Whistle-Stop West

by Arleta Richardson

  “There’s food aplenty for you and the boys,” she said as she took up the reins. “I’ll stay at Sadie’s tonight and be back tomorrow afternoon.”

  Isaac had nodded and stepped back as the buggy rolled out the lane. She heard him mutter to the tall son who stood beside him, “’Fraid yer ma’s gone past it.” Then he moved on to practical business. “We’d best get at the chores.”

  Now as Julia watched the smoke billow from the engine approaching them, she knew her appearance didn’t indicate that she had “gone past it.” She smiled radiantly at everyone who walked by.

  Her cousin, Sadie, was delighted to have an overnight visitor. But she was at a loss to explain Julia’s behavior. “I don’t understand, Julia. You’re fifty-eight years old, and you have seven boys. Why in the world do you want to take on another young one at your age? If you need more help around the place, you could get a hired girl.”

  “Mercy, no. I don’t need help. Not for taking care of the house and garden, anyway. What I need is company. I want someone who speaks the same language I do.”

  “I’d of thought those boys of yours would be married by now, and you’d have some girls. How old’s the youngest one?”

  “Eighteen this summer. They’re busy with the ranch, and that’s all they think about. At least the four oldest have houses of their own in case they want to find a wife. I guess no girl wants to live that far from civilization.” Julia reflected on the endless miles of pasture over which Isaac ran his cattle. As much as she had desired daughters-in-law, she had to admit that the prospects were pretty bleak. She needed to take steps to remedy things herself. That’s why she was here.

  “What age girl you looking to get?” Sadie was asking. “And where you going to send her to school?”

  Julia had thought about that. “I don’t care what age she is. Or they are. I’m thinking of two girls. They’ll be company for each other. But schooling will have to be done at home. I was a teacher before I married Isaac, you know. I taught all the boys to read and write and cipher. I inherited Pa’s library and Ma’s organ. We’ll get on fine with education. I just don’t want them to be lonesome.”

  “What does Isaac think about this?” Sadie wanted to know.

  “Isaac?” Julia was surprised at the question. “Why, he never said. He leaves things like that up to me. ’Tain’t as if I was buying him a new herd of cattle, you know.”

  The ladies turned their attention to the train that was puffing to a stop and waited expectantly for the doors to open.

  Caleb Pritchard, Liberty’s only attorney and mayor of the town, also waited for the appearance of Charles Glover, the agent for the placement program. He was glad that his wife, Electra, had chosen not to be on hand this afternoon. She had strongly disapproved of the whole idea.

  “Look at this list of people who want to adopt children,” she had said. “How could you possibly recommend all of them? There aren’t more than five families listed here who would be fit to raise a child!”

  Caleb couldn’t deny that. “I’ve tried to look at both sides of the question. I can’t be the judge of anyone’s motives. All I know is that most any child has a better chance of survival in a home with a family than he has on a city street eating out of garbage cans.”

  “I’d rather eat out of garbage cans than live with Cora Tyler, I can tell you that,” his wife declared.

  Caleb had silently agreed, but he felt an obligation to defend his role in the matter. “It’s not as though it has to be a permanent arrangement if it doesn’t work out. If a child doesn’t adjust, he can be removed and placed elsewhere.”

  “Well, I’m glad I’m not one to be chosen today to be moved around like a pawn on a chessboard. It’s hard enough to grow up in the family you’re born into.”

  Caleb pondered this philosophy as he paced the station platform. He was living proof that this was so. His father, Judge Pritchard, had insisted on his firstborn son following in his footsteps.

  “There’s always been a Pritchard in law,” he’d said. “Don’t take it into your head to think that you’ll do any differently. A blacksmith indeed! Use your common sense, boy. You’ll be a lawyer.”

  In spite of the success of his career, Caleb still resented being pushed into his father’s choice. Electra was right. It wasn’t easy to grow up. He was still being pushed, Caleb admitted. The list his wife had read was folded in his pocket, but he didn’t need to look at it to know who was included.

  John Muller shouldn’t have been approved for a child, but Caleb felt he had no choice. His position as mayor depended upon John’s goodwill. If Caleb had turned the man down because of the harsh treatment he gave his own family, there would soon be another mayor.

  Ernest Rubeck wanted another farmhand and would probably not send the boy to school as required, but he held the note on Caleb’s house. The Sinclairs were too old to raise a child, but they were fellow church members. How could he explain cutting them from the list?

  Caleb stopped and wiped his brow with a big handkerchief. What his neighbors did wasn’t his responsibility, he reasoned. At any rate, the train had stopped, and Agent Glover was coming toward him. Caleb pushed away his weary thoughts and met Mr. Glover with a big smile and a hearty handshake.

  Chapter Eight

  Little Ruby Finds a Home

  Ethan watched the boys and girls line up across the platform of the church. Matron had told everyone to smile at the people when they came in, but even Louis, who was the most cheerful boy Ethan knew, wore a terrible scowl.

  “I guess I wouldn’t feel like smiling if I was up there,” Ethan said to Matron. “I’m glad I’m sitting down here by you.”

  Matron patted his knee. “They’re frightened right now, I’m sure. It will be better when the folks begin to talk to them.”

  From the other side of Matron, Alice leaned around to speak to her brother. “I’m going to miss Betsy something awful. Are you going to miss Bert?”

  Ethan didn’t look at Alice. “Yeah. But maybe no one will take them today.”

  Matron Daly’s heart ached for the children as she listened to them sing and recite for the strangers. She hugged Will, who sat on her lap, and glanced at Simon. He had chosen to sit on the end of the front pew to watch the activity with wide-open eyes. He’d begged to sing with the others, but they couldn’t run the risk of someone choosing him and being disappointed because he wasn’t available.

  Matron and Charles Glover had talked about how difficult this time would be.

  “I worry about the ones like Arthur,” Matron said. “How will a boy who hasn’t spent a day in school feel about being confined in a building? He’ll be laughed at and teased because he can’t read or write. Will he be able to live like that?”

  “It is hard,” Charles had agreed. “I trust each one of these children to the Lord as I let them go. I’ve found that most of the older boys do very well when they find that someone is willing to teach them a trade and treat them as a family member. We have to remember, Matron, that these children are survivors. If they couldn’t make it almost anywhere, they wouldn’t be here today.”

  Now the program was over, and the people started to discuss the children.

  “Mercy! I hope those children can do other things better than they sing!” This comment came from a woman named Cora Tyler.

  Her daughter, Nita, yawned. “I’m sure you don’t have to carry a tune to be able to scrub a floor. Just look for a strong girl who seems to be halfway intelligent.”

  “That tall girl on the end might be all right,” Mrs. Tyler decided.

  “That’s Shala,” Ethan whispered to Matron. “That lady won’t want her!”

  Matron Daly nodded and smiled to herself. Ethan was right. This woman might get more intelligence than she could deal with if she took Shala. The girl wouldn’t be a slave for anyone.

  The good peo
ple of Liberty started to walk past the rows of children, ready to select new members for their families. Cora Tyler approached the end of the line with determination. She stopped before Shala and stared at the name tag fastened to the girl’s white pinafore.

  Pointing her finger in that direction, she demanded, “What kind of name is that?”

  Shala’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Then sparks of fire appeared in her eyes. “It’s Irish, ma’am. I’m Shala O’Brien.”

  “Ridiculous name. But we can always change that. I suppose you know how to cook and clean, don’t you? Can you sew?”

  Shala smiled brightly, and Matron, watching her, knew that Mrs. Tyler had reason to beware.

  “Oh yes, ma’am. I’m a wonderful worker. I’m very quick, and I never do a job halfway. You won’t have any reason to complain about me. I can do anything you ask.”

  Mrs. Tyler was looking more pleased by the moment. “Well. This sounds just fine, doesn’t it, Nita? We’ll take you. Come along, Sha—whatever your name is.”

  Shala bobbed a little curtsy. “Thank you, ma’am, but I would like to know if you pay by the day or by the job. Do most ladies of Liberty hire a girl, so I’ll have lots of work?”

  This time it was Cora Tyler’s mouth that dropped open. “Pay? Who said anything about pay? I’m going to adopt you!”

  Shala managed to look disappointed. “You are? I thought you wanted me to come and work for you. I’m old enough to hire out, and I’m saving to go to normal school and become a teacher. I probably won’t do, will I?”

  Nita laughed out loud at her mother’s obvious discomfort. “I guess you’ve met your match this time, Mama. I think you should take her. We’d get along fine.”

  Cora Tyler glared at her daughter and marched toward the door. “Cheeky girl,” she muttered. “Just what you’d expect of an orphan.”

  Ethan watched in puzzlement as Matron suddenly bent to retie Will’s shoes, and Mr. Pritchard was forced to leave for water to ease a coughing fit. Wasn’t anyone going to speak to Shala about being sassy? Sometimes it was hard to understand grown folks.

  He turned his attention to the boys and girls lined up in front of him. Little Ruby, who came from Chicago, had grown weary. Now she sat on the edge of the platform with one foot placed on top of the other and her chin resting on her knees. With her arms wrapped around her legs, she appeared to be almost asleep. Ethan noticed, however, that her eyes were wide open, and Ruby didn’t miss anything that was happening.

  The people who walked by glanced at the top of her head, then went on. Ethan was about to point this out to Matron when the Reverend Jared Burke and his wife, Jenna, sat on either side of the little girl.

  “Hello. What’s your name?” Jenna Burke asked the little girl softly.

  Ruby sat up straight and revealed her name tag.

  “Ruby. What a lovely name! Do you know that a ruby is something precious?”

  The child shook her head and watched Rev. Jared Burke carefully from under long eyelashes.

  “We’re looking for someone precious to take home with us. Would you like to be the one?” Rev. Burke asked.

  For the first time the little girl spoke. “Really?”

  “Really.” He smiled. “Are you all by yourself?”

  “No. There’s Pete.”

  “Is Pete your brother?” Jenna asked.

  The girl nodded and pointed to a ten-year-old who stood with the other boys. He was watching his little sister. When Jenna rose and walked toward him, Pete stiffened and stood as straight as he could. His face was pale, but he met Jenna’s gaze directly.

  “Hello, Pete.”

  “Hello, ma’am.” He studied her. “You goin’ to take my little sister?”

  “We’d like to. Would that be all right with you?”

  Pete nodded. “Yes, ma’am. You look kind. She’s a good girl, but she don’t know much about living in a house. We ain’t had one lately.”

  “How old are you, Pete?”

  “Ten. But I’m almost eleven, I think.”

  He doesn’t look any older than the girl, Jenna thought. They both need some good food. She smiled at him. “Would you like to come with Ruby and live with us?”

  Pete looked around as though he wasn’t sure she had spoken to him. “Me? You want me, too?”

  “We certainly do.” She extended her hand toward his. “Come and meet your new papa.”

  Ethan warmed with pleasure as the Burkes each took a child and went to talk with Agent Glover. When the new family left the church together a few minutes later, Ethan noticed that Matron was brushing away a tear.

  Chapter Nine

  The Chosen Ones

  Ethan’s attention was suddenly drawn to a disturbance at the front of the church. A girl had grabbed Simon’s arm and was attempting to pull him to his feet. Simon was clinging desperately to the pew. As Ethan raced to the rescue, the girl shouted, “This one’s mine!”

  Ethan snatched Simon and jerked him back. “You can’t have him. He’s already been adopted.”

  “I don’t see anyone coming to get him.” Glory Hodge looked around the room. “Mama said I could have any one I wanted, and I want him.”

  “Well, that’s too bad, because you can’t have him. He’s my brother, and he goes with me.”

  “Mama!” Glory screamed and stamped her foot. “Tell this horrid boy that his brother is mine. Make him turn him loose!”

  Both Mrs. Hodge and Mr. Glover ran to the scene.

  “Of course you shall have him, Glory. What is the problem here, young man?” She glared at Ethan and took hold of Simon’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Charles broke in. “Ethan is right. Simon isn’t available for adoption.”

  “What’s he doing up here, then?” Mrs. Hodge’s fancy hat shook with indignation. “These are all orphans, aren’t they? I should think we could have the one we want.”

  Mr. Glover gave a quick-witted reply. “Yes, ma’am. You may have your choice, but if you take this one, you must also take his two brothers and sister. They stay together as a family.”

  Mrs. Hodge backed away with a gasp. “Four children? Well, I never!”

  “We make it a policy not to separate siblings from each other unless it is absolutely necessary. Someone has offered to take these four.”

  “Come along, Glory. You’ll just have to play with the children at school.”

  Glory stamped her foot again. “But Mama, you promised!”

  “I’m not going to adopt a whole orphanage, even for you,” Mrs. Hodge told her daughter. “Come along.”

  She swept out of the church with a protesting Glory in tow. Her sister, Edna, followed them, nodding pleasantly to her neighbors as she passed.

  Mr. Glover mopped his forehead and escorted the boys back to Matron. Ethan was shaken, but Simon gave voice to other concerns.

  “I wish people would stop pulling my arms,” he said.

  As the afternoon wore on, several other children were spoken for. Three-year-old Millie went with a young couple. Martin, age twelve, was taken by a kind-looking farmer and his wife. The schoolmaster from a neighboring town chose six-year-old Duane because, he said to Mr. Glover, “The boy has my red hair and my father’s name! How could we leave him here?”

  “It looks like young Billy picked his own folks,” Ethan observed to Matron. “He’s still hanging on to that man.”

  Matron smiled at the small boy who clung to a farmer’s pant leg as the man talked with his wife.

  “It’s up to you,” the woman told him. “He’s already decided that he’s going with you. You’ll have to pry him loose if you don’t take him.”

  The man leaned over and took Billy in his arms. There was no question about the outcome. Billy had found a home and a family, and he wasn’t going to let them get away.

&n
bsp; Will had fallen asleep on Matron’s lap, so she simply sat with Ethan, watching the various scenes.

  Of special interest to Ethan was the tall, thin man who stood apart from the others, apparently just observing, although he nodded and spoke to his neighbors when they looked at him. He had studied each child so carefully that Ethan was curious as to what he might be thinking. This was the man who didn’t like boys, according to Bert. Ethan wasn’t so sure about that. Close up, the man looked sad and worried, but not mean.

  “A lot of people are gone,” Ethan said to Matron. “Can I go and sit by Bert for a while?”

  “I don’t know why not,” Matron replied. “I think we’ll be going back to the train before long.”

  “Lots of folks found kids today,” Bert remarked. “But I still haven’t seen anyone I wanted to take me. Especially not that one.”

  As though he had heard Bert’s statement, the man started toward the front of the church.

  “Uh-oh.” Bert looked worried.

  “Maybe he wants a girl,” Ethan whispered.

  Apparently he did not, for the man headed for the boys and stopped in front of Arthur. From where they sat, Bert and Ethan could hear the conversation.

  “Well, young man, how old are you?”

  “Fourteen, sir.” Arthur straightened his shoulders and looked the man in the eye. “I’m strong, and I ain’t afraid to work.”

  “My name is Clayton Jones, and I need a boy to go into business with me,” the man told him. “You would be apprenticed until you’re sixteen, and then if you do well and wish to do so, you may become a partner.”

  Arthur’s eyes sparkled. “Really, sir? I ain’t had no schooling, but I can do whatever you show me. What kind of business you got?”

  “I’m a mortician.”

  This was met with a blank look from Arthur. “A mortician?”

  “Yes. I arrange for all the funerals in this part of the country.”