Whistle-Stop West

by Arleta Richardson

  The train steamed toward the next small town that was expecting them.

  “Chelsea,” Charles replied when Matron inquired what that town might be. “Not very big, but we had several inquiries from there.” He peered out the window. “This storm may keep a lot of people away, though.”

  It did seem that they were running into more rainy weather rather than away from it. Still, the children prepared themselves to meet anyone who might have ventured out. When the train stopped several hours later, faces pressed against the glass for a sight of the station. There was nothing to be seen.

  “I don’t think they got any town here,” Philip declared. “I don’t even see a station house. You sure this is the place?”

  “There’s a town,” Charles told him. “You can’t see it through the downpour. I’ll get out and find someone who knows where we go.”

  Charles pulled on a slicker and stepped out onto the platform. He returned in a moment, followed by a large man whose hair and mustache dripped water over his collar. The two men stood in the space between the cars, and Matron and the children could hear their conversation clearly.

  “Name’s McCarty. I’m the sheriff here, and I came down to tell you that your train ain’t stopping in Chelsea.”

  “I don’t understand. This place is on our schedule.” Charles Glover dug a paper from his inner pocket and showed it to the sheriff.

  The man glanced at it, then shook his head. “Don’t make no difference. This town don’t hold with selling children.”

  “Selling children! That is certainly not what we’re about. We’re trying to find—”

  Sheriff McCarty didn’t allow Charles to finish his sentence. “We know what you’re doing. We heard all about it from the place up north. Come from Chicago, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “That’s what I thought. You’re one of those outfits that kidnaps children from the streets, then puts them on a train and sells ’em to farmers along the way. We don’t want any part of that in Chelsea. If you wasn’t passing through here, I’d arrest you and take you in. All’s I can do is not let you off the train.”

  Charles spoke calmly. “You are mistaken, sir. I don’t know where you got that information, but it is not correct. These children are available for adoption from a Christian orphanage and social-services home. None of them have come against their will.”

  “Who’s going to adopt a little ragamuffin off the street? What do we know about where they came from? Maybe they’ll give our kids diseases. Nobody here wants ’em.”

  Matron had heard enough. She stepped over to the doorway and faced this visitor. “Our children are as clean as any child in your town,” she declared. “And not one of them is sick. Why don’t you come in and look for yourself?”

  The sheriff looked ashamed as he snatched his hat from his head. “No offense, ma’am. I was just reporting what some folks in town was saying.”

  He peered over her shoulder at the children, staring wide-eyed at this unusual occurrence. They were scrubbed clean, brushed, and dressed in their best clothes. A look of surprise crossed Sheriff McCarty’s face, and he entered the car with Charles Glover.

  “These here are nice-looking children,” he muttered. “They don’t look like ruffians. Maybe those folks who complained didn’t know what they were talking about.” The sheriff cleared his throat. “You may be right about them coming from a home, but how about the report that you’re getting money for bringing them out here? If folks have to pay you in order to take one home, that’s the same as selling them.”

  “We don’t receive money, I assure you. The train coaches are provided by the Children’s Aid Society in New York. The other expenses are covered by contributions to the homes. All we ask is that a child be cared for as one of the family, be given an education and religious training, and be brought up to be a good citizen. If a child or the new family is unhappy with the situation, we’ll find the child another home.”

  “Sounds straight to me,” the sheriff declared. “I’ll have a talk with the folks. Seems like it might be better if the ones who are interested come out here to the coach to see them. We wouldn’t want one of the little ’uns to be washed away.”

  He turned and left, promising to return with others in a short while.

  The children, who had listened silently to the conversation, all wanted to talk at once.

  “Was he really a sheriff? Did he have a gun?”

  “He was a sheriff, all right. I’m sure he has a gun somewhere. He probably didn’t think he’d need it here,” Charles replied.

  “I hope he comes back and chooses me,” Philip declared. “I’d help him fight the Indians!”

  “Indians!” Shala was indignant. “There aren’t any Indians out here to fight now, are there, Mr. Glover?”

  “Well, there probably aren’t a lot of wild ones around any longer. I wouldn’t say they’d be Sheriff McCarty’s biggest problem,” Charles answered.

  “Besides,” Shala continued, “maybe he’d rather have a girl. Did you ever think of that?”

  “I don’t know what for,” Bert put in. “Girls wouldn’t be any help shooting bad guys or catching rustlers.”

  “Shala would!” Trudy said. “She can do anything the boys can do—and probably better, too. You think you’re so smart, but what do boys know?”

  “Here, here,” Matron interrupted. “Let’s not have a war between the boys and girls. I think you all do well taking care of yourselves. Why don’t we let our new families decide what you can do or not do?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rumors Laid to Rest

  It wasn’t long before several of the townsfolk appeared and boarded the Orphan Train. They were a friendly bunch, and to the delight of the children, they had all brought baskets of food.

  “Thought we’d have a picnic for supper,” one of the ladies announced. “We were planning to have it outside if the weather was fine.” She beamed at the children as she sank down on a seat. “We was real disappointed when we heard that the sheriff had word not to let you off the train,” she confided to Matron. “Some folks up north of here heard rumors about this train, but Sheriff McCarty says he doesn’t think they’re true. So we went ahead and came. My name’s Naomi Pruitt.”

  Mrs. Pruitt settled back in the seat and patted the red plush covering beside her. “My, ain’t these nice? I never been on a train in my life. How does it feel to be hurtled along through space that way? Scary, huh?”

  “We’ve gotten used to it,” Matron replied. “We’ve certainly met some interesting people.” She smiled at Mrs. Pruitt. “It was lovely of you to think of a picnic. We’ll all enjoy it.”

  “Mercy, yes. I can’t sit here and visit. I’d better get this food set out. More folks are on the way.”

  By the time everyone had arrived, the coach was crowded with visitors and children. Four seats were needed to contain all the wonderful things the ladies had prepared. The children were struck speechless with the display of ham and chicken and turkey on big platters. Bowls of potato salad, baked beans, coleslaw, and pickles sat beside the rolls, butter, and jam. Cakes, pies, cookies, and fruit completed the meal.

  “I never saw that much to eat in my whole life,” Trudy declared. “Do you suppose they get to have all this every day?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Matron replied. “Country folks work hard and eat well.”

  “I’d work hard too, for food like this,” Trudy said. “I hope someone takes me home with them.”

  Naomi Pruitt put her arm around Trudy’s shoulder. “I’ll take you with me. I never saw such a skinny young one. My children will love to have a new sister in the family.”

  Trudy’s eyes sparkled, and she hugged Mrs. Pruitt tightly. “How many children do you have?”

  “Only eight,” Mrs. Pruitt said, “and they’re all older
than you. You’ll be the only one in school. Except your sister Dary. She’s the teacher. What grade you in?”

  Trudy looked troubled. “I ain’t never been to school.”

  “Well, don’t you worry about that. Dary’ll have you reading in no time. You just get together whatever you got to take with you.”

  “Look!” Philip called from the window. “Here comes the sheriff back, and he’s got a lady with him. Do you suppose he came for one of us?”

  Sheriff McCarty answered that question when he and his wife joined the others. “We don’t plan to adopt anyone,” he said to Charlie Glover, “but my wife, Rose, wanted to see the train and the children. Never had anything like this in town before. Guess that’s why I was suspicious. Nothing personal, you understand.”

  “Of course,” Charles replied. “You were wise to be cautious. I’ll leave an address that you can use to check things out if you have any questions.”

  “Ask him if he carries a gun,” Bert whispered to Ethan.

  “You ask him,” Ethan replied. “You’re not afraid of anyone.”

  “I’ll ask him,” Philip volunteered. “Maybe I’ll even ask him if he’d like to take me.” He sidled over to the big man. “Mr. Sheriff, sir. Us fellows would like to see your gun.”

  “Well, now, I’m sorry, son. I didn’t expect to meet any bad guys on this train, so I left the gun back in my office.”

  “That’s all right,” Philip told him. “Someday I’ll have one of my own. I’m going to be a sheriff when I grow up.”

  Sheriff McCarty looked around the car, then called to a man who was talking to a neighbor. “Here, Cal. Here’s a young fellow who wants to be a deputy. What do you think?”

  Cal came over and looked at Philip.

  “That’s my brother,” the sheriff said. “And he’s looking to find a boy who might make a good lawman.”

  Philip’s hand was lost in the big one belonging to Cal McCarty, and his arm was shaken vigorously. A loud voice boomed, “How old are you, son?”

  “Nine.”

  “You ever been in jail?”

  “No, sir.” Philip gulped.

  “Good place to stay out of. You like school, do you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Looks like a pretty good deputy to me,” Cal said to his brother. “Let’s see what Emma thinks.”

  Emma McCarty agreed, and Philip beamed at the chance to begin a new life in Chelsea.

  The sheriff’s wife, Rose, was talking with Matron as she looked around the coach. “Brandon was right. These are lovely children. Do you think all of them will ...” Suddenly Rose turned pale and stopped speaking.

  Matron watched her with alarm. “Are you all right, Mrs. McCarty? You look ill. Do sit down!”

  Sheriff McCarty hurried over to his wife. “What’s the matter, Rose? What happened?”

  Rose pointed. “That’s Kathleen’s girl!”

  Matron turned to see who the woman was talking about. “That’s Shala. She’s one of our girls.”

  “She does look like your sister, all right, but Kathleen was never in Chicago. And anyway,” the man reminded his wife, “we know that the family died in a fire.”

  “But Brandon, no one could look that much like Kathleen and not be her daughter.” Rose turned to Matron Daly. “Was she found on the streets of Chicago?”

  “Oh no,” Matron replied. “Shala has been at Briarlane Christian Children’s Home since she was two years old. That was eleven years ago.”

  “Where is the home?” Sheriff McCarty asked.

  “In Pennsylvania. Shala was brought in by a woman who said the child’s parents had died in an accident. The name on her baptismal certificate was Shala O’Brien.”

  “It is Kathleen’s baby!” Rose declared. “Oh, Brandon, they told us the whole family was gone. But I knew the moment I saw her that she had to be Kathleen’s girl!”

  “It certainly looks like it,” her husband said. “She’s our girl now.”

  Together they went to talk with Shala, and soon they were getting her things in a bag to take with her.

  “I found a family that is really family!” Shala said. “I didn’t know anyone in the world belonged to me.”

  Sheriff McCarty added, “Chances are you wouldn’t know it now if I hadn’t heard those rumors.”

  “Oh! What if you had sent the train on without ever knowing that our Shala was on there!” Rose hugged Shala. “But the Lord knew. He turned something bad into good for us.”

  There were hugs and tears when the three children finally left with their new families.

  “How are we going to get along without Shala bossing us around?” Bert wondered aloud that evening.

  “She could play ball better than some of the boys,” Riley reflected.

  “Yeah, and marbles, too,” Ethan added. “And she took good care of Alice.”

  Everyone was quiet as the train pulled away from Chelsea. Of the twenty-five orphans who had left Chicago, thirteen were left.

  “It gets to feel a little lonesome as we approach the end of our route,” Charles Glover told Matron quietly. “They’re glad when their friends find new homes, but they can’t help wondering what lies ahead for them.”

  “I’ve worked with homeless children most of my life,” Matron said, “and I don’t think there’s a braver bunch anywhere to be found. I’ve tried to give all of them the hope that there is one Friend who will be with them no matter where they go.”

  She looked over to Ethan, who held Will on his lap as they looked at a book together. “I’m grateful that you’ve given a Bible to every child who leaves. Who knows what harm that will keep them from?”

  “The Bibles are a gift from a gentleman in Chicago who is interested in Hull-House,” Charles replied. “It’s the only possession some of these children have when they leave us. I’m sure God will honor that.”

  He will indeed, Matron thought later as she made sure the girls were covered for the night. Whatever their future holds, God is in it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Last Stop in Iowa

  By the time the Orphan Train chugged into Sioux City, their last stop in Iowa, the remaining Chicago children and one boy from Briarlane had been adopted, placed in Glidden, Vail, and Mapleton.

  “Looks like there’s just us now,” Riley commented as they left the last little town behind.

  “Us” included Riley, Bert, and the four Coopers.

  “Bert here needs to find a home. It won’t matter so much about me. I can apprentice somewhere even if there is no family that wants me. I’m old enough to be on my own.”

  Yet Riley’s voice was wistful, and Ethan knew Riley really longed for parents of his own who would give him more than a job to do. Ethan recalled the picture of the young woman he had found on the floor near Riley’s bed at Briarlane. It had been Riley’s mother, and Ethan knew the older boy treasured the picture.

  “What do you want to do, Riley? What kind of job you going to apprentice for?” Bert was curious. “I wish I was old enough to do that. But I guess I still have to go to school.”

  “I’ve been thinking on it,” Riley replied. “I’d like to do something to help people, like Mr. Glover does. But maybe there’s not much call for boys in that kind of business.”

  “There’s always room for a boy who likes people and wants to help them,” Mr. Glover assured him. “It may mean that you’ll need another trade too, and maybe even go to school. But the world can’t have too many who are willing to spread the good news of the gospel and work to make things better. I think you’ve made a good choice.”

  “Yes, Riley,” Matron said, “you’re just the kind of boy who’s needed in that work. I couldn’t have handled all these children without your help. We’ll pray about a special place for you.”

  “I guess I’ll do whatever my ne
w folks want me to,” Ethan said. “I know I’ll learn to be a good farmer.”

  “And Alice will be a good housekeeper,” Matron added as she hugged the little girl to her. “Your family can’t help but love all of you.”

  “What would you like to do if you could choose anything, Ethan?” Bert asked.

  “I’d probably be an artist. I like to put what I see on paper.”

  “You like to put it on pigs, too,” Bert reminded him. “Remember how you whitewashed the hog last year?”

  Ethan grinned. He pulled his drawing book from the overhead rack. “I drew it so I wouldn’t forget.”

  The others looked at the picture and laughed. The huge pig lay on his side, sound asleep, while Ethan held a brush, dripping with whitewash, over his back.

  “I remember that too,” Matron said. “What I recall best is scrubbing you boys clean after that day’s business, even with your quick bath in the river. But you’re an excellent artist, Ethan. You must continue to draw, even if it isn’t to be your life’s work.”

  The train spent part of the day in Sioux City. Matron fixed a lunch that they could carry with them, and while Charles shopped, she and the children set out to explore the city. They hadn’t gone far when they found a lovely green park on the banks of the Floyd River.

  “What a great place!” Riley exclaimed. “We can play stickball, and everyone has lots of room to run.”

  Matron agreed and settled herself in the sun on the riverbank. Alice and Will fed the ducks with a piece of bread from the lunch bag while the older boys raced each other from tree to tree. The day was beautiful, with a bright-blue sky and fluffy clouds scuttling from the west.

  Later, Riley lay on his back and watched the clouds as the boys rested for a few minutes. “I wonder if Nebraska is as pretty as this.”

  “I’m sure it will have a beauty all its own,” Matron answered. “I understand there’s lots of prairie out there, and not many cities. Mr. Glover says even the small towns are far apart.”

  “I suppose folks get lonesome if they don’t have close neighbors,” Bert said. “If I’m going to live out there, I hope I can have me a horse. I’ll need one to come visit you, Ethan.”