The Train Stops Here

by Gail Sattler

  “It’s hard work, to be sure, but I think I’m getting more used to it. And very honestly, the track inspection went well this morning. I don’t think I’ll have any problems.” He paused for a few seconds, allowing Louise to hear the plunking of the berries as they bounced in the bottom of the metal pail. “So far the hardest part is moving the speedster by myself. That thing is heavy.”

  “I wouldn’t think that being on the section gang was like any job you’d ever thought of doing. You said before that you had attended university until you had to quit. What course were you taking? What did you really intend on doing?”

  Suddenly, Louise clamped her mouth shut. She couldn’t believe the words had actually slipped out of her mouth. She’d wondered and thought about him so much that she hadn’t been aware she’d asked out loud until it was too late.

  Unable to face him as she spoke, she turned all her concentration to picking the berries in front of her. “Please forgive me for asking such personal questions. It’s none of my business. I have such bad timing. I can only guess at how hard this whole thing is for you.” Louise paused for a few seconds and cleared her throat. “How much do you have in your pail? I think we must have enough to make a pie by now.”

  “It’s okay, Louise. I know you’re curious. In your position, I’d be curious too.”

  She could feel the heat in her cheeks, but she raised her head and met his gaze to listen to his words.

  “My hope was to become a mathematician and, with that, be a university professor. The way things have gone over the last few years, that’s not going to happen now. I’m already twenty-five years old, and I don’t see any chance of going back to university in the foreseeable future. Even if I could scrape together the tuition and books, I’d still need living expenses. All I can do is trust in God’s will for me and follow the path I believe He’s set out. I can’t see where that is yet, but I have to trust that one day, I will.”

  “Is that why you accepted Papa’s job offer? Working on the section gang can’t compare to being a university professor.”

  One corner of his mouth crooked up. “Neither is working in a logging camp. For now, I have to go where I can earn an income. I believe in miracles, but I also believe that not all miracles come in the form of handouts. Sometimes, when God provides, what He provides is opportunity, and sometimes it involves work.”

  “Yes, that is true.”

  “Tell me about yourself, Louise. You’re what, nineteen? What do you want to do with your life?”

  “Actually, I’m almost twenty. Since I like to cook, and since it’s been so satisfying for me to help people by feeding them, in the fall I’m going to go to college to become a dietician. Papa thinks that’s a good idea, as opposed to what my friends would rather do. They want to move into the city and just take any type of job so they can meet someone and get married. Papa says I shouldn’t be in a rush to get married; there’s plenty of time for that.”

  “Your papa is right.”

  “I only want to get married when God places the right person in my path. When that happens, I figure I should know it. Do you think that happens?”

  His voice took on a husky edge, making Louise wonder if he’d swallowed something strange with the berries. “Yes, I do. It happened that way with my brother. I’m praying that one day that will happen to me, too.”

  “Louise! Elliott!” her mama’s voice echoed from the distance.

  Louise raised one hand to her lips. “It’s Mama! She’s waiting for these berries! How much do you have in your pail?”

  Elliott’s cheeks darkened. “Not much, I’m embarrassed to admit. What about you?”

  “Coming, Mama!” she called out. Louise dumped a portion of her berries into Elliott’s pail and lowered her voice, although she didn’t know why. Her mother obviously couldn’t hear her from where she was. “Come on. We’d better hurry. I think there’s enough to make a pie.”

  He stared down into the pail. “Louise? What are you doing? I doubt your mama will care that I hardly picked any berries.”

  For a brief second, she considered taking the berries back. “I don’t know. We had better go.”

  She hurried down the path with Elliott following close behind, until they arrived back at the house and placed both pails on the table.

  Her mama stared down into the pails. She remained silent, her brows knotted, and she jiggled both pails slightly.

  Behind her, Elliott cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Demchuck. The berries were so good I’m afraid I ate more than I brought back. If this isn’t enough, I’ll go back and pick more. And this time, I promise not to eat them.”

  “I suppose this will be enough to make one pie. If you’ve eaten so much, I do hope that you will be able to eat your dinner. Today I cooked that ham that we bought yesterday. It’s such a treat to get a ham that’s so tender and juicy; we don’t get them often. And as a special treat, I’m making a salad with head lettuce and crisp celery!”

  Louise saw Elliott blink. His eyebrows raised, but he didn’t comment.

  She stepped closer. “Head lettuce and celery are not grown by our local farmers. The only time we can enjoy a nice fresh salad is after a trip to Beauséjour or Winnipeg.”

  “You mean you can only make a salad once every two weeks, after driving two or more hours to go shopping?”

  “Yes. Living here in the country is nothing like living in the city.”

  Elliott turned back to her mother and covered his stomach with his hand. “I can assure you, Mrs. Demchuck, none will be wasted. Have I told you recently how much you are spoiling me?”

  Her mother grinned back. “I think you said something to that effect at lunchtime. Now if you’ll excuse us, Louise and I must get busy or no one will be eating.”

  The soothing strains of the classical music coming from the radio were interrupted by the low murmur of voices when Elliott joined her papa on the couch.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you’d been eaten by a bear.”

  “I’m sorry, Mama. We started talking and I forgot all about picking.” She covered her mouth with her hands but couldn’t cover up her giggle. “But you should have seen him. He was really funny eating the strawberries. When he caught me looking, he put them into the pail, but when he thought I wasn’t looking, everything he picked, he ate.”

  “I don’t know why you’re laughing. You used to do that when you were a little girl.”

  “I suppose I did. I guess I thought I was getting away with it. It must be true that mothers have eyes in the back of their heads.”

  “Not really. If you don’t get busy, dinner won’t be ready for a very long time. And I don’t need eyes in the back of my head to know that.”

  ❧

  Elliott stood to the side of the jigger to help John support himself while Frank stayed on the jigger’s deck to help John balance. John leaned on the crutches, barely staying upright as he watched Elliott and Frank and Henry hoist the heavy jigger off the track and onto the ties. Together they pushed the unit into the toolhouse for the night and said their good-byes.

  Elliott joined John, and they slowly made their way over the tracks and to the house, where John nearly collapsed by the time they made it to the couch.

  John swiped his sleeve over his forehead and his head fell to the back of the couch. “I hardly did anything today, but I’m exhausted. I don’t want to think of what the next seven weeks will be like.”

  Without being asked, Mrs. Demchuck appeared with a glass of water, which John drank gratefully, then closed his eyes to rest.

  Elliott couldn’t help but feel sorry for John. While just as he said, John didn’t do much, Elliott could see the difficulty involved in any movement with the cast. The weight of it alone was daunting.

  Last week, John had remained on the jigger while he and the section men went about their duties. Today, at John’s insistence, they had helped him down off the jigger when they arrived at the particular tie that needed replacing
. They could see John was getting bored with staying in one spot for so long and, even though he wouldn’t admit it, he was starting to become irritable.

  Today they were working on replacing ties, which meant John had been off and back on the jigger numerous times, and the strain showed. Helping him get on and off the jigger wasn’t doing wonders for Frank or Henry, either.

  Then, John had been so tired that they had packed up earlier than usual, just to take him home.

  Elliott hadn’t wanted to be at the house at this particular time. Today, the freight train was stopping to unload a shipment for Nick. And that meant Elliott would be watching from an entirely different perspective.

  Today, he would be watching the homeless men on the 6:15 freight train not as one of them but as an employee of the railroad.

  Technically it was the job of the brakeman to clear the hobos from the freight cars, but when John was in the area, he was also required to as well.

  Elliott knew the hard way that even if the men were removed from the train in a place such as this, they had nowhere to go. He also knew that because it was his duty, John went through the motions to remove the homeless men from the trains, as did the brakeman, but everyone knew they would get back on. Neither John nor the brakeman did anything to stop them. There was nothing they could do.

  This time, since the train was stopping long enough for a shipment to be dropped off, that meant the men riding the boxcars would be able to wander around until the train departed. Most of them would hide, but some of them were bound to go searching for food.

  According to Louise, some of them would come knocking on the door, begging for food. For anyone who asked, none would be turned away.

  Just he had not been turned away.

  The women remained in the kitchen preparing dinner and doing laundry, and beside him on the couch, John nodded off to sleep. A long whistle sounded in the distance, indicating the pending arrival of the freight train, followed by a low rumble, increasing in volume. The house only shook slightly this time because the train actually stopped.

  When all was quiet, Elliott closed his eyes. He didn’t expect to hear much, but he knew what was happening. He had no intention of going outside to clear the train of hobos. Instead, he kept his eyes closed, bowed his head, and prayed for the men, whoever they were, on that train and all the trains across the continent. He prayed for their safety, for opportunity, and for them to find other good-hearted people like the Demchucks as they continued on their way.

  His mind went blank when he heard a knock on the back door. Until today, he’d been working or waiting on a siding with the rest of the section gang when the freight trains passed. Today was the first time he was at the house when a freight train stopped.

  The knock meant someone had come to beg for food—a man just like him who had come off the freight trains—a man so hungry he had been reduced to begging.

  Today it was Louise who answered the door. He listened to the drone of their conversation, and even though he couldn’t hear the words, he knew that Louise was gladly giving the man food, sharing a brief message that Jesus loved him enough to die for him, and sending him outside with a plate of food.

  He still didn’t know why he had been the only homeless man to be invited inside, nor did he understand why he had been chosen to be so blessed by them. Not only did they provide food and lodging and a job, but their actions extended past mere ministry. They welcomed him into their home and even adjusted their own lifestyle to suit him. He could tell they were going to bed earlier than usual in order to give him some privacy as he fell into an exhausted sleep every night on their couch. He doubted they regularly slept nine hours every night, but at this point, he needed to take advantage of their kindness in order to develop his endurance—both to the hard work and to the noise of the trains as they passed, to his dismay, every few hours, all night, every night.

  He would never be able to pay them back, but at the same time, he knew they didn’t want him to.

  Elliott buried his face in his hands, trying to figure out what God was trying to teach him. If he ever in his life was to be able to provide a ministry to others, he wanted to do it like the Demchucks. They didn’t set themselves apart. Instead, they followed the example of Jesus and treated the people they helped as equals, not as second-class citizens as he’d so often seen people do.

  Part of him wanted to go outside and talk to the men who came off the freight train, even though he had nothing to give, but he couldn’t force himself to get off the couch. In addition to accepting their kindness and their food, he’d accepted money from these warmhearted people because it would still be almost two weeks before he received his first paycheck. For now, his wounds were still too raw. However, Elliott made up his mind that as soon as he was able to do so, he would follow the Demchucks’ example and help those less fortunate than himself.

  “Papa! Elliott! Come for dinner!”

  Elliott stood in front of John, waiting. When John became aware of his surroundings and was alert enough to stand, Elliott extended one hand to help pull him up off the couch. At the same time, the train pulled away from the station.

  Today, he wanted to be the one to lead in a prayer of thanks. He had a lot to be thankful for.

  Twelve

  Elliott laid the tongs on the ground, then dropped to his knees to help Henry push the new tie into position. When it looked right, Elliott stood back to wipe the sweat from his brow while Frank kicked the tamping bar to set the ballast around the new tie.

  “Kick it over a little to the left,” John called from his seat atop the jigger, which was pulled off onto the siding.

  When it looked good, Elliott measured its distance from the other ties on each side to make sure it was centered and level. “It’s good,” he called out.

  Together, Elliott and Henry slid in the tie plates to support the rails, and John pulled the new spikes out of the box. Frank picked up the spike maul and drove the first spike through the tie plate. He was about to pound in the second one when Elliott raised his palm to stop him. “Wait. Do you hear that?” His heart pounded in his chest to think that a train was coming and they had not completely replaced the tie. He squinted and stared down the parallel lengths of track. “Something’s coming, but the train isn’t due for half an hour. Besides, that’s too small.” He also didn’t feel the ground trembling, which was always a warning that a train was approaching.

  John, Frank, and Henry groaned in unison.

  “Not today!” John called out to the sky.

  Elliott let his mouth hang open at the sight of a car coming. . .down the tracks.

  “But. . . ,” he muttered, then snapped his mouth shut. Suddenly he understood.

  If he thought he was sweating before, he was definitely sweating now.

  This was it. His first inspection by the road master.

  Frank and Henry helped John down from the jigger while Elliott watched a black sedan approach on the tracks. Instead of rubber tires, the car rode on miniature train wheels which set it perfectly and efficiently on the track. The car slowed as it neared the switch, then stopped. A man got out, threw the handle on the railway switch, drove the car onto the siding, got out of the car once again, flipped the switch back, then continued on toward them.

  John’s voice dropped to a mumble. “His name is Heinrich Getz.”

  Elliott lowered his voice so he could speak to John without Frank and Henry hearing. “Your supervisor?”

  “Yes and no. He’s not my direct supervisor, but my supervisor gets his report. Heinrich’s comments and opinions of my section affect my supervisor’s appraisal of the job performance of my crew, and that affects me.”

  The car came to a stop a few feet away from the jigger. A tall and rather handsome man a few years older than Elliott exited the car carrying a clipboard. Elliott stepped forward to meet him and stretched out his hand.

  “I’m Elliott Endicott, John’s new lead hand. Pleased to meet you.”

&n
bsp; Heinrich’s brows knotted as he glanced at John leaning on the crutches. He quickly met Elliott’s eye contact and returned the handshake. “Heinrich Getz, road master. Yes, I’ve heard that John hired a new lead hand.” He turned to John. “It looks like you’ve had a bit of an accident.”

  “Yes. Nothing too serious.”

  Heinrich smiled. “Looks serious to me, but it’s nice to see it’s not keeping you from working.” He took a pen out of his pocket, checked the time, and made a few notes on the top page of the clipboard, glanced down at John’s cast, then back to the clipboard. “You know the routine, John. Or should I go through this with your lead hand?”

  “You can go through it with me. Elliott, you can finish up, and when the train passes, go to the next one without me.”

  Elliott nodded. As lead hand, he should have gone to oversee Frank and Henry, but his feet remained fixed. John started to make his way to the car Heinrich had come in, which meant crossing the siding tracks to get into the passenger side of Heinrich’s car. So far, every time John crossed the tracks Elliott had assisted him, first making his precarious way over the rocks which surrounded the tracks, then finding a firm footing for the crutches on the tarred wooden ties. Also, the process of getting the cast over the height of the metal rails on crutches required considerable orchestration.

  To Elliott’s surprise, Heinrich smiled and carefully helped John through the rocks, then waited for John to position the crutches on the best spot on a tie. He then slipped one arm around John’s waist and allowed John to lean on him as he lifted the cast over the rails, just as Elliott had done for the past week and a half.

  He swallowed hard, then turned to Frank and Henry. In John’s absence, this would be his first time officially supervising John’s section men. He hoped and prayed he was up to the task.

  Elliott watched as Frank pounded in the last spike. After checking the tie when all the work was complete and finding everything satisfactory, they shoveled the displaced rocks back into place, packed up the tools, and loaded them onto the jigger.