SUNDAY MORNING,
OCTOBER 8, 1871
- Ticktock Goes to Church -
Once again, this time on Sunday morning, Poppy opened the door of the deserted shed to a windy day—so windy, in fact, that the door almost pulled her outside when she released it. The sand and dust danced in swirls and circled over the dry streets and sidewalks. Wind gusted the surface of Lake Michigan in great waves and surf that cascaded over the shoreline. Boats tugged on their ropes, squealing and scraping against the posts and docks.
Poppy’s stomach growled, begging for food. She didn’t dare use the little money she still had—not yet, not until she safely stowed away aboard a ship heading for somewhere else.
Where would “somewhere else” be? Another city full of beggars and thieves, like Chicago?
It seemed as if the Butterworths hardly knew the Chicago where Poppy lived—the dark, underground, hidden places that disappeared in the morning sunlight as if they were only shadows or bad dreams.
On the other hand, the world of people like the Butterworths was a world Poppy hardly knew. That was a place where candles glistened and families laughed and loved. That would never be Poppy’s world.
But Ticktock was from Justin’s world, and it was time Poppy took her back. She would be in a safe place now that Fingers and Patrick had told Justin about Ma Brennan’s threats. Thank goodness she had run into those two yesterday evening. Poppy was beginning to wonder how on earth she’d stow away on a ship with a goat.
I’ll take her to the church and leave her there.
Poppy led the little goat up the road toward the Methodist church on Wabash Avenue. As they drew near, the church bells were ringing and families were passing through the heavy wooden doors. Were the Butterworths there? Was Claire? When Claire married Pastor Belmont, she’d be living in the parish house next door. It was a big house—huge, in fact. Poppy smiled when she pictured little Mew roaming around the place. She missed holding that purring little furry bundle.
She went to the backyard of the parish house and hitched Ticktock to the end of a clothesline that had fallen to the ground. Perfect! The goat had room to roam and still couldn’t get away from the yard. When Parson Belmont came home, he was sure to see—and hear—Ticktock, who would be bleating for attention.
Claire said there were sheep in the church. Well, now there’s a goat, too.
“You’ll be safe here, dearie.” Poppy put her arms around Ticktock and pressed her face against the goat’s stubbly neck. “Good-bye, Ticktock,” she whispered. “I do love you.”
Poppy turned away and headed back to the waterfront.