Ethan scooted down and rested his head against a pillow. “Right now I don’t want to think about it. I need to sleep, so quit your talking, old man.” He reached over to a stand beside his bed and put out his cigarette.
Hector chuckled, rising from his own cot. “I’m goin’ to the commissary, get me a new razor.”
Ethan opened one eye and grinned. “Your old one getting dull from scraping over all those wrinkles?”
Hector pulled on a deerskin jacket. “Wrinkled skin means a wise man. From the looks of you, you don’t have much wisdom yet.”
“Yeah? Well, don’t get lost between here and the commissary. I’m too tired to go looking for you.”
“You ain’t gonna let me live that down, are you?”
“Hell, no.”
“You’re a mean man, Ethan Temple, pickin’ on an old man like that.”
Ethan studied the man’s short, stocky build. Hec Wells was as strong and ornery as any younger man. “Get going, and let me sleep.”
Hector smiled and nodded. “I know. You Cheyenne ain’t very strong. You need your rest.”
Ethan reached over and grabbed a pillow from a nearby cot, throwing it at Hector. The man laughed and went out, and Ethan could see the snow had indeed already turned to rain. He lay back down with a sigh, thinking about the coming land rush. Hector was right. They would be kept busy this summer.
He closed his eyes, thinking how nice it would be if Violet’s soft, brown body were lying next to him, her long, dark hair tangled in his fingers; how nice it would be if the Cheyenne could live in the old way; but those times were gone. The white man was invading the Indians’ last stronghold.
The orphan train slowed to a crawl as it made its way into the station, and Allyson could feel the excitement of the crowd outside. Every kind of wagon imaginable lined the streets beyond the depot, and hardly one open spot was to be had as far as she could see. “This is our chance,” she whispered to her brother. “Just think how easy we could get lost in that crowd!”
Toby scowled, leaning over to look out the window. “It’s because of that land-grabbing thing Henry Bartel was talking about with Mr. Harrington yesterday.”
“The crowds have been getting bigger at every stop on our way here,” Allyson told him. She read the sign over the depot. “Arkansas City,” she muttered. This was the town Mr. Harrington had called the “jumping off” point. From here, all these people would join the race for land. “Toby, if we could get out in that crowd, Bartel would never find us.”
Toby watched the throng of people. “I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “If we do get away, what do we do then?”
“We join those people in the land rush,” Allyson answered in a near whisper.
“But we don’t have a wagon or any supplies and no money to buy them with. All we’ve got is the clothes on our backs. And what do we know about riding horses or driving a wagon?”
“I’ll get the money. We’ll worry about the rest later.”
“How will you get the money?”
“Like I used to get it when we stole for Father.”
“Ally, that’s wrong. You know we decided we shouldn’t do that anymore.”
“This is an emergency. God would forgive us.”
“Ally—”
She squeezed his hand. “This is our only chance to get off this train, Toby. You be ready.”
“The conductor says that we will be here a while, children,” Bartel announced, walking slowly up and down the train car. “Most of the passengers on this train came here to join in the land rush. They’ll have a lot of supplies to unload. I am told that there are facilities behind the train station for those of you who need to relieve yourselves—two at a time now—Mr. Harrington will accompany you, and I will go and see about getting some biscuits and perhaps a can of milk or water that you can pass around. I was not given much money to feed all of you, so biscuits is about all I can do.”
Allyson glared at the man, sure he was lying. She suspected the Church had given him much more than he let on and he was just keeping the extra for himself. They were all half-starved, eating only twice a day and then usually just soup and biscuits at the train stops. Her whole body ached fiercely from sitting for days on her hard seat, sleeping in the seat or on the floor of the car at night. She wished she could find a way for all of them to escape, but for now she had to think of herself and Toby. She could only pray that the rest of the children would end up in good homes.
Clyde Harrington, a much kinder escort than Henry Bartel, began leading children off the car and through the crowd to take care of personal matters. She waited for Henry to leave to see about food, then turned to Toby again. “When Mr. Bartel comes back, we’ll make our move,” she whispered. “I’ll get the money while his arms are full. Be ready to run with me.”
“I don’t know, Ally—”
“This is our last chance. Do you want us to be separated? We’re in Kansas now, Toby. It won’t be long before they start dropping us off here and there. For all we know one of us will be the first!”
“What about Miss Emmy?” Toby turned to look at the only woman who had come along to help watch the children. Miss Emmy was an old maid who helped at the orphanage and was truly kind but easily befuddled.
“You know Miss Emmy. She won’t do a thing. Get your bag ready.”
Toby rose and took down both his and Allyson’s worn carpetbags, which held their few belongings, including a stuffed doll Allyson had kept with her since childhood. Her mother had made it for her.
“You don’t need those bags, Toby,” Miss Emmy spoke up.
“There’s just something we want to look for, Miss Emmy,” Allyson answered with a sweet smile.
The woman nodded, and Toby placed Allyson’s bag on her lap and sat down again beside her. “You’ll have to carry both bags at first,” she whispered to Toby. “I’ll be busy getting the money and keeping Bartel off guard.”
Toby nodded, and both waited with pounding hearts. Finally Henry Bartel came out of the train depot carrying a large, round tray stacked with biscuits in one hand and a can in the other. Whether the can held water or milk mattered little. The point was, his hands were full, just as Ally had hoped. She quickly slipped on her woolen coat, even though it was too warm now for it. She didn’t want to have to carry anything. She waited until Bartel climbed back into the car and started down the aisle before suddenly jumping up and running toward him.
“I have to go bad, Mr. Bartel!” she exclaimed. “I can’t wait for Mr. Harrington to come back.”
“What—”
Allyson ran into the man, who held the tray up and concentrated on keeping it balanced. Allyson scooted past him, relieved to know she had not forgotten how easy it was to pick a man’s pocket. In one swift movement the wallet of money Henry Bartel carried in his inside coat pocket was in her hand and slipped under her own woolen coat. She dodged past him then and darted off the train. Bartel struggled to balance the food when Toby, taller and taking up even more room than Ally, suddenly burst past him carrying the bags.
“Hey! Stop!” Bartel managed to set the tray and milk can on the floor and turned to chase after them. Several of the other children began swarming around the food, and those between Bartel and the entrance to the train car deliberately joined them, blocking Bartel’s path so that he could not immediately chase after the two runaways.
“Hurry! Hurry!” Allyson called to Toby. He kept hold of the bags as they both ran, their stomachs growling with hunger, their legs stiff and aching, but fear and desperation giving them the energy they needed. They quickly melted into the crowd.
“Stop! Stop those two kids!” they heard someone yelling in the distance, but by then people weren’t sure who the man was talking about. The throng in the streets was so heavy that it was easy to get lost. Finally Allyson ducked into an alley, and Toby followed, both of them out of breath.
“We did it!” Allyson rejoiced. “Bartel can’t follow us
. He doesn’t have time! The train will pull out pretty soon.”
“Did you get his wallet?”
Allyson looked around, moved farther away from the crowds, then turned away so no one could see her pull the wallet out of her coat. “I’ll bet Bartel doesn’t even realize yet that I took it. By the time he does, they’ll be miles away.” She opened the wallet, her eyes widening. “I knew it! I knew they gave him a lot of money!” She fingered through the bills. “There must be three hundred dollars here! We can buy us a couple of horses and some supplies and join that land rush, claim ourselves a spot of our own!”
“And do what? We don’t know anything about living out here.”
“We’ll learn. And we have enough money to buy extra supplies, maybe enough to sell some once we get where we’re going. We’ll open our own little store, maybe just in a tent at first, but we can do it. Maybe a restaurant! I helped cook at the orphanage. Out in new places like this, I’ll bet there will be a lot of hungry men willing to pay a pretty penny for a good meal!”
“And what will you cook it with? Where will you get a stove?”
“We’ll worry about that later.”
“Later? Well, what about now? You said we’d pick up a couple of horses to carry our supplies. What do we know about horses? All we’ve ever done is ride behind them in a trolley car.”
“We aren’t going to ride them, Toby. We’re just going to lead them. We’ll have to walk.” She opened her carpetbag and shoved the wallet into it.
Toby grasped her wrist. “Ally, that money was supposed to be used to feed the other kids.”
Her smile faded. “The Church gave Mr. Harrington and Miss Emmy some money, too. Besides, Bartel can always wire back and have more sent out, and most of the others are getting close to their destinations anyway. You heard Mr. Bartel say that from here on children would be dropped off at just about every depot. Come on! Let’s go see about buying some horses and supplies. Then we’ll find out when everybody will start moving into Indian Territory.”
Toby frowned. “We’d better put on hats. If Bartel is looking for us, our red hair will make it easier to spot us.”
Allyson agreed, pulling a wide-brimmed bonnet out of her bag. Toby put on an old, frayed helmet hat he had stolen out of someone’s trash long ago. “Do you think there will be trouble with the Indians?” he asked.
“Of course not. The government wouldn’t open up their land if they thought that. The Indians sold it. Why would they make trouble when people start settling on it?” She headed for the other end of the alley. “Get the bags!” she called back. She hesitated, walking back to where he stood. “We’d better buy a wedding ring first thing—just a cheap band. We’ll get by a lot better if we pass ourselves off as husband and wife instead of sister and brother. People will wonder why a sister and brother would be wandering around out here alone, but husband and wife—that makes sense. We’re off to start a new life together. And we’d better not use our own names, just to be safe.” She removed her coat as she thought, the spring day growing even warmer. “Jane. Jane and Robert—Bobby—Harrington. We’ll use Mr. Harrington’s last name. Remember those names.”
“Jane and Bobby,” Toby repeated.
Allyson held her chin proudly as she tied her bonnet. “Shall we go buy some supplies, dear husband?” She kept her coat over her shoulder and picked up her bag, slipping an arm into Toby’s free one. They moved back into the crowd, asking where they could find the closest supply store, making sure to keep themselves between the crowds of people on the boardwalks and the buildings themselves so it would be more difficult to spot them. Allyson turned when she heard the train whistle at the now-distant depot. “Do you hear that? All the stops we’ve made, I recognize that whistle. It means the train is ready to leave. Once it’s gone, we’re free!”
Toby breathed a little easier, thinking how brave and daring his sister was. For such a little thing, she had more courage than most men. It wasn’t that she didn’t get scared. She just went ahead and did something anyway.
A couple of men came stumbling out of a saloon nearby, and when Toby saw how they looked at Allyson, he grabbed her arm defensively. “Let’s get away from here.” He glanced across the street. “Come on. I see a supply store.”
“We’ll be lucky if they have anything left, with all these other people here stocking up on things.” Allyson darted into the street, Toby right behind her.
“Whoa! Watch it!” someone shouted.
Allyson felt the bump, not even realizing at first that it was the chest of a buckskin-colored horse that had run into her, knocking her to the muddy street. Its hooves barely missed stepping on her.
“Ally!” Toby quickly helped his sister to her feet.
“Take a look where you’re going before you run into the street, little girl,” someone warned in a deep voice.
An angry Allyson tried to brush mud from her faded calico dress, one of the many hand-me-downs given her by the orphanage. “I’m not a little girl!” she fumed. “I am Ally—I mean, I am Jane Harrington, and I am a married woman! This man with me is my hus—” She looked up into the face of the owner of the horse. He had dismounted and picked up her carpetbag. He handed it back to her. Ally’s blood ran a little colder. The rest of the words she had intended to spout at the man caught in her throat, and Toby was also left speechless. Was this a real Indian? He certainly looked like one, his long, dark hair hanging tied into a tail at the back of his neck, his skin a deep brown. He was dressed in white man’s clothing—denim pants and leather boots—but he wore a fringed buckskin shirt. A red bandana was tied around his forehead. Allyson thought him a most handsome man, even if he was an Indian, and it surprised her to even think such a thing. She had never before been attracted to or fascinated by any man.
When the young, freckle-faced woman in front of him did not take hold of her carpetbag right away, Ethan Temple just set it down beside her and stepped back, looking her over. “You hurt?”
Allyson shook her head.
“Are you an Indian?” Toby asked unabashedly.
Ethan was accustomed to the question. “Only half.” He frowned. “You two are married?”
“Yes, sir!” Toby answered, pretending pride as he put his hand to Allyson’s waist.
Ethan watched them carefully. The girl, or rather, woman, looked barely old enough to be married. If it wasn’t for the way she filled out that well-worn dress she had on, he’d have his doubts. He noticed she wore no wedding band, but he decided whether or not they were telling the truth was none of his business. This crowd of land-grabbers contained more kinds of people than he’d ever seen in his life. A young couple running off together would be no surprise.
“I’m sorry my horse knocked you down, ma’am,” he told Allyson, “but you darted into the street before I realized what was happening. You sure you’re okay? He didn’t step on you or anything?”
Allyson realized she was still gaping at the man. She closed her mouth and straightened her dress. “I…I’m not hurt. As far as the mud, it will dry. It was my fault for not looking.”
Ethan pushed them both a little more aside as a troop of uniformed soldiers rode past. “You getting these people organized, Ethan?” one of the officers called out.
“I’m trying. It’s not easy,” Ethan called back.
The officer just grinned and shook his head. Ethan turned to the young married couple he had just met. “You two heading for Indian Territory?”
“Yes, sir,” Toby answered, trying to sound confident. “We were just going over to stock up on some supplies.”
Ethan nodded, wondering what the truth was about these two. Jane Harrington and her husband looked more like brother and sister than husband and wife. And why wasn’t the woman wearing a wedding band? On top of that, he was sure the young man had called her Ally, not Jane, when he first helped her up. Even she started to say the name when she introduced herself. They were both damn young, and they apparently had no possessions e
xcept a couple of carpetbags full of clothes. They sure didn’t look like people who had enough money to buy what they needed to settle in a new land. Had they both just run away from home because their parents didn’t approve of them getting married?
“Once you get what you need, come to the train depot tomorrow,” Ethan told them. “That’s where we’re gathering everyone to lead them through Indian Territory to the borders of the land that’s being given away. You’ll be under army escort.”
In Allyson’s eyes, this wild-looking man represented all she had pictured about the West—ruggedness, a dark Indian, danger, probably bravery. He wore a pistol at his side, as well as a big knife. She had never seen anything like him. “Do…do the Indians out there still kill white people?” she asked.
Ethan could not suppress a smile, but he managed not to laugh out loud. “Oh, sometimes they skin them alive, scalp them, who knows? My own people enjoy torturing a captive before finally ending his life. You just have to stay off their lands, and you’ll be all right.” He saw a hint of terror in Jane Harrington’s eyes, and he smiled. “I’m just making a joke, ma’am. You don’t have to be afraid of the Indians. Fact is, they’re most likely to stay as far away from the white settlers as possible.”
“How come you’re here?” Toby asked. “You said the army would be escorting people into Indian Territory tomorrow—said it like you’d be along.”
“I will be. I’m an army scout, kind of a go-between for the whites and the Indians—try to keep both out of trouble, settle grazing disputes, that sort of thing. Name’s Ethan Temple.” He put out his hand, and Toby shook it, impressed by Temple’s strong grip. “I don’t think I got your first name.”
“Robert,” Toby answered. “Most call me Bobby.”
Unforgettable Page 3
