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Informationen zum Autor Kathleen Duey (1950–2020) wrote the middle grade American Diaries and Survivors series, as well as the well-reviewed chapter book series The Unicorn’s Secret and its companion series, The Faeries’ Promise. She was also the National Book Award–nominated author of Skin Hunger . She lived in Fallbrook, California.Karen A. Bale grew up in southern California and graduated from the University California Riverside. She has written seventeen historical romances, including the successful seven-book Sweet Medicine’s Prophecy series . She has done freelance work for several years, including helping to write two nonfiction books. Karen still resides in southern California, ten miles from the Pacific Ocean. Klappentext Brendan, a hard-working orphan who dreams of rising out of poverty, and Dai Yue, a Chinese immigrant facing an arranged marriage to an older man, find unexpected friendship during the San Francisco earthquake of 1906. Earthquake Chapter One It was almost dawn. Brendan O’Connor gripped the reins, struggling to control the nervous mare without slowing her down. Up and down Market Street wagon wheels gritted over the cobblestones. Drivers were hauling produce, laundry, milk, everything the hotels and restaurants would need for the day’s business. Brendan had worked hard to get this route and he wasn’t going to lose it. His boss had the kind of temper no one wanted to set off. Two things made old man Hansen furious: losing money and late deliveries. Fancy San Francisco hotels like the Baldwin and the Palace would find another bakery if their wealthy guests had to wait for their fresh-baked bread and pastries. The streetlamps had been turned off a few minutes before and the city was enveloped by a deep blue predawn glow. Brendan shivered. The damp early morning chill seeped through his worn woolen jacket. He looked up at the fading crescent moon. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Maybe it would be warmer today. Still, he needed to find a better blanket for his cot soon. So far, no one had objected to his sleeping in a corner of the furniture warehouse. Kelly Rourke, the night watchman at the warehouse, was happy enough to look the other way. When Kelly wanted to slip down to MacMurrough’s to buy a whiskey, he’d shake Brendan awake to keep an eye on things until he got back. It seemed to be working out. Brendan hoped so. He didn’t want to have to move for a while. The mare pranced along even though the wagon was especially heavy today. There were three casks of olive oil Finelli’s Restaurant was paying him two bits to deliver to the Palace Hotel. Old man Hansen would fire him if he knew Brendan was using the wagon to deliver other merchants’ goods, but he needed Finelli’s money. Every cent went into the leather pouch he had hidden behind a loose brick in the wall of Old St. Mary’s Church. The pouch held everything that was dear to Brendan—his mother’s wedding ring, his father’s pocket watch, and the fifteen dollars he had managed to save over the last three years. Brendan crossed himself and kissed his St. Christopher medal, then let it slide back down beneath his shirt. God would keep his money safe. He had gotten in the habit of hiding it when he was going to the mission school, back when his father was still alive. No one’s pennies had been safe when Liam O’Connor had wanted a drink. Brendan had been on his own since his father had died—and it was better this way. “May his soul rest in peace,” Brendan whispered fiercely, as he always did to close off thoughts of his father. The gong of an approaching cable car made the mare twitch her ears. Brendan pulled her closer to the curb and looked back over his shoulder. Dolan, a boy he had known most of his life, was whipping his team up Fourth S...
