She was brown of skin like Hallelujah, and wore her graying hair pulled back in a thick bun. Her black hair hung in six long braids that whipped around with her restless energy. Why? Hands on hips she faced Miss Tilly across the big kitchen. She had a secret plan to trick Miss Tilly. Only young Hallelujah was not affected by the sense of gloom that Sunday afternoon. She felt uneasy and worried about the recent fires. Inside the kitchen Miss Tilly wiped her eyes and stirred the pot. The wind blew gritty dust that hissed like a deadly snake against the kitchen door. Chicago seemed to shimmer in a haze of smoke and fear. Smoke in the air burned eyes and made tears trickle. Cats with fur raised along their backs paced the streets, meowing. At times it howled, like spirits of long ago, haunting the city of Chicago.ĭogs in the city tucked their tails, slicked back their ears, and hid under porch chairs. ON THAT SUNDAY IN 1871 A WARM WIND OFF the Illinois prairie moaned.
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