All My Tomorrows

by Al Lacy

  Mary managed a smile of her own. “When you put it like that, who am I to argue? Go with God, my love, and my heart and prayers go with you.”

  Clay took Mary in his arms, kissed her and hugged her tight, told her he loved her, then hurried to the cattle car. He found the conductor, who told him that both horses had been taken to the hitch rail at the front of the terminal.

  Ten minutes later, he drew up to his office with the stolen horse in tow and found Deputies Brent Davis and Randy Ashbrook talking to one of the townsmen, whose name was Edgar Talmadge. When he rushed up to them, he learned that Talmadge had been at the depot, and had hurried to the sheriff’s office to alert the deputies so they could give the sheriff some help with the outlaws. The deputies were just about to jump on their horses and ride to the depot.

  Bostin thanked Talmadge for his deed and explained that the outlaws had escaped, taking a boy from among the orphans as hostage. He was going after them.

  The sheriff then took his deputies inside the office and explained in detail how he caught Shad Gatlin, and what happened when they arrived at the Colorado Springs depot.

  “Once I got a good look at Gatlin’s accomplice,” said Bostin, “I remembered seeing his face on wanted posters. His name is Bart Caddo.”

  “Oh, sure,” said Davis. “I remember seeing posters on him too. He’s a cold-blooded killer.”

  “Sheriff,” said Ashbrook, “I’ll go with you. I don’t want you having to track them down by yourself.”

  “I can’t leave the town and the county with only one deputy, Randy. Besides, I didn’t tell you about Gatlin’s threat. He said he’d kill Johnny Smith if he so much as saw me following. By myself, I’ll have a better chance of staying out of sight, than two of us would. Gatlin is a child killer, you know. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill that boy. Once I spot them, I’ll figure out a way to move around in front of them without being seen and surprise them.”

  Both deputies nodded.

  “All right, Sheriff,” said Randy. “I understand. Go rescue that boy.”

  Bostin nodded. “One of you needs to take that horse Gatlin stole and put it in the stable. When I get back, I’ll have to see if we can find its owner, who no doubt lives near Canon City.”

  “We’ll take care of it, Sheriff,” said Brent. “You just go rescue that boy.”

  Returning to the depot with another revolver in his holster, a spare one in a saddlebag, and his rifle in the saddle boot, Sheriff Clay Bostin learned from the townspeople that the outlaws had stolen two saddle horses from the hitch rail outside the terminal and headed toward the mountains. One of them had the boy in the saddle with him.

  Leaving the depot, Bostin mounted his gelding and put him to a trot.

  Just outside of town on the west side, he talked to people who saw the men with the boy riding into the mountains.

  Being an expert tracker, Bostin soon picked up their trail.

  As he rode into the high country cautiously, eyes peeled ahead of him, he said, “Lord, please give me wisdom in this pursuit. Help me to catch up to them by surprise somehow, and to save Johnny’s life. I know that once Gatlin and Caddo figure they are safe, Gatlin will kill the boy anyhow and ride on.”

  Chapter Eleven

  At the Colorado Springs depot, the orphan children were extremely upset because of what happened to Johnny Smith. Many were saying that Johnny was going to be killed by the bad men.

  Two boys and a girl had been chosen by foster parents, and as they were leaving, Dale Radcliff spoke above the loud cries. “Boys and girls, listen to me! I want us all to gather in the girls’ coach so I can talk to you.”

  The Nelsons, Lorinda, and Mandy Hillen quickly ushered the children into the girls’ coach, and when all were seated—with some of them bunched up four to a seat—Dale stood before them at the front of the coach while the other sponsors and the nurse were trying to quiet those who were wailing the loudest.

  Holding up his hands to get their attention, Dale said loudly, “Please, children, stop crying.”

  The other adults worked at calming and quieting those who were most disturbed, and after a minute or so, there was almost total silence. Every eye was on Dale. “Boys and girls, I want us to have prayer right now for Johnny. Let’s all bow our heads and close our eyes.”

  Dale led in prayer, asking the Lord to keep His hand on Johnny Smith, and to protect him from harm. He asked that Sheriff Clay Bostin be able to track down the outlaws and subdue them, and to bring Johnny back to Colorado Springs safely.

  After the amen, Dale ran his gaze over the faces of the children. “I talked to one of the railroad executives in the terminal a few minutes ago. He told me he would send a telegram to the home office of the Children’s Aid Society and let them know about Johnny being taken by those men. He will keep in touch with Mr. Brace by wire and let him know when Sheriff Bostin returns to Colorado Springs with Johnny. He will ask Mr. Brace to wire a message ahead of the train so we can be told the news upon arrival in whatever depot it happens to be. So let’s keep praying, okay?”

  Heads of the older children were nodding.

  The boys were then taken to their coach.

  The train pulled out, and as it headed into the mountains on its way to Utah, some of the younger girls began crying again. Lorinda, Shelley, and Mandy went to those who were crying the loudest and tried to comfort them.

  Near the rear of the coach, one of the little girls—six-year-old Nellie Thompson—was curled up on a seat alone and unnoticed, trembling and sniffling.

  Nellie’s once well-ordered life was now in a disordered state. She had lived in a beautiful house on Long Island with her loving parents and had lots of toys, dolls, and games. And now they were all gone. Her parents had been killed suddenly, leaving her all alone.

  Nellie’s mind went back to that fateful night that changed her life drastically…

  It was a cold night in early March, and her crippled mother escorted Nellie to her bedroom as usual, spinning the wheels of her wheelchair.

  Nellie pulled back the covers, crawled into her bed, then covered herself. Her mother moved the wheelchair up close, told her a bedtime story, heard her prayers, and kissed her good night. She doused the lantern on the table beside Nellie’s bed and turned the wheelchair about.

  As she wheeled toward the door, Nellie said, “I love you, Mommy.”

  Jeanne Thompson paused, adjusted the wheelchair in order to see her daughter, and said with a smile, “I love you, too, honey. With all my heart.”

  Nellie snuggled down into the warm covers and soon fell asleep.

  It seemed like only minutes had passed when suddenly Nellie was aware of being snatched out of her bed. Her next sensation was the acrid smell of smoke, then she opened her eyes to see that she was in her father’s arms. The thick smoke she saw was tinged with red flame. Then she saw flames licking up the walls of her room, and as he carried her swiftly into the hall, she heard her mother’s voice from the bedroom down the blazing hall. “Hurry, Roy! Get Nellie out! Hurry!”

  While running toward the front of the house with Nellie in his arms, Roy Thompson shouted over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back to get you, honey!”

  Nellie placed her trusting arms around her father’s neck. A fit of coughing overtook her, and she pushed her face down into his shoulder, trying to keep from inhaling the smoke.

  When they reached the front door, Roy slid back the dead bolt, opened the door, and plunged out onto the porch. He stumbled as he carried her down the steps and almost fell. Nellie hung on, coughing. At last she felt a blast of cold, smoke-free air and took in a deep gulp.

  “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” said Roy as he carried her through the flame-tinted night toward a tree stump at the edge of the street.

  As her father set her down on the stump, Nellie looked toward the house. It was engulfed in flames. An angry crimson glow brightened the black sky and sparks were falling on the yard.

  “It’s okay,” Roy T
hompson said again. “You stay right here, while I go get Mommy.”

  With that, Roy dashed back to the burning house, bounded across the front porch, and plunged inside.

  Nellie was shaking from both the cold air and the terror that had seized her. Tears made tracks down her soot-covered cheeks as she sobbed hysterically.

  Before her father could emerge with her crippled mother in his arms, the roof suddenly collapsed with a loud roar. Billows of smoke and flame rose skyward.

  Nellie screamed wildly, crying for her parents.

  But it was the last time she ever saw them.

  Curled up on the coach seat as the train rolled westward, she recalled how the sleepy-eyed neighbors came running from every direction. They all collected at the spot where Nellie sat on the stump, and one of the women gathered her into her arms.

  When morning came, Nellie was taken by the police to an orphanage. For several weeks, she hardly uttered a word. Most of the time when the people at the orphanage tried to talk to her, she only stared into space. She ate sparingly of the food that was set before her and cried herself to sleep each night.

  Finally, with much loving care from the kind women at the orphanage, Nellie began to talk again and enjoy the children around her. Many nights she woke up when nightmares invaded her sleep and found herself screaming as one of the women attendants took her in her arms, doing everything she could to soothe her.

  The staff at the orphanage held many meetings concerning Nellie, and at last they came to an agreement that the best thing for her was a change of atmosphere. They explained to her that she would be going to the Children’s Aid Society, who would put her on a train and send her out West, where she would find a new home and new parents.

  Nellie recalled how she puckered up at this news. “But I want my real mommy and daddy back. I don’t want new ones.”

  “Darling,” the lady had said kindly, “your mommy and daddy can’t come back. But a new mommy and daddy out West will love you and give you a nice home. You will be on the train with lots of other boys and girls. Some of them will be ones you already know, right here in the orphanage. It will be lots of fun.”

  Nellie thought of the wagon ride to the Children’s Aid Society headquarters, with four other children from the orphanage. There were two boys and two girls. Both girls had been chosen back in Kansas.

  Her thoughts ran to the awful thing that happened at the depot that morning when she saw the bad man put a gun to Johnny Smith’s head and heard him say he would kill Johnny if the sheriff followed them.

  Tears surfaced again as the terror of that moment came back. “Poor Johnny. Poor Johnny! That bad man will probably kill him anyway.”

  Through her tears, Nellie saw Lorinda Radcliff coming down the aisle toward her. Mrs. Radcliff had been the one who saw to her needs the most since the trip began. She tried to stop crying, but it only became worse.

  Lorinda picked Nellie up and sat down on the seat, placing her on her lap. She held her close. “You don’t have to be afraid, Nellie. Those bad men are gone.”

  “B-but they’re gonna kill poor Johnny!” she sobbed.

  Lorinda worked at trying to calm the child, but nothing she said could penetrate her fears. Mandy Hillen was administering a sedative to a five-year-old girl a few seats ahead. When Mandy looked Lorinda’s way, she motioned to her. Mandy nodded, and when she was finished with the five-year-old, she drew up to Lorinda and Nellie, medical bag and water bottle in hand.

  “I think Nellie needs a sedative too, Mandy. She’s very distressed over Johnny and this morning’s incident.”

  “Of course.” Mandy set her bag down on the empty seat just across the aisle. Leaning close to the weeping child, she said, “Nellie, I’m going to give you something that will help settle your nerves and make you feel better. Will you drink it for me?”

  Nellie nodded and sniffed.

  Lorinda watched while Mandy mixed some powders in a cup of water. Nellie sipped the mixture until the cup was empty.

  “Now, honey,” said Mandy, “you just relax as best you can, and pretty soon you’ll start to feel sleepy. You’ll take a nice nap, and when you wake up, you’ll feel better.”

  Still weeping, Nellie looked up at her and nodded.

  “I’ll hold you till you fall asleep,” said Lorinda, then looked up at Mandy. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Mandy said softly. “Im sure the shock of this morning’s horrible scene stirred the horror within her that she felt when she lost her parents in the fire. She’s so young to have her life so upset. The sleep will be good for her.”

  As Mandy walked away to tend to a girl whom Shelley was attempting to calm, Lorinda kissed Nellie’s forehead. “You sleep now, sweetheart.”

  Lorinda held the weeping child close while rocking her in her arms and humming a tune.

  Gradually, the sobs became sniffles, and the spent little six-year-old relaxed.

  Her eyes closed, Nellie heard Mrs. Nelson and the nurse still working at calming the girls who were crying over Johnny Smith.

  She thought about Mr. Radcliff’s prayer for Johnny earlier and took comfort that God would answer that prayer and not let the bad men kill him, and also would let the sheriff catch the bad men and bring Johnny back to Colorado Springs unhurt. Then thinking about the promise of a new home and new parents on this trip, she thought, Well, okay, since Mommy and Daddy can’t come back to me, I guess I can be somebody else’s little girl.

  The sniffles began to subside, and soon Nellie relaxed against Lorinda’s breast and fell asleep.

  In the boys’ coach, Royce Nelson was walking along the aisle as the train started its climb into the Rockies and was pleased that the boys seemed to be settled down over the Johnny Smith incident.

  However, as he approached the seat where Teddy Hansen sat between Jerry Varnell and Clint Albright, he saw that Teddy was crying. Jerry and Clint were attempting to comfort him.

  Royce dropped to one knee. “Teddy, are you crying over Johnny?”

  “That’s part of it, Mr. Nelson,” said Clint, “but he’s also crying because no one has chosen him. Jerry and I are feeling bad because we haven’t been chosen yet, either.”

  “Boys, don’t let that bother you. There are still many stops ahead if us. I’m sure all three of you will be chosen soon.”

  Teddy wiped tears. “Mr. Nelson, what if we don’t get chosen and have to go back to New York?”

  Royce gave him an assuring smile. “The chances of that happening are very, very slim, Teddy. It has only happened to five children since the orphan trains started taking boys and girls west twenty-three years ago. And each of those five were chosen on the next trip west.”

  Jerry grinned. “Well, that’s a pretty good record, Mr. Nelson. We haven’t told anybody, but we’re hoping that all three of us will be chosen by the same family or at least that we will be chosen by people in the same town, so we can be together as we grow up.”

  “Well, boys, it would be really rare for the same family to take all three of you, but it has been known to happen a couple of times. However, if that doesn’t happen, maybe at least you will be chosen by people in the same town or area.”

  It was a warm spring day in central Kansas, with the sun shining out of a crystal sky and the snow melting on the plains. At the Dexter farm, things were growing worse for Deena Mitchell. Rex was rougher on her every day, and she was worn out from all the work that was put on her by the whole family.

  Deena was helping Rex repair fence on the backside of the property. Rex was making her use a heavy iron tamping bar to set a new fencepost while he worked at steadying the post.

  Pain was showing on Deena’s face as she gripped the bar and pounded the blunt end of it on the dirt in the hole, next to the post.

  Rex frowned. “What’s the matter, girl? Does it hurt to lift the bar and bring it down hard?”

  Deena stopped, leaned the bar against the post, and showed him her blistered hands. “Yes, it hu
rts. I’ve got these blisters from using shovels and pitchforks around the barn, and now they’re bleeding. See?”

  Rex made a mock scowl. “Oh, poor baby.”

  Her face darkened. She looked at him, eyes laced with disgust. “You have no heart at all, do you?”

  “Not for you. Get busy. We need to get this post in so we can do those other two.”

  “What if I told you to do it yourself?”

  For a full five seconds they had a stare down, then finally Rex blinked. “I’d beat you good, and you don’t want that. Get busy.”

  Deena wiped blood on her tattered dress from her broken blisters and began tamping again. After a few minutes, she stopped and wiped sweat from her brow, gritted her teeth and said. “I can’t do this anymore. My hands are bleeding too much. Let me steady the post while you use the bar.”

  Rex’s eyes honed down like pinpoints. His voice chilled her as he hissed, “If you don’t get back to tampin’ that bar, I’m gonna beat you to a pulp.”

  She swallowed hard. “I don’t think your parents would like that. Then I couldn’t do the work around here that they’re used to. They’ll be mad at you if you beat me.”

  “No, they won’t. If I report that you were slackin’ in your work, and that I beat on you some to make you earn your keep, both my parents will commend me for it.”

  Rex noticed the tears that surfaced in Deena’s eyes and how she stared off into the distance.

  He laughed wickedly. “Hey, girl, if you’re thinkin’ about runnin’ away, it’s fine with me. But if you do, you’ll be in big trouble when my father catches up to you. He’ll give you a beatin’ you won’t forget.”

  She sighed, wiped her hands on her dress again, and picked up the tamping bar.

  Deena was forced to set the other two fence posts while Rex steadied them for her. By the time they headed for the house at sunset, her hands were bleeding profusely. When they entered the house and both Norma and Ralph looked at her bleeding hands, Deena received no sympathy. Norma had her wash her hands in cool water, then she put some salve on the bleeding blisters for her and wrapped them with cloths, cinching them with knots at her wrists.