Ow! Ow! Ow! Didn’t these fellows have anything better to do? I couldn’t stand still another second; I had to move. Carefully, slowly, silently, I eased my foot out, stretching the clenched muscles, easing the cramp, and knocking loose a pile of rocks that proceeded to clamor noisily down the slope.
Thankfully, the train’s engineer chose that exact moment to blare the whistle long and loud, covering up the noise of the tumbling rocks.
“Train’s leaving. Come on, let’s get back to the station. That kid is long gone.” The two rail workers turned back toward the station, their feet rustling through the fallen leaves.
The train’s leaving? Not without me! If I missed this ride, I’d have to wait three days for another. Frustration surged through my veins at yet another delay. How the heck am I supposed to rescue my brother if I can’t even get out of Marquette? My temper flared as I scrambled to my feet. I still had a chance. I broke into a clumsy run and angled off to the west hoping to both avoid the angry men and to catch the train as it pulled out of the station.
Limping on my sore calf muscle, I hurried toward the tracks, pushing through the fading brown ferns and the rusty-red leafed blackberry canes, the thorns catching at my britches. Then I dodged through a stand of aspen trees with their golden yellow leaves trembling in the breeze. There! The enthusiastic sun glinted off the steel rails just ahead. I burst out of the forest gasping for air, just in time to see the impressive black locomotive charging around the curve. Great billows of smoke and steam rose from the stacks in rhythmic poofs, merging into a stream that trailed behind the engine as it slowly gathered speed. The chugging of the train grew louder as it approached, and I resisted the impulse to slink back into the trees like a frightened squirrel. Closer and closer, and then the steam engine roared past me, almost blowing my cap off my head. I snatched the cap and stuffed it in my pocket.
Now! I started jogging alongside the train, my eyes pinned on the fourth car, which thankfully no one had remembered to close. I blazed into full speed and reached out to clamp a hold of the metal rungs as they came alongside of me. I took another running step and then leapt at the boxcar, hauling my weight up until I had all four limbs securely clinging to the side. I risked a second to catch my breath as the wind blew through my sweaty, short-cropped hair. The train’s speed slowly, steadily increased, the rail side trees blurring into streaks of greens, golds, oranges and browns as they swept past. I gulped in another deep breath of sooty air, secured my grip on the rungs, and then carefully stretched out my booted foot, reaching for the meager opening in the doorway. I pressed my body flat against the air-cooled wooden siding, willing my long legs to lengthen just another inch.
Then an unexpected, overgrown oak tree scraped along my body, the brown-leaved branches clawing at my arms and legs, and yanking my one boot off the rung. My heart fell out of my chest, painfully splattering beneath the crushing wheels of the train. I clung to the rungs with my sweaty hands as my boots bounced and scraped along the ground. The muscles in my recently healed dislocated shoulder screamed in pain.
“Piss!” My right hand slipped off the rung, wrenching every muscle in my left side while the rest of me, including my forehead, smashed into the boxcar. I desperately needed help. I frantically wished for my brother to be there to haul me to safety, but I only had me. Me and God.
“Come on, girl!” I muttered to myself. “Haul your rear up! Now!” With an agonizing growl, I lurched my weight up and latched a death grip on the metal rung. I scrabbled for a foothold, and then clung there trying to remember how to breathe. I peered up the track for any other unwelcome surprises, the brisk breeze causing my eyes to tear. I felt near worn out, and shocked that just a little train hopping could exhaust me so quickly. Grunting with determination, I rechecked my grip and then stretched out my leg. Almost there… just another inch…
A slight change in the steam engine’s grumblings caught my attention and I jerked my eyes forward to see the train beginning to climb a very steep incline.
“Great, another challenge,” I muttered, by now not enjoying a challenge near as much as I used to. By the look of the upcoming hill, I would have a heck of a time trying to hold onto the rungs. No more time for fooling around. I grabbed a deep breath, aimed as best I could, and then jumped!
I desperately clawed for a handhold as my foot almost slipped off the edge of the boxcar. But I managed to hang on, painfully embedding a few splinters in my palm. I lodged my shoulder into the opening and heaved with all of my weight, forcing the meager opening wider. I tumbled into the wooden box, weak with relief. I lay there for a few seconds, just breathing, and then mentally crossed the first step off my list.
The train followed along Lake Superior for awhile, then angled southwest into Wisconsin and then south towards Chicago. I settled into a simple routine, trying to rest, eating my meager rations, cleaning the Colt, and practicing loading the revolver with ammunition, powder and percussion caps until I could do the exercise with my eyes closed. Even after just a few hours, my muscles begged for some sort of activity, and I’d spend hours running in place and pulling chin ups on the door track, anything to spice up the day and tire out my muscles. I took special care with my shoulder though, determined not to reinjure it before I even set foot on the battlefield. My lurch onto the train had not only strained the healing muscles, but also painfully wrenched my memory back to when I last injured it, a real life nightmare for both Emma and me. Our little brothers had nearly died in that abandoned mine, and a dislocated shoulder came at an easy price for their lives. If only saving Robert would be that simple. Despite the aches, keeping my body and mind busy helped get through the long days.
But the dark, lonely, endless nights gnawed at my innards like a starving buzzard. The cold air bit at my toes while sleep evaded me hour after hour. And the ceaseless clackity-clack, clackity-clack of the wheels on the rails vibrated into my brain and bones until it felt like my very own heartbeat. Eventually, I fell asleep, but then dreams plagued me with horrid images of my brother’s fate. Nightmares splattered him across the battlefields, disemboweled him with musket balls, filleted him with swinging swords. I tried everything to shove those lingering images out of my head; I couldn’t afford such negative thoughts whittling away at my resolve. Even our deep connection that assured me he still lived and breathed somewhere in this world couldn’t compete with those vivid, too real dreams that attacked in the lonely darkness of night when both my mind and heart lingered in a more vulnerable perspective.
The train pulled into depots along the way, and I would slip out on shaky legs in search of fresh water. I filled my canteen and stomach with sparkling stream water, and then making sure no one lurked nearby, I’d strip down a little at a time in an attempt to bathe. I couldn’t believe the grime and soot accumulating on my skin, clothes and hair from the steam engine. Though the icy water brought goose bumps to my skin, it felt wonderfully refreshing. I especially relished in unbinding my breasts from the length of linen I’d wrapped around me. Thankfully, I didn’t have a very buxom figure to try and hide, which definitely helped in my disguise. But the wrap did provide an extra security. I had to be careful; if my secret slipped out, I’d be shipped home quicker than I could spit, and that’s if I was lucky. More likely, I’d find myself making my bed in a prison cell.
After my makeshift bath, I’d scrounge up a bit more food. Once, I’d hit the jackpot when I found a tree heavy with red, ripe, juicy apples. I filled my pockets and pack to brimming. Another time, I came across a thick ham and cheese sandwich on crusty rye bread, forgotten on a train bench. Well, okay, maybe not so much forgotten as out of the owner’s sight for a second or two. But my stomach had been protesting for a day and a half, and I’d started feeling lightheaded. Besides, the fellow had another one, plus a humongous piece of cake.
I found life while traveling in secrecy on a rocking train beautiful, amazing, enlightening, exciting, a bit scary, more often than not boring, always dirty, and at times,
very gross, just like life in general. My monthly cycle showed up about halfway through and I’d packed my strips of cloth to deal with that. Unfortunately, my lack of unlimited water supply while on the train kept me from washing them out for reuse, so I ended up tossing them out the door. I had no idea what I’d do for my cycle next month, but I’d deal with that later. My little house on wheels also lacked an outhouse, but I won’t go into how I coped with that challenge.
I sat in the doorway with my legs dangling over the edge, my feet swinging with the rocking motion of the train, and just absorbed the changing scenery with an intense curiosity. As the steam engine continued south, I found it interesting the way the autumn season seemed to ease backwards in time the farther south we traveled. The sun shone brighter and warmed the air enough so that I stuffed my jacket away in my pack. The beautiful oranges and yellows and reds that had decorated the forest back home had not yet revealed themselves; the oak, maple, magnolias, dogwoods, and tulip poplar leaves shimmered just as dark green as the neighboring pines, spruce, and cedars. Late summer wildflowers, like blue chicory, Queen Anne’s lace, black-eyed Susans, and purple asters grew along the rail corridor, bobbing and waving in the breeze as the train blew by them.
One particular morning had me breathless with awe. The rain from the night before had washed the dust from every surface, leaving the landscape sparkling in the bright reaching sunshine. I hankered to see more of the bright red cardinals that never fluttered up to the Upper Peninsula., and maybe I would even glimpse another bobcat returning from her nighttime hunt, or a lumbering black bear, fluffy and fat and ready for hibernation, so I grabbed my meager breakfast of one small golden apple and crawled across the rocking boxcar for my perch.
But as I reached for the door rung, a loud explosion erupted. My heart skidded to a painful stop, but before I could react, the train lurched and I crashed to the floor, sliding into a pile of crates.
“What the—”
I struggled against the invisible force pressing me to the floor, managing to scramble onto my hands and knees, and crawled drunkenly back to the door. A loud screeching raked my ears, and as I forced the door opened, a fiery mist of sparks showered up from the friction of the wheels frantically braking against the rails.
I peered ahead, scanning the train that traveled along a curving section of rail, leading up to a deep ravine crossing. Drifting black smoke trailed up from the blazing remains of the bridge now burning far below on the ravine floor. And despite braking with all its heart, the train wouldn’t be able to stop in time.
“Damn,” I whispered, my eyes wide with shock. My mind began to race as fast as my heart, and I had to mentally reach out and latch onto a thought in order pinpoint just one. I have to get off this train!
I spun around and grabbed a hold of my pack. I struggled back to the doorway, pulling on the straps as I went. Beyond the nerve-clenching screech of the wheels on rails, I could hear the frantic yelling and screaming coming from the passenger cars. I latched a steel grip on the door and glanced down at the rushing ground below me. In the train’s swaying shadows, I could see the brakeman running down the length of the train’s roof, stopping at each car to manually throw the brakes, futile though the effort seemed. My stomach lurched at the thought of leaping from the doomed train, but it didn’t appear as if I had much choice. I spotted a grassy bank quickly approaching, a relatively soft landing compared to the rocky ground we passed over now. Seconds remained, and I took the leap. I hit the ground hard, knocking the breath from my lungs, and jarring my muscles and bones. Sliding to a painful stop, I scrambled to my knees just in time to witness the massive steam engine reach the edge of the ravine. I watched in horror as the locomotive seemed to reach out and hover in mid air before gravity slowly pulled her down into the abyss. Another explosion split the air, and another, and another, as each car tumbled over the edge and crashed in the ravine until the train came to a shuddering halt. Five cars remained on the tracks, and two hung vertically into the gorge, suspended above the burning wreckage.
“Damn,” I whispered again, trying to force air back into my lungs.
Screams echoed into the valley as confused and terrified passengers quickly exited the remaining cars on the rails. I stared in horror at the passenger car hanging precariously above the burning remains of the train. Arms waved wildly though the broken windows and frightened faces yelled for help. I climbed to my feet in a bit of a daze, and scrambled back up to the tracks. I shuffled along, edging through the panicked passengers evacuating the train. Stumbling to the edge of the ravine, I felt sick to my stomach for the people who had died in the explosions, and even worse for the people who would surely follow when the suspended cars lost their connections and dropped into the burning ravine. I didn’t want to wait around and witness those deaths. Besides, I had my own problems. I resettled the straps of my pack and turned to leave when another sound caught my attention.
Cheering?
I glanced around, looking for the source. There, across the ravine! A group of fifty or so men dressed in varying shades of brown and gray stood on the opposite rim throwing their hats in the air, waving their muskets, laughing, celebrating. Confederate soldiers. They’d blown the bridge in an act of war, to keep supplies from reaching the Union troops. They didn’t seem to care that they’d purposely killed innocent children and old people…had tried to kill me.
A bitter taste flooded my mouth and an anger burned hot in my chest. So that’s what war did to people, calloused them, filled them with hate, burned their souls. A child’s cry broke my gaze with the celebrating Rebels, and I turned to see a little boy trying to crawl out of the suspended passenger car window, reaching for his hysterical mother who stood a few feet from me. I drew in a haggard breath with determination. I won’t let war do that to me!
I tossed my pack in the brush, checked on my knife securely stashed in my boot, and then began traversing down the rocky hillside to the bottom of the ravine.
A hand reached out and clamped onto my arm.
A stooped, gray-haired fellow stood above me, blood oozing from a cut over his eye. “Trust me, son, you shouldn’t go down there. You’ll only get yourself killed as well.”
“I don’t know you, so excuse me for not heeding your advice,” I grumbled through clenched teeth. Shrugging off his grip, I hurried down into the fiery ravine.
Black smoke bellowed hot and thick, burning my lungs as I scrambled down through the greenbrier and raspberry canes growing wild and dense on the slope. I studied the enflamed scene through waves of heat and watering eyes, and found the Confederates had succeeded in blowing up the majority of the bridge. The only part left standing, and my intended rescue route, was the northern half of the wooden support trestle, mere feet from the dangling train car of passengers yelling for help. I had to work fast; the growing fire would soon engulf the trestle as well, not to mention that the weakening connections between the suspended cars wouldn’t hold out much longer.
I gave the fire a wide berth, trying not to look at the burning gravesite, though my morbid curiosity couldn’t help a quick glance. I made out the remains of the steam engine, and noticed the burnt corpse of a rail worker hanging out of the smashed metal wreckage. My stomach turned at the crispy black flesh that minutes before had been a living human face.
Pushing the image out of my mind, I found myself at the base of the trestle looking up, up, up at the hundred and twenty-foot structure towering before me. I could barely see the passenger car, blocked from view by the cargo car hanging below it. Then with a start, I recognized the boxcar as mine, my home for the past couple weeks! A cold sweat broke out over my body at the ordeal I’d managed to escape. Then an object fell from the sky, narrowly missing my head. I glanced at the black buckle shoe lying at my feet, and then followed its path back to the owner; a young woman had backed out of the window, her bare foot reaching blindly behind her for the edge of the trestle, wavering at least three feet out of reach.
“Hey, lady! Hold on! I’m coming to help!” I yelled, though I had no idea if she could hear me above the roaring fire, the screaming people and my heart thundering in my ears.
I had to jump in order to grab a hold of the first cross beams. Pulling myself up with my arms, I managed to hook my leg over the beam and swing up to a sitting position. I scrambled to my feet, reaching for the next level of cross beams. As I worked my way up, the space between sections lessened until I could easily reach the next level instead of jumping. I tried to ignore both the jabbing splinters lodging in the flesh of my palms and the waves of heat licking at my boots. Almost there…
Ninety feet above the ravine floor, I came alongside of the passenger car. About fifteen people crowded around the bottom window facing the trestle. The same woman still blocked the exit with her rear end, her feet blindly searching for a foot hold while the trapped mob behind her screamed and hollered, threatening to push her out of the way.
“Hey!” I yelled. “Quiet up, and listen!”
The voices dropped off, finally taking notice of me.
“Okay, we don’t have a lot of time, but if we panic, we’re all dead! Now lady, you’re gonna have to turn around; you’ll never make the leap that way.”
The other passengers on board helped the lady back into the window, working together in a calmer fashion now that someone had offered a whisper of hope. While impatiently waiting for the lady to decipher everyone’s differentiated directions, I glanced nervously below at the advancing fire. Then, surprised, I found something else advancing as well – a crowd of passengers and rail workers! They hurried, sliding and falling, down the steep hill, skirted the billowing wreckage and gathered around the base of the trestle. In groups of two and three, they started climbing, spacing themselves out along the various levels. Help had arrived.
Echoes of Dark and Light Page 3
