In an America that might have been, two war orphans from a divided nation, one in the north and one in the south, meet across a vast battlefield, striking out to forge a future together in the west. It's 1892, the fourth and bloodiest year of the Ci...
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Kay thought she must be hurt, but she was too dazed to know for sure. Two big men came toward her, reaching down to grab her, with another coming up behind them.
"Now, lass, let's see how you feel about Ities tomorrow," said one with a leer; but then he stumbled and seemed to lose his balance, tumbling to the floor. The other looked towards his friend and then dropped like an empty dress. There behind them, cradling a long wooden stick with a handle, stood the guard from the bank.
"Sorry about this, miss," the guard said. "We honestly didn't expect there would be a riot."
Kay had a hard time breathing. Her corset was tight, and she was bent at an odd angle. The guard pulled her to her feet and steadied her while she caught her breath.
"Can you move? We have to leave," he said, giving the crowd at the kitchen door a worried look.
She nodded yes, and they moved as quickly as they could toward the front of the shop. Whisked, really, since the guard was doing most of the work. Kay was quite wobbly and still dazed. The group at the kitchen door hadn't noticed them yet and were still pushing on it. The door would give just a bit, but people were pushing on the other side too, and it got pushed closed again.
They made it out onto the street where men were knocking over and breaking everything -- windows, carts -- and dragging people they had caught down the street past them. But they parted for Kay and the guard, perhaps because of his uniform, or perhaps because of the club, but then perhaps because of the gun at his hip.
"They were going to rape me!" Kay said out of breath, almost in tears.
"Oh, no, miss. I doubt that," he said in a matter-of-fact voice. "From what I've read, they generally shave your hair and soil your dress."
"But why?" Shock had started to set in and she had begun to sob.
"They think the Italians are taking their jobs." He took a swipe with his club at a man who failed to move quickly enough.
"Are they?" she looked up at the guard.
"Yes, sometimes. And men who lose their jobs can be drafted, and their families may starve."
"But I don't see the difference. Why hire foreigners?"
"Because they work hard for very little money." Kay thought about her aunt and her husband. "And the government looks the other way, because they need the manpower at the front," he added.
They made it back to the corner near the bank where there were wagons full of soldiers and police pulling up at the intersection. He let her sit down on a crate near the curb and knelt down next to her.
"I think you'll be safe now. Can you get home?" he asked, with a worried glance back at the street.
"Yes, I think I can." Kay was trying her best not to cry, but she was shaking.
