Earthly Astonishments (5 page)

Josephine took the delay as an omen of good fortune. She had been watching for her chance. She grasped the step at the back end of the bus and heaved herself up. Instead of boarding, however, she kept her head low and
slid into position with her hands gripping the platform and her feet wedged on the wheel brace.

The hatted man took a seat on board. The horses tossed their heads and snickered quietly, quite recovered from their surprise. The driver snapped his whip, and the team lurched into motion. The horse bus, the driver, and the eight passengers within rocked back and forth with every ripple in the road.

One extra passenger clung on behind with all the strength her tiny arms could muster.

osephine rode the horse bus until her bones were rattled into rice. She finally tumbled from her perch during a stop at the corner of Houston Street. She was shaking from ears to toes and covered in the muck that had been sprayed up by the wheels. Weak in the legs, she hobbled her way to the wall of a store called Murray’s Feed and Grain and sank to the ground amidst the litter of rags and papers. Her blue dress was as dirty as a dust cloth, anyway.

Close by was a pile of corncobs, leftovers dumped by a sweet corn vendor. A black rat ignored Josephine as he feasted, flicking his whip of a tail.

Josephine’s mouth and ears and curls were full of grit. Her curls? Her hand clapped the top of her head. Her cap must have flown off during the ride, and the string tying back her hair was gone with it.

She leaned against the bricks, counting the hours she had been awake. Nearly twenty! No wonder she was wishing for her straw mat. But she couldn’t stop here. She had to keep going until she found Margaret and a safe resting place. She pulled herself up and started to walk, avoiding the debris and staying close to the buildings.

“Hsst!”

Josephine nearly jumped out of her boots.

“Clear off!” It was a fierce whisper. “This is our spot! Get gone!”

A footstep away, in a shadowed doorway, lay a boy. No, two boys. The smaller one was stretched across the lap of the boy who glared at Josephine.

“I said, ‘Clear off.’” His hand lay over the other’s ear, protecting his sleep. Could a boy be any dirtier than this?

“I’m going,” said Josephine, soft and sulky. “I didn’t see you. I’m tired too, is all.”

She noticed a brush and rags and a bottle of bootblack next to him, but his feet were wrapped in sacking, not wearing shoes.

The little boy’s smutty cheek nestled against his brother’s raggedy breeches. Filthy fingers ruffled his tangled hair.

“I just, I wonder, I just need to know…”

The boy seemed not to have noticed her size. His hand caressed his brother’s head, but his eyes narrowed when she spoke.

“I have to find Ludlow Street.”

He pointed with his chin. “That way.”

“Thank you.”

She turned to go and then paused. Under the boy’s suspicious watch, she dipped into her pocket and took out an apple, keeping the other for herself. She laid it down beside the bottle of bootblack. The boy’s stare softened and his hand darted forward to take the prize.

Josephine headed out across Houston Street as a clock pealed the half hour past midnight. A church bell soon echoed the chime. She could see the faint outline of a spire some distance further down Broadway.

To Josephine, the few blocks to Ludlow Street were like ten miles. Despite the lateness of the hour, the streets were humming with trade, but of a kind she’d not witnessed before. All manner of villain seemed out to do business at this time of night. Josephine crept from doorway to doorway, masquerading as a shadow.

She saw dark-suited men and fancy-dressed ladies exchanging bottles and whispers and packages and paper money, all in the open air outside a series of rough establishments. One man descended into a cellar from the street, carrying a writhing canvas sack.

“I’ve got some fierce rats tonight!” he called out to his mate. “Your flea-bit dog has got a fight ahead of him!”

The stores and buildings in this part of town were huge and stuck right on each other, with no room for grass or trees. There seemed to be a tavern or a grog house in nearly every one. She caught wafts of grilling meat, fried fish, and ale. Rotting foods tossed into the gutter sent up competing smells.

The roads were wide and dotted with the day’s garbage and horse muck. For someone of Josephine’s size, the piles of refuse were like hillocks, which she clambered over with effort, ever more dejected. At the Bouwerie, she passed under the elevated train tracks, stretching across the sky. In their shadow were many more sleeping children, wrapped in sacking and as dirty as chimney sweeps.

How did so many children come to lose their families? Josephine wondered. Is this where she might end up? Was she loony, thinking she could find Margaret, when she’d never even crossed the street by herself? Well, humph, she’d made it this far, even got a ride! So she wouldn’t stop yet.

The thought of sleeping in the street, huddled over a steam vent, gave her the fire she needed to find her destination. The Half-Dollar Saloon was on the street level of a towering house of three or four stories. Tipping back her head, Josephine could scarcely catch a glimpse of the night sky, somewhere above the whole row of such buildings.

The windows of the saloon were bright, gaslit from within, and the sign over the door was cut in the shape
of a giant silver coin. Josephine could hear shouted laughter and lilting music. Maybe that was My Bob playing the devil’s tunes on the piano. Certainly it had a different sound from the plaintive hymns learned by the MacLaren Academy choir.

There was a single window cut into the door, high up and far out of reach of Josephine’s curious eyes. She had no choice but to push open the door and creep through it, without knowing what she might find on the other side.

he heat and the smoke and especially the forest of legs were a shock. Josephine looked around in a panic for a hiding place. She slipped quickly under a table and crouched in the sawdust that covered the floor. From there, she could spy out on the tavern.

She’d never seen so many brogans in one room. Men’s feet were just enormous! Other than Sylvester at the school and old Teddy Burns who delivered the coal, Josephine was not acquainted with men.

She could hear a violin accompanied by the piano, but her only glimpse of the piano player was a salt-and-pepper beard above an emerald green cravat. Now that she was here, she didn’t know how to approach him.

Then the musicians started a new song, and the din of conversation dipped momentarily for the crowd to hear what it was. A couple of men began to sing along amidst good-natured jeers.

Josephine hugged her arms about her knees and closed her eyes with a silent moan. Suddenly a hand touched, then grasped her shoulder. Her heart stopped altogether.

“Hey, you, Missy!” A woman’s face, shiny with sweat, was only inches from Josephine’s own.

“I thought I saw someone creeping in under there. You’re a tiny thing, aren’t ye? Where’s your dad?” She was coaxing. “He shouldn’t have you in a place like this.”

She had an accent that spread out her words. She might have been pretty if she weren’t so tired looking. Limp scraps of auburn hair peeked out from under a white kerchief. She must work in the kitchen. She wore an apron, and a sodden cloth was slung over her shoulder.

“My dad’s not here.” Josephine had to lick her lips to make them work. “I came on my own. I need to speak with My Bob.” The woman’s face was blank. “Robert, I mean. The piano man.”

“Robert isn’t working tonight. That’s Patrick playing now. And Toby, scratching on the violin.”

This possibility had never occurred to Josephine. Whatever could she do? Must she wait until tomorrow to find Robert and Margaret?

She noticed her own muddy fingers trembling. She clutched at her dress to steady them and felt the ridges of the coins in her hem. The woman was watching her closely. Josephine evaded her eyes and shimmied backwards a bit. She winced. Her bottom was still tender from the cook’s beating.

“You’re alone then, Missy?”

Josephine nodded.

“Have ye eaten?”

“No,” she whispered.

“You’re so little! Ye need supper maybe?”

Josephine nodded. Suddenly it occurred to her that she could pay for supper. But how to cut the coins out of her skirt without anyone seeing? The woman reached for her hand and helped her crawl out.

“Will there be trouble for you?” Josephine asked, thinking what would happen to her if she fed anyone at the school door.

“The boss won’t be back except to lock up,” the woman promised. “Stay close by me.”

Josephine tucked herself against the woman’s skirt and followed her down a hall toward the kitchen.

“Ah, Nelly, my dear!” A low voice stopped them. The woman holding her hand bristled. The corridor was filled with the shape of a man, a tall man, wide and burly.

“Good evening, Mr. Walters,” said Josephine’s companion. “I didn’t know ye were with us this evening.”

As the man leaned down, Josephine could see his grand, black moustache, reaching from ear to ear.

“You must have work to do, Nelly. Perhaps I can entertain your friend a while.” His voice was rich and deep.

He knelt down on one knee, trying to come face to face with Josephine. Briefly, he held his palm flat next to her temple and then moved it to his own chest.

“I was getting the child a bit to eat, Mr. Walters,” said Nelly, not leaving easily.

“Then do that,” said the fine, big man. “She’s hungry, of course. I can see that. She’ll eat at my table.”

“Oh, no, sir!” Josephine found her voice. Eat with a stranger?

“But I insist!” He smiled at her.

He must use a very strong tooth powder, thought Josephine. Certainly, the whiteness of his smile was tremendous. And his dark eyes were steady on hers. No sign of disgust.

“I’ll have a mug of beer, Nelly. Order the child’s supper and bring me a warm towel.” It was a mild command. “A clean one. Not that foul thing men use at the bar to wipe the beer foam from their whiskers.”

Nelly squeezed Josephine’s hand before she backed into the main room and disappeared.