Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 Oscar stared out the window in shock as the train pulled into the city. Chicago was called the Queen of the West. But what an ugly queen! All along the tracks were factories and warehouses. The sky was smudged dirty brown from coal fires and dark clouds burping out of smokestacks. Soon enough, they were off the train and standing in the enormous station hall. Every other person smiled and waved at Mr. Morrow. "Charlie!" a man boomed. "Welcome back, Mr. Morrow," said a porter lugging a heavy suitcase.

"Mr. Morrow, I loved your latest pictures!" a pretty woman gushed. "Good to be back!" Mr. Morrow beamed. People swarmed around the station — more people than Oscar had seen in all of his life. Everyone was rushing around as if they were late for church. And suddenly, Oscar noticed the rotten stench that filled the air. He had never smelled anything as disgusting. It was like someone had tossed a hundred skunks into a hot outhouse and left them there for a month. Oscar could see from Mama's crinkled-up nose that she noticed it, too. "The slaughterhouses," Mr. Morrow said, reading their sickened expressions. "They butcher more hogs in Chicago than anywhere in the world." Mr. Morrow went to the baggage room and returned with their three suitcases. Oscar's was the smallest. Inside was all that was left from his life on the farm: his few clothes and his prized possession — Papa's sheriff's badge, a fivepointed silver star.

"Is there somewhere I can freshen up?" Mama asked, smoothing one of the golden curls that had popped out of her bun. "I'll show you," Mr. Morrow said, taking Mama's arm. "Oscar, can you keep an eye on the bags?" Oscar nodded. But as they disappeared into the crowd, Oscar's heart thumped. He felt so out of place here, and strangely all alone. A bunch of rough-looking boys lurked around. One of them stared at Oscar. He had bright red hair and strange yellow-tinged eyes that reminded Oscar of a rattlesnake's. Oscar was relieved when they drifted away. He took a deep breath and looked around, thinking about Papa's one visit to Chicago. Papa was just twenty years old at the time. His parents had both died, and Papa had decided to leave his hometown near Boston and head west. "I was looking for my fortune," Papa always said. He landed in a no-name town in Dakota Territory. The town was desperate for a sheriff,

and Papa needed a job. For months the place was quiet — until the night a gang of outlaws rode in. Their leader was Earless Max Kildair. "Actually, Earless did have one ear," Papa had explained to Oscar. "He lost the left one blowing up a safe during a bank robbery." Papa heard that Earless Kildair was a killer. And sure enough, by morning the town's bank had been robbed, and one of Papa's friends was sprawled out dead in the street. Earless and his gang were long gone. Papa went after the gangster, chasing him all the way to Chicago. He finally found him in a stinking tavern near the river. Papa pulled out his gun, ready to arrest him. But Earless was too quick. He jumped behind the bar and started shooting. Pow! A bullet whizzed just past Papa's head. Pow! Papa fired back but missed. Earless lunged forward with a final shot. Pow!

The bullet hit Papa in the chest. It should have torn a hole right through Papa's heart. But it ricocheted off his badge instead, leaving a big dent smack-dab in the center. Earless escaped in the commotion. After that, Papa decided he was done chasing outlaws. He heard about free farmland up for grabs in Minnesota. He'd never farmed, but figured he'd give it a try. He ended up in a little town called Castle, where the first person he met was a freckle-faced schoolteacher with the prettiest blue eyes Papa had ever seen. Mama. Within the month, they were married. By the next year they had their farm — and Oscar. "So I found my fortune," Papa liked to say, kissing Mama on the cheek. As for Earless, he was still on the loose. Papa heard he was in Chicago, lying low, but still up to no good. Oscar's thoughts of Papa were cut short by a whispering voice. "Can you help me?"

He looked down at a skinny little girl with a yellow cap over two raggedy braids. She stared up at him with big brown eyes. "I've lost my parents." She looked so helpless! "We'll find them," Oscar said, standing a little taller. "I think they went this way," she said, leading him by the arm out of the main waiting room. But then suddenly she let go of his sleeve. "Sorry," she said. And then poof, she disappeared into the crowd. An uneasy feeling grabbed hold of Oscar. Something wasn't right. He spun around and rushed back to the suitcases. They were gone.