happened to Frank. I took the train to Waukegan to get Colonel Lowe, and we’ve been rounding up the others ever since.”

Mollie looked in amazement at the group of healthy able-bodied men. Her father had extended work to the crippled soldiers of the 57th, but throughout the state there were plenty of able-bodied veterans who had survived the final three-day clash at the Battle of Winston Cliff. And they had just come to her rescue.

As one man after another stepped forward to introduce himself, Mollie lost the ability to speak. There was Ernest Jones, a dairy farmer from Belvidere, Josiah Coleman, a shoemaker, and Grady O’Manion, a bricklayer. There was a man who insisted on being called merely “Moose” who ran cattle in the western part of the state. Eighteen men in all.

Mollie was dizzy by the time they all introduced themselves. “Declan tells us you’ve got land to build on, but no money and no labor,” Colonel Lowe said. “We have come to fix that. O’Manion is a bricklayer, and he’ll get the land ready to lay a foundation. Bridgerton has connections in the building trade and can get us mortar. Billy Thompson will be in charge of getting hardware and plumbing. Moose will do the hauling.”

Mollie’s mind was awhirl.
Oh my goodness, eighteen mouths to feed
. And shelter. “You must be hungry,” she said, scrambling for a solution. “I know of a butcher who can supply us with—”

Colonel Lowe cut her off. “We’ve made arrangements for provisions,” he said. “And I’ve secured housing from General Sheridan for my men in one of the barracks. The only thing I need from you is to tell us what kind of building you want for a watch factory. We will take it from there.”

It was an answer to prayer. All throughout the city, workmen were worth their weight in gold, and eighteen had just walked up to her front step. Mollie was breathing so fast she was getting light-headed. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said. “I will be sure that you are all well compensated for—”

This time when Colonel Lowe cut her off, there was a thread of steel in his voice. “Miss Knox, we are here because wild horses could not keep us away. Your father did for my wounded brothers what I was unable to do. Every man I have brought with me owes your father a debt we can never repay. We are honored to rebuild his company.
Honored
.”

Was this a dream? As the colonel spoke, layers of anxiety peeled away from her spirit. It was as if an army of angels had descended to earth to ease her burdens.

She must not cry in front of all these men. They would think her a useless watering pot unworthy of her father’s inheritance. Everything went blurry as she turned away, trying to hide the tears.

Colonel Lowe bent down to peek beneath her lowered head, a trace of humor on his strong face. “Tears? We’ve come all the way across the state to meet the famous Miss Mollie Knox, and all she has for us are tears?”

She swiped them away. “It is just that I have felt so overwhelmed. It has been a difficult few weeks.”

“Then those are the last tears you will shed from being overwhelmed,” he said. Colonel Lowe’s face was a blend of kindness and humor as he smiled at her. “We will not leave this city until your factory is rebuilt and you are once again producing the world’s most magnificent watches.” Then the softness evaporated and his voice lowered. “And we will find the men who killed Frank Spencer. This I vow to you.”