Free Indigo Christmas by Jeanne Dams Page A

goin’ to be a baby in the house any time now.” Muffled cries came from upstairs, along with voices and footsteps. “The doctor’s come,” Patrick went on, “and Sean’s pacin’ up and down in the hall. No, stay and eat your dinner,” as Hilda jumped out of her chair. “There’ll be time enough to admire the babe when it’s in its ma’s arms. You’d only be in the way now. And do you want to hear what I have to say, or don’t you?”
    â€œI want to know. But are you sure Norah is all right?”
    â€œBlessed saints, she’s got a passel o’ women around her, her ma and all, and the doctor. She’ll do fine. Stop worryin’ and eat, and listen, because I need to get back to the store and do some work this afternoon. Uncle Dan’s a patient man, but he can’t manage everything himself.”
    Hilda obediently sat down and began to spoon up her soup.
    â€œI didn’t have time to talk to the police this mornin’. I stopped at the station, but Sergeant Lefkowicz wasn’t there, and I didn’t know most of the ones who were. They’ve got a lot of new men on the force these days. Don’t know if that police chief is as good at his job as he ought to be. Anyway, I found out Lefkowicz will be on duty tomorrow. Saturday’s a busy day at the store, but I can maybe get away for an hour or two and talk to him.”
    â€œSo did you go to the fire station?”
    â€œI did. out to House Five, there on Sample close to the river. They were the nearest to the farm, so they got there first, but it was way too late. By the time somebody in town saw the smoke and pulled the alarm, the fire had a good hold, and there wasn’t much they could do except keep it from spreadin’ to the house. We need more fire stations in this town, the way it’s growin’, ’specially to the south. The firemen can’t put out fires if they can’t get there in time!”
    It was a familiar refrain. Although South Bend was putting up more and more buildings of stone and brick, most of the houses and businesses and factories were still constructed of wood, which made fire a constant, deadly hazard, even with the high-pressure water system provided by the standpipe of which the city was so proud. of course, out in the country where the hoses had to be filled with water pumped from wells, the firefighters had an even harder job. Hilda knew all the arguments for more fire stations, for new and better equipment. Right now she didn’t want to hear them.
    â€œYes, yes, but what did they say? ”
    â€œThey say the fire was started with kerosene. There was a lamp turned over, right near the door, and they reckon the kerosene leaked out and the heat of the lamp set it on fire. They could tell that part burned fast and hard, so they figure there was somethin’ there, a pile of straw maybe, or a rick of firewood, that caught fire directly and set off the rest.”
    Hilda put down her spoon. She had once had a narrow escape from a fire started by a kerosene lamp. The memory was a terrible one. “That poor man,” she said soberly. “I heard this morning that he—the man who died, I mean, Mr. Jenkins—maybe drank too much. If he was drunk, he might have dropped the lantern, and then not been able to get away fast enough. oh, Patrick, it is horrible!”
    â€œOh, he was drunk, all right. One of the firemen knew him a little, and some of his friends, and he—the fireman—said Jenkins spent most of the morning in a saloon out on Miami Street. His boss was away for a day or two buying supplies and machinery, and Jenkins wasn’t all that dependable about stickin’ to his job when the farmer wasn’t there. His friends told the fireman that Jenkins didn’t even eat any lunch, just went home in the early afternoon in such a state they weren’t sure he wouldn’t end up in a