Maggie Shifts Her Gent

by Linda Hubalek

  “My wife, Doc Pansy, will call out what she needs after she assesses this situation,” Mack said as he joined them. “We have boards in the back of the wagon, ready to carry people out if need be.”

  “Looks like there are some windows busted out of the other side of the car!” Tobin called out as he’d stood up on the wagon’s bench seat to get a better look. “And there’s a tree limb inside!”

  Peter stood on his tiptoes, straining to see inside the car. There did indeed seem to be a dead tree branch sticking inside one window.

  “Oh, Lord. Please help all who are injured,” Mack prayed in a mutter beside him. With Mack's height, he saw the same thing as Peter.

  How many passengers were struck by one or more limbs, let alone the flying glass?

  Brothers Cullen and Fergus Reagan were helping passengers disembark from the forward passenger car, directing them to the depot. People looked worried but not hurt from whatever had happened to the second car.

  Doctor Pansy stood at the top of the stairs and scanned the crowd, probably looking for her husband.

  “Mack! I need three boards and help to get the most severely injured off the train. I need other men to help people walk down the steps! You can't use the steps on the other end of the car because they’re blocked.”

  “Grab the boards, and let's go!” Mack told them as he moved toward the train. Peter and Barton followed Mack as Squires and Gordon scrambled to slide the wide wooden boards from the wagon and follow them.

  “Tobin! Take the three injured to my office!” Doctor Pansy called out when she saw Tobin in the wagon's seat.

  “Ethan!” the doctor called out, assuming the hotel owner was in the crowd.

  “Yes, Doctor Pansy! The rest can come to the hotel!” Ethan called out knowing what she needed before he turned to run for the hotel, apparently to get ready for the injured.

  Doctor Pansy turned around, and Peter followed her and Mack into the car.

  Peter swallowed hard to keep his stomach contents from coming up. People were in shock, blood covering several of their faces cut from flying window glass.

  The jarred remains of a tree limb were sticking inside the window toward the back of the car. It came right through the window between two women who had sat on bench seats facing each other.

  One slender woman was leaning forward but not moving, her body bent at an awkward angle against the bench across from her. Had the big branch hit her first, then landed on the other woman?

  And the other woman, probably older by her gray hair showing under her disheveled hat, was lying still too, pinned to the bench under the limb. Had she been knocked out or now dead? Either way, both arms of the poor women were definitely broken by their unnatural angle under the limb.

  “Walk those closest to the door and hand them over for others to get them to the hotel,” the doctor directed.

  “Wait with the boards a minute as we get the other people off the train first,” Barton called to the men behind him.

  Mack moved forward in the car to help his wife, leaving Peter to direct people off the train.

  “Get me out of here!” screamed one young woman hysterically as she stumbled toward Peter. She didn't seem to be injured compared to several others, but Peter helped her to the door first before helping the next person. The panicking woman wouldn’t help anyone right now.

  “Keep this towel pressed to the side of her face,” Avalee warned Peter as he took the next woman's arm and guided her to Barton.

  Everyone slowly exited the train, leaving the three worst injured to be carried out on boards.

  “Okay, bring the boards in!” Mack called out, and Barton repeated the instruction to Wesley and Squires.

  The first victim, an elderly man on the heavy side, was conscious, but Peter couldn't understand what he was trying to say. Blood seeping through the right shoulder of his jacket meant something might be broken in that region, or a piece of glass had stabbed him. He was too weak to walk out by himself.

  Mack and Peter carefully laid the man on the board, strapped him on, and carried him to the end of the car. They passed the board to the next two men who carefully turned the board to get it down the stairs. Others would carry him to Tobin’s waiting wagon.

  Peter walked back down the aisle to help with the next victim, but Doctor Pansy shook her head as she pulled her hand away from the person’s neck. “She’s gone. Her back is broken. Let me check the other person before we move her.”

  Peter watched as the doctor reached under the tree limb to check to see if the last victim was alive. If she was would determine how they would move the two woman.

  “She's alive! We need to lift the limb off of her, and then I want to splint her arms before we move her to a board.

  “Avalee, run to the office to get the supplies I need, but send someone else back with them. Stay in the office and start working on the man. And get supplies ready to stitch up the people at the hotel.

  “Mack. Peter. Take your jackets off and cover her head and body before you move the limb.”

  Peter was glad Doctor Pansy was quick thinking and in charge because he was still reeling with shock.

  He jerked off his jacket and carefully slid it over the woman's head, not minding if the coat was ruined. He could easily make another one.

  “Ma'am, we're here to help you,” Peter said in a soft voice, in case the woman was coming around. “I'm Peter Gehring, the barber in town. You're in Clear Creek, Kansas, and the whole community came out to help those of you who were injured.”

  Did her hand just move?

  “Careful. Don't move your arms yet. The doctor is going to put splints on your arms first before we move you. It's...just a precaution—”

  “Mith Beethy?”

  Peter froze, knowing that was a young child's voice instead of the old woman. He stooped down to look under the seat. Oh. My. Word! A young boy and girl, wide-eyed in shock, were sitting among the glass shards!

  “You'll be okay, but don't move until I can get you safely out!” Peter warned them.

  “Barton, I need your coat! There are two little kids under here!” Peter called out as he carefully used his foot to swipe away the glass from behind the seat.

  Barton quickly took off his coat and handed it to Peter. He used Barton's jacket to sweep the rest of the glass away from the floor as Barton looked under the seat next.

  “Hi, I'm Barton. Mack and Doctor Pansy are taking care of the woman in the seat above you. What're your names?” Barton asked to calm the shocked children.

  “Baby?” the little girl whispered instead of answering Barton's question.

  Barton looked up to stare at Peter in alarm. Was there a baby under the limb and injured woman's arms?

  Peter stood up and looked at the woman sitting on the bench seat. Her cloak had been spread across her lap. Was the baby on her lap or beside her on the bench?

  Doctor Pansy touched Peter's shoulder. “Let me check for a baby after you and Gordon get the children out of the car. The Brenner sisters are outside. Have them take the children to their apartment.”

  Peter leaned over to look at the children again. “Can you crawl onto Barton's coat, and I'll pull it out into the aisle, so we can pick you up?” The boy looked to be about four years of age, and the girl a year or so younger. Peter braced himself, ready to scoop the girl up if she tried to crawl on the floor without being on the coat.

  The boy carefully crawled onto the coat, pulling his sister along with him. She was too scared to move by herself.

  “Okay, hold still while I slide you out.”

  Barton picked up the girl as soon as she was within reach. He shielded her face from viewing the interior of the car as he made his way outside.

  “Let's go, buddy.” Peter picked up the boy, but he tried to squirm down immediately.

  The boy shook his head violently as Peter held his body firmly against his chest and walked down the aisle. The boy probably wanted to get to his youngest sibl
ing, but it could easily have been squashed under the limb which crashed through the window.

  Maggie was reaching for the boy as soon as Peter was down the steps, but the boy refused to go to her, tightly clinging to Peter.

  Why were the boy's hands already wrapped in gauze? Doctor Pansy didn't know the children were under the seat to treat them already.

  A flash of memory from his own train ride years ago flicked through his mind. His right hand was wrapped too because of his burns. And he was four years old when he rode the train with his group.

  He glanced at the little girl but didn't see any signs of burns on her exposed skin.

  “Here's the baby,” Doctor Pansy called out as she hurried down the steps and carefully laid her in Maggie's outstretched arms. “She's breathing but doesn't want to wake up.”

  “Peter, I know you're good with needle and thread. Can you stitch up...at the hotel while I tend to the ones in my office?”

  Peter knew what the doctor was asking and that she didn't want to say too much in front of the boy in his arms.

  He'd had to do it a few times, and he'd gladly help these people in need, even if he did feel squeamish about it.

  “Yes, Ma'am. I can do it.”

  “Good. Get supplies from Avalee and get started.”

  Doctor Pansy ran back to the train without mentioning the condition of the injured woman.

  “Hey there young man. Can I carry you to these good ladies' home? I know they have two kittens to play with,” Marshal Wilerson greeted the boy in a cordial tone.

  Peter's heart melted when the boy shook his head and wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck, but Peter was needed elsewhere.

  “I'll come over to see you soon, but I need to help someone else first, okay?”

  “Son? What's your name?” Marshal asked.

  The boy didn’t answer, turning his head away from the Marshal instead.

  “What’s your sisters’ names?”

  Again, the boy was silent, although he turned his head to look at his siblings.

  “Is your grandma or parents on the train with you?” Marshal asked, as he pulled the clinging boy off Peter's chest. He didn’t say a word, but he looked like he was silently screaming with his mouth wide open and his face scrunched up.

  “Be careful with his hands,” Peter murmured, and Marshal did a quick nod that he understood.

  So, who were the children with?

  “Peter...Peter,” Peter realized Maggie was trying to get his attention. “As soon as we get the children home, I'll come over to the hotel to help you.”

  “No. Stay with the children. I'm sure there are enough people at the hotel to help me.”

  Peter ran toward the doctor’s office to pick up supplies, mentally thinking of what he’d need to clean and stitch up cuts made from flying glass.

  But he’d be back to check on the three children just as soon as he was done.

  Chapter 6

  Maggie carried the baby up the steps as Maisie ran ahead to open the door to their apartment. Maggie guessed the baby was about three or four months old. And other than breathing, she had barely moved except for a few jerks. There was a light purple bruise on her left temple. Could the babe survive a hit with the branch, even if was just a glancing blow?

  Molly followed with a crying little girl in her arms and her Uncle Adam with the upset boy.

  And who was in charge of these three children? Maggie knew they were with two women. Was it the older woman whose seat the other children were under? Or the dead woman sitting across from the older lady?

  It circulated around the crowd that a large branch from an old Cottonwood tree fell on the passenger car just as the train went around the bend of the river. That was the only place in the whole county where there were trees that big since the rest of the area was grassland. That dead limb probably hung up there a long time before today's wind brought it crashing down at the wrong instant. Most of the top smaller branches would have broken into pieces when it hit the top of the car. But somehow, the middle section crashed into the glass, breaking off from the rest of the branch as the train continued to travel on.

  Luckily, it only happened a mile from Clear Creek. The engineer stopped to see what happened and then continued on to get help for his passengers.

  “Girls! Beth and I are here to help,“ their Aunt Millie called out as she and their cousin came into the apartment and quickly hung their coats on the coat rack by the door.

  “Thanks for coming up to help, Millie and Bethie,“ Uncle Adam thanked them as he transferred the boy into his wife's waiting arms.

  “I'm heading back out. Pastor was going to make a list of the injured who need to stay in town. Angus wants to get their luggage off the train so it can continue on to Hays.“

  “Is the train functional to go on?” Aunt Millie asked.

  “The engine wasn't damaged. I think everyone can fit into the first car, and they need to get the damaged car on to Denver to be repaired.”

  “Adam, look in the passenger car for any carpet bags which would have held the children’s needs.”

  “I can ask passengers about who was sitting with the children too,” Uncle Adam called back as he descended the stairs.

  “Maisie, please take the baby. I'm going to the hotel to help Peter. I can clean wounds and thread needles for him.”

  Peter said he didn't need help, but Maggie knew she could be of help anyway.

  Maisie gaped at Maggie, in shock of what to do with the lifeless baby, but Aunt Millie would take charge.

  Maggie went downstairs and grabbed her sewing kit. Besides needles, it had a pincushion of pins, her thimble, and scissors.

  She also grabbed spools of black and white thread. Passengers’ clothing might need mending from the flying glass too.

  Maggie walked through the hotel doorway just after Peter.

  “What are you doing here, Maggie? The children need you.” Peter demanded.

  “Calm down. Aunt Millie and Beth came over. The children will be alright with the four of them there.”

  Peter rolled his shoulders back, trying to get the tension out. She could tell he was nervous with what he needed to do.

  “I can talk to the passengers as you help them. They need attention as much as the children,” Maggie reminded him.

  “Good. You're both here,” Ethan said as he pointed to the hotel office. “We've set up space for you to work in there. Helen and some of the other women have been cleaning up peoples' cuts. Not all of them need stitches, but three need closures for sure. Get ready, and I'll send them in.”

  Peter was alternating between sucking in and blowing out air until the first person walked in, a boy, about ten or so years old, and a near-hysterical woman who was probably his mother, holding a bloody cloth on his forehead.

  “Hello. We're here to help you. What's your name, son?” Peter asked to connect with the boy.

  “It's Robert. I’m his mother, Mrs. Edith Lang,” the mother answered for him. “He has a cut on his forehead from the flying glass, and we can't get the bleeding to stop.”

  “Mr. Gehring will take care of that for you. Where are you heading to?” Maggie asked to give Peter time to thread his needle and sterilize it.

  “Home to Denver. Are you a doctor, sir?”

  “No, he's a tailor and the town's barber. His excellent stitching will barely leave a scar,” Maggie might have exaggerated on the praise, but Peter and the mother and son needed to hear it.

  “Depends on the cut, Maggie, as to how well it heals,” Peter warned her. “Take off the cloth and let's get started.”

  Maggie swallowed hard when she saw the two-inch gaping slice on the right side of Robert's forehead. It was a straight-line cut, and the scar should fade in time.

  “I'm going to clean the wound first, and it's going to hurt like the dickens, Robert, but please keep as still as possible.”

  Robert whimpered but didn't move. Maggie wiped his tears with a wet cloth to calm hi
m.

  Robert's mother averted her face but kept a strong hold on her son's head. Peter took one deep breath, then started stitching.

  “Do you have a dog, Robert?” Maggie asked to distract him.

  “Yes, he does,” Mrs. Lang answer for him. “His name is Rusty.”

  “Well, don't let Rusty lick your face for a while. It might make you laugh and pull on your stitches,” Maggie rattled off the first thing that came to her mind.

  “What?” the mother asked as if Maggie was losing her mind.

  “My siblings and I were given three black and white puppies by our Uncle Dagmar when I was about six years old. When we played with them, the puppies constantly tried to lick our faces, making us laugh.”

  Robert's chin was firmly being held in place by Peter's large hand, but his eyes were trained on Maggie now.

  “Uncle Dagmar was and still is, great at keeping youngsters entertained. He's six and a half feet tall, taller than Mr. Peter here, and he'd swing us kids up in the air, and we'd pretend we were flying birds.

  “He still calls me Maggie Daggie and my sister, Maisie Daisy. And my oldest brother's name is Marty. Can you guess what his nickname was?”

  Both Robert and Mrs. Lang were watching Maggie now. “Marty Farty! Can you imagine how embarrassed my brother was in school when boys started calling him that?”

  “That's terrible!” Robert's mother announced. But Robert was trying hard not to grin.

  “Didn't bother Marty a bit. He'd just lean over and—”

  “All done, Robert. You have five stitches you can be proud to show off in school. Just don't let anyone knock you in the head for a while, okay?” Peter announced as he wiped a wet cloth across the cut one more time. Next, he daubed a salve to seal the wound.

  “I know it's going to look funny, but I'm going to wrap a bandage around your head to keep that cut clean for the next day or so. Are you staying here overnight, Ma'am?”

  “Yes, the Paulsons offered to let us stay free of charge. We'll continue on to Denver tomorrow.”

  “I'm sure Doctor Pansy can check the cut before you leave then, as a precaution.”