Refining Fire (24 page)

“Confessing Christ means we have to take a hard look at ourselves first and see what's alienating us from Him. Our sin nature wants nothing to do with His purity and goodness, but He wants us to repent and be reconciled to Him.”

“But if God is good and is love like you said, why would He ever let bad things like this happen to us?”

“He let His own Son go to the cross for us. And Jesus said we'd have a hard time of it here on earth. Most of His disciples were killed for sharing the gospel. Many of His followers, too. These terrible things will go on happening until He returns. All we can do is trust Him and believe.”

“And still we suffer His wrath?” Thane asked.

“No. Ephesians five says, ‘Let no man deceive you with vain words: for because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience. Be not ye therefore partakers with them. For ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord: walk as children of light.' We're children of light, Thane. God's children. Therefore His wrath isn't on us and . . . furthermore . . . I believe that verse says that the wrath of God is still to come. All through the New Testament we can see evidence that if we are in Christ, we are no longer to fear God's wrath.”

Thane fell silent. It was easy to blame God because He was . . . well . . . God. He had the power to do anything—and to stop anything.

“This looks like the place,” Kolbein said. People were swarming the area around the armory, and it was almost impossible to get the horse and carriage within a block. Finally Kolbein gave up and tied the horse off. He motioned to a boy of about ten.

“Will you watch my horse and carriage while we attend the meeting? I'll pay you a little now and more when I return.”

The boy's eyes widened at the sight of a quarter. “Sure, mister. My pa is in that meeting. He told me to stay right here. I ain't doing nothing else.”

Kolbein handed him the coin. “Good. Then we will count on you.”

They worked their way through the crowd and found a place where they could stand. Once gathered with the others, Thane listened to Mayor Robert Moran read a proclamation of disaster.

“All persons found on the streets of this city after eight o'clock p.m. without the countersign will be arrested and imprisoned. All persons found stealing property or otherwise violating the laws will be promptly arrested, and if resisting arrest will be summarily dealt with.” He paused and looked out over the people gathered there and then lowered his face to read.

“All saloons in this city are hereby ordered to immediately close and remain closed until further orders, under penalty of forfeiture of their licenses and arrest. No person will be allowed to sell or dispose of any liquor until further orders. Any person found so doing will immediately be arrested and imprisoned.

“Officers and members of the militia and all policemen are strictly enjoined to enforce the foregoing orders.”

Next came the governor and his announcement. “I have called out the First Regiment of the Washington National Guard. They will patrol and maintain order to keep the city remains from looting. I'm proud to say that these men took their post only three hours after the start of the fire and will continue until such time as they are no longer needed.”

Cheers and applause arose from the crowd.

The mayor reclaimed the podium, and the meeting continued with him posing several important questions. “We will not waste our time on pointing blame on how or why this fire started. That information will come soon enough. Instead, we are a people known for our strength, and we will build again.”

Thane couldn't help but get caught up in the enthusiasm of the crowd. The mayor continued. “Therefore, the questions that come first and most important: Do we permit the erection of wooden buildings within the area burned by the fire? And two, should the streets in the burned area be newly platted before rebuilding begins?”

The room erupted in opinions. Most favored widening and replatting the streets. It had long been a source of frustration to the growing community. Representatives from the fire department declared that wider streets would help considerably in getting to fires more quickly. However, unless the city could do something to improve the waterlines, it wouldn't matter.

The issue of brick versus wood buildings set the people arguing for quite a while. Many held that the fire would not have been nearly so devastating had the buildings been of brick or stone. Others argued about the high price of brick, but the price, someone pointed out, had been paid in last night's fire.

“I don't know that I even plan to rebuild,” one outspoken man declared. A good number of his companions agreed.

“Might as well leave it to someone else.”

Many of the businessmen stated that they were through with Seattle. Leaving seemed to be a better alternative to starting over. Obviously distressed, the former governor, Watson C. Squire, rose to offer words of encouragement. “Let me say first that I believe a committee should be formed to look after the poor and suffering. Furthermore, I will start a subscription drive with a donation of five-hundred dollars.”

The crowd clapped wildly, but the former governor motioned them to calm.

“That said, I recognize there is a great deal of discouragement among some here, and they would give up on our fair city. However, let me say that although I have only a few hundred dollars in the bank, my credit is good, and I'll rebuild on every foot of my ground that was burned.” He took his seat amidst a roar of enthusiasm while another man came to the podium.

It was time to put their thoughts into action. G. Morris Haller began, “I move that the fire limits remain as they now are, and that no wooden buildings be erected therein by permit or otherwise. All in favor?” The
aye
s rang out in a thunderous confirmation. Only a few protested.

Additional appointments for relief committees and one to help the council replat the city kept the crowd buzzing. It seemed that most everyone agreed with the thoughts of their council, including ideas to raise Front Street by building over the wreckage of the fire. The steep grade had always been an issue, and by burying what had once been there and erecting new buildings atop, they would reduce that grade considerably.

As Thane wearied of the meeting and thought to excuse himself, the last order of business was declared. The president of the Board of Trade, George B. Adair, was introduced. “Many of you know that I was the chairman of the committee to collect funds for the sufferers of the Johnstown, Pennsylvania, flood that took place last week. As you also know, the flood caused over two thousand deaths and left many homeless. The good citizens of Seattle raised over five- hundred dollars for this cause, and I now ask if this should be kept for local sufferers? Or should we send it on to the folks in Johnstown?”

The immediately response spoke volumes of the spirit of Seattle. “Send it away! Send it to Johnstown!”

Thane smiled despite his exhaustion. Sometimes the goodness of folks amazed him. He had known so much ugliness and selfishness throughout his life that to see the love and giving of these people was humbling. Maybe there was hope for this world after all.

I
n the week that followed, activities at the bridal school did not change much, except the production of goods focused on benefiting the homeless of Seattle rather than making sales for the school. Abrianna loved the chance to minister to so many people. God had called her to this work, and she answered. Aunt Miriam declared they would supply as many blankets and articles of clothing as could be made by the school. They would also furnish food from their gardens and animals and other supplies. So long as they had anything to their names, they would help the homeless of Seattle.

“Just look at what the paper has to say today, Sister,” Aunt Poisie announced. “The U.S. Army has sent a hundred fifty four-man tents from Fort Vancouver and Fort Walla Walla. The Tacoma Relief Committee has provided cots in two large downtown tents, where people will sleep at night and eat during the day. I find that quite industrious.” She looked to Selma and Abrianna. “Don't you?”

“Oh, indeed,” Aunt Selma replied. “I never had much good to say about Tacoma. They have often been a thorn in the side of our good city, but their help in our time of need has been
quite amazing. Perhaps they aren't the rapscallions that we were led to believe.”

“Perhaps they have had a change of heart,” Aunt Miriam commented. She looked up from her sewing. “After all, it could just as easily have been their city.”

“It's true,” Aunt Selma said. “The mayor said that the fire was started because of a glue pot being neglected. A Swedish man was involved, as I understand it.”

“Oh, a Swede. That may explain a great deal,” Aunt Poisie said.

“Goodness, Sister, whyever would you say that?”

Abrianna found herself curious at this. Aunt Poisie looked rather remiss, as though she had committed some kind of social faux pas.

“I was thinking of the language barrier. Perhaps the man spoke only Swedish. Perhaps he was new to this country and the job.” Aunt Poisie cocked her head to one side and looked thoughtful. “Do they even have glue in Sweden? Perhaps he was told to attend it and hadn't been trained properly.”

“I am certain they have glue in Sweden, Sister. However, no matter that, the paper said the glue ignited and then water was thrown onto it.” Aunt Miriam shook her head. “That only served to spread it.”

“Well, Swedes do have all that water surrounding them. He might well have thought it the cure.”

Aunt Selma put aside her knitting. “I hate that everything is in ruins. Nothing looks right or smells right. The days have been so dry and warm. Nothing like they should be. I fear we may well see additional fires, and then what will we do? What if this place were to burn?”

“I could not live in a tent with other people.” Aunt Poisie looked quite disturbed. “I would be most uncomfortable. After all, what if a man . . . were to . . . take advantage?”

Abrianna suppressed a giggle. Her aunts were always worrying about the strangest things. At a time like this she doubted very seriously that those poor souls wandering the streets were overly worried about anything but finding a place to rest and a hot meal.

“Sister, you needn't be afraid. I do not believe you will have to live in a tent anytime soon.”

Liang appeared at the door to the sitting room. “Mr. Welby is here.”

Abrianna tensed. She knew she would have to receive him. She had already decided she would confront him regarding the girls. Wade was certain he was to blame for their imprisonment, but Abrianna felt it was only right to give the man the benefit of doubt. After all, even though she had no intention of marrying Mr. Welby, she did say she would give him a fair chance to prove himself.

“Show him into the front parlor.” Aunt Miriam set aside her sewing and looked to Abrianna. “I suppose you will want to speak to him about the girls?”

“Indeed. The truth must be found out.” She rose and set aside the blanket she'd been hemming. “Although I do not relish this moment in time. I sometimes wish I'd never gone down that coal chute.”

“I have also wished it on many occasions,” Aunt Miriam murmured.

Abrianna looked at her aunt in surprise. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew. You did a poor job cleaning up afterward.”

“But you never said anything.” Abrianna looked to her other aunts. “Did all of you know?”

“Certainly we did,” Aunt Selma said.

Aunt Poisie merely bobbed her head and smiled. Her eyes seemed to dance in amusement. Abrianna felt certain her aunt
would have liked to have commented on the matter, but already her sister was guiding the conversation.

“How will you confront him, Abrianna?”

She sighed and smoothed the skirt of her mauve gown. “I've given it a great deal of prayer. I plan to tell him the truth of what I did and what I found. I believe we will know if he is lying by the way he reacts. And we can bring the girls to confront him. If he had charge of this situation and dealt with the girls in person, they will recognize him, and that will be that.”

“Will we need the police?” Aunt Poisie asked, her eyes growing wide. “I daresay that would be most scandalous to have them come here to the house.”

“I think we can probably avoid that,” Aunt Miriam replied.

“If they do need to come, we shall offer them refreshments. Then we could tell our neighbors that we took tea together—if they asked.” Aunt Poisie leaned back in her chair and smiled, as if proud at her clever thinking. “Then no one would need be wiser about the real reason.”

To Aunt Poisie it no doubt seemed a master plan. Abrianna couldn't help but smile. She loved these dear old ladies with all of her heart.

“Well, let us join him.” Aunt Miriam moved toward the door. “We will let Abrianna take charge of the conversation regarding the young Chinese women.”

“Oh, agreed,” Aunt Poisie declared. “Quite agreed.”

“She is best to confront him.” Aunt Selma got to her feet.

The comments surprised Abrianna. Perhaps her aunts were now starting to see her in a different light. Rather than treating her like a young child who had little or no sense, maybe they were seeing her for the sensible young woman she'd become. Of course, sensible women probably did not slip down coal chutes.

The front parlor had been arranged in a most welcoming way. The decorating had been a labor of love by the three older ladies,
and most visitors agreed that it was one of the most pleasant parlors they'd yet encountered. However, Priam Welby did not look at all comfortable as he paced the beautiful Oriental rug.

“Mr. Welby.” Aunt Miriam and the others entered ahead of Abrianna. They nodded their greeting and took their places.

Mr. Welby smiled. “Ladies, I am relieved to know that you are well.” He looked past them to meet Abrianna's scrutiny. “And you, I am most relieved to see that you are well, too. I feared you might have been at your little food house when the fire broke out.”

“I was indeed downtown.” Abrianna swept into the room like a regal queen, the satin merveilleux gown rustling like a whisper. She held herself as precisely as Aunt Miriam, hoping her formality would indicate her maturity. She sank gracefully onto a French corner chair, which had recently been reupholstered in a dark hunter green silk. “Please sit.”

He did so but still looked uneasy. “I thought to come here today and invite you and Miss Poisie for a carriage ride. There are already many people coming from far and wide to see the remains of Seattle, and I thought perhaps you might desire a closer look.”

“I cannot agree to any carriage ride just now,” Abrianna said. She folded her hands together. “We need to talk first.”

He looked from her to the older ladies. “Is there something amiss?”

“Perhaps.” Abrianna tried not to sound condemning. The fact was she couldn't bring herself to believe him guilty of such a horrible thing. He might have big ears and be a ruthless businessman, as Wade suggested, but holding people hostage in his basement seemed beyond anything she could imagine him doing.

Welby looked to Mrs. Madison. “First, let me say that I felt great sorrow at the loss of your old building. It was a grand place and suited my needs so well. However, I was greatly relieved
to know that you had long since moved from it to the safety of this house. I believe that to be divine providence.”

“We quite agree, Mr. Welby,” Aunt Miriam answered for them all. “We were just speaking of that yesterday. God certainly blessed us in bringing us to this place. I was never easy in leaving my husband's legacy, but it is clear that God provided safety and provision for us.”

“Yes. That's exactly what I was telling some of my men.”

“Will you rebuild, Mr. Welby?” Aunt Selma asked in such a casual manner that they might well have been taking tea.

“I will. I had insurance on the building and its contents. I have been informed of where to file my claim and plan to do so Monday.”

Abrianna couldn't resist a blunt question. “Will that insurance extend to human loss?”

He looked at her and shook his head. “I don't know what you're asking. There were no deaths at the Madison Building.”

Abrianna felt her resolve to be calm and meticulous fade. She couldn't bear to think that he could so easily talk about insurance and replacing what had been lost if he knew that human life might have been lost, as well.

“I went to your building the day of the fire.”

Everyone stopped and looked at Abrianna. Mr. Welby appeared confused. “But why would you go there? You knew I was seldom in my office.”

“Yes, I knew that. However, we needed to search for a trunk full of costumes that we feared had been left behind in the basement.”

His expression didn't change, and Abrianna took this to be a good sign. “Your man, Carl, wouldn't let us go and look. He said there was danger there, and that some repairs were being made.”

Welby rubbed his chin. “I do recall he said something about that. Surely he offered to look for the trunk himself.”

“He told me that he had, but the trunk wasn't there.” She narrowed her eyes, watching him closely. “I could tell he was lying to me.”

“But why would he lie to you?”

“That's what I wondered. It seemed harmless enough to go look for the trunk or even to escort me to look for the trunk. It wouldn't have been inappropriate, because Militine was with me. However, he simply refused. He was quite rude.”

“I am sorry about that, Abrianna. I will speak to him and ask that he treat you in a gentler fashion in the future. I suppose the trunk was lost in the fire, and I assure you that I will happily replace it and the contents if you let me know what was inside.” He looked to the older ladies and gave a slight nod. “I would feel completely remiss if I were to do anything less.”

“I didn't find the trunk down there.” Abrianna watched him for a reaction, but he only looked puzzled.

“I thought you said Carl wouldn't admit you.”

“I did, but you know me well enough to know that I'm not easily put off. I grew up in that building. I know, or rather knew, other ways to get inside. I let myself in through the coal chute.”

He laughed out loud. “You didn't. Oh, but what I wouldn't have paid to see that.”

“Sir, I am speaking on a most serious matter and would appreciate it if you would refrain from laughter.” She had heard Aunt Miriam use similar words on her more than once. “What I found in that basement was most appalling.”

He sobered. “I do apologize. Whatever are you speaking of?”

“Chinese girls. Ten to be exact.”

He shook his head. “What have they to do with my basement?”

“They were being held hostage there. Locked in a room that had been built, I suppose, for just such a purpose.”

“Girls in my basement?”

He clearly appeared stunned by the information. Abrianna
relaxed a bit now, more convinced that he was innocent. Aunt Miriam rang for Liang. When the girl appeared, Aunt Miriam looked to Abrianna.

“Would you bring the girls, please?”

She turned back to Priam Welby, but his expression suggested that he still had no idea what she was up to. In a matter of minutes, Liang returned with the ten young Chinese women. They lined up near the door, and Liang spoke to them in hushed Chinese.

“Do you know these young ladies?” Abrianna asked Welby.

“No.” He shook his head and looked from one face to another. “I've never seen them before now. Who are they?”

“These are the women who were held hostage in your basement.” She looked to Liang. “Please ask them if they know Mr. Welby.”

Liang again spoke and three girls shook their heads. One of the three spoke in yet another dialect and a couple of the other girls shook their heads. The one who spoke broken English did her best to translate for the others, but not one of the girls appeared to know Priam Welby. Abrianna gave a sigh.