Shipbuilder by Marlene Dotterer Read Free Book Online Page A

religious and political differences. It's worth a try."
     

 
    Chapter 5
     
     
    May 1906
     
    The hours were long and the pay was negligible, but on occasional warm days, the job of "free-lance contractor" had its pleasurable moments. Casey sat on a bench in the Botanic Garden, with her legs tucked up under her, hands resting on her knees. She stared at her tree, letting the sun warm her back, listening to birds sing. The little oak seemed unfazed by its backward trip through time, and had grown a couple of inches over the last few months. She came to see it as often as she could. Somehow, as long as the little tree was okay, Casey felt like she would be okay, too.
    After a while, she tilted her face to the sun, sighed, replaced her cap and stood. She was hungry and had not made any money today. Almost none this week. Sam was not having any luck, either, and their rent was overdue. She knew they didn't have it. Tomorrow, they would have to leave the boardinghouse, and their prospects for shelter were slim. Her stolen moment of peace over, Casey headed back into the market.
    She had just stepped onto the walkway fronting the stores when a rock came hurtling past her, grazing her leg. She yelped and jumped back. The rock smashed into a shop door, a hail of stones close behind. Casey flattened herself against a building just as the yelling started, and she turned in dread to see a gang of men and boys coming up the street. Rocks were the least of their weapons: some of them carried cricket bats or torches, many had guns. They flaunted the weapons as the rocks flew. Several of the rioters entered a store, reappearing within moments, dragging two men with them. They threw the prisoners on the ground and kicked them, while others swung at the shop's window with a bat, sending glass flying into the street. A torch was waved at the shopkeeper, who fell to his knees in apparent supplication. Another shop was attacked just as a second gang appeared from a side street. They joined in the fray, two of them close enough to Casey to head for her.
    "No papists! Papists go home!" They were nearly at her side and she frantically waved her hands. "I'm Protestant! And American!"
    A hand closed on the back of her neck and a face shoved itself in front of her eyes. "Wot's yer name?" came the demand.
    "C-Casey. Casey Wilson."
    "Yer American?"
    "Yes! Ow!" His hand had tightened on her neck.
    "Come on, then. Be a good Protestant and give us a hand." One of them thrust a bat into her hands and pointed at the shop next door. "That shopkeeper hires Catholics. Let him know he's wrong to do that."
    As she stared at him, screams filled the air. A nearby house had been set ablaze and the occupants were streaming outside. Most of them were men and they had weapons too. The brawl distracted Casey's tormenters. She dropped the bat and ran.
    They were after her in an instant, rocks grazing her as she ran. She ducked down a side street just as a rock clipped her shoulder. Terror put speed to her feet as another rock landed in the middle of her back. She tripped forward, past training instinctively making her turn it into a forward roll. The roll caused the rest of her training to flood her muscles and she leapt to her feet, turning with a side snap to the boy just reaching her. Her foot connected with his thigh, knocking him down. Not slowing, she went for the next guy, with a forward snap to his chest that quite possibly broke a rib as he fell, unable to breathe. The two others behind them stopped short, unwilling to get within her range.
    She narrowed her eyes, and her mouth twisted in contempt. “Help your friends. I’m going home.”
    No one tried to stop her.
    ~~~
     “I don’t get it!” she yelled at Sam later that afternoon. Mrs. Fitzsimmons had fussed over her bruises when she got home, and then had given Sam a piece of her mind for letting Casey run around town dressed as a boy and without any protection. Casey and Sam were in the little parlor