Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (34 page)

             
The rest of the family was passed down quickly, Abby holding Mabel, Elsie clutching the baby close.  Mrs. Goldberg was waiting when the entire family was finally assembled in her kitchen. 

             
“Have you seen the police at all?”  Dr. Benson asked tiredly.

             
“I’ve heard reports,” Mrs. Goldberg said.   “They are simply not strong enough to stop the rioting.  Many of them have been hurt - some killed.”

             
Abby stifled a groan, imagining Matthew attacked by a marauding gang. 

             
Dr. Benson nodded grimly.  “Then we’re getting out of here.”

             
Mrs. Goldberg nodded then pointed to a door in her kitchen.  “The basement is down there.  You will find a small window off to the right.  It leads out into an empty lot next to the house.  There is a high fence that will protect you from anyone still in the streets.”  She paused.  “Most of them have gone home for the night, but there will still be some out there.”  She stepped forward and planted a tender kiss on Elsie’s forehead.  “God is looking out for your little family.  You will be safe.  And I’ll take good care of Shelby.”

             
Elsie nodded and gave her a weary smile.  “Thank you,” she whispered then stopped, obviously at a loss for words.

             
Mrs. Goldberg nodded.  “It’s what friends are for.  You would do the same for me.” 

             
“Yes,” Elsie replied in a choked voice.  She moved over to where Shelby lay on a small cot Mrs. Goldberg had brought down.  “We’ll be back for you as soon as we can, honey.  You’ll be fine.”

             
Shelby smiled bravely, now too exhausted to speak.  She merely nodded her head weakly.  Elsie planted a warm kiss on her child’s forehead, then gathered the baby close, and walked down the stairs to the basement. 

             
Abby was the last to go before Dr. Benson followed her.  She looked back for one final glimpse of the courageous woman who had let others’ hatred and bitterness endow her with strong compassion and selflessness.

             
Stephen already had the family assembled by the window, which he’d pried open.  “We’re ready,” he called softly. 

             
Elsie turned to Abby as they were waiting for the children to pass through the window.  “Thank you,” she said softly.  “I’m so sorry you had to be here during this, but I don’t know what I would have done without your help with the children.”  She paused.  “You also helped remind me that not all white people hate us.  I need to remember that - and I want my children to learn it.” 

             
Abby searched for words to express her own horror that people of her race could commit the unpardonable acts they had today.  She simply squeezed Elsie’s hand warmly.  No words could ever express what she was feeling. 

             
The night was beginning to cool when Abby congregated with the family in the cluttered, trashy clearing.  A soft breeze bathed their burning faces while twinkling stars seemed to assure them that not all the world was terror and violence. 

             
“The police station is only a few blocks away,” Dr. Benson whispered.  “No one says a word until we get there.”

             
“Will we get to eat there?”  Reuben asked plaintively.

             
Elsie put a finger to his lips.  “Hush.  We’ll eat soon.” 

             
Stephen led the way through the narrow alleys snaking between the buildings as he peered cautiously around all corners before he advanced.  Abby snuggled Mabel close and followed, her heart hammering with fear and envisioning what would happen if someone saw the fugitive family.   

             
It seemed like an eternity before they finally broke out of the last alley and saw the station standing like a sentinel before them.  Abby gathered her skirts around her and dashed across the road with the rest of the family, heaving a sigh of relief when a solidly built policeman stepped forward to confront them. 

             
“Who’s there?” he called sharply, then peered at them harder.  “Is that you, Dr. Benson?”

             
“With my family,” Dr. Benson moved into the light from the gas lamp.  “Will we be safe here?”

             
“As long as you don’t mind staying in some jail cells for the night,” the policeman replied.  “I heard your house was broken into.  It could be a little while before we get you back in there.  The mayor has called for militia, but it could take them a few days to get here.  We simply don’t have enough men to bring this thing under control.”

             
Dr. Benson shrugged.  “My family is safe,” he said.  “That’s what matters.” 

             
“I’m hungry!”  Reuben wailed. 

             
Abby laughed.  The little boy had been brave all day.  Now that he was safe he would concentrate on what was important.

             
“All right, little man,” the policeman said.  “Let’s see what we can do about that.” 

             
He turned to Dr. Benson.  “It will be crowded.  We’ve had folks coming in all day.  I’m afraid it’ll be a little uncomfortable.” 

             
Abby thought about the misery they had endured that day on the hot roof and smiled.

             
The policeman turned to her.  “Who are you, ma’am?” he asked courteously.

             
“My name is Abigail Stratton.  I was visiting the Bensons when the mob started rioting.”

             
“Abigail Stratton?” the policeman repeated, looking thoughtful.  “Are you the one Michael has been asking about?”

             
“Michael Livingston?”  Abby asked excitedly.  “Is he here?”

             
“No.  But we’ve had a couple of communications about you.  There have been some folks real worried about you.  I’ll wire over to the main precinct that you’re all right.”  He hesitated.  “I’m afraid we can’t get you out of here tonight.  It wouldn’t be safe.”  His brow creased.  “I’m afraid we don’t have very luxurious accommodations, but we’ve got a room off to the back of the building with a small cot.”

             
“I’ll stay with my friends,” Abby said firmly.

             
The policeman opened his mouth to argue but then shut it, seeming to realize it wouldn’t matter.  He nodded.  “Whatever you say, Mrs. Stratton.” 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

              Abby woke the next morning, stiff and sore from her night in the cramped jail cell.  She lay quietly for a few minutes and observed the people around her.  All of the jail cells were crammed full of fugitives from the mob.  She reflected on the stark injustice of their being the ones contained by bars - forced to hide from the ones who really deserved to be in jail. 

             
Abby also had to admit it was rather uncomfortable being the only white face in a sea of ebony.  It was rather a new sensation to be the minority.  Even though it felt awkward, she was truly glad for the experience.  She had learned long ago that the only way to truly understand what a person was feeling was to experience it herself.  She knew her limited time in the cell could never truly enlighten her on what it must be like to be black, but for just a moment she could feel the loneliness and insecurity that sprang from being different. 

             
Abby heard the jangle of keys and looked up just as the officer from the night before swung the door open to the outside.  His face was lined with fatigue, his eyes swollen.  He clearly had not gotten any sleep.  What was going on out in the city?

             
“Mrs. Stratton?” he called.

             
Abby swung her legs over the narrow cot she had been sharing with Mabel and Reuben and sat up.  They stirred but didn’t awake.  The long day before had left them completely exhausted.    She smiled at them tenderly then looked up.   “Yes, officer?”

             
“Michael Livingston is here for you, ma’am.”

             
Abby smiled in relief.  “That’s wonderful!”  The officer unlocked the cell and swung the door open.  “What’s going on out in the city?” she asked. 

             
Dr. Benson and his wife sat up and listened quietly.

             
The officer shrugged his shoulders.  “It’s still early, ma’am, but it doesn’t look good.  The crowds are already building up.  There’s still time for you to make it out of here, though,” he said reassuringly. 

             
“But what about my friends?” Abby protested.  “When can they go home?”

             
The officer just shook his head.  “I have no idea.  I’m sorry.”

             
Abby hesitated, staring at the family stuffed into the cell.  “Come with me,” she said suddenly.  “There is plenty of room at the Livingstons’.  I know they won’t mind,” she said.

             
Dr. Benson shook his head firmly.  “We’ll stay right here until it’s safe for us to go home.”

             
Elsie stood and slipped her arm around Abby’s waist.  “You go.  We’ll be fine here.  This is our home.  One never learns to like it, but we are accustomed to fighting for the right to live our lives.”  She paused.  “Thank you,” she finished softly.

             
“Thank
you
,” Abby said gratefully.  “I’m quite sure your taking me in saved me from great harm.  May I come back to visit when I’m in New York again?”

             
“We would like that very much,” Dr. Benson said instantly.  “There is much we have to discuss.  I’m sorry events made that impossible.”

             
Abby forced a smile.  “Someday things will get back to normal in our country.”

             
Dr. Benson shook his head.  “I most sincerely hope not, Mrs. Stratton.  Normal for our people would not be a step forward.  No, I rather hope that when this is all over no one will be able to recognize our country.  In fact, I’m counting on it.”

             
Abby stared at him for a moment and realized the truth of what he was saying.  “Yes…,” she murmured. 

             
“Mrs. Stratton,” the officer interrupted.  “We really must be going.”

             
Abby hugged her new friends then kissed each sleeping child gently on the forehead.  “Tell them good-bye for me.” 

             
Michael was waiting for her in the main room.  “Aunt Abby!” he cried, striding up to embrace her.  “Thank God you’re all right!”  He took her arm and began to lead her toward the door.  “I’m going to get you out of here before things get too heated up again.  It took Paxton hours to get home.  My mother has been in a panic ever since he told us what happened.  I haven’t been able to get word to her that you’re all right.  I’ve been working straight through.”

             
“You’re not in uniform,” Abby observed.

             
Michael shook his head grimly.  “The mayor has called for militia, but it may take another day or so for them to arrive.  In the meantime, there are simply not enough police to do the job.  Dozens of men on the force have been badly injured or killed.  The only way to come into the area to rescue them is to be out of uniform.  I didn’t want to take any additional chance of having you harmed.”

             
Abby looked at him closely.  His eyes held a mixture of both sadness and anger.  His face was etched with weariness.  “It’s bad everywhere?”

             
“It’s bad.” Michael’s lack of words told her more than if he had gone on at length. 

             
Abby climbed into the carriage with him, then reached over, and squeezed his hand.  She knew there was nothing she could say to take away the horror.  The sun was just climbing over the horizon, but already people were milling in the streets.

             
“We had hoped it would rain,” Michael said.  “Another hot day will not help anything.”

             
Abby gazed around quietly, noting the smashed windows and the household belongings scattered through the dusty roads.  “It was the worst in the black sections, wasn’t it?”

             
“The workers blame the blacks for the whole draft situation.   You can’t reason with a mob.”  Michael urged the horse into a ground-eating trot.  People glared but moved out of the way as the carriage swept toward them. 

             
The two had almost reached the edge of the crowds when they heard a shout.  “Hey, there goes one of those policemen.  That there is Michael Livingston.  Get him!”