Fire: Chicago 1871
“As they left Ned and his awful wife behind, Julie sat back and closed her eyes. They stung from the soot and grit in the wind. Her left knee was throbbing. She couldn’t remember when she had hurt it.
When she opened her eyes again, Nate was looking over the wagon gate at the fire south of them, just a few blocks away. Julie stared at the flames as they roiled, rising and falling like a crimson curtain. Maybe the fire was gong to burn this side of town, too, all the way to the lake. At least she was getting close to home.
She leaned toward Nate. “Thank you!” She had to shout over the roaring of the wind. She straightened her skirts, then rubbed at her bruised knee, wincing. “You didn’t really find my father, did you?”
Nate shook his head. He looked so apologetic that Julie smiled to let him know she was grateful for his lie. The wagon rumbled over the planks. The streets were less crowded here, but Julie could see people at their windows and atop the roofs, watching and waiting.
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