Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 THIRTY MINUTES LATER 9:00 P.M. ILLINOIS CENTRAL TRAIN DEPOT "Those street kids are vicious," the policeman said. He looked down at Oscar. "Son, you're lucky you didn't get stabbed." Mama, Mr. Morrow, and Oscar stood with the policeman on the spot where their suitcases had been. The cop, Officer Brennan, was an old buddy of Mr. Morrow's. He explained that Oscar had been tricked. That little girl wasn't really lost. She was a crook, part of a band of thieves. "She distracted you so the others could steal the suitcases," Officer Brennan said. "Happens here every day."

Officer Brennan and three other cops had already scoured the station, but there was no sign of the girl or the bags or those rough boys Oscar had seen. Oscar told the policeman about them, too, including the redheaded boy with the strange eyes. "Otis Webber," the cop said, his friendly eyes narrowing. "He's only fourteen years old, but he's got the heart of a killer. We hear he works for an older guy. They take helpless orphans and turn them into ruthless criminals." Oscar shuddered. "Will you find our suitcases?" Mama said. "Doubtful, ma'am," he said, giving them all an apologetic smile before he left. Mr. Morrow put his arm around Oscar's shoulders. "I should have warned you," he said. "In a big city like this, there are some bad characters." "What's done is done," Mama said, shaking the worry from her face. "We can all get new clothes. What matters is that here we are, together." Mr. Morrow beamed at Mama.

Oscar ducked out from under Mr. Morrow's arm. Oscar didn't care about his clothes. All he cared about was Papa's badge, which was gone forever. It was past 10:00 P.M. when they finally got out of the station and into a cab, a beat-up buggy pulled by a dusty horse. The cabdriver flashed a smile filled with black teeth when he saw Mr. Morrow. "Charlie!" he cried. "Welcome back!" Was there anyone in Chicago who didn't know Mr. Morrow? "Hello, Joseph!" Mr. Morrow said, patting the man on the shoulder. "Take us to the Palmer House, please." Joseph let out a sharp whistle. "Fancy!" "We'll have supper there," Mr. Morrow told Mama and Oscar. "Then we'll head home. Oscar, I think you're going to like the house. My father built it. It's a little far away from things, north of our new park. The best room is my studio. You can look out the windows and see all of Chicago." Oscar managed a nod and bit his tongue.

Mr. Morrow's house would never be home. Home was Papa's farm, where the air didn't smell like dead hogs, where the only thieves were the rabbits that stole carrots from the garden. The horse clattered away from the train tracks and warehouses and onto a wide avenue of grand buildings. Oscar tried not to act like he was impressed, but the buildings were taller than any tree he'd ever climbed. "Amazing, isn't it?" Mr. Morrow said, smiling proudly. "When I was born, this city was just a little town on a marsh. Today, Chicago is one of the most important cities in the world." "It's beautiful," Mama said. But suddenly Mama's expression darkened. "Does the sky look odd to you?" she asked, her brow wrinkling with worry. Oscar saw it, too, a pale orange glow in the sky. "Must be a fire," Joseph said matter-of-factly. "We're having fires practically every night now. Hasn't rained here in months. The city is bonedry." The word fire sent a flash of fear across Mama's face, and it jolted Oscar, too. Three years ago, a

massive forest fire had erupted in the woods north of Castle. It burned thousands of acres of pine and birch trees, and then raced across the prairie toward Castle. Dozens of buildings were burned, including Oscar's barn. The entire town could have been lost. But just as flames were lapping at the edges of Main Street, a big rainstorm blew in and doused the fire. "Don't worry," Mr. Morrow said, giving Mama a reassuring pat. "Chicago has one of the best fire departments in the country. We have close to two hundred firemen and a fleet of the best new steam pumpers. That fire will be out before we finish supper." The cab lurched to a stop, and Joseph turned around. "And here we are, folks. Palmer House hotel. Finest in the city." They climbed out of the cab, and a man in a top hat swung open the hotel's huge front door. Oscar peered inside at the glittering lobby. Bright lights twinkled, and piano music filled the air. Oscar lingered outside. He'd never seen such a fancy place, and he was sure he didn't belong in there.

Oscar glanced back at the street, tempted to bolt away to the train station. And that's when he saw her — a little girl scurrying down the sidewalk. Even in the flickering gaslight, there was no mistaking that dirty yellow cap, those raggedy braids. "There she is!" Oscar called out. But Mama and Mr. Morrow were already starting across the lobby, and Oscar's shouts were drowned out by the music and the hum of the chattering crowd. The girl moved quickly across the sidewalk. And before he even realized what he was doing, Oscar had dashed into the street. He had to catch that little thief!