think much of them. Think they’re better than the rest of us.” Owen loved it when he could display his worldliness and thought of himself as a man about town.
“Where are we going?” Callie ventured to ask, lugging her pokes and shifting them from one arm to the other. She could feel her stomach rumble. She’d not even had a cup of tea this morning and couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a piece of bread.
“It’s not far. Just uptowns a ways. We’ll take the trolley at the next corner.”
He saw her struggling with her belongings but didn’t offer to help. She’d lugged them all the way from Dublin, she could lug them a ways farther. “See them tracks set in the street?” he pointed. “Those is trolley tracks. Makes for a nice, easy ride over the cobbles. Hurry up now, don’t fall behind. I’ve got business to take care of.”
Callie quickened her pace, almost falling into step beside him but not quite. “There are no streets paved with gold . . . are there?”
“Now don’t you be tellin’ me you believed that fairy tale. Tis a land of opportunity, but only for those who work at it. And me, cousin deary, I work at it.”
“What kind of work? What’ll I be doing here? I need money to send my mum back in Dublin. You know what’s going on there, don’t you? Sometimes there’s hardly enough for the little one’s supper.”
“Now ain’t that a shame!” Owen sneered. “Listen, girlie, I don’t care what’s happening in Ireland or anywhere else for that matter. Owen Gallagher only concerns himself with himself and his own pockets. If you want to take everything you’ve got and throw it away, that’s your business, not mine. I said you were smart; it won’t take long before you think of yourself first and leave the rest to the devil.”
“Why did you bring me over here?” Callie demanded, her voice a hiss. “We all thought you were trying to help out some. I came to work, to send money to the family—”
“Listen,” Owen said nastily, “I didn’t bring you over here. T’was Colleen I sent for. I could tell from her letters that she’s an enterprising young lady and wanted more than anythin’ to get herself away from Ireland. She seemed to know what life was all about. You said she’s gettin’ married. No doubt she’s already got a cake in the oven, right?”
Callie looked at him quizzically. Then it dawned on her. “Yes, Colleen’s going to have a baby. . .”
“That’s what I said, right? She knows what life’s all about. Trouble is, she didn’t know enough. Now, my girls know how to take care of themselves, they do. Or out they go! I don’t keep no charity cases, and when a girl can’t work, she’s got no place with me. Just you remember that.” This was all wrong. She should be grateful. Instead he found himself with a hellcat. There would be no fooling this one for long. He thought of the handsome prices she could earn for him, and he had recently lost Trisha because of a botched-up abortion. An empty bed in his house brought no revenue, and he was eager to fill it.
A horse-drawn conveyance pulled up the street at a clip. The car was open-sided with benches all in a row, some of them facing outward to the street. Cousin Owen instructed Callie to get aboard while he dug in his pocket for two coins, which he dropped into a little change box held out by the conductor. Callie sank down on the hard, painted seat, tucking her pokes alongside her.
“Don’t get too comfortable, it’s not that far.”
“Then why didn’t we walk?”
“Owen Gallagher never walks when he can ride.”
Callie hung out over the side, looking up at buildings and down at the people passing by. A group of children tossed a ball back and forth, and she heard their shouts and calls at play. The sound was somehow comforting.
“We get off here,” Owen told her. “Come along and don’t leave anything behind.”
“Hardly, when this is all I own in the world,” Callie muttered. She was liking her situation and Cousin Owen less and less by the moment. She didn’t like the way he tugged at her arm and practically pushed her off the high step of the trolley. When her feet touched the street, she dropped her pokes and stood facing him, hands on hips. “I’m not moving another step unless you tell me where you’re taking me and what I’ll be doing when I get there!”
“Just shut that mouth of yours and quit attracting attention. I’m known in this town and I have a reputation to consider, and I don’t want you spoiling it for me. Now keep quiet and talk when I tell you.” He picked up her pokes and was pushing them into her arms.
“Why?” Callie demanded bluntly, dropping her pokes for the second time. “I want to know now!”
A brat! A big mouth! He certainly didn’t need this skinny piece of baggage. “You’ll be livin’ in that fine house across the street there. You’ll be with other girls, and they’ll tell you what t’do. They like it!” he said defensively.
“And exactly what do you get out of all this? You said you were a business man and only concerned with your own pockets. You tell me now, or I don’t go one step further.”
Owen glanced around in desperation. His quick eye caught a glimpse of a blue uniform down on the next corner. He didn’t need the police poking into his business; he paid enough in graft as it was. And what if one of his rivals saw one of his girls giving him trouble? “You’ll just do what the girls tell you, and I get a piece of your wages. Er . . . for room and board and, of course, my protection.”
Callie didn’t miss the desperate look in Owen’s eyes as he looked up and down the street, and she was becoming more suspicious by the minute. “What kind of house do you have? Is it anything like that whorehouse at the end of Bayard Street back in Dublin?” She purposely made her voice loud.
Owen was sweating under his collar, keeping a quick eye on the policeman strolling up the street, swinging his billy club. “Now where would a little thing like you ever learn about whorehouses? For shame!” Then an idea hit him, one that had worked before with reluctant employees. “Turn around, cousin, look to the end of the street to that blue uniform swaggering up the block. D’ya know who that is? Well, I’ll tell ya. T’is the law, a copper, a blue jacket, a policeman. Understand? I don’t plan on standing out here freezing. Either you come with me now or I’ll turn you over to him. Remember how fine things were over to Tompkinsville? He knows a right fine place for girls the likes of you who don’t want to work. A place that’ll make Tompkinsville seem like paradise. Then how’ll you send money to your mum?”
Owen saw doubt creep into Callie’s eyes. He’d scared her just the way he had scared all the rest when they’d given him trouble. But there was something behind her rebellious blue stare that made him think she’d cut his heart out if given the chance. This one was going to give him headaches, he knew it.
Without a word, Callie picked up her pokes and followed Owen across the thoroughfare to 16 Cortlandt Street, a four-story tenement. She climbed the nine steps of the front stoop and waited while he jingled the assortment of keys on his ring and unlocked the front door. Perhaps she was wrong. Owen Gallagher must be a well-to-do businessman if he possessed the keys to the front door! To the entire house! In Dublin, six or seven families might live in a house much smaller than this. Inside the house, Callie was assailed by the stench of cooked cabbage and dirt. The hallway was dark and narrow, the stairs leading to the floors above worn and rickety and much in need of repair. The floor needed a good sweeping and scrubbing, and there was a lingering
