by Lynn Donovan
Before long, it was time for the men to switch and Niles to climb to the roof of the boxcars. Inspecting the animals from the roof hatch was the only way to look in on them. Otherwise he would have to open the large side-doors and that would let too much sub-zero air into the livestock cars. He had carefully lined each car from floor to roof with bales of hay, dividing each section with hay-bale-walls to keep the animals separate. Through their own body heat, they would remain warm enough to survive the trip. He hoped.
Clambering onto the roof without his cane, he hunkered down low against the driving blizzard. Crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his gloved hands under the armpits of his camel-hair overcoat, he turned his face against the icy wind. His leg still bore scabs and bruises from his accident on the freighter. The remnant stiffness in his right leg unsettled his nerves. Trekking across the top of the cars with an unsure gait because he lacked his cane was dangerous enough in good weather. This ice and snow made it treacherous.
His foot slipped and he slammed down on one knee. He gasped, and his heart pounded in his chest. A shock of pain shot through his leg. If only he could use his cane to steady his balance, but that was impossible up here. He gritted his teeth as he stood, with careful, focused placement of his boot, and made his way to the hatch.
Another sudden slip! He gasped. The cold air stung his lungs. His arms flew out to his sides. He caught the top rail along the center of the boxcar and his feet flung over the side. He gritted against the pain, then slowly pulled himself back up. A fall from up here wouldn’t be fatal at this speed, but it certainly wouldn’t be a safe thing to have happen. He could break any number of bones, if he hadn’t already cracked a rib. He pressed his hand against the Saint Christopher medal under his clothes and prayed he’d make it to his destiny unharmed.
Standing over the small door, he squatted precariously with the stiff leg out straight to his side. The gloves made it difficult to open the hatch on the animal’s car. He pulled one glove from his hand with his teeth, unlatched the little door, then quickly slipped the glove back on. His hand burned from the exposure.
The process was grueling, but necessary. Every other time the train stopped for the Chinese workers to alternate the two front men, Niles endured the freezing storm to inspect the condition of his animals. A teapot warmed in his Pullman. In the time it took him to walk the length of the six cars, verify the animals were alright, and return to the Pullman, the Chinese workers would have completed their tea ingestion, and a new pair would be on the handcar ready to move forward. While Niles was inside the Pullman he refilled the teapot for the men and stretched out on a divan. The four Chinamen sat together, huddled in a circle on the carpeted floor drinking tea. Their presence was awkward but necessary. Niles pulled a small blanket over his shoulder and closed his eyes. The chill from being outside remained deep in his bones.
One of the workers touched Niles’s shoulder, he jerked from near sleep and sat up. “What is it?”
“For you, boss man.” He held out a steaming cup of tea at arm’s length and bowed his head lower than the cup.
The porcelain warmed Niles’s hands and the unusual tasting liquid warmed him from the inside out. He had no idea what was in the concoction, but he drank it each time it was offered. Somehow he knew, to do otherwise would have been rude.
When the engineer deemed it necessary to stop to refill the water reservoir or the coal car, Niles fed the exotics. They were cold and miserable, but still alive. Ten of the twelve that had left Africa survived being tossed about in their container during the storm at sea. He had wrapped the dead bushbucks in tarps and buried them at sea before pulling into port in New York. The deckhands had lined the side of the freighter and saluted as the two carcasses were rolled overboard. It was touching.
Niles only prayed these remaining animals survived the enormous climate change from tropical to blizzard so he could deliver them as promised to his brother in Seattle. Why had he chosen January to try to bring tropical animals to the United States? He had truly forgotten how cold it could get this time of year. In the past seven years he had lived in the humid forest of West Africa where there was no such thing as winter.
Surely, this storm would let up soon.
He should have been in Seattle, Washington a week ago. Traveling west to Oregon and then north to Seattle, he was so close to being home. And yet, he was miles from his destiny.
The train crawled farther west, barely covering twenty miles a day. The crew worked hard to keep the rails clear of ice. Slowly, agonizingly, the train pulled into a town marked as Silverpines. They stopped for fuel and water. A tent town sat off to the west of the tracks, much like the temporary community where Niles had found Duquan Chang and his crew. Niles turned his attention to the men he had hired. The cold wind stung his eyes as he stood on the platform outside of his Pullman. He blinked purposefully.
The workers perked up, scurried to the windows in his Pullman, and pointed at the tents. The two who had been on the handcar entered the Pullman, tugging at their fur mittens. They joined the excited chatter.
A sharp, cold wind whipped around Niles, lifting his slicked-back hair. A strand dangled in front of his left eye, obscuring his vision. He shivered and sucked air between his teeth, as he shoved the rebellious strand back in place. Would this storm ever let up?
He stepped off the platform and leaned into the wind to approach the ticket office. “Where’s the nearest eatery? And feed store? I need to buy some food for my animals, some hay too.”
The little man behind the partially boarded up window jerked awake and rubbed his hands together before looking up. Confusion wrinkled his brow.
“Silverpines Inn is two blocks due west of here, but there’s a cafe around the corner. She’s more… liberal with her dress code.” He perused Niles from head to waist. “That is, if she’s open. Lily Jo’s been a little… emotional lately. Millie Cutler’s probably got what you need for feed at the mercantile. It’s across the street from the inn.” He rubbed a trembling hand through his wispy white hair. “So, I reckon you’d be walking two blocks no matter what.”
Niles nodded, leaning hard against the ticket building, trying to protect himself from the driving wind whipping around the tiny structure. “I’m forever in your debt.”
He stepped back, patted the soft warm spot on his belly where the shrew was sleeping, and gathered his bearings. From the corner of his eye, he spotted his hired hands scurrying toward the tent town. That was alright. He’d be here in this Silverpines a while and he knew where to find them if they didn’t return before he was ready to leave.
He’d go to the mercantile and see if Mrs. Cutler had the feed he needed, and a man or two to deliver it to the train cars, then go to the inn for dinner… and hopefully a warm up.
CHAPTER FOUR
The town looked deserted. This blizzard had shut everything and everyone down. He was the only foolhardy individual who couldn’t stop just because a blue northern had taken over. His exotics’ survival depended on it. He and they had been through too much to give up now. The constant wind swept the snow from the middle of the dirt street and piled it into drifts, framing every building from its rooftop, across the boardwalk, and curving out into the street. It would be a beautiful scene, if it weren’t stalling his progress.
He stepped back another step to see around the butcher shop across from the depot. Something clipped the back of his knees. The backward motion sent him downward, falling hard on his bottom. A pig squealed, scrambling to get out from under Niles’s legs. He rolled over to stiffly stand. “What the—”
“Clarence!” A young woman in a man’s wool coat swooshed past Niles, then paused to address him on the ground. “Oh gosh, Mister, I’m so sorry.” Just as quickly, her attention turned back to the pig. “Come here, afore you freeze to death!”
What on earth was she doing out in this weather? That pig couldn’t be valuable enough for her to chase after it at the risk of her own—
The pig slid to a stop, turned, sniffing the air, and charged toward Niles. Instantly, he regretted the squatting position he was in. The pig plowed into the bread with his mouth open, and toppled Niles onto his back. The woman ran to them. “Oh, my goodness! Clarence! I’m so sorry, Mister! Oh, my goodness!”
Niles rolled over to his knees and pulled himself up with his cane. The elephant shrew re-positioned itself under his shirt, causing Niles to moan softly.
“Are you alright? Did Clarence hurt you?” The woman touched Niles’ arm. He drew in a shallow breath against the frigid wind. “Yes, I’m—”
His eyes met her soft blue eyes. Her cheeks were bright red and ice crystals sparkled at the tips of her eyelashes. Her full lips revealed her cold condition and her teeth chattered. She shouldn’t be out here in this storm.
“My goodness. You’re going to catch your death out here. What are you doing?”
“Clarence.” She spoke with a staccato quiver. Her words produced an opaque cloud streaming from her mouth. “He got out of our covered porch.” She glanced down at the oversized coat with which she was wrapped. “I grabbed the first thing I could… this is my Grandpa’s. I had to bring him back.”
Niles tore his gaze from her beautiful eyes to look at her hands. She held a strap, a lead of sorts. He took it from her. “Here, allow me.”
The pig grunted and snorted as he gnawed on the frozen bread. Niles took advantage of the swine’s preoccupied state, dove for the thick neck, and wrapped the leather strap around to fasten it securely. His cane dropped with a dull thud behind him in the accumulating snow. Clinging to the strap now holding the woman’s pig, Niles struggled to regain his stance, staggering slightly to gain his balance. He turned to her. “May I have my cane? If you please?”
She gawked at him with wide, astonished eyes. His words appeared to sink in and she looked around for the object he requested. “Oh. Of course.”
She picked it up and handed it to him.
“Thank you.”
She pulled the large coat tighter around her. A shiver racked her body, swishing the hem of her skirts against the snow.
Concern for her wellbeing filled Niles’s heart. “Dear me. Where are my manners? I’m Niles Phinney. Please let me escort you… and Clarence, to a warmer place. Could I buy you dinner? I was just—”
He looked down at the pig. They would not be able to take it into the inn. Perhaps the mercantile would have a place to store the swine until he and— what was her name? “I was just going to the general store. I believe the man in the ticket office said a Mrs. Cutler would have what I needed— I’m sorry. What is your name?”
She smiled. Niles drew in an excruciating lungful of air. Her smile affected his good sense.
“I’m Ellen Myers.”
Niles licked his lips. “Miss? Myers?”
A blush deepened the crimson in her cheeks, giving her an angelic glow. “Yes, it’s Miss Myers.”
“Please let me take you to a shelter… so- so we can warm up. Then, I will see you home safely.” He glanced at the content pig who was still gnawing on the now soggy bread. “I’m just as concerned for your friend. Pigs have a flimsy constitution, delicate skin. He could suffer from frostbite even more easily than you or I.”
“Alright.” She stammered. Her eyes darted to the pig. “Yes. He needs shelter. Let’s hurry.”
She grabbed the leash from his hand. The wind blew at her back, pushing her between the buildings toward Cutler’s Mercantile. Clarence trotted ahead of her like a well-trained dog. “We can put him in Millie’s back room. She won’t mind.”
“I hear she has feed. Do you suppose she’ll have hay? I’m needing both. Perhaps a man or two to help deliver it to the train?”
He could hear the chatter of his teeth as he spoke. He needed to get his animals fed while the train was refueling and the workers were feeding. The last thing he needed to be doing was chasing after a pig… or a beautiful woman… in a snowstorm.
But the three of them needed to get inside somewhere.
Ellen giggled over her shoulder. “Yes. I suppose—”
The shrew flipped over at his collar, his tail swatted Niles in the face. He blinked against the surprise.
Miss Myers skidded to a halt. Her jaw dropped. Niles stiffened.
“What was that?” Ellen tilted her head and squinted her eyes. She blinked hard, as if she were trying to clear her vision.
Clarence grunted and squealed as he ran to the length of the strap, the pig’s survival instincts evident with his enthusiasm to get to shelter. He tugged against his restraint as if he were a draft horse. His momentum spun Ellen around. She staggered after him. Her efforts to watch for the furry animal under Niles’s clothes thwarted by Clarence’s determination.
Niles touched his vacant collar.
“It’s an… uh… African elephant… sh-shrew, actually.” The mouse’s pin-sharp nails trailed to his waistband and swirled into a tight ball. He tried to ignore it and talk as if nothing was wrong, but he found it impossible.
Clarence pulled her onto the boardwalk where the mercantile’s entrance was five steps from the street. She tried to stop, but Clarence smelled something inside and was not having any more delays. “A wha—”
Clarence slammed into the door, yanking Ellen against the wall. The doors which were normally propped wide open with cracker and pickle barrels were closed tight. Ellen turned an apologetic frown toward Niles and pulled one of the doors open. Clarence shot into the store, dragging Ellen behind him. Niles chuckled as he followed them into the warm mercantile. The aroma of a beefy soup saturated the moist humid shop.
His stomach growled. How long had it been since he’d eaten?
The shrew must have realized they were out of the storm, too, and scurried onto Niles’s collar, peeking out. His short, trunk-like nose wiggled quickly, sniffing the air. Ellen’s eyes widened. “There it is again. You called it a… shrew?”
Niles smiled and reached up to take the animal into his gloved hand. It curled around his glove and attempted to run up his overcoat sleeve, but Niles diverted it with his other hand, so that he could hold it out to where Ellen could see the unusual rodent.
Her brow furrowed as she stepped closer to the creature. “How unusual!”
“Yes. It’s one of the reasons I brought him with me.”
“One of— what’s the other?”
#
Ellen waited to hear his story. This mysterious Niles Phinney who walked with a cane… out of a blizzard. His eyes were like melted chocolate, and looked just as delicious. Her own thoughts caused heat to fill her cheeks. She’d never felt or thought such things in her life. How could this stranger have such an effect on her good senses?
Who was he, really? He had a crew of Chinamen clearing the tracks for his specialty train to get through regardless of the impossible storm. She wasn’t so regretful that Clarence had escaped her grandpa’s porch. The angry fear that had forced her into this blizzard fizzled now that she had met Mr. Phinney. It was as if Clarence knew the man of her dreams would be waiting for her in the middle of the storm.
What a romantic thought.
But that was impossible. A pig didn’t have any idea he would lead her to her destiny. Did he? Niles stood a head taller than she. His stark jawline and slender nose defined his face, making him about the most handsome man she’d ever seen. And he had an affinity for animals just like she did. How could he be any more perfect?
Mr. Phinney opened his mouth to speak. She stared at his lips as he talked. Two teeth on either side of his mouth peeked ahead of the others, just slightly. The unevenness
intrigued her. How she’d love to kiss him. Where’d that thought come from? She dropped her eyes to the floor. She had to get ahold of herself. What was he saying, anyway?
“… his mum was killed tragically when he was just a pup.”
Mr. Phinney had been explaining the odd creature that traveled with him under his clothes. She blinked and tried to focus on his words and not his features. “I literally nursed him with yak milk and an eyedropper. Raised him indoors, of course.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. Hadn’t she spent many a sleepless night feeding an animal that needed nourishment? This incredible man did the same for a… rodent. The least of these. Pastor James’ sermon came to mind. What thou hast done for the least of these—
“I’m afraid he has no idea how to be a mouse. I believe he thinks he’s…”
A pink blush filled Mr. Phinney’s face. It was adorable. Ellen’s heart pounded in her chest causing her breath to be labored. She never in a thousand years would have imagined that she’d meet another person in this storm, let alone a handsome man who loved animals with the same intensity as her. But what caused him to walk with that cane?
“Well, I believe he thinks he’s my… uh… son.”
She nodded understanding. Yes! That’s how she felt about her animals. Like they were her adopted children. “Your son? Really?”
Joy filled Ellen’s heart. This Mr. Phinney was too good to be true. She laughed without reason.
Suddenly, Clarence pulled against his leash, jerking her arm behind her. Her body followed in a spin with the weight. He dragged her away from Mr. Phinney. She had no choice but follow her pig. His pointy hooves clicked against Millie Cutler’s wood floor as he plowed his way to the back room. Millie stepped out from behind a curtain, pushing perspiration-soaked curls out of her eyes with a bent wrist. A baby clung to her hip and a bulge strained the waistband of her skirt.
“Oh. Ellen. I didn’t hear you come in.” Her eyes dropped to the persistent pig. “Please see Mr. Clarence to the store room at the back. You know my rules.”
