The Little Sparrows (16 page)

“Well, far be it from us to keep you from that game!” Bailey said.

Josie told the Claxtons she was glad to meet them, then hurried up the stairs.

Five minutes later, when she came back downstairs, the
Baileys and the Claxtons were no longer in the vestibule. She ran down Canal Street to the next block where the neighborhood boys had two team captains who were choosing boys to be on their respective teams.

When one of them spotted Josie coming across the playground toward them, he said he wanted her on his team. The other captain immediately argued, saying he wanted Josie on his team. Josie laughed and waited while one of the captains flipped a coin. The team leader who had called tails won the toss, and Josie joined his team.

The game was over shortly before it was time for Josie to go home and start supper. The team she had played on had won the game. Her teammates—all boys—cheered her because on offense, she had knocked two home runs, and on defense, she had helped make a double play.

The boys on her team were still cheering her when she headed down the street toward home.

As Josie drew near the tenement, she saw Frank Bailey talking to a well-dressed man. She did not recognize him. Myrtle was standing with them.

On the front steps of the tenement house, Frank Bailey glanced up the street. “Here she comes.”

Myrtle’s face pinched. “Oh, I wish this horrible accident hadn’t happened. Poor little thing. What’s she going to do?”

Bailey shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Josie was smiling as she neared the porch steps, and since the eyes of all three were on her, she smiled at the Baileys. “Guess what! My team won!”

Frank cleared his throat. “Uh … Josie, this gentleman is here to talk to you.”

Puzzlement etched itself on the girl’s features as she looked up at the stranger.

His face was pale as he said, “Josie, I’m Wash Roebling.”

“Oh, you’re my papa’s boss at the Roebling Construction Company.”

Roebling’s throat tightened, and while he was trying to speak, Myrtle stepped up beside Josie and put an arm around her. Josie glanced at Myrtle, then looked back at her father’s employer.

Roebling cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “Josie, there was an accident on the construction site at the Brooklyn Bridge just after two o’clock. Your—your father fell from a scaffold, and—and, well, he was killed.”

Josie’s mouth fell open and her eyes widened. She shook her head in disbelief. “No! It can’t be! Not my papa! He can’t be dead. No! No-o-o!” Her voice went into a wail. “No-o-o! It isn’t so-o-o!”

She burst into tears, and her knees gave way. Myrtle held onto her, keeping her from falling.

“Oh, Mrs. Bailey, what am I going to do? There was only Papa and me!” Josie’s voice raised hysterically. “What is going to happen to me? I’m only twelve years old! I have no one!”

Myrtle held her close, saying only, “There, there, honey.”

While Myrtle attempted to calm the grieving child, her husband looked at Wash Roebling and said, “Curtis was to pay this week’s rent when he came home today. He always paid us on Mondays. I … I’ve got to rent the apartment to someone else as soon as possible.”

Roebling reached into his pocket and took out a wad of currency that was folded under a money clip. “How much is the rent?”

“Three dollars a week.”

Roebling took out six one-dollar bills and handed them to him. “This will take care of the rent for last week and next week.
After that, you’ll have to decide what to do about the girl.”

Josie had observed the transaction. Sniffling, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Roebling.”

“I’m glad to do it, Josie. And I’m very sorry about what happened to your father. He was a good worker, and I’ll miss him. I … I told Mr. and Mrs. Bailey what funeral home picked up your father’s body.”

Josie wiped tears. “So there will be a funeral for Papa?”

“My company will pay for the coffin, the burial plot, the digging of the grave, and the burial, but not embalming or a funeral service. His body will be buried at the cemetery on 116th Street, which is the least expensive on Manhattan Island. I will see to it that an inexpensive grave marker is put on the grave.”

Josie nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome. I informed the Baileys that the body will be buried yet today.”

When Wash Roebling had gone, the Baileys took Josie into their apartment and tried to comfort her. When her emotions had settled some, Frank said, “Now, honey, when the rent runs out this coming Monday, I’ll have to rent the apartment to someone else. I’ll need you to clean up the apartment before you move out. You must take your father’s belongings, as well as your own.”

Josie was too upset to attend school during the following week. She stayed in the apartment, spending a great deal of time weeping over the loss of her father and the fear of what was going to happen to her. The Baileys had explained that they were in no position to take her into their home. They had brought up that an orphanage would be good if she could find one that had room for her.

Josie had heard much about New York City’s overcrowded
orphanages. She knew about the colonies of children who lived on the streets and decided she had no choice but to join them.

When Monday came after long days of grieving over her father and dreading her move to the streets, Josie steeled herself for the pain she would feel when she walked out of the apartment she had shared with her father. Going to her bedroom, she stood at the door and ran her gaze over the room. Reaching down inside herself, she found the courage she knew was there and brought it as a cloak around her.

“I can do whatever I have to. Papa taught me well, and I won’t disappoint him.”

She went to the bed, knelt down, and pulled out a small satchel.

Placing it on the bed, she filled it with dresses, underclothes, and a spare pair of shoes. She also stuffed in her winter coat. Though it was now May, she knew how severe the Manhattan winters were.

With this done, Josie took her father’s clothing and shoes out of his closet and placed them on the bed. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at them. Ejecting a sob, she picked up a wad of shirts and pressed them to her face, soaking them with her tears.

When her weeping had subsided, she laid the note she had written the night before next to her father’s clothing. In the note, she had told Mr. Bailey that she had nowhere to dispose of her father’s belongings, nor her own, and asked if he would do it for her.

She went to the kitchen and filled a canvas bag with as much food as she could carry in one hand, then set it by the front door of the apartment beside the satchel.

Before opening the door, Josie took one last look around the apartment that had been her home for so long. Her shoulders
slumped as silent tears flooded her vision, then glided down her drawn face and dripped off her chin.

She wiped away the tears. Squaring her slim shoulders, she opened the door and picked up the satchel in one hand and the canvas bag in the other. She looked up and down the hall to make sure neither of the Baileys was in sight. She took a deep breath. “You can do this, Josie,” she said. “Now go.”

She closed the door behind her and went down the hall to the back stairs. When she reached the alley, she was thankful that she had not accidentally run into either of the Baileys. Josie reached the end of the alley and told herself she must find her father’s grave before taking to the streets.

With her heart fluttering in her chest, she moved out onto the street and started the long walk north toward 116th Street.

A
fter walking for nearly two hours, Josie Holden arrived at the cemetery. She had seen it many times, but had never walked onto the grounds. It was large, and she knew it might take a while to find her father’s grave.

She passed through the gate and noted the dirt path that was used by hearses, wagons, carriages, and buggies. She made her way along the edge of the path, letting her eyes roam over the grounds as she looked for fresh graves. The cemetery was rich with shade trees that were scattered about, casting their dark shadows on nearby graves. Soon she spotted three fresh graves off to her right and veered across the grass toward them. When she reached the mounds, she read the markers, but none of them bore her father’s name.

She kept moving, and after a few minutes, she came to an area where she spotted half a dozen fresh graves. While making her way toward them, her attention was drawn to a hearse and a few buggies and carriages that stood on the dirt path. A few yards away, there was a funeral service in progress at an open grave close by.

When Josie drew up to the mounds, the first grave marker bore the name
Curtis Holden
.

She dropped the satchel and canvas bag. Her hand went to
her mouth, and suddenly a sea of churning emotions made her tremble. Tears gushed from her eyes as she fell to her knees beside the fresh mound. “Oh, Papa, I miss you terribly! I didn’t want you to die! I’m all alone now. I have to go live on the streets with other children who have no home.”

She buried her face in her hands.

At the nearby graveside service, a young woman happened to catch sight of the girl kneeling beside the fresh grave, her body shaking as she sobbed.

At that moment, the preacher conducting the service closed in prayer. When the young woman lifted her head, she glanced at the sorrowing young girl then quickly made her way to the family of the deceased. She hugged each family member, offering her heartfelt condolences. The young woman stepped to a couple close by. “Wait for me, will you? I’ll be back in a moment.”

The man nodded. “Of course, Rachel. We’ll be right here.”

Josie Holden knelt at her father’s grave and heard soft footsteps in the grass behind her. She turned and looked up through her tears to see a lovely young woman in her late twenties standing over her.

“Hello,” said the young woman. “My name is Rachel Wolford. I was attending the graveside service and I noticed you kneeling beside this fresh grave. What is your name, honey?”

“Josie Holden.”

“Can I do anything to help you?”

Josie sniffed and rose to her feet. “There’s really nothing you can do for me, ma’am. But thank you for offering.”

Rachel looked down at the simple grave marker, which bore
only the name of the deceased. There was no date of birth or death. “Curtis Holden. Was this a relative, Josie?”

“Yes, ma’am. My father.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. How did he die?”

“He was killed in a work accident at the Brooklyn Bridge last Monday. He worked for the company that’s building the bridge.”

“Where’s your mother? You shouldn’t be alone like this.”

Josie sniffed again. “Mama died seven years ago giving birth to a baby boy. My little brother died too.”

Rachel’s heart was heavy. “Are you living with relatives now?”

“No, ma’am. I have no relatives. Papa and I lived in an apartment down on Canal Street, and the landlord needed to rent the apartment to someone else, so I left this morning.”

“So what are your plans? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to have to live on the streets like thousands of other children do. As you can see, I have my satchel with some of my clothes, and this canvas bag has food in it. I know the food won’t last long. I’ll have to try to find work like some of the other children do … or beg for food like so many have to.”

Rachel took a step closer. “Josie, have you ever heard of Charles Loring Brace and the Children’s Aid Society and the orphan trains?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, I am a certified medical nurse and I work for Mr. Brace. I travel on the orphan trains to care for the children in case they get sick.”

“Oh. I didn’t know the orphan trains had nurses on them.”

Rachel took another step and put her arm around Josie’s shoulder. “If you would like, I could put you on one of those orphan trains. Would you rather go out West and be taken into a foster home, than to live on the New York streets?”

Josie thought on it a moment. “A foster home out West
sounds a whole lot better than trying to stay alive on the streets, Miss Wolford.”

“All right. I have to leave on an orphan train tomorrow morning. The Children’s Aid Society has rooms in their building where children can stay on a temporary basis while they wait to go west on a scheduled orphan train. They are fed and given clothing suitable for traveling on the trains. Since you want to go out west, I will take you to the Society headquarters right now and get you lined up to go on the first train that has space for you.”

Josie looked up into Rachel’s eyes. “Oh, thank you, Miss Wolford. Thank you so much for caring about me.”

“You’re a sweet girl. It isn’t hard to care what happens to you.”

Josie managed a smile. “Miss Wolford, could I have a minute to tell my papa good-bye?”

“Of course.”

Rachel took a few steps back. She watched her kneel beside the grave once more.

Josie touched the wooden grave marker. “Papa, this nice lady is going to put me on an orphan train so I can find a home somewhere out West. I … I’ve always lived here in New York, and the only thing I know about the West comes from the stories I’ve heard. There are still wild Indians out there and no large cities like I’m used to. Or so I’ve been told. But it will be a fresh start for me, and I think you would want me to do this, Papa, rather than live here on the streets. Maybe some nice family out there in the wide open spaces can use a tomboy like me. I will always try to make you proud.”

Even though she was a few steps back, Rachel could hear every word.

Josie rubbed the grave marker lovingly. “Papa, I won’t be able to come and visit you anymore, but I will always carry you in my heart. You will never be out of my thoughts. I love you. I always will.”

She rose to her feet, picked up the satchel and canvas bag, and looked at Rachel. “All right, ma’am. I’m ready.”

Rachel said, “Let me carry those for you.”

“It’s all right, Miss Wolford, they’re not heavy.”

“How about I carry just one, then?”