"I want a special family," Lucy said, "with a mother and a father and a little sister for me to love. I've always wanted to have a little sister."
"Lucy, dear," Frances began hesitantly, "if people already have a child, they may not come to find another."
Lucy's eyes shone. "Oh, yes, they will! You see, their little girl will want a big sister. She'll be looking for me.'' She held out Baby and said, "I'm going to share my doll with my little sister."
Frances hugged Lucy to her, unable to answer.
Ten-year-old Harry Stowe suddenly popped into the aisle next to her. Throwing quick glances back to where he'd been sitting with his brother, he lowered his voice and asked, "Can I talk to
you?"
*Of course," Frances said. "I'm listening." 80
"Adam hangs on to me all the time. He's been doing that ever since Mama and Papa died."
Frances nodded as Harry went on. "If somebody takes Adam and somebody else takes me, I don't know what will happen to him." Tears flooded Hany's eyes as he added, "I don't know what will h^pen to me.''
Frances put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, I'll do my best to keep the two of you together, but I can't make any promises."
Hany's shoulders sagged. "I'm scared, Miss Kelly. You don't know how scared."
"Yes, I do," Frances said. "I was scared, too, when I thought my brothers and sisters and I would be separated."
"I can't let anything bad happen to Adam," Harry insisted.
"We won't let anything bad happen to him," Frances said. "A few months after the placing-out, Andrew MacNair comes to each of the homes to make sure the children and the adults are happy."
Harry wiped a hand across his eyes. "But how can Adam be happy without me?" he asked.
Adam suddenly shouted, "Harry! Where are you?"
"Right here," Harry caUed. "Please, Miss Kelly. Please try to keep us together."
"ni try," Frances promised, and fought to hold back her own tears.
She rose to continue down the aisle, but a sob stopped her. She looked down at David Howard, who was rubbing his eyes with his fists.
"Want to tell me about it, David?" Frances asked as she knelt next to his seat.
"I miss my chum, Mickey," David answered.
Frances patted David's shoulder. *Tell me about Mickey," she said.
David gave a long sniffle, squinted at Frances, and said, "Mickey's the best chum anybody could ever have. He's older than me, so he looked out for me. He's a street arab, and smart as—"
Frances interrupted. "What did you call him?"
David looked surprised. "A street arab," he said. "Mickey sold newspapers and shined shoes, and he took care of me. He said I'd never be anything more than a guttersnipe, and not a very good guttersnipe at that"
"Oh, David, I'm sure that Mickey didn't mean it," Frances told him.
David looked back at Frances with big eyes. "Yes, miss, he meant it," David said. "Guttersnipes aren't smart enough to be street arabs. I tried, but I couldn't take care of myself. So Mickey decided I should go west on an orphan train and find a family to take care of me."
"I—I'm sure Mickey was right," Frances said.
"Mickey's always right," David siaid matter-of-factly. "He said that a family would give me love and food and a good bed to sleep in, and even send me to school,"
^That's true," Frances said.
"I'm not sure about school, though. I read some because Mickey taught me, but it's hard," David said.
Frances hugged David. "Mickey is a very special friend," she said.
David nodded as he whispered, 'That's why I miss him so much."
Frances continued up the aisle to her seat To her surprise, Seth was waiting for her.
"Hello, Mother Kelly," he teased. "Have you patted enough little heads and wiped away enough little tears?"
Frances sighed as she sat down beside him. "You haven't done what I asked you to do."
Seth was startled. "What did you ask me to do?"
"Remember your own childhood," she said. "No one can truly imderstand children unless he's able to remember how he himself felt as a child."
"Who's the preacher—^you or me?" he asked with a smile. "You also told me to forget the past and look to the future."
"I told you to forget the unhs^piness of the past, not the happy parts," Frances said.
Seth shook his head. "I can't—^not yet," he said. "That's the fire that keeps me goin'." He paused for a moment, pulling out a battered silver pocket watch to check the time.
Frances noted the initials SRC engraved on its cover. How odd, she thought. S could be for Seth, but that's his second name. And what could R and C stand for? Maybe it hadn't always been Seth's watch. Maybe it had once belonged to someone else, like an uncle or grandfather. A relative whose last name wasn't Diller.
Suddenly Seth asked, "Are your parents still livin', Frances Mary?"
"My mother is," she said, "but my father died when I was a child."
"I lost both my parents in the war," Seth said. He leaned forward, balancing his forearms on his thighs, clasping his hands together so tightly his knuckles looked like white knobs. "That Union butcher. General Lyons, swept his troops across
their land, stealin' their food and everythin' of value. Then the Federals burned the house and destroyed the crops. My parents tried to protest, and they were killed"
"Oh, Seth! Tm terribly sony," Frances said.
"Sorry isn't-enough," he grunted. "Nothin* can make up for what the Federals did."
While she struggled to think of the right words to comfort him, Seth blurted out, 'The Federals only think they won. Wait until they see what revenge can do."
Frances gasped at the twisted bitterness in his eyes. "Revenge isn't the answer, Seth. It can't solve anything," she said. "As a preacher, you must know the only answer is forgiveness."
"I'm just one of many," Seth said quietly. *There are plenty of folks who are angered by iiyustice, and sometimes injustice demands revenge."
"Iiyustice is wrong," Frances said, "but there are much better ways to right wrongs than by getting revenge."
Seth didn't answer, and for a moment Frances was fiightened. She was sure he had a plan already in mind. "What kind of revenge are you talking about?" she asked.
Seth didn't have a chance to answer. At that moment, shoving and yelling, Sam and Marcus tumbled into the aisle.
"Boys! Stop fighting!" Frances called, but they paid no attention. Seth had to separate them.
*Tell me what hs^pened," Frances ordered, but they both began talking at once, and she couldn't understand them.
It seemed like forever before order was restored. By the time Frances had heard their stories—which
made little if any sense—^the train was slowing for a scheduled depot stop.
Frances immediately began counting children. Finally she spotted Eddie, who lingered at the back of the car with Seth, and called to him to come forward and join the others.
*The train will make just a short stop," Frances said. "Remember to hurry."
"We hurry, hurry, hurry," Aggie muttered, "and then we get back on the train and sit and wait. What if all that hurrying and waiting doesn't do any good? What if when we get to Harwood, nobody's there to choose us?"
Aware of the shocked and frightened faces waiting for her answer, Frances said calmly, "Youll find a lot of good people in Harwood. They're as eager to meet you as you are to meet them." She put an arm around Aggie. This time, Aggie didn't stiffen. "Don't always expect the worst, love. Think about the many good things the world has to offer."
Aggie cocked her head as if thinking and said, "I don't know if you're right about good things being out there. Miss Kelly. So far, I haven't seen any."
By early afternoon the children were tired. Some of them dozed lightly and some slept soimdly.
Frances leaned back, her bones aching from the hard wooden slats, and wearily closed her eyes.
"Pssst! Miss Kelly? Are y
ou asleep?"
Frances opened her eyes just as Eddie slipped into the empty seat next to hers.
"I need to talk to you," he murmured.
"What is it?" Frances asked.
"It has to do with the preacher," Eddie said. "That is, if he is a preacher."
Startled, Frances whispered, "Eddie, what Reverend Diller does and says is his own business, not ours."
"Unless he's makin' it ours," Eddie answered.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean he spends a lot of time lookin' at you and thinkin* about you, and last night he went and cozied up to you after he thought we was all asleep."
"It's nothing like that," Frances insisted. "He just wanted to talk." But she found herself blushing.
"What Fm gettin' at," Eddie said, "is that some of what he told you last night don't add up. Tm no slouch at cipherin', so I—"
"Are you telling me that you listened to our conversation?"
Eddie raised wide, innocent eyes to hers. "I was on the seat just behind yours. I wasn't listenin' in on purpose." Before Frances could tell him that wasn't the seat he'd been assigned to, Ekldie went on. "I don't know how long a preacher's got to study to be a preacher, but Tm guessin' it's years, isn't it?"
"Yes, but—"
"And he talked about bein' in the army—Confederate, if he was in a Union prison—and then in an army hospital. That didn't all happen overnight."
"I know," Frances said.
"I'm guessin' again—and I'm usually right—that he's not much more than nineteen or twenty."
"I agree," Frances said. "But I don't know why he'd he to us."
"What he told you about bein' in the prison—^that sounds real," Eddie said. "But he didn't talk about bein' a preacher, so I'm wonderin' if he is or ever was. I think he's just pretendin'."
Frances sighed. "Eddie, we have no right to dis-
cuss Reverend DiUer behind his back. Fm sure he has a good reason for whatever he says or does."
After a pause, Eddie said, ^There's somethin' else. At the last depot stop, Reverend Diller went into the office and sent a telegram."
'There's nothing wrong about sending a telegram," Frances said, but her mind was whirling. Her headache was worse. How she longed for a cup of hot peppermint tea!
"Should we try to find out what he's up to?" Eddie asked.
Frances spoke firmly. "No, Eddie," she said. "We must not pry into Reverend Diller's life."
Eddie looked at her sharply, and Frances realized that her words had sounded unconvincing—even to her. It was important to follow the advice she'd given Eddie—^to stop and think before acting. "This is no time to try to make decisions," she said. "We're both tired. While we have a chance, let's get some sleep."
Eddie nodded agreement, seemingly content that Frances was keeping an open mind. He left her side as silently as he had come.
This is all nonsense, Frances told herself. Seth's actions are none of my business. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips, but try as she would she couldn't relax. She was afraid that something was terribly wrong.
She drifted into sleep, and when she awoke Seth was at her side, one elbow propped on the back of the seat so that he could face her.
"You were staring at me," she accused. "I felt it."
He grinned. "I admit it. You're mighty pretty to look at."
As Frances self-consciously tried to tuck stray strands of hair back into place, Seth said, "I wish we
could have some quiet time together, without all these children wantin' your attention."
"Seth," Frances said, "I was hired to care for these children. They have first claim on me."
"I'm glad no one else does," he said. "Have a claim on you, I mean,"'
Frances gulped. This conversation had gone far beyond playfiil teasing. "Seth, be serious," she said.
He smiled. "I am serious. You're an interestin' woman, Frances. You're sweet and kind, but I think you secretiy love adventure and excitement"
"Really!" Frances began, but Seth continued.
"I mean it Cookin' and washin' and cleanin'— that's not enough for you."
"Seth," Frances said firmly, "let's talk about something else."
"rd rather talk about you," he said, "and about us gettin' to know each other better. After this trip is over and you're back home in Kansas . . ."
One of the children let out a wail, and Frances jumped to her feet
"See what 1 mean?" Seth said. "There's so much I want to tell you. There's so much to talk about Tm willin' to wait until this trip is over."
"But—" Frances said.
Seth interrupted. "Don't worry about my findin' you. That part will be easy. Wherever you go, Frances, I'll be able to find you."
The next morning, after their first stop, Eddie sidled up to Frances, who was helping little Nelly with a tangled tie on her bloomers. He thrust a folded section of newspaper at her and whispered, "Page four. Read it" He jerked his head in Seth*s direction and added, "But not when the preacher's around."
As Frances stared at the newspaper while smoothing down Nelly's skirts, Eddie said, "I didn't steal it"
"I didn't think you had," Frances assured him. "You're a fine boy, Eddie, and you're too smart to steal."
Eddie looked surprised. "Nobody's ever called me a fine boy," he said. "You believe that, do you?"
"Yes, Eddie, I do," Frances told him.
"I like newspapers," Eddie said. "Especially news-
89
papers from New York City. Reminds me of what I left behind. So when I saw this gentleman gettin' ready to board back at the last depot, and knew he was goin' to throw away a perfectly good copy of today's paper, I up and asked him for it Then I read through it and^ .^. ."
Eddie glanced at the back of the car again. "Better tuck that paper out of sight. The preacher will be here to talk to you soon. He sure spends a lot of time with you."
Wondering how much Eddie might have overheard the night before, Frances found herself uncomfortably trying to explain. "Reverend Diller needs someone to talk to—just as you do," she said.
"No matter. I just don't want him to see that news story."
Frances bent to tuck the folded newspaper inside her journal. As her fingers rested on the soft blue cover, she felt a pang of loneliness. Even though Johrmy had rejected her, she didn't want to forget him. She couldn't forget him.
A shout came from one of the liftle boys. "Miss Kelly, I lost my dog!"
*That's Walter," Frances said. "His little stuffed dog never leaves his side." She stood and asked Eki-die, "Why don't you tell me what the news story is about?"
Eddie shook his head. "Just read it"
But Frances had to tend to the children. She found Walter's dog on the seat under his jacket, but the requests and complaints and arguments didn't stop. The children were bored and restless. The closer they came to Harwood, the more nervous they grew and the more frequently they fussed and cried.
She had no sooner soothed Lucy, who had last-
minute fears about not being chosen, than Will Scott began to sniffle. Frances squeezed into the seat next to him and handed him a clean handkerchief. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose, but Frances could see that he was embarrassed.
"It*s all right to cry," Frances told him. "It's only natural. My brothers and sisters and I all cried when we came west on an orphan train."
*Tm not an orphan," Will said. "I have a father. Someday maybe hell come for me."
Frances smiled and patted his shoulder. "We had a mother who sent us west to give us a chance for a better life than we'd had on the streets of New York. One day she did come."
Wifl looked up hopefully. "My father works for Camaby's Circus. It's become a traveling circus, so maybe the circus will come to wherever Tm living, and Father will come looking for me. Do you think so?"
Frances skirted the answer and said, "I think your father misses you very much."
"He tried to teach me some of the circus
jobs so I could work along with him, but I couldn't seem to learn to do them right. Mr. Camaby wouldn't hire me." Wll's voice dropped as he said, "I guess I can't do anything right."
"Of course you can," Frances said. "It takes special talents to work in a circus, but there are countless jobs that require entirely different talents. Life has many paths, and someday you'll discover the path that's right for you."
Will stuffed his damp handkerchief into the pocket of his jacket and sat up, his back straight "You told us your mother came for you," he said to Frances, "so 111 keep looking for my father. Someday he'll come for me, too."
Frances didn't get a chance to read the newspaper until the children dozed. Remembering Eddie's caution not to let Seth see the new^aper, she checked on Seth's whereabouts. He was sleeping in his seat at the back of the car, his long legs stretched out under the seat ahead of his, his hat over his face. Frances pulled out both her journal and the newspaper, then opened the paper and began to read.
The m^uor stories dealt with whites rioting in Men^)his and the continued, sporadic fighting between Union and Confederate forces in Texas who wouldn't admit the war was over.
Then a short news item caught Frances's eye. It described the rise of robber gangs in the West, young men who had learned a new kind of warfare under Confederate raiders such as Mlliam Quantrill. The February robbery of the Clay County Savings Association in Liberty, Missouri, was called the first postwar bank robbery in the country.
Although none of the law enforcement professionals or witnesses quoted were absolutely sure, Frank and Jesse James were named as the suspected leaders of the band who stole cash, bondis, gold, and silver and shot a man to death.
The item went on to say that since the February robbery, banks had become a prime target Suspects in other robberies were named: the Daltons; the Youngers, who rode with the James gang; and the Connally brothers.
Frances sighed. Riots, robberies, shootings, deaths . . . Lee might have surrended the year before, but the hatred engendered by the war continued.
Circle of Love Page 7
