Free The Last Honest Seamstress by Gina Robinson Page B

fallen. Those lucky enough to own carts and horses were loading their goods to carry them up the steep grade to the top of the hill over Seattle, out of danger.  
    Fayth looked wildly around her shop. She scooped Olive up and put her in her basket, setting it carefully by the door. "Stay," she commanded. "I've got to save our machine. I'll be right back."
    She flung open the doors that blocked off the sewing room and the doors from the shop to the street to clear her path. In a flash of inspiration she spied a bucket of water she'd drawn, grabbed it and doused all the fabric and partially finished garments she could reach, then ran to her machine.  
    It had taken two strong men to move it in. She couldn't lift it alone. She tugged at it with all her might. The machine didn't budge.  
    Oh, to be a big, well-muscled man!  
    She ran around to the back of it and braced her shoulder against it, trying to use the strength of her legs to move the thing. The machine slid bare inches across the floor.
     
    "The block's on fire, Captain! We'll never make it before it all goes up! She'd be crazy not to have left already," Billy said.
    "We'll find that out soon enough. We aren't turning back 'til we're sure."
    The horse came to a stop, unable to find its way around the debris in the street through the dense smoke. Con handed the reins to Billy and jumped down. "I'm going to guide her, you drive."
     
    The shop was filling with smoke. Fayth's eyes and throat stung. Her lungs filled with the biting air. She couldn't stop coughing. The heat of the advancing fire heralded the flames' arrival. Perspiration trickled down her back and beaded on her forehead. The heat of the June day offered no relief. She looked up and out the door to see flames engulf the buildings across the street. She pushed until the backs of her legs ached with exertion. She tried another position and pushed again, head down in determination. The roar of the flames across the street was like the incessant battle cry of a great hoary beast. She shuddered. Wylie and Willis came scrambling down off the roof yelling.
    "Get out, Miss Sheridan! Save yourself. The roof's caught fire!"
    Fayth knew she had only minutes before the entire building would be consumed. She'd heard that fear gave people unnatural strength, but no such energy came to her, only wild panic.
    Raging desperation overtook her. If she made it to the street where would she go? Would the machine stand up to the blast furnace fury of the fire?  
    The roof cackled overhead as the second story was overtaken. She was going to die in the licentious, laughing fire. She gave one final vehement push with quivering forearms. Suddenly the machine moved across the uneven floor and slid toward the doorway.  
    She looked up through the smoke to see the silhouette of a man at the other end of her machine. She'd neither seen, nor heard him approach, but she thanked God for him now. She ducked her head down and resumed pushing, praying he wouldn't desert her before they reached the street. At the boardwalk the machine came to an abrupt halt as the man stopped.
    "Please! It must go to the middle of the street!" She hardly recognized her own high-pitched, hoarse, pleading voice. Sparking embers fell around her, lighting on her skirt, burning tiny holes. She swatted at them as if they were bloodthirsty mosquitoes. She heard the roar of the fire overhead and glanced up to see flames dance across the roof over her apartment. Across the street a building imploded and collapsed, devastated by flame. "Please!"
    "But, darling, I have a cart." The voice was calm, strong, and unequivocally unafraid.
    "Captain O'Neill!" Fayth wondered if he heard the rapture in her voice.
    He spoke the truth. The thick smoke made it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet away, but she saw the outline of a cart, and a horse whose reins were held by a tall, slight figure, perhaps a boy.  
    The Captain shouted to the boy who immediately jumped