The Little Sparrows

by Al Lacy

  She rose up on her tiptoes, and he bent down so she could kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Papa!”

  Sam chuckled around the lump in his throat. “That’s better! No more of this Mr. and Mrs. Claiborne stuff. From now on, it’s Mama and Papa, understand?”

  She nodded, smiling through her tears. “I understand, Papa!”

  Emma moved close, and the three of them used their arms to make a circle of love. Josie said joyfully, “This has been one of the happiest days of my life!”

  “Mine too! It’s been a long, emotional day for all of us,” Emma said. “Let’s get your bag unpacked and put your things away. I’ll free up a drawer for you in the dresser.”

  Sam said to Emma, “I’ll go see if Ed and Sarah are settled in.”

  While Josie was opening the small canvas bag, Emma moved some of Jody’s things from one drawer to another. “There you go, sweetie. There should be plenty of room for you.”

  Josie put her personal items in the drawer, then slid it closed.

  “Thank you, Mama.”

  Emma hugged her again and held her at arm’s length. “Tell you what. I’ll head for the kitchen, but you stay here and acquaint yourself with the room for a while. There’s a washroom a little further down the hall. Wash up and come on down whenever you want. You can help me with supper. Is that okay with you?”

  “It’s more than okay, Mama. It’s absolutely perfect!”

  It was just past 11:00 P.M. when the orphan train chugged into the Rawlins, Wyoming, railroad station. Most of the children were fast asleep, and only a few stirred when the train ground to a halt.

  While a few people alighted from the coaches ahead of those that carried the orphans, Gifford and Laura Stanfield stood on the rear platform of the girls’ coach, making plans for the lineup that would take place in the depot at nine o’clock the next morning.

  Inside the girls’ coach, Rachel Wolford moved up the aisle toward the front, making sure every girl was comfortable. When she reached the front of the coach, she sat down on the seat beside Tabitha Conlan and sighed.

  By the dim light from the few low-burning lanterns, Tabitha looked at Rachel and said, “Tired?”

  “A little bit.”

  Tabitha frowned. “Something’s bothering you. It’s more than just being tired. Want to talk about it?”

  Rachel sighed again, but before she could speak, Tabitha said, “I know. It’s Josie Holden, isn’t it?”

  Rachel nodded. “Mm-hmm. I try not to let myself get attached to the children on these trips, and for the most part I do all right. But it seems like on every trip west, there’s at least one that manages to crawl down into my heart. On this trip, it was Josie. My attachment to her started out special because of the way the Lord brought us together at the cemetery. Here was that little twelve-year-old girl weeping over her father’s grave. And I just … well, I just—”

  Tears spilled from Rachel’s eyes.

  Tabitha took hold of her hand. “You just have such a tender heart, Rachel. You couldn’t let that little girl weep without trying to comfort her.”

  Rachel brushed the tears from her cheeks. “My relationship with Josie started out in a heart-wrenching moment, but what made it so very, very special was that I had the joy of leading her to Jesus. Oh, what a blessing!”

  Tabitha smiled. “Can’t top that with anything, honey. I know Josie will always be in your heart as the years go by, and you’ll wonder how she’s doing and who she marries and how many children she has, and whether they are boys or girls. But one day you will meet her in heaven, and you’ll have all eternity to be together. And think of that golden moment when you first see each other up there! Oh-h-h! It gives me goose bumps!”

  Rachel rubbed her arms. “Me too. Thank God that for His born-again children, there is such a great future!”

  Lance Adams sat in his seat, legs stretched out in front of him, and his head on a small pillow.

  His thoughts were on Carol, and he anticipated the moment he would step off the train in San Francisco and fold her into his arms. Every time he made a trip like this, he missed her worse.

  For a moment he envisioned what it would be like if after he had kissed her upon alighting from the coach, then said, “Honey, I have a little boy I want you to meet.”

  A shiver slid down his back. “Oh, dear Lord, what a wonderful thing it would be if You had spoken to Carol’s heart, and she had already planned to talk to me about the adoption matter I had introduced back in March.” He sighed. “Well, Lord, that’s my imagination working overtime again. However You choose to do it, if I’ve been praying within the confines of Your will, You will do it just right.”

  In the boys’ coach, Gifford Stanfield and Derek Conlan finished their final walk up the aisle for the night and sat down on the front seats, opposite each other. Both of them glanced back to see if any of the boys were stirring, and seeing that all was still, they settled back on their seats to get some sleep.

  Barry Chandler was still awake with little Jimmy Kirkland asleep on the seat beside him. Barry was stretched out with his head on a pillow and his eyes closed. His mind was on Josie Holden, and his heart was heavy. His lips barely moved and his words were a slight whisper. “Even when I write to Josie after I am settled in my own foster home, it won’t mean that we’ll ever be together again. I … I’ll never see her again in this world. In heaven, yes … but not here on earth. I could end up somewhere in Nevada or California; a long way from Cheyenne, Wyoming.”

  Barry found himself wishing that he and Josie could finish growing up together, and one day she could become his wife.

  Jimmy moved on the seat, rolled onto his side, and went still again.

  Barry looked down at him in the vague light. His heart was heavy for the little boy. He had been passed up again today because of his stuttering and his lisp. He laid a hand gently on Jimmy’s foot. “Lord Jesus, please let Jimmy be taken into a good Christian home where he will be loved and wanted in spite of his speech problem. And … and Lord, I need Your guidance in my own life. Please let me be taken into a good Christian home where I can be happy, and where I can be a blessing to my foster parents.”

  At nine o’clock the next morning, the orphans were lined up on the platform beside the train. A large group of interested people stood as the other sponsors waited close by with clipboards in hand. Gifford Stanfield faced them and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re glad you want to interview these children in view of taking some of them into your homes as their foster parents. One of us four has already talked to you to make sure you can qualify as foster parents according to the Children’s Aid Society rules.”

  He pointed to Laura. “So that all of you will know, this lady is my wife, and this is Mr. and Mrs. Derek and Tabitha Conlan. We are here to answer any questions for you, and if and when you decide you want to become foster parents to a certain child, or even more than one, you can talk to any of us, even if we weren’t the sponsor who first interviewed you. Are there any questions at this point?”

  Silence.

  “All right. Line up and talk to the children as much as you want.”

  Hardly had the prospective foster parents started down the line when a couple in their late thirties stepped up to Barry Chandler.

  “Hello, young man,” said the husband. “My name is Charles Tracy, and this is my wife, Evelyn. I see you have number nine pinned to your shirt, but what is your name?”

  “Barry Chandler, sir. I’m fifteen years old. I’ll be sixteen in November.”

  The lady smiled. “You already know the obvious questions, don’t you, Barry?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And I’ll answer the next question for you. I’m from Queens, New York, and I am an actual orphan. My parents and my little brother are dead. One night this past April, when I was staying at a friend’s house a few blocks away, our tenement caught on fire. Mom, Dad, and Billy were trapped on the fourth floor and burned to death, along with several other people.”

&n
bsp; “I’m so sorry,” said Evelyn. “So this left you totally without family?”

  “Yes, ma’am. There is no one else to take me in.”

  Charles set admiring eyes on the boy. “Barry, Evelyn and I own a large cattle ranch a few miles south of Rawlins. We’re interested in being foster parents to a young man about your age who would like to come live with us. We have six ranch hands, but the young man we choose will be asked to do work on the ranch the same as if he was our natural son. Does this sound appealing to you?”

  A smile broke over Barry’s young features. “Yes, sir! I’m not afraid of hard work, Mr. Tracy. I worked as assistant to the janitor at a department store in downtown Queens to help bring in more income for my parents. I did that for two years.”

  “Sounds good to me! What do you think, honey?”

  Evelyn’s eyes were bright. “Looks to me like this boy is the answer to our prayers.”

  Barry liked these people and thought that possibly they were the answer to his own prayers.

  Charles said, “Barry, we want you to know up front that we are Christians. Would it bother you to be in a home where your foster parents have prayer and Bible study time every day, and are faithful in church and Sunday school?”

  “Not at all, sir. When you say ‘Christians,’ do you mean that you have received the Lord Jesus into your hearts as your personal Saviour?”

  Charles grinned at Evelyn. “That’s exactly what we mean, son. Born again and washed in the blood of the Lamb. Sounds to me like you are too.”

  “I sure am, Mr. Tracy. I received Jesus into my heart while staying at the Children’s Aid Society, shortly before we started on this trip.”

  “Wonderful!” exclaimed Evelyn, and gave him a quick hug. “You most certainly are the answer to our prayers!”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Tracy, I have been praying that the Lord would give me born-again foster parents. I would love to live and work on your ranch.”

  “Well, sweetheart,” said Charles, “it’s plain to see that the Lord has worked this out perfectly.”

  “He most certainly has, honey,” said Evelyn. “This is the boy He has chosen for us.”

  Charles looked around to see if any of the sponsors were unoccupied, and found that Gifford Stanfield was available. He motioned to him, and Stanfield hurried to him. “Yes, sir?”

  “We want to take Barry home with us, Mr. Stanfield.”

  Gifford looked at Barry. “Are you willing to go with them and become their foster son?”

  A broad grin etched itself on Barry’s face. “Yes, sir! I sure am!”

  While Stanfield was asking the Tracys the necessary questions for finalizing the transaction, Rachel Wolford was looking on. She had been there long enough to overhear the entire conversation between Barry and the Tracys. She was glad they were going to take him.

  When Charles and Evelyn had signed the official papers, and they were ready to go, Rachel stepped up to Barry. “I was standing close over here and sort of eavesdropped on all that was being said. I’m so happy for you. I know you’ll have a wonderful life with these dear Christian people.”

  Barry’s face was beaming. “Thank you, Miss Wolford.”

  “Yes, thank you,” said Charles. “I see by your white uniform that you are a nurse. Are you part of the Children’s Aid Society team on this train?”

  “I sure am, sir. I’ve gotten attached to this boy. He’s a wonderful young man.”

  “We’ll give him a good home,” said Evelyn.

  “I have no doubt of that.”

  With that, Rachel embraced Barry, kissed his cheek, and walked away.

  Charles looked at Barry, who was watching the nurse walk away. “Well, son, ready to go?”

  “Uh … sir, could I have a minute to say good-bye to a little boy over here?”

  “Of course.”

  The Tracys followed as Barry moved down the line to a small, blond little lad, who was being interviewed by a young couple. Barry stopped short, and the Tracys stayed at his side. “Someone’s talking to him right now,” whispered Barry.

  “We’ll wait,” Charles said.

  Jimmy Kirkland was answering the couple in response to a question one of them had asked. Barry and the Tracys could hear the stuttering lisp. When Jimmy finished his answer and ran a sleeve over his mouth to wipe away the saliva, the man and woman looked at each other and frowned. As they walked away, they heard the woman use the word retarded.

  Lance Adams was also observing the scene.

  Barry hurried to Jimmy, who had a look of hopelessness on his face.

  The child’s features brightened some when he saw Barry, who bent down to put his face level with Jimmy’s.

  “Don’t you worry, little guy. God has somebody very special somewhere along the line for you. As I said before, the ones He has chosen for you will love you and want you, no matter what.”

  “You r-really th-think tho?”

  “I know so. Now, little pal, I have to leave. A family has chosen me, and we have to head home.”

  Jimmy’s features fell. “Y-you mean you w-won’t be on the t-train anymore?”

  “That’s right. They live on a ranch, and I’m going home with them right now. I wanted to tell you good-bye before we go.”

  Jimmy lunged for Barry and wrapped his arms around his neck.

  Barry talked to him for a few seconds, encouraging him once more that it was going to work out real good for him. Jimmy squeezed Barry’s neck hard, then let go and looked at him through his tears. “G-good-bye, B-Barry.”

  Barry hugged his little friend, told him good-bye, and walked away quickly with his new foster parents flanking him. Jimmy was crying as he watched Barry go.

  Lance Adams was about to go to Jimmy when another couple drew up to him. The woman leaned over, put an arm around him, and asked, “Why are you crying, little fellow?”

  Jimmy wiped tears from his eyes and focused on her. He pointed to Barry, who was still in sight. “Th-that boy ith my friend. H-he wath jutht ’dopted b-by thome n-nithe people. I gonna m-mith him.”

  As Jimmy sleeved saliva from the corners of his mouth, the woman looked at her husband, whose face was showing the same aversion she was feeling. He shook his head.

  The woman said, “Sorry, little boy. We were actually wanting a girl.”

  They walked away quickly.

  Lance rushed to him and picked him up in his arms. Jimmy clung to him, sniffling. “Th-they d-don’t want m-me either, ’cauthe I talk f-funny.”

  Lance spoke in a soft, level voice. “Jimmy, it’s going to be all right. There are still four more stops. Someone will take you.”

  “I h-hope tho. I d-don’t wanna go b-back to th-the orphanage. B-boyth and girlth pick on m-me there.”

  “You won’t have to go back there, Jimmy. It’s going to be all right, believe me.”

  Jimmy looked him in the eye. “I kn-know it would b-be all right if I c-could g-go home w-with y-you.”

  “Jimmy, I told you that I can’t take you home with me, and that if I tried to explain it to you, you wouldn’t understand.”

  “I kn-know I talk f-funny, M-Mithter Adamth, b-but I alwayth t-try to b-be a g-good boy. If y-you t-took me home, I’d b-be good.”

  Lance was battling his own emotions again.

  Jimmy was still in Lance’s arms as the passengers began boarding the train, and Gifford Stanfield called for the orphans to move back into their coaches. He announced that twelve children were taken by foster parents in Rawlins, leaving thirty-two on the train.

  Lance carried Jimmy to the boys’ coach, mounted the steps of the small platform, and carried him inside. “Do you have a seat that you always sit in, Jimmy?”

  “Yeth,” said the boy, pointing to the seat he had occupied up till now with Barry Chandler.

  Lance placed him on the seat and patted his head. “I’ll see you at the next stop.”

  Jimmy nodded. “Okay.”

  As Lance left the coach and headed for his own
, he said, “Is there anything too hard for You, Lord? Absolutely not. I’m still trusting You to perform Your mighty miracle.”

  Chapter Twenty

  When Barry Chandler opened his eyes on Thursday morning, June 25, a flood of golden sunlight streamed through the open window of his room. His first thought was one of wondering where he was.

  Then, in a flash, it came to him. He was in his new home on the Box T ranch ten miles south of Rawlins, Wyoming. A warm feeling washed over him as he pictured the faces of Charles and Evelyn Tracy, who had chosen him to be their foster son.

  His mind went to Josie Holden, and his heart yearned for her. Pop Tracy had told him the ranch was a hundred and fifty miles from Cheyenne. He had promised to write Josie and let her know where he was living once he had been chosen as a foster child. He would do that soon.

  He rolled out of the bed and went to the window, which was on the east side of the house. A warm, dry, fragrant breeze came through the window, carrying the sweet scent of sagebrush. A small creek wended its way through the low spots on the ranch, and ran close to the house. Barry heard the murmuring of the running water, the fluttering of leaves from the cottonwood trees in the yard, and the twittering of happy birds as they welcomed the new day.

  Looking eastward across the rolling plains, Barry said aloud, “A hundred and fifty miles, Josie. It’s not like I was a thousand miles away in California. Someday—someday, you’ll see a guy on a horse riding onto the Circle C ranch.”

  On that same June 25, it was late morning as Sam Claiborne and Hap Lakin carried the spare feather mattress from the Lakin house as Margie followed them to the Circle C wagon. Lorraine and Maisie walked beside their adoptive mother, happy to know that Jody Claiborne had survived the coma and was coming home today.

  When the two men had placed the thick mattress in the wagon bed, Sam said, “Folks, I really appreciate your letting me borrow this mattress so Jody will have a comfortable ride home from the clinic.”

  “Our pleasure,” said Hap. “Why should you have to take a mattress off one of your beds when this one was in our attic?”