Indigo Sky (7 page)

Chapter 10

Rork guided Leila toward the orphanage steps, but she stumbled on the uneven surface.

Men in work clothes lounged against the fence surrounding the building, their hard stares filled with resentment.

Leila pulled free from Rork’s grasp. “I can manage, thank you, Mr. Millburn.”

Cornelia kept up with them, casting glances at the workmen. “Those men’s stares cut through us as though slicing us up for dinner.”

Leila straightened her shoulders. “Ignore them. They’re clearly savages.” But her spine tingled, and fear coursed through her. She glanced up at the four-story brick building. The afternoon sun struggled through smoke and clouds, reflecting on small-paned windows the staff had shuttered.

Rork took Leila and Cornelia’s arms and dragged the women into the building. Sweat ran down his face, and he loosened his stained ascot, expelling a long breath. “Damn that was close.” He put out his hand. “I’m Rork Millburn.” He turned to the women. “These are my companions, Mrs. Dempsey and Miss Hancock.”

The man grasped his hand. “I’m Dr. James Smith.” He bowed to the women. “Ladies.”

Cornelia smiled. “I’m so happy to meet you, Dr. Smith, albeit under horrible circumstances.”

His brown eyes twinkled. “Ah, Miss Hancock. I received your letter volunteering your time to work with us. Come, let’s go to the sitting room.” He shut and bolted the door and walked down a passage. “Those poor men are not savages, Mrs. Dempsey. When President Lincoln declared the abolition of slavery, it shook the South’s economic foundations and started this senseless war. Now the Union needs soldiers, and they started drafting working class people.”

Rork snapped open his handkerchief and mopped his face. “So that’s what the signs were about. I saw people carrying placards, but I was too busy to take note of what they said.”

Dr. Smith brushed soot off his sleeve. “I don’t blame them for protesting. They say they’re being sold for three hundred dollars to buy rich men exemption from the war. Initially, they targeted government institutions, but I fear they are now out of control. They burned the
New York Tribune
. The owner, Horace Greely, is an avid abolitionist. He disapproves of rich men being able to buy their way out of the war.” He blew out his cheeks. “What is a concern is there seems to be growing antagonism toward colored people.”

Children’s laughter filtered down the passage. Cornelia stared at the doctor, a hand to her throat. “They could attack the orphanage.”

Deep creases furrowed his brow and bracketed his mouth. “I know, but I don’t want to cause panic.” He shook his head. “I’ve been the physician of this orphanage for almost twenty years, and I’ve never seen this level of violence. Excuse me, I need to see if the children in the yard are safe.”

Rork followed the doctor. Leila and Cornelia quickened their pace to keep up. They stepped aside as staff herded children into the orphanage.

A plump woman calmly called out orders. “Hurry along, children.” She caught the doctor’s eye and jerked her head toward the back door.

He nodded. “It isn’t safe out there anymore,” he whispered to Rork. “We must get all the children in.”

Leila stared at the chaos. “Surely it’s safe in the yard with that six-foot brick wall?” She looked at Rork. “Where is the driver and buggy?”

He rubbed his cheek. “Hopefully, safe in the yard.” He waded into the crush of small bodies and scooped up children, carrying them inside.

“Ladies, please ensure everyone is accounted for,” the doctor shouted above the excited chatter.

Bile rose in Leila’s throat. She swallowed her fear and ran to assist a motherly woman as she ushered children through the doorway.

Glancing at Leila and Cornelia, the nurse smiled as she spoke. “I’m Gertrude Adams, the matron. It’s good you’re here.”

“What do you want us to do?”

“Go to the hall on the second floor, seat the children for lunch, and count heads.”

Leila nodded and hurried off with Cornelia.

An hour later, they’d rounded up the children, counted heads, and fed them. The children chattered happily, unaware of the danger.

Cornelia and Leila sank into a threadbare couch. Rork joined them and sat on the arm. “I believe we managed to gather all the children.” He glanced at them. “Thank God they don’t understand the dangers.” He chuckled. “In fact, they complained about not being allowed to continue playing in the yard.”

Leila looked up at him, dabbing her face with a scrap of lace. “I don’t blame them for wanting to be outside. The heat is oppressive in here. Lord, I’d rather be outside.”

Rork nodded and smiled. “Still keen on volunteering, Miss Hancock?”

“More than ever. I think Dr. Smith and his staff offer an invaluable service to the public, and I want to be a part of it.”

Leila sighed. “He said there have been attacks on many black folk. I don’t understand such hatred.”

“I know, it’s terrible. And Dr. Smith has seen his fair share of hatred on account of his color.” Cornelia looked at the doctor, who was feeding a young boy. “He’s a truly good man.”

Leila fanned her face with the sweat-soaked handkerchief. She was exhausted and desperately wanted to sink into her bed and sleep. She gazed at the children with longing. When she first married Hank, she’d dreamed of having children, but that dream was quickly crushed—Hank didn’t want children.

A hand rested on her shoulder, jolting her from her dismal thoughts.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Dempsey?” Dr. Smith asked, sinking into the chair opposite. He looked at Cornelia. “You also look pale, my dear.”

Cornelia smiled. “I’m quite fine, thank you.”

Leila lay back in the couch. “I think we’re just tired.”

“You, on the other hand, look rather flushed, Mrs. Dempsey.” Dr. Smith patted her hands, clasped in her lap.

Leila suppressed a laugh.
That’s because Rork is sitting so close to me
. “No need to worry about me. Do you think we’re safe here, Dr. Smith?” She was almost afraid to ask the question.

“I don’t know. I heard reports of more riots breaking out all over the city. I pray we don’t become a target.”

“Why would anyone do such a thing?”

“I suppose they see this war as being the fault of colored folk. Other than that, not much is clear to me. I don’t know why people do the things they do.” Dr. Smith shook his head, full lips pressed into a hard line.

Tears pooled in Leila’s eyes. “How can people even condone the practice of slavery? And I don’t understand how anyone can blame the souls who suffer it.”

“Come, we have work to do.”

The sound of breaking glass echoed through the hallway. A scream followed.

Rork surged to his feet, grabbing Leila’s arm. A rock sailed through the window, hitting the wall near her head. He dropped to the floor, taking her with him. She fell to her knees, shielded by his huge frame.

Dr. Smith pulled Cornelia down and crawled to the broken window and peered out. “My God!”

They all scrambled to the window on their knees and peered over the sill. Leila suppressed a cry.

A mob surrounded the orphanage. People crawled over the high wall, shouting, wielding torches, and throwing rocks as they stormed the building.

“What do we do?” Leila quavered.

“Gather the children. We must get them out,” Dr. Smith yelled. Hunched over, he ran to them. Cornelia followed.

Hand clasped to her mouth, Leila watched more people crawl over the wall.

Rork shook her. “They mean to set the building on fire. We must help Dr. Smith get the children out.”

“Yes, of course.” She jumped to her feet. “Oh God, there are too few of us. We’ll never get them all out,” she sobbed.

“Leila.” Rork said sharply. “Look at me.” She met his steady eyes. “Breathe, calm down. You don’t want to instill fear in the children.”

Rork’s deep, calm voice steadied her. Acrid smoke filled the hall, and Leila coughed.

“They’ve set fire to the building.”

“Leila, let’s go. Get the children out.”

Shards from shattered windows lay on the floor. Thick smoke billowed around them.

“Crawl,” said Rork.

She crawled.
Keep calm
.

Chills ran up and down her spine, as though ice enveloped her. She held her head down. The children copied her. Smoke filled her view. Tears ran from her eyes.

She could hear the crackle of paint chipping.

“Keep down . . . keep moving,” Rork shouted. “Head for the stairs.” A child clung to his neck. Two under each arm. He looked at them. “Hold tight.”

Windows were broken. Stones were scattered. Leila crawled faster as she clasped crying children. She looked up. Flames blocked their way. “Rork, look,” she croaked, smoke clawing at her throat.

“Damn. This way.”

Crawling, she pushed ahead. Children followed.

A child emerged with a bloodied forehead.

Leila said, “Child, here, now!”

She turned to Rork’s ghostly figure.

“Leila, move!”

A boy ran past, screaming. Rork reached out and grabbed his tattered shirt. He held onto the wriggling child.

“Hang on,” Rork said.

The boy nodded, his mouth quivering.

“Hurry,” said Rork.

Nodding, he wet his lips. “I’m scared.”

“We’ll be safe,” said Leila.

“Stay together,” Rork said in a husky voice.

They stood and raced downstairs. They reached ground level with three more children.

“Keep together. Crawl.”

The smoke grew thicker.

Children’s eyes were tearing. They coughed and gasped for air.

Rork hollered above the roar, “Get to that door!”

The injured girl wound her arms around Leila’s neck, weeping. Rork turned to Leila who crouched low beside him. “When we get near the door, run like hell.”

She nodded.

Rork coughed. “Run when you hear ‘three.’”

“Yes,” Leila said in a muffled voice.

“One, two, three!” Rork jumped up.

Leila followed with her charges and raced through the smoke. She hoped freedom and fresh air were close.

“Keep together!” Rork yelled. Children stumbled. He opened a wooden door, and smoke billowed in. “Drop to the ground!” he growled.

Leila crouched, her heart thundering in her ears. She moved forward, cursing the long skirt.

“Get down, move.” Leila said, her throat burning.

An eternity passed. They reached the end of the narrow hallway. She looked back to ensure they were all still together and silently prayed they’d make it out.

Fire crackled and hissed.

Something slammed into Leila. The force threw her and the children forward. She twisted her head. Rork was on top of her, his face a fraction from hers. A burning beam fell behind them and sent sparks flying, missing them by inches. Her eyes widened.

“Go!” Rork roared. “For God’s sake, hurry! The whole roof is about to cave in!”

She stumbled forward frantically, dragging children with her. “Hurry, we’re really close,” she said, her throat sore and tight.

“Let’s go.” Rork scooped up children.

With superhuman strength, Leila did the same. Stumbling through the burning debris, they headed for the open door. Leila fought for air, her throat and eyes afire.

The doctor and his staff appeared from the murky surroundings and took the children from them. “We need to get out of here!” he said hoarsely. “Take cover behind the shrubbery. We don’t want them to see us.”

Once outside, Rork ran to the bushes and dropped to one knee. Leila followed him, brushing tangled hair from her face. He laughed. “You look like a chimney sweep.”

Leila smiled tremulously. “So do you.”

She looked around and then stared at Rork. “Where is Cornelia?”

Chapter 11

Keeping to the shadows of the shrubbery, Rork scanned the chaotic scene, backlit by orange and blue flames.

“I see Cornelia. She’s with the children, behind Dr. Smith. We need to get to the gates without being noticed.”

“Listen, Rork,” said Leila, “The fire trucks . . . Oh God, I pray they can save the building.”

Rork touched Leila’s cheek. “Can you make it to the gate?”

She nodded. “How can they be so cruel?” she cried, holding her throat.

“Mobs turn into vicious beasts, losing direction and control.” Rork said as he moved in the shadows, avoiding the crowd.

A short distance away, Dr. Smith, Cornelia, and the staff urged frightened children away from the conflict.

Rork supported Leila and hurried to them. He looked back. Flames leapt high, seeming to touch the underbelly of roiling storm clouds. It was like a scene from hell.

“We need to get the children further away before the crowd attacks us,” Dr. Smith said, running a hand over his soot-stained face.

Rork narrowed his eyes as the mob surged toward them. “We’d better make it quick, wherever we take them.”

The children screamed as the mob closed in. An Irish immigrant stepped out from among them and faced the angry crowd, arms spread. His voice rang out above the pandemonium. “If there is a man among you with a heart, help these poor children.”

“Ya damn turncoat!” a rioter yelled and brought a stick down on the brave man’s shoulders. Then the mob fell on him.

“Bastards!” Rork roared and moved to help him.

Dr. Smith grabbed his arm. “Don’t do it. We must get the children away,” he shouted above the noise.

“They’ll beat him to death. I cannot stand by and watch that happen.”

Dr. Smith took Rork’s shoulders. “They will also kill you and then probably us and the children.”

Rork’s mouth tightened. “Fine, let’s get the hell out of here!” Moving with as much speed as possible, they herded the children away from the orphanage. “Where will you take them?”

“Thirty-Fifth Street Police Station for now. I’ll relocate them to the alms house on Blackwell’s Island when this madness ceases.” Dr. Smith smiled. “That’s where they originally lived.”

Except for the children’s whimpers, they conducted a hasty retreat in silence. Rork kept his arm around Leila. The panicked whinnies and screams of distressed horses ripped into his brain. The mob had surrounded the buggy and beat the horses.
Dear God, they have truly gone mad
. The driver broke free and disappeared down the street.

When they reached the police station, they heard reports of atrocities committed around the city. A constable shook his head. “The mobs were killing colored people unfortunate enough to get in their way. They’re beating and burning the abolitionists and their homes. God knows where it will end.” He shut the doors and guided them to the back of the station. “How many children do you have, Dr. Smith?”

He sank onto a bench. “Two hundred and thirty-three. We got them all out, thank God.” He glanced at Rork, Leila, and Cornelia. “I will be forever grateful for your help. Were it not for your assistance, we would have lost some.” He stood and took Cornelia’s hand. “You were courageous, Miss Hancock. I know you’ll be an asset to our orphanage, if and when we rebuild.”

Cornelia smiled. “Please call me Cornelia. And we will rebuild. I have contacts, and I’ll ensure they donate to your worthy cause.”

“I will donate,” Leila said, coughing.

Rork patted her back. “We need to get to the hotel. I’m sure news of the riots has reached Hank by now, and he’ll be anxious about you.”

Leila shook her head and mumbled, “I doubt it.”

Rork silently agreed with her and turned to Cornelia. “Are you coming with us?”

“I need to fetch my luggage.” She put her hand on Dr. Smith’s arm. “I’ll return as soon as I’ve bathed and changed.”

He hugged her. “Stay at the hotel. It isn’t safe for you anywhere else. I’ll call you when we’re settled at the alms house.”

“You need me.”

He smiled. “I promise I’ll call you. The alms house has limited accommodations for staff.”

She nodded. “Very well.”

“How can we get to our hotel?” Rork asked the constable.

He grinned and winked. “If you don’t mind riding in a prison carriage, I can get you there.”

“All right, let’s go.”

Guests stared at the filthy, bedraggled trio as they disembarked from the police carriage and walked into the hotel foyer.

Hank’s eyes widened. “God’s truth, Leila, what the hell have you been up to?”

Rork released her waist. “We got caught up in the riot. Leila was fearless. She assisted in evacuating orphans from a burning building.”

“Everyone assisted,” she said, beyond exhausted and in no mood for a battle of words.

“Lord, Le-le, you’re a mess.”

Leila’s head snapped around at the familiar voice. She balked at the useless nickname. Gritting her teeth, she shuddered and struggled to plaster a smile on her face. “Sissy, what are
you
doing here?” She was the last person Leila wanted to see.

Sissy’s eyes glittered with malice. She leaned against Hank. “I didn’t realize it was a private hotel.”

Leila chewed her bottom lip. “I thought you’d gone on to visit your cousin.”

Sissy smirked. “I changed my mind. Has that upset you, honey?” She burst out laughing.

The high-pitched braying grated on Leila’s shattered nerves. “I couldn’t care less what you decide.”

Sissy gazed up at Hank. “When I heard about the excursion west I simply couldn’t resist Hank’s sweet offer to join. It will be such fun.”

Hank blinked. “I also thought you were stopping in St. Louis to visit your cousin.”

Sissy tapped his chin playfully with her fan. “It will be more fun going west.”

Dear God, will I have to endure this woman the whole way west?
Leila scowled at Hank, then Sissy. “I didn’t think a trip out west was your idea of fun. I doubt there will be any of the luxuries you enjoy.”

“Oh, tish, it’s an opportunity for adventure.” The words came out as if there were too many teeth crammed in her small mouth. She tossed her fiery red curls and pulled a lock over her shoulder, enhancing her seductive pose.

Leila clasped her hands together, fighting the temptation to slap the smile from Sissy’s face. Rork’s gentle nudge drew her from the brink of a violent action.

“I am equally surprised to see
you
embarking on this trip, Leila.” Sissy leaned her head on Hank’s shoulder. “You’re also a creature of comfort.” Her eyes swept a filthy and disheveled Leila from head to toe. “Until now, I suppose.” She brushed an imaginary speck from her green muslin dress. “Can’t imagine why you would embroil yourself in a mission to rescue a bunch of wretched orphans. Colored ones, I suppose.”

“Yes,” Leila ground out.

“Lord above, gal, why bother?”

Cornelia gasped.

Leila clenched her teeth. She couldn’t stomach Sissy much longer. “You never were particularly sympathetic to the plight of those less fortunate.”

“No, but nor were you—or so I thought,” Sissy sneered.

Leila’s back stiffened. “You don’t really know me. And I don’t care to continue this conversation.”

Hank sliced the air with one hand. “Enough, both of you.” He glared at Leila. “I can’t abide catfights. I suggest you take yourself off to bathe and change.”

A chill slid over Leila. She swallowed, almost choking. Hank had invited Sissy, whereas she, his wife, had to beg to join him.
Can our marriage be salvaged?

Rork took her elbow. “Come, I’ll escort you to your suite.” He stopped. “What number are you in, Hank?”

“Suite twenty-three. I booked you and Miss Hancock into suites flanking ours.”

“I’ll show you to yours, Mr. Millburn.” Sissy caroled, malice dripping from her lips as she slanted her eyes at Leila.

“Thank you, Miss Lanweihr. I can find my own suite,” Rork said coldly. He steered Leila and Cornelia from the foyer.

Cornelia glanced at Leila. “Lord, I don’t know how you keep your composure around that creature.”

“With a great deal of difficulty,” Leila said between clenched teeth.

Rork squeezed her arm against his side. “You were the perfect lady in the face of that strumpet’s venom.”

“You don’t have to put up with Hank’s flagrant affairs, Leila,” Cornelia hissed. “Those two are made for each other.”

Leila held up a grubby hand. “Please don’t go there again, my dear friend.”

“Here is your suite, Leila.” Rork opened the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Millburn.”

His smile lit his whole face. “Are we back to formalities?”

She nodded and escaped into her suite and closed the door. Pressing her back to it, she released a long breath. Tears fell. Leila brushed at them irritably. “I’m just overwrought. And that Sissy pushed me over the edge—to hell with her.”

Rork leaned against a column, his thoughts centered on Leila. His heart jolted when he saw her.

She stood at the entrance to the sitting room, tugging at long cream gloves and smoothing her cream lace gown that fell over the hoop petticoat in layers.

His eyes drifted to the low, neckline of her dress and her bare shoulders, and his pulse rate soared. The overblown Sissy sailed into view.
That bitch is doubtless spoiling for another fight
.

“Le-Le,” she sang. “You look, ah, virginal, to say the least.” She arched her eyebrows. “Where is your beau?”

Leila paled. “My what?”

Sissy flapped her fan. “Oh, my dear, no need to be coy. You’re obviously quite besotted with him.”

Rork pushed away from the column. It was time to intervene. He walked to Leila and bowed. “Good evening, Mrs. Dempsey. Just the lady I was looking for. I must say, you look lovely.” He pointedly ignored Leila’s tormentor.

Sissy tapped his arm with her fan and fluttered her lashes. “My, Mr. Millburn, you do look handsome and dashing in your dress suit.” Her eyes swept him hungrily.

“Miss Lanweihr,” Rork said. “I didn’t notice you. Will you excuse us? Hank gave me a message for his wife. I am afraid it’s of a private nature.”

Sissy sniffed and lifted her chin, all but stamping her foot. “Certainly, Mr. Millburn.” She glared at Leila and walked off.

Rork chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Seeing that woman’s ego crushed.”

Leila giggled. “Yes, it was rather satisfying.”

He held Leila’s gaze. “Why do you put up with Hank’s philandering and that woman’s insufferable insults?”

Her eyes skittered. She drew herself up to her full height. “Enough.”

Rork moved closer. Heat radiated from her body, stirring desire in him. She turned her head aside, cheeks glowing. He longed to run his fingers down her neck to her bare shoulders. He fought desire for her as his eyes caressed the soft swell of her bosom. “I would cherish you,” he whispered.

“Please don’t.”

He smiled. “Very well, but I can’t help my growing feelings for you.” She lifted her eyes, and he was lost in the deep blue depths framed by thick black lashes. “You are so beautiful. I want so much to replace that tragic look with laughter.”

She turned to go.

He put a hand on her shoulder. Her smooth skin under his hand was almost his undoing. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless with desire. “Please don’t go. I promise to behave.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He offered his arm. “Shall we join the others in the sitting room?”

“I suppose.” She slipped a small gloved hand into the crook of his arm.

“Why does she call you Le-Le?”

“I hate it when she calls me that.”

“It’s not the most flattering nickname. But I’m curious, why does she call you that?”

“I suppose because she knows I hate it.” Leila shrugged. “She’s called me that since we were at school. She was a prig then. Nothing has changed.”

Rork cocked an eyebrow. “And that causes what Hank called a catfight?”

Leila’s mouth quirked into a smile. “It might well have, if she’d carried on. Sissy and I never got along. Even when we were children, I couldn’t stand her. And the feeling is mutual.”

“I didn’t realize you’ve known each other from childhood. Why tolerate her flirting with Hank?” Pain flittered across her face, and he instantly regretted asking.

“Sissy flirts with every man. Even at school she enjoyed the challenge of stealing beaus from other girls.” She laughed bitterly. “I don’t know if she would stoop to stealing husbands.”

His mouth tightened.
Is Leila really that naïve and unaware that Hank’s association with Sissy has gone beyond a mere flirtation?
“So she’s always been a coquette?”

“Cornelia will tell you how appalling Sissy is. She has always been a spoiled narcissistic brat.” Leila smoothed invisible creases from her skirt and glanced up. “Please don’t look at me like that. I don’t need your pity.”

“Clearly Sissy hasn’t changed one whit since her youth.” He scowled. “I don’t understand why anyone tolerates her—including Hank. The woman has fewer brains than a peahen.”

Leila blushed. “There are many reasons men tolerate Sissy Lanweihr.”

He laughed. “I’ll wager it has nothing to do with intelligence or personality and everything to do with her overblown assets and loose morals.”

Leila shrugged. “Men can’t seem to resist her, ah, charms.”

Rork snorted. “That’s certainly one way to put it.”

Leila’s blush deepened, and she cleared her throat. “Was my husband really looking for me?”

“Would it make you happy if he were?”