Orphan Train Brides

by Caroline Clemmons

  Send me a telegram to let me know when you’ll arrive. I’ve enclosed enough for your ticket and for Jessie and Hector and for expenses.

  Your loving son,

  Blake

  He figured his flighty baby sister would jump at the chance for a free trip. His meager savings were disappearing faster than he’d planned. Maybe Ma had held on to some of her money he’d given her from Uncle George’s inheritance.

  Chapter Nine

  As she dusted the parlor, Merry caught Blake sitting at his desk with a painful look on his face. “Are you ill?”

  He jumped. “In a way.” He motioned her inside his office. “Could you come in and close the door?”

  Puzzled, she set aside her cleaning supplies and went into his office to sit in front of his desk.

  “How well did you know my uncle?” He shook his head. “I don’t mean that the way it sounded. I mean, do you think you knew him well enough to be a judge of his character?”

  “Well… I suppose. He was a very nice man. I don’t think he’d felt well for some time before he died. None of us picked up on anything specific. After he died, though, several of us admitted we’d noticed little things.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’d noticed he was slower. He walked slower on the stairs and occasionally stumbled on a step. He ate slower at mealtime and sometimes had trouble swallowing but I credited that as him getting older. Actually, I thought he was many years more than the fifty-three he actually was.”

  “Anyone else comment?”

  “John said he didn’t laugh as much. Gideon thought his skin wasn’t as healthy in appearance. Mrs. Adams said she’d known he was ill for several years before he died but that he wouldn’t take her advice and see the doctor. I don’t know if that’s hindsight or not. Why?”

  “I’m finding a lot of… well, discrepancies in his work. I wanted to know if he was careless or crooked or ill.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Have to tell you I couldn’t face him being crooked.”

  She laid a hand on the desk. “Oh, Blake, I’m sure he was honest. As far as I know he was a sweet man who should have gone to the doctor. In fact, perhaps he did and didn’t let anyone know. Why don’t you check with Doctor Bushnell?”

  The lawyer leaned back in his chair. “Reckon I will. I’ve always looked up to Uncle George and he’s the reason I became a lawyer.”

  She stood. “I’m glad I could set your mind at ease.”

  ***

  Blake slipped from the boardinghouse to find the doctor’s office. He knew doctor’s kept their patient’s details in confidence just as a lawyer did. Since his uncle had passed away, there was no reason to keep his health a secret.

  He recollected seeing the doctor’s sign a few days ago and went into the office.

  The doctor was seated at his desk perusing what appeared to be patient files. “Mr. Woolf, what ails you?”

  “Nothing personally, but I need your help. That is, if my uncle George Davis consulted you in the months before he died.”

  The doctor’s expression became a blank, his eyes hooded. “Why would you want to know?”

  Blake held up a hand. “I know you keep patient’s treatment and ailments secret, but this is important. Frankly, I’m finding discrepancies in my uncle’s records. I couldn’t bear learning he was crooked. Miss Merry Bird suggested I speak to you.”

  Dr. Bushnell chuckled. “Oh, she did, did she? Sounds like something she’d do.” He indicated a chair near his desk. “I don’t think George would mind me revealing at this point that he did come to see me. He was scared and he had reason to be.”

  A weight slammed into Blake. “In one way I’m relieved but I’m sorry for Uncle George. What was wrong with him?”

  “He was losing control of his muscles, including his eyesight. He had a fairly new ailment you may not have heard of yet. If I hadn’t been reading a medical journal about the disease the evening before George consulted me, I might not have been able to identify his problem so quickly. I’d never before diagnosed it in anyone.”

  Blake repeated, “What was wrong?”

  “He had Amyotropic Lateral Sclerosis. It was discovered in 1869 by Jean Moutin Charcot.” Dr. Bushnell leaned forward. “There is no cure. George was fortunate to have a heart attack when he did. Otherwise, he would have had a slow, terrible death.”

  His poor uncle. Conflicting thoughts warred in Blake’s mind. His mother, his siblings, his future children—were they at risk?

  “Is this… amyowhatever inherited?”

  “No, so you and your family are safe.” Dr. Bushnell pulled a piece of paper toward him and wrote on it. “Here’s the name. Don’t dwell on it, Mr. Woolf. You were special to George and you’ve done exactly what he wanted. I believe he had a happy life here made happier knowing you were caring for his sister and would take over his practice.”

  “Thank you, doctor. I can’t tell you how much you’ve relieved my mind.” He stood and made his way slowly back to the boardinghouse. What a burden his uncle carried and how like him not to worry anyone else by sharing his terrible news.

  Blake wasn’t ashamed of the moisture pooling in his eyes. He admired his uncle even more than before. Gazing upward, he renewed his vow to honor his uncle by being the best lawyer possible.

  ***

  Merry carried the post to the parlor and handed out mail. Most residents rarely received mail, which is why they lived in the boardinghouse instead of with or near relatives. She motioned her sister to follow her to her suite.

  Merry waved a postcard. “Look, Polly, a message from Bart.”

  Polly took it and shook her head. “What can they be thinking? Going up to Idaho to look for silver and abandoning their homesteads in Colorado, they must be mad.”

  Merry patted her sister’s shoulder. “They’re young and fit and have no cares or responsibilities. I’m glad that at least they’re traveling together. As for me, I prefer being here in our lovely boardinghouse.”

  Polly huffed. “Did you see the last line? ‘No, Polly, we haven’t lost our money—all safely in the bank.’ They think they’re so clever.”

  Merry chuckled. “They are if they’ve traveled around for nearly four years without spending their inheritance. I’m relieved they still have their nest egg. After all, they could have gone wild and gambled it away…” Unable to continue, Merry stopped and stared at the envelope she held.

  “What’s the matter?” Polly peered at the return address. “Oh, no. Open it quickly.”

  Merry ripped the seal and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Staggering to the closest chair, she thought she might actually swoon for the first time in her life. “No, no, it can’t be. Oh, Polly, he’s coming here. Reverend Grover Ecclestone from the Children’s Aid Society is arriving in two days.”

  She turned to her sister. “Thank goodness the children are playing outside and didn’t witness me reading this. What will we do?”

  Tears shone in Polly’s eyes. “We’re in trouble. I’m not giving up Evie and Noah, I can tell you that.”

  Merry crumpled the letter with her clammy hand. “And I refuse to relinquish my three children. We’ll simply have to make Mr. Ecclestone see how well off the children are with us.”

  “They’re happy here. You know Evie wouldn’t get the medical care she needs back at the orphanage. Noah is beginning to relax and trust me. I won’t let some misguided do-gooder steal them.”

  “I’m going to consult our lawyer. He should know what we can do to retaliate.” Merry sailed from her private suite with her sister following. She knocked on Blake’s doorframe. Unless he had a client, he kept the door open to the parlor. She closed it behind her and Polly.

  Blake stood. “May I help you, ladies?” He gestured to two of the three chairs near his desk.

  Merry smoothed out the crumpled letter and handed it to the lawyer. “We won’t let him take our children and need you to tell us what other choices we have.”

  He appeared
to study the letter for a few moments before he looked up. “This is perfectly clear. You must each be married in order to keep the orphans. Does either of you have a prospective groom?”

  Merry looked at her sister then at Blake. “Not that we’ve considered. We know that if we marry, we lose all control of the boardinghouse and our bank accounts. There are those who would love to obtain both without the work that went into getting here.”

  He looked from her to her sister. “Sadly, you’re correct that in Texas the husband owns all the property in a marriage and that includes your bank accounts. I must warn you that he could then dispossess you without you having any recourse, even though it is now and should remain your boardinghouse.”

  Merry’s frustration mounted and she fought to keep from screaming.

  He held up a hand. “Don’t get angry with me. I know it’s an unfair law, but I had nothing to do with passing it. However, I’m bound to uphold it.”

  Polly leaned forward. “There must be something we can do that’s legal and doesn’t mean losing the children or the boardinghouse.”

  “I wish I could help you, but you’ll have to get yourselves out of this mess unless you have prospective grooms to wed before this man arrives. You knew you were breaking the law when you brought those children here. I understand why you wanted them and your motives are noble, but misplaced.”

  Merry’s anger dissolved into panic. There had to be a way to keep the children and their home. “I suppose you would have left them to their fate.”

  He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his desk. “Hard to say since I wasn’t put in that position.”

  Merry snatched back the letter. “Thank you. Let us know what we owe you.” She stood and rushed from the office to her suite before she burst into tears.

  ***

  Blake watched the sisters hurry from his office and across the parlor. Even though Polly had moved upstairs, they both fled to Merry’s suite. Through his doorway they’d left open, the inquisitive stares of several residents swiveled from him to the owners’ suite door the sisters had closed behind them, and then back to him. What did anyone believe he could he do?

  He resumed reading through his uncle’s papers. Tried and failed. He was sorry he’d ever talked to the children. Once he had, they ceased being names and became people.

  He remembered how light the little girl Evie was. She was way too thin and Polly had taken her to the doctor. He hadn’t heard what the diagnosis was yet.

  Calvin made him chuckle at the same time his heart ached for the kid. Imagine an eight-year-old seeing his father murdered in front of him and having to hide to keep from becoming the next victim. Blake should have asked him if he knew why the killer stabbed his dad.

  Each of the kids was precious. Not wanting to be saddled with children yet didn’t mean he didn’t like them. No, these five unusual specimens were good and deserved to remain here.

  He shoved his paperwork aside and locked his street door then stepped into the parlor and locked the door behind him.

  “Quitting early, Mr. Woolf?” Lettie’s fingers moved the knitting needles in the red yarn as if motorized.

  “Thought I’d take a stroll around the grounds. Would you like to come with me?”

  “Not today, but thank you. I want to finish this sweater for the little girl who’s so thin. Don’t think I’m playing favorites as I intend to make one for each of the children.”

  “I understand. I’m sure they’ll each appreciate your kindness.” He dipped a nod and strolled out the back door.

  The back yard was a crowd of children. Except for Noah, each one must be trying to yell loudest. He recognized the five the sisters had illegally adopted, the two Randall boys, and the preacher’s children.

  Two swings were in use and children also climbed trees. He watched, hoping no one fell. One of the trees would be great for a tree house.

  What the heck was he thinking? He turned and was about to stomp back into the house when a tiny hand grabbed his.

  Abigail held Tammie with one hand and him with her other. “Thank you for buying us a sar’prilla and cupcake, Mr. Woolf. I never had sar’prilla before.”

  “You’re welcome, Abigail. Do people ever call you Abbie?”

  “Sometimes. Mama calls me Abigail.”

  “You know…” he started to say she shouldn’t count on Merry being her mama but caught himself. That wasn’t his place and he didn’t want anyone shooting the messenger.

  “Do I know what?” She stared up at him with such trusting blue eyes he felt like a rat.

  “You take really good care of Tammie.”

  A bright smile crossed her small face. “She’s my sister for real now that Mama brought us here. You know Mama and her sister are ’dopted too?”

  “That’s what I heard. Mama’s sister is your Aunt Polly.” No, he shouldn’t encourage the deception. Before he could talk his way out of that—or into more trouble, Calvin sauntered over.

  “They botherin’ you, Mr. Woolf?”

  “Not at all. I came out here to see where you play. Looks like a nice yard with lots of big trees.”

  “Yeah, we need more swings. We aren’t allowed to go to the creek unless Mama is with us. She’s scared we might drown. I like climbing the trees. Did you climb trees when you were a boy?”

  They needed to learn to swim. There must be a place deep enough on the creek. Dadburn, there he went again.

  “When I could. I had a lot of chores that took up most of my time when I wasn’t in school.”

  “Even in summer?”

  “Especially then because that’s when a farm is busiest. We had planting and chopping weeds and watering and harvesting vegetables and putting by food for us and the animals.”

  “Whew, I’m glad I don’t live on a farm. I like it here, don’t you?”

  That took him aback. “Yes, I do. I always hoped I’d get to move into town one day. Now I have.” He didn’t hate living on the farm, but this was better by far. If only his ma was here where he could check on her.

  The back door opened and Merry and Polly came out on the porch.

  Merry called, “Children, time to get washed up for supper.”

  Polly said, “Mary Elizabeth, Abraham, your parents will be expecting you. Come back tomorrow and play some more.”

  The minister’s children raced toward home while the Randall children and the five new illegal adoptees went inside.

  Merry snapped, “You, too, Blake Woolf. We don’t hold supper for lollygaggers.”

  Man, she had a sharp tongue when she wished. He’d thought before she was well-named for she smiled whenever he’d seen her. Today he’d witnessed a different side of the lovely lady.

  Chapter Ten

  The next day, Blake sat sifting through more of his uncle’s papers.

  Calvin came in and laid a nickel on the desk. “I want to hire you.”

  Blake met the boy’s gaze. “You’ve already hired me, remember. I’m officially your lawyer.”

  Calvin shook his head. “This is for something else. Miss Merry was crying last night so I peeked. She was worrying over this paper. After she went to bed, I read it. That man from the orph’nage is coming to try to take us back.”

  Blake wouldn’t lie to the boy. “I’m afraid that’s what he intends.”

  “Well, you got to do something to stop him taking us.”

  The hopeful expression on the boy’s face cut right into Blake’s heart. In this instance he wished he had a magic wand to help the children.

  “The law is clear, Calvin. Only couples were supposed to adopt.”

  Calvin leaned on the desk. “If you married Mama, then you two would be a couple and we wouldn’t have to leave. Them Mama would quit cryin’ and worryin’ and we’d be a real family.”

  “Calvin, I told you that you can’t arrange a marriage for other people.”

  This old-man-in-a-child’s-body gave him a knowing stare. “I asked around. If you’re a grownup
, you can. So why can’t I?”

  “One, you’re not a grownup. Two, Miss Merry doesn’t know you’re talking to me. Three, I’ll ask the woman I marry without help from a third party.”

  “Will you ask the male head of her family for her hand?”

  “Well, sure I…” Too late he realized he’d stepped right into Calvin’s trap. “Ah, no, no, no, I see what you’re doing. You’re a clever boy, but you are not the head of her family.”

  “She said I’m the man of the family and that makes me the head. So, I’m givin’ you my permission to court Mama and ask her to marry you and save us.”

  Blake shook his head at the boy’s determination. If he ever had a son, he hoped he’d be as strong and brave as Calvin. The child’s eyes shone with pain and loss that ripped at Blake’s insides.

  Merry came to the door. “Calvin, we talked about this. You can’t bother Mr. Woolf.”

  Calvin leaned toward him and spoke quietly. “Will you at least think about what I said?”

  Blake nodded. “I will consider the possibilities. No promises.”

  Calvin actually offered a small smile.

  Walls closed in on Blake. He leaned back and shut his eyes. What could he do to help Merry and Polly?

  Dadburnit, he couldn’t even decide what was he going to do about his uncle’s blunders?

  ***

  At supper, John Allsup brought Blake a telegram. “Came this afternoon. Wasn’t anything you needed to take care of immediately.”

  “Thank you, John.” He wasn’t quite sure about the protocol of offering a tip to the telegrapher as you would a delivery boy. While he pondered that, he opened the wire.

  “Hope you don’t mind if I read this at the table. Reckon it’s from my mother.”

  Arriving Friday three o’clock stop Jessie and Hector also stop

  John chuckled. “She isn’t paying extra for explanations is she?”