Whistle-Stop West

by Arleta Richardson

  Simon clung to his older brother as rushing feet and thunderous noise whirled around him. He looked around frantically for Matron. “Ethan!” he shouted over the din. “Where is Alice? Will?”

  “Matron has Will, and Alice is with Shala and the other girls,” Ethan assured him. “You stay with me.”

  Ethan’s friend Bert grabbed Simon’s other hand, and the three boys joined the crowd surrounding the train station.

  “Remember, we have to stay in sight of our cars,” Bert said. “We don’t want to get too far away.”

  Ethan glanced back the way they had come. “We won’t have any trouble. Our cars are the last two on the train. Let’s watch what’s going on here.”

  They stopped in front of a car that had no windows. “I think it has baggage and stuff,” he said.

  As they watched, the big doors slid open, and long, flat wagons moved into place beside them. Soon, objects of every description appeared. Men on the train threw bundles, boxes, and suitcases to others on the ground, who placed them on the wagons. Trunks were lifted down, and a crate of squawking chickens found a place beside them.

  “Wow!” Bert yelled over the noise. “How does anyone ever get their stuff back? I’m glad we didn’t put ours in there.”

  Ethan nodded. “See up there? That’s the mail car. Look at all those bags of letters!”

  Still dragging Simon between them, the boys dashed to the car ahead. They watched as big canvas sacks were tossed off the train and onto wooden trolleys. There seemed to be no end to them, and even more cartons tied with rope and crates holding large objects were unloaded.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know what’s in all those boxes?” Ethan grinned. “I guess you can send anything but people through the mail.”

  At the front of the long train, past the station house, more activity was taking place. A huge chute swung out over the railcar behind the engine, and coal poured down it with great speed. Black soot flew up, and the noise was deafening. The boys stared in fascination as the coal car filled up. A torrent of water was poured into the boiler attached to the engine.

  “That’s what keeps her going,” a voice shouted over the racket, and strong arms scooped Simon from the ground. It was Riley, and he placed the little boy on his shoulders. “Now you can see better.”

  Simon could indeed, and what he saw was amazing. The track on the other side of their train was clearly visible to him. Another train, headed toward the east, was standing on that track.

  Simon clutched Riley’s hair and hung on as he gazed openmouthed. “Ethan,” he hollered, “there’s—”

  But Ethan didn’t seem to hear him. Simon continued to talk, but the wind carried his words to join the rest of the hubbub around them. No one answered him or seemed the least bit interested in what he was saying. By the time Simon was lowered to the ground, he had decided to say no more about what he’d seen. They wouldn’t believe him anyway.

  Riley disappeared into the crowd, advising the boys to start back toward their coach.

  It was warm on the platform, and Simon was tired of being pulled along at breakneck speed. “It’s hot down here,” he complained. “I can’t see anything. Besides, I’m thirsty.”

  Ethan and Bert stopped to look around them.

  “There must be a pump around here somewhere. All these people have to get a drink once in a while,” Bert reasoned.

  “There’s one,” Ethan pointed out. “Right there behind the building.”

  They rushed over to the pump and took turns pumping the water and drinking from their hands. While the other two drank, Simon stood swinging his arms back and forth. It felt good not to have them being jerked both ways.

  “Watch out, little boy,” a voice said behind him. “You almost whacked me in the nose.”

  Simon whirled and found himself face-to-face with a girl no taller than he was.

  “I’m not a little—” he began, then stopped and stared. This was no girl. She was small, to be sure, but she was dressed in ladies’ clothes, and her face appeared to be as old as he remembered Ma’s to be. Simon opened his mouth to ask who she was, but a sudden whoo, whoo from the train prevented it.

  The tiny lady disappeared, and Bert and Ethan each grabbed one of his hands again and hustled him along between them. Quickly they rounded the station house and charged down the crowded platform. When it seemed as though they had passed more ore cars on the way back than they did when they came, the boys slowed down and surveyed the scene.

  “We never went this far from our train,” Bert said, “and we still can’t see the end. How come?”

  Ethan frowned but didn’t answer. The trio turned around and began to make their way toward the front again.

  “Do you see anyone you know?” Bert asked.

  “Nope. Where do you s’pose Matron and the girls are?”

  The crowd was much smaller than it had been, and the boys anxiously searched the faces of all who passed by.

  Simon tugged at Ethan’s hand. “I saw—”

  But Ethan cut him off. “Wait until we get on the train, Simon, and then tell me.”

  Bert stopped and looked back. “I know we were on this side of the station house. The train didn’t move, so our car has to be here somewhere. Where is everybody, anyway?”

  While they stood, uncertain which direction to take, three shrill blasts from a whistle sounded behind them. Mr. Glover stood on the step of their coach, waving. “Come on, boys, this way. Hurry!”

  Simon’s feet almost left the ground as they raced toward the open door. He was lifted aboard, and Bert and Ethan clambered after him as another whoo, whoo sounded and steam puffed around them.

  Chug, chug, chug, chug, chug, chug. The train shuddered and shook and gathered speed as the boys fell into the nearest seat, panting heavily.

  Riley surveyed them with disgust. “I rounded everybody up down there by the coal car and told you to get back here. Where’d you go?”

  “We stopped to get a drink,” Bert gasped when he could speak again. “How come they moved our car?”

  “What’s the matter with you, boy? This car was right where we left it! We better not let you off again if you can’t find your way back.” Riley sounded annoyed … or maybe worried.

  “We was the last one in line,” Bert maintained stoutly, “and now there are some behind us. How come?”

  Charles Glover overheard them. “The boys are right. I didn’t think to warn you about that. The train takes on more cars between cities and carries them short distances. When we reach the first town in Iowa, where we’ll stay overnight, our cars will be unhitched and then picked up by the train going west the next day. We can’t tell coaches apart by where they stand in line. We’ll need another way.”

  “I’ll tie a scarf on the bar beside our door,” Matron announced. “Then no one will miss it. All right, girls. Let’s go back to our car and get ready for lunch. Wash up, boys. We’ll be back shortly.”

  By the time lunch was over, the train was speeding across the open prairie. The smaller children napped, and the older ones, seeing nothing new to keep their attention, were staying busy as best they could.

  Bert watched as Ethan sketched a picture on a tablet balanced on his crossed legs. “Looks just like the station house,” Bert commented. “Where’d you learn to draw like that?”

  “I don’t know. Guess I always could. I used to make pictures in the dirt back home, and Ma always knew what they were. This is better, because I can keep them to look at later.”

  Bert picked up a box of drawing pencils that lay on the seat beside Ethan. “Mr. Smalley knew what to give you for a gift, didn’t he?”

  “I’d rather have these than anything else,” Ethan replied. “He was a good teacher, wasn’t he? I guess he was sorry to see so many of us leave Briarlane.”

  “I ’spect he thought he’d always
have us orphans in school,” Bert said. “But there’ll probably be more to take our place next year. It was nice of him to give us all something to remember him by.”

  The boys leaned back and peered out the window. So much had happened recently that it was hard to sort it out.

  It had all begun with news that twelve children would be traveling on the Orphan Train to a new home in a western state.

  “There is a family by the name of Rush who lives in Nebraska,” Mr. Lehman had told Ethan. “They want you to come and live with them. You’ll have a mother, a father, and an older sister named Frances.”

  “Are you sure they know that there’s four of us?” Ethan had asked, concerned. “They won’t just take one and leave the rest of us on the train?”

  “I’m sure. They know that you’re all to stay together. Mr. Rush has a large farm and a lot of room. I’m sure you’ll be happy there.”

  Bert broke in on Ethan’s thoughts. “Remember the day we left on the train to Chicago?”

  “Sure. I’ve got a picture of it here.” Ethan flipped the pages of his drawing tablet back to the beginning. There stood a long train with children climbing aboard. Smoke rose from the stack, and steam billowed along the ground. People on the platform waved at the passengers.

  “Boy … that looks just like us!” Bert seemed impressed. “That’s good. What else have you got?”

  Ethan turned the page. “This is Chicago.”

  Tall buildings rose in the background, and on one side, a blue lake glistened. People crowded the sidewalks, and bridges crossed a river.

  Bert studied the drawing. “I never saw such a big city before. I’m glad we didn’t stay there any longer. Where’s that house we stayed at?”

  Ethan turned another page and pointed out a big building surrounded by people, trolley cars, stores, and houses. He thought back to their time at Hull-House.

  “Is this where we’re going to live?” Alice had asked. “I don’t like it here. I’d rather go back to Briarlane.”

  “We won’t be here long, Alice,” Ethan had told her. “Just until the train is ready to take us to our real home. Besides, Matron said we’ll have a nice surprise here. You won’t want to miss that.”

  The days at Hull-House had been exciting. A large room was filled with clothes for all the children who were going on the train. Ethan and the other boys were outfitted in the grandest style they had ever seen. From the high-buttoned, black shoes to the knickers and jacket that completed each suit, every piece of clothing was brand new.

  “I never had nothin’ that nobody else ever wore before,” Bert had said in awe. “Do you mean we really get to keep these?”

  Matron assured them that they did. “But you won’t be wearing them until we meet the people who will give you homes. It’s important to look nice then. They don’t want scruffy-looking children.”

  While he was dressed in his elegant outfit, Ethan had offered to be the doorkeeper for the busy Hull-House. He was given permission, and for a day he opened the big door for arriving and departing visitors.

  “It was nothin’ like door duty at Briarlane,” he told Bert later. “I didn’t have to dust or anything. I just had to open the doors and say ‘Good day.’ And people said, ‘Thank you, young man’—like I was somebody.”

  Ethan’s thoughts returned to the present as the younger children awoke and demanded attention. Ethan tucked his drawing book and pencils away in his bag, out of the reach of small fingers.

  Simon knelt on the seat beside him and pressed his nose against the window. “I saw somebody,” he announced.

  Ethan glanced out at the fields and woods rushing by. There were no signs of life as far as he could see.

  “Was it a farmer?” he asked the boy.

  “Nope. A little bitty lady.”

  “There’s no ladies out there, Simon. We’re way out in the country.”

  “I saw her. She said, ‘Watch out, little boy. You almost whacked me in the nose.’”

  Ethan laughed at him. “Come on, Simon. You made that up. If there was a lady out there, and if she did say something, you couldn’t hear from the train. Where’d you get that story, anyway?”

  “Not a story,” Simon replied patiently. “She was shorter than Alice, and she wore a little bitty hat. But she was old. She had a purse.”

  “You sure had a good dream, Simon,” Bert said, clearly playing along. “What happened to the lady?”

  “I don’t know. You made me go away. But I never hit her,” he added quickly. “I just almost did.”

  Ethan shook his head. It wouldn’t do any harm to let Simon believe his story. If he imagined he saw a lady his own size, it couldn’t hurt anything.

  The boys decided to play the checkers game Mr. Smalley had given to Bert, and the afternoon passed quickly.

  They hadn’t gone through any more large towns before it began to get dark. At suppertime, Matron passed out the bread and milk with fresh fruit that Mr. Glover had bought in Davenport, and the children ate with good appetites. Then Matron surprised the children by handing out cookies for dessert.

  “How did you bake these on that little stove?” Philip wanted to know. “I didn’t smell them.”

  “These were baked at Hull-House,” Matron said. “I saved them to eat a few at a time. Two apiece tonight, and more tomorrow.”

  “Too bad they can’t last like the cakes the widow in the Bible made,” Riley said. “These are good.”

  “What kind of cakes?” Trudy asked. “How long did they last?”

  Matron sat down and smoothed her apron. “You never heard that story? Well, I’ll have to tell you about it. There was a widow who had a young son,” she began.

  “Was he an orphan?” Trudy interrupted.

  “He was fatherless,” Matron said. “His mother was caring for him alone.”

  “Just like me.” Trudy nodded.

  “Yes, just like a lot of you,” Matron agreed, then continued. “A stranger named Elijah came to town, and he asked if she would bake a cake for him.

  “‘Oh, sir,’ she said, ‘I would gladly do it, but I have only enough meal and oil for one cake to feed myself and my son. That’s all the food we have in the house.’

  “‘Bake one for me first,’ Elijah said, ‘then you can feed your son. I’ve come a long way, and I’m hungry.’

  “The widow felt sorry for the man, so she did as he asked. She took the cake outside to where he sat and gave it to him.

  “‘God will bless you,’ Elijah said. ‘You will not run out of meal or oil as long as you need it.’

  “The widow returned to her house and found that what Elijah had said was true. God provided for her needs from then on.” Matron smiled at Trudy. “We know that He will provide for our needs too, because He promised that He will take care of His children. Now, let’s have evening prayers and get ready for bed.”

  The lights were soon out, and Ethan and Bert curled up in their seats at the end of the long car. It had been an exciting day, and the boys were tired. They fell asleep almost at once.

  That night the train slowed, then jerked to a stop. Ethan roused enough to turn over. He would have gone right back to sleep, but a sound like a low roar began right behind his ear. Wide awake now, Ethan sat up and listened.

  Yes, there it was again. There was the noise of heavy feet stomping, and Ethan pulled his blanket around him and stared into the darkness. He reached out and shook Bert, who lay on the seat across from him.

  “Bert … Bert,” he whispered. “Wake up! There’s something in here!”

  Bert opened his eyes. At that moment the train began to roll again, with the usual grinding of wheels and puffing of steam.

  “There’s a lot of us in here,” Bert said grumpily. “How come you woke me up to tell me that?”

  “It’s not us,” Ethan insisted. “It�
��s something making a big noise. Can you hear it?”

  “I just hear the train. You’re as bad as Simon. Go to sleep.”

  Ethan lay down again and closed his eyes. The chug-chug of the train was familiar, but he had heard something else.

  He knew he had.

  Chapter Three

  A New Family Waits

  As the Orphan Train whistled and clattered through the night on its way west, a small country town in Nebraska lay quietly in sleep. Earlier that day its inhabitants had gathered around the post office and read with interest the notice tacked up there.

  “Wonder how many children they have on that train?”

  The man who spoke had read the information slowly and carefully. His question was directed to anyone standing around who wished to answer.

  “Don’t know as I approve of giving children away,” someone else commented.

  “Doesn’t look to me like taking in a stray cat. Look what you have to do. Feed and clothe ’em, send ’em to school and church, and treat ’em like family.”

  “Might be worth it to get a good, strong boy to help out on the farm.”

  “I’d think awhile before I’d take a strange child into my home, I’ll tell you. Especially when they’re part grown. How do we know where they come from?”

  “We know.” The postmaster entered the conversation. “They come from orphanages and off the streets. The cities can’t take care of all of ’em. Some have probably been in trouble with the law, too. Could be we’ll be taking in their problems.”

  “If everyone stayed home and took care of their own children, they wouldn’t be in this fix.”

  “Come on, now, Rhody. That ain’t fair.” The miller’s wife spoke up. “Some folks in the city die sooner than we do out here. What happens to those poor little ones when they got no parents left? You can’t say that’s their fault. Most of us have lots of space and enough food for another mouth. It won’t hurt us to help out. I, for one, intend to be here to look them over.”