Whistle-Stop West

by Arleta Richardson

  Heads nodded in agreement.

  “I think I’d like a little girl. She’d be real company for me out there so far from town. The menfolk are gone all day, and I can’t say as they’re much good when they’re home. For company, that is.”

  “A young ’un would be nice. Think I’ll speak to Ed about it tonight. When does it say they’ll be here?”

  Several bystanders peered at the notice again. “Looks to me like a couple of weeks. We got time to think it over.”

  The group began to drift away from the post office, and only those who chose that spot to spend their day were left.

  One of them called out to a departing farmer. “You plannin’ on trying for another orphan, Chad?”

  “We’re thinkin’ on it,” the man replied shortly. Without a backward glance, he climbed onto his wagon, clucked to the horse, and moved down the road.

  The others silently watched him drive out of sight.

  “Pity the orphan who gets picked by him.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. He’s fair. He’ll provide for ’em and send ’em to school.”

  “If it’s a girl. If it’s a boy, Chad’ll send ’im to school when he can’t think of something else for ’im to do.”

  Others voiced their dire predictions.

  Chadwick Rush was making his way home. He hadn’t entered into the conversation with his neighbors in town. There would be talk enough when the train arrived, he knew. The countryside went by unnoticed as he reflected on his life.

  Chad was a successful man by anyone’s standards. He had, by the age of thirty-five, managed to acquire more property than any of his neighbors, and it had produced more abundantly than the areas around it. He had a sharp eye for a bargain, whether it be land to homestead or equipment to run it. His neighbors knew him as a hard man.

  While still at home on his father’s farm, Chad had met Manda Scott. She seemed to be a steady, industrious girl from a good family and was willing to start a home. Chad decided it was a good idea to marry her, especially when his father offered them a parcel of land to get started on.

  It wasn’t long before Chad learned that Manda was as determined as he was, and not always in the same direction. There were stormy days ahead.

  The first house to be built, for example, should have been a simple affair. It was not.

  “I’m not going to work in a kitchen the size of a henhouse,” Manda declared. There had to be a separate pantry and a cold room. “Take the partition out between here and the parlor, and it’ll be about right,” she directed.

  “We don’t need a house that big for the two of us,” Chad protested. “I can’t spend all spring working on it. I have to get my crops in. You can make do until I have time to add on.”

  “I don’t ‘add on’ to anything,” Manda snapped. “I do it right the first time. Now, are you going to put up a decent house, or will I call Pa to do it for me?”

  Chad had put up a “decent house,” and in the years that followed, he had constructed several others, each more elaborate than the last.

  Manda took a critical view of all of them.

  “Seems to me you could have made that bedroom a little bigger.”

  “Two windows will never let enough light into that north room.”

  “Should’ve gone for the paint myself. I could have found a better color than that.”

  “I don’t like the way the curtains hang. We’ll have to take time to go to town today.”

  Eventually Chad began to spend as much time as possible in the fields or exploring possibilities for acquiring new land.

  The state of affairs in the Rush home didn’t escape the notice of neighboring wives.

  “Have you seen the new linoleum Manda Rush has in her kitchen? Must have cost at least five dollars.”

  “That ain’t all. She’s having Chad put a pump in her sink! Says she’s not about to lug her water from the well.”

  “Has a hired girl, too. And nobody but them two to look after.”

  “What she needs is some kids to take up her time. Give her something to do besides nag her husband into fancying up that house.”

  “He could say no. That’s what my Horace would do if I tried it.”

  “Hah. You don’t say no to Manda without living to regret it.”

  One neighbor tried to find a bright spot in the dreary picture. “They are church comers, and they tithe regular.”

  “Takes more’n that to make you act like a Christian,” sniffed another. “And as for havin’ children, it’s the Lord’s blessing they ain’t got none. Them two hasn’t got a heart between ’em.”

  Chad Rush wasn’t aware of his neighbors’ opinions. He did feel that life had dealt him some raw deals, and that he had the privilege of staying out of everyone’s way and minding his own business. He wasn’t downright unfriendly, but he wasn’t the most sociable member of the community either.

  Now, as his horse plodded down the dusty road in the direction of the Rush farm, Chad thought about the notice at the post office and sighed. Soon he and Manda would have something else to scrap over. He knew that’s how it would be. Chad’s shoulders drooped, and he felt the weight of sadness that had hung over the place in recent months.

  It had all begun five years ago on a Sunday morning in church.

  “We’ve had a letter this week from back east,” the preacher had announced. “As you know, our church sends support to a children’s orphanage in Pennsylvania. They write once in a while to tell us how our money is used. I thought you might like to hear about what they’re doing now.” He proceeded to read the letter.

  Money has been received from many areas of the church, some as far west as Nebraska and Colorado. We do appreciate the sacrifices these good folks have made to keep Briarlane going. This spring we have been able to paint the barn, repair the steps to the main building, and purchase two cows. Our older boys assist with the farmwork, and the girls help with cleaning and looking after the younger children.

  At this date we have thirty-two children to care for, with a staff of seven dedicated people. Three orphans have been adopted this year, and many others are available. We ask that you would prayerfully consider taking a boy or girl into your home. Godly parents can change the lives of these children, who have been left homeless through no fault of their own. If you are interested, please contact George Lehman, director of Briarlane Christian Children’s Home.

  Chad hadn’t given the announcement another thought, but on the way back from church, Manda was unusually quiet. Eventually she spoke up.

  “We could take one of those little ones,” she said. “I could use a girl to help out around the house. Or if we got a boy, he’d be a hand for you on the farm. The way you’re taking in property, you’ll need more than hired men to run it. Be nice to have someone to leave it to when we’re gone.”

  “Lot of work to bring up a child,” Chad had replied. “You need to think about that before you take one on.”

  Manda waved her hand impatiently. “No more than I’m already doing. I cook and clean and wash and sew for everyone who works on the place now. Another one won’t make any difference.”

  “Don’t know,” Chad said to his father later. “If it will make Manda a little more contented with the place, it’ll be worth it. If it gives her something else to complain about, it won’t.”

  In spite of his misgivings, Chad had agreed to write to Briarlane for information. In return came a description of an eight-year-old girl.

  Frances is a happy, dependable child. She is helpful and intelligent. Both her parents are dead, and Frances and her eighteen-month-old brother, Robbie, were sent here by the state. Could you see your way clear to taking both of them? You will not be disappointed. They are good children who will fit well into any family situation.

  “We can certainly afford two, especially when one is
just a baby,” Manda had declared. “I think we should take them. If they don’t work out, we’ll send them back …”

  Chad now flicked the switch over the horse’s back to dislodge the flies that swarmed about. It had been such a day as this when he and Manda had gone to town to board the train for Chicago. They were to pick up Frances and Robbie at Hull-House, the way station for orphans going west.

  Five years ago. So much had happened in that time, and in spite of the fact that Chad didn’t want to remember most of it, his mind continued to play the scenes out before him ...

  Hull-House was in the middle of a huge, busy city. How anyone could bear to live there, Chad didn’t know. As he and Manda sat in the office waiting for the children to be brought to them, he was thankful for the open prairies of his Nebraska home. As soon as the business had been completed, he was ready to take the first train back.

  Not so, Manda.

  “How often will we have a chance to look around a big place like this?” she’d asked. “Leave the children here for another day, and we can see the sights.”

  See them they did, Chad remembered. By the end of the day, he was more exhausted than he would have been after working all day in the fields. City life was not for him.

  The following morning he departed happily for Willow Creek, Nebraska, with his newly acquired family.

  From the beginning Frances clung to him. She was smaller than Chad had expected for an eight-year-old. Her short brown hair and large, dark eyes gave her an appearance of helplessness and innocence.

  “Not very pretty, is she?” Manda commented. “Maybe she’ll grow out of it.”

  The baby was ready immediately to love everyone, and Manda directed all of her attention toward him. This was probably the reason, Chad thought, that he had pampered and spoiled Frances until now. At the age of thirteen, she was sometimes impossible to live with. In fact, she was partially responsible for the events that troubled him today.

  When Robbie was five and a half years old, Frances had been left to watch him while Manda was occupied in the house. The girl’s attention was on other things, and she didn’t try to stop the little boy from walking on the thin ice covering the creek. When she pulled him, shivering, from the water, her biggest fear was the wrath of her mother. Frances delayed taking Robbie to the house as long as she dared. The result was pneumonia, and the following week, Robbie died.

  Frances was inconsolable. Manda refused to talk about it. Chad was torn between sadness at the loss of the little boy and his inability to understand his wife and daughter.

  That was last year.

  Then this past April, a newsletter had arrived from Briarlane Christian Children’s Home. Frances had been the first to see it.

  “Papa, this letter says that the home has four children from one family that they want to send out on the Orphan Train. There’s one little girl and three boys. I think we should get them. I’d like a sister, and we need a boy to replace Robbie. You’d better write to them before someone else does.”

  “Four children, Frances? Are you out of your mind?” Manda was certainly not in favor of the idea. “Maybe the two youngest boys, but not all of them. We don’t need that many.”

  Frances cried and begged.

  “Life couldn’t be any more miserable around here with four more children than it is now,” Chad declared after several days had gone by with no peace. “I could use the older boys around the place, and you’d have another baby to spoil.”

  “If you hadn’t given Frances everything she’s wanted for five years, it wouldn’t be this miserable,” Manda had grumbled. “You’ll go ahead and do it again, I’ve no doubt. I can only hope someone has already asked for them.”

  But no one had, and the train was at this moment bringing the Cooper children closer to Willow Creek. Chad watched his house and barn grow larger as he approached.

  Worse, before the train arrived, he had to break the news to Manda about the homesteading claim in South Dakota. At the end of the summer, Chad would leave to survey the new territory and find a spot to build their house, but the family wouldn’t move till next spring. Since they’d have to work the land for a year, Chad’s brother had agreed to handle the farm in Nebraska until they returned. The four new children would have to come with them to South Dakota, of course. Maybe those orphan boys would come in handy to help clear the ground and work on the new land. They might as well be doing that. Chad was sure they wouldn’t be likely to improve Manda’s temper. That wasn’t even a possibility.

  Chapter Four

  Ready or Not

  Ethan awoke to voices at the other end of the coach. He sat up and looked around. On the seat facing him, Bert still slept soundly. The sky was getting lighter, but it appeared to be very early. As he gazed out the window, still drowsy with sleep, Ethan listened idly to Riley and Mr. Glover.

  “Are you always awake this early?” Riley was asking.

  “Yes. I need to get ready for the day. It’s the only time I have to read my Bible and pray before everyone is awake.”

  “You read your Bible to yourself every day?”

  Charles Glover admitted that he did.

  “Matron reads to us every morning, and we always have Sunday school on Sunday afternoon,” Riley said. “I’ve heard a lot of the Bible, but I never read it myself.”

  “It’s time you did,” Charles told him. “You’re old enough to read and understand it on your own.”

  “Don’t have a Bible.”

  Charles nodded. “I suppose not. But I’ll see that you get one before you leave the train. You need to start learning verses. If you memorize them, they have a way of coming back to you just when you need them.”

  “I do know a few verses,” Riley said, “and I remember a lot of stories. But I suppose there’s a bunch I haven’t heard yet.”

  Ethan’s mind wandered away from the conversation as he recalled the noises he’d heard in the night. He wasn’t sure he hadn’t dreamed it, but it had seemed real then. As the train chugged around a curve, he looked back at the cars that still followed them. There were three freight cars and one more passenger coach on the end. They must have picked up a lot of mail and baggage in Davenport.

  Bert awoke, yawned, and stretched. He eyed Ethan and frowned. “How come you woke me up in the night? Who’d you think was in here?”

  So he hadn’t dreamed it. Ethan shrugged.

  “I don’t know. It sounded like something with awful big feet and a loud voice.”

  “What’d it say?”

  “What do you mean? It didn’t say anything—just made a lot of noise.”

  “You was dreaming,” Bert decided. “Nobody else heard it, did they?”

  “I guess not. But I was awake enough to wake you up.”

  Bert couldn’t deny that. The boys folded their blankets, then headed for the washroom. Matron had promised a thorough scrubbing later, so a dab of the face and a brush through the hair took care of their preparations for breakfast.

  The others were soon ready, and Matron and the girls appeared with hard-boiled eggs, bread, and cocoa. As a special treat, each child was given an orange.

  “I was going to save these for noon,” Matron told them, “but if you’re going to get sticky, do it now before we begin baths. Mr. Glover tells me that we’ll reach one of our stopping places this afternoon.”

  Silence fell over the group, and they regarded each other fearfully.

  “Which of us is gonna get took, miss?” The question came from one of the Chicago boys.

  “I don’t know, Pete,” Matron replied. “That will be up to the people who come to see you. Do you all remember what we are to do when they take us to a church or a town hall?”

  Heads nodded solemnly. Now that the time had come to be parted from friends and those they depended upon, the children weren’t as sure about this adventure
as they had been.

  “As soon as we’ve had prayers this morning, we’ll go over the song together and practice the pieces you’re going to say,” Matron said. “You will all do just fine.”

  Philip shuffled his feet. “I think I’m going to be scared. What if I forget what I’m s’posed to say?”

  “Just look smart,” Bert advised him. “Sometimes if you keep your mouth shut, people think you’re smarter than you are.”

  Mr. Glover gave Bert a look of respect at the excellent advice.

  But Matron swiftly reassured the boy. “Don’t worry, Philip. You’ve been saying it a long time, so you won’t forget. The Bible says, ‘What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.’ Who is this One we trust in?” she asked.

  “Jesus!” chorused the Briarlane children.

  “I don’t trust nobody,” Arthur stated. “Who’s this Jesus fella, anyway? I don’t know Him.”

  The orphanage children looked at Arthur in horror, then back at Matron. What would she do to a boy who talked like that?

  To Ethan’s surprise, Matron’s eyes filled with tears.

  “We want you to know Him, Arthur. He is the Son of God, and He came to earth to die because He loves you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you and all of us.”

  Arthur scanned the circle of faces. “You ain’t stringin’ me, are you?”

  “Of course she ain’t!” Shala looked outraged. “It’s right here in the Bible. Just look at it for yourself.”

  “I can’t read no Bible,” Arthur muttered.

  “You neither? Well, never mind. We’ll read you the story about Jesus if you want to hear it.”

  “Yeah, we can even tell it to you,” Bert put in. “Ain’t you never been to church or Sunday school?”

  “Nope,” Arthur declared. “Didn’t know there was such a place until Mr. Glover brung me to Hull-House. I wasn’t there very long, but I heard a story about a man who got beat on by some thieves, and two guys wouldn’t help him, but then a third guy did. Was that one Jesus?”