In honor of Charles Loring Brace (1826–1890), visionary for the Children’s Aid Society, and Rev. Thomas H. Hagerty, a modest man who rode the Little Rock Express 7 on January 31, 1874
Trouble on the Orphan Train
© 2016 Focus on the Family. All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-58997-805-8
A Focus on the Family book published by Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188.
Focus on the Family and Adventures in Odyssey, and the accompanying logos and designs, are federally registered trademarks, and The Imagination Station is a federally registered trademark of Focus on the Family, 8605 Explorer Drive, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.
TYNDALE and Tyndale’s quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of Focus on the Family.
With the exception of known historical figures, all characters are the product of the author’s imagination.
Cover design by Michael Heath | Magnus Creative
Cover illustration and interior illustrations on pages iv, 2, and 5 copyright © David Hohn. All rights reserved.
All other interior illustrations copyright © Amit Tayal. All rights reserved.
For Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data for this title, visit http://www.loc.gov/help/contact-general.html.
For manufacturing information regarding this product, please call 1-800-323-9400.
ISBN 978-1-62405-734-2 (ePub); ISBN 978-1-62405-735-9 (Kindle); ISBN 978-1-62405-733-5 (Apple)
Build: 2016-09-16 10:06:52
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1: The Train Station
Chapter 2: The Newsboy
Chapter 3: Children’s Aid Society
Chapter 4: The Apple
Chapter 5: Beth
Chapter 6: The Letter
Chapter 7: The Horseman
Chapter 8: The Cotton Fire
Chapter 9: The Express Car
Chapter 10: Gad’s Hill, Missouri
Chapter 11: The Diamonds
Chapter 12: In the Sleeper Car
Chapter 13: Leonard
Chapter 14: The End of the Line
Chapter 15: Jail
Secret Word Puzzle
Prologue
At Whit’s End, a lightning storm zapped the Imagination Station’s computer. Then the Imagination Station began to do strange things. It took Patrick to the wrong adventure. The machine was also giving the wrong gifts.
At the workshop, Mr. Whittaker was gone. Eugene was in charge.
Beth uncovered an older version of the Imagination Station. It looked like a car. But this machine had some unusual features. It had lockdown mode. Lockdown mode took passengers to a new place. But the passengers couldn’t get out of the Imagination Station. They could only watch what was happening.
At the end of book 17, In Fear of the Spear, Eugene was missing somewhere in history. Beth and Patrick were trying to find him. They didn’t know which Imagination Station to ride in.
Here’s what happened:
Patrick couldn’t decide which one to pick.
“Let’s go in the helicopter one,” Beth said.
“No,” Patrick said. “It’s still damaged from the lightning strike.”
“Well,” Beth said, “why not the car one?”
“That one’s worse. Eugene got in it with me, but he disappeared,” Patrick said.
“The Imagination Station sent you on different adventures!” Beth said. “It’s never happened before.”
“I don’t know where or when Eugene went,” Patrick said.
Beth said, “Think, Patrick. What happened?”
Patrick closed his eyes to help him remember. “Right before Eugene disappeared, he said something weird,” Patrick said.
“Tell me,” Beth said.
Patrick looked worried. “I heard Eugene say, ‘Stop the train!’ He sounded scared.”
“So these are the choices,” Beth said. She held up her index finger. “Option one, get into a broken machine.”
Patrick looked at the helicopter Imagination Station. It had taken him to Pompeii by mistake. And it had taken Beth here instead of back to Whit’s End.
Beth held up a second finger. “Option two, get into an Imagination Station that lands on a moving train.”
“Or worse, on the train track,” Patrick said.
Patrick looked at the car machine. It had been working fine until this last adventure. But Mr. Whittaker had programmed it for the government to use. Maybe it had hidden features that were causing problems.
“Maybe we should just stay here,” Patrick said. “Mr. Whittaker will come find us.”
“When?” Beth asked. “No one knows the day he’s coming back.”
Patrick sighed. “Let’s take the car one,” he said. “It has a lockdown mode. If it’s too dangerous, it won’t let us out.”
“And maybe it will take us to Eugene,” she said.
Patrick shrugged. “If it doesn’t separate us too,” he said.
The cousins sat in the comfortable black seats. They shut the doors.
Patrick gave the steering wheel a big spin.
Colors flashed on the windshield. They whirled like a kaleidoscope.
Patrick heard the shriek of a train whistle.
And suddenly everything went black.
The Train Station
Patrick watched the Imagination Station vanish. He quickly looked around at his new surroundings.
He was standing on a wood platform. He saw a nearby sign on a wood post. It was shaped like an X and said RAILROAD CROSSING.
Then he remembered he wasn’t alone. At least he shouldn’t be.
He turned around and saw a small gray wood building. It had a door and two windows. A wood sign was on the side of the building. It said Hogan Mountain.
But there was no Beth. He shouted her name twice. No one answered. He shouted for Eugene. But again, no one answered.
A mountain stood in the distance. Train tracks and dirt roads crisscrossed the area. Patrick saw nothing else except countryside. Pines, oaks, and rocky hillsides spread out before him.
Patrick looked down. His shoes were black boots. They laced up to his ankles. He had on black knee-high socks and black knickers.
He groaned. “I don’t like knickers,” he whispered to himself. “They’re too short for pants and too long for shorts.”
He stretched out his arms. He was wearing a jacket that matched the knickers. He was glad for the jacket. The air had a chill to it.
He felt his neck. A bow tie. “And bow ties look goofy,” he said louder.
Patrick moved toward the building. The building was obviously empty. There were posters nailed to the wall near the door. Most of the posters said WANTED at the top. All of them showed faces of scowling men.
One fellow had a straight nose with a thick moustache. The governor of Missouri would pay a ten-thousand-dollar reward for him, dead or alive. The outlaw’s name was Jesse James.
An off-white envelope caught Patrick’s eye. It had the words “To Patrick.” The words were handwritten in black ink. He pulled the envelope off the wall. It was sealed.
Just then Patrick heard the faint whistle of a train.
Patrick couldn’t wait to open the envelope. He started to tear it. But the train whistle blew again. This time it shrieked much louder.
He would have to wait to read the letter.
Patrick rushed to the platform. The train was approaching the station. Smoke
gushed from the engine’s smokestack.
The engine car rolled past Patrick slowly. It had a large number seven on the front.
The engineer stuck his head and an arm out the window. He wore a gray cloth cap. He waved at Patrick.
Patrick waved back.
Then the fuel car slowly rolled past. It was loaded with wood.
A long railcar was next. It said Adams Express Company on the side. The express-car door was open.
The train came to a full stop.
The passenger cars had lots of windows. Patrick saw faces looking out at him. Most people were smiling. Could Beth or Eugene be on that train? he wondered.
One boy in the last car stared at Patrick. The boy stuck out his tongue. Then he kept staring.
Patrick scowled. He thought the boy was rude.
A door on the passenger car opened. A tall, bearded man stepped off the train. He checked his pocket watch. His watch was gold too.
The man’s blue uniform had gold buttons. He wore a matching blue cap.
“Hello,” the man said to Patrick. “I’m Conductor Alford. May I punch your ticket?”
Patrick’s heart sank. Ticket?
Patrick felt in the pockets of his knickers. There was something in his right pocket. He pulled it out. He found three pieces of hard candy, but no ticket.
Patrick felt in his jacket pockets. Nothing was there except the letter. He gulped. “I didn’t know I needed a ticket,” he mumbled.
The conductor frowned. He said, “Young man, you can’t ride the train alone. Where are your parents?”
The Newsboy
The Imagination Station stilled. Beth looked out the windshield. She could see a busy city street.
The buildings were tall and made of brick. There were lampposts in front of the buildings. The people wore old-fashioned clothes and hats. Horses pulled wagons, carts, or buggies.
Beth turned toward Patrick to say something. But his seat was empty!
“Not again,” she muttered.
Beth pulled on the door handle. It wouldn’t budge.
“Let me out!” she shouted at the machine. She pounded on the glass. She leaned her shoulder against the door and pushed.
Nothing happened. Beth was trapped inside.
This must be lockdown mode, she thought. But where’s the danger?
The Imagination Station began to roll forward as if in response. It moved along the street.
Beth thought the machine was following a young boy. His clothes were barely more than rags. His face and hands were black with dirt. He had a stack of newspapers underneath his arm.
The boy was shouting, “Get the Tribune! Two cents!”
The newsboy caught up with some men in brown suits. One of the men bought a paper. He handed money to the newsboy. The boy dropped the pennies into the pocket of his knickers.
Just then, Beth heard a voice. It was coming from three speakers in the machine’s ceiling.
The Imagination Station’s speakers blared. “In the 1870s, New York City was filled with crime. The jails held more than eight hundred children ages nine and up. Thirty thousand more children lived on the streets.”
Beth heard a strange noise. It was like a birdcall or a whistle. Why-o! Why-o! She couldn’t tell what had made the sound.
The voice in the Imagination Station said, “One street gang of youths was known as the Whyos. They were named after their bird-like gang signal. For twenty-five dollars, a member would shoot someone in the leg.”
That’s awful, Beth thought.
She focused on the newsboy. He hollered, “Jesse James robs stagecoach! Read all about it!”
Beth saw an older boy in a green cap. He seemed to be watching the newsboy. The older boy cupped his hands over his mouth. He blew into his hands and made a noise . . . Why-o.
He must be in the Whyos gang, Beth thought.
The boy in the green cap ran over to the newsboy. He grabbed the smaller boy by the arm. He dragged him into an alley. Copies of the Tribune scattered everywhere.
The Imagination Station rolled into the alley. Beth could see that there was no back entrance. The newsboy was trapped.
“You’re selling newspapers on the Whyos’s street,” the bigger boy said. “Hand over your money or else!”
Beth wanted to help the newsboy. She shouted, “Police! Police!” But no one could hear her.
She punched the car’s horn. It didn’t work. All she could do was watch the robbery.
The newsboy said, “The money is in my boot.” He bent down. Suddenly he threw some sand in the gang member’s face.
The older boy took a step back. He rubbed his eyes.
The newsboy tried to get out of the alley. But the other boy blocked him.
“I won’t let you rob me,” the newsboy said.
Beth could see his two front teeth were missing.
“We’ll see about that,” the older boy said. Then he used his hands to whistle Why-o, why-o.
Three more youths came running into the alley. They surrounded the newsboy.
The Imagination Station’s windshield started to spin with colors. Beth couldn’t see what was going on.
“Go back to New York,” she shouted at the machine. “I need to know what happens!”
Patrick gave Mr. Alford a weak smile. Then he looked at the boards of the platform. “My parents aren’t here,” Patrick said truthfully.
The conductor took off his cap. He knelt next to Patrick. “Tell me, have you seen your parents recently?” Mr. Alford asked kindly.
Patrick didn’t know how to answer. Time was different in the Imagination Station. Finally he asked, “What day is it exactly?”
The conductor chuckled. “Today is Saturday, January 31, 1874, in the year of our Lord,” he said.
“Wow, 1874,” Patrick said. He scratched his head. “It’s been centuries since I’ve seen my parents.”
A look of pity crossed Mr. Alford’s face. “You’ve been alone a long time,” he said. The conductor stood up and patted Patrick’s head. “I think I know someone who can help.”
Mr. Alford put a hand on Patrick’s arm. Then he guided Patrick toward the passenger car.
Patrick sighed with relief. All he wanted was to read the letter and find Eugene. No one was here, so that meant getting on this train.
Patrick followed Mr. Alford to the passenger car. The door in the center of the car was open. Patrick stepped up the three stairs and onto the railcar. He stood just inside.
A little heating stove was near the door. Pretty lamps hung from the ceiling. The seats were covered in gold-and-red fabric.
A few adults sat in pairs up front. Five children were clustered at the back of the car. There were two girls and three boys.
Suddenly something firm and moist hit Patrick’s forehead. Then it bounced off.
Patrick rubbed his forehead. He looked at the ground. A small, bruised apple lay on the red carpet.
Mr. Alford hadn’t noticed the flying fruit. He had moved toward the back of the car. He was talking to a woman passenger.
Patrick picked up the small apple. He scanned the passengers’ faces. No one seemed to be looking at him.
Then Patrick’s eyes locked with a boy’s. It was the same kid who had stuck out his tongue. The boy grinned at him.
Children’s Aid Society
The Imagination Station window cleared. The scene from the alley was gone. Beth could now see a group of children in fine clothes. They stood on the steps of a white country church.
The children looked clean and happy. Each had a small cardboard suitcase.
A man and a woman were watching the children. The adults were dressed in formal, black clothes. The man opened the church door. The children walked quietly inside.
The woman wore a large black hat covered in a bouquet of white flowers. She followed the last of the children into the church.
The Imagination Station’s speakers blared. “The Children’s Aid Society found homes for New York Ci
ty’s orphans. The children were placed on trains and sent to the country. Social workers, called agents, cared for the children until they were adopted.
The voice continued. “Many children found homes and were raised as sons or daughters. Older orphans found jobs and were provided with food and lodging. All of the orphans got to attend school.”
“That’s so cool,” Beth said.
The Imagination Station followed the children. The machine bumped up the stairs. It was too wide to fit through the church door. Then, mysteriously, the machine appeared inside the church.
Beth gasped. She had never traveled through a wall before.
The children stood on a raised area near the pulpit. They were lined up in a row. A group of townsfolk was in the audience. The men and women sat in the pews.
Each orphan stepped forward one at a time. The boy or girl told everyone his or her name.
A red-haired girl said her name was Gracie. She gave a little curtsy.
One boy looked familiar to Beth. He stepped forward and smiled.
Beth knew him at once. She saw the missing front teeth. It was the newsboy from the city. His name was Leonard Wilcox.
Leonard bowed. Then he raised his hands. He stuck his thumbs in each ear and waggled his fingers. Then he bowed again.
Beth giggled. But the woman agent in black didn’t. She walked over to Leonard and whispered in his ear. She took him by the arm and led him off the stage.
Beth realized that the kids were showing off. They wanted to be adopted. Leonard had appeared rude. No wonder the agent took him off the stage.
Next, Gracie and two little boys sang a hymn. Beth knew the tune from church. It was “Fairest Lord Jesus.” The audience clapped loudly afterward.
Then one tall, strong-looking boy recited a long Bible passage. It had something to do with sheep and green grass. An older man and a gray-haired woman in the pews stood up. Beth guessed that they were married.
Trouble on the Orphan Train Page 1
