Whistle-Stop West (5 page)

Moments before the train pulled into the Liberty station, the townsfolk had gathered on the platform. Adults and children alike were chattering among themselves about the exciting event that was about to take place.

“I hear a train coming, Mama! Is it the Orphan Train?”

“I expect so, dear.” Harriet Hodge adjusted the white straw hat that bounced off her little girl's head and hung around her neck by the elastic string. “Do stop dancing around, Glory. Your clothes will be a mess. You'll look just like an orphan.”

“Really, Harriet, that was hardly the best choice of words,” her sister reproved. “The child will think that the boy you take will have to look like a tramp.”

“I know, Edna. It just slipped out. But you don't ever expect an orphan to look neat and tidy, do you?”

“I think you'll have to tell me again why you've decided to take one.” Edna sighed and peered down the track toward the approaching train. “It seems a most foolhardy thing to do.”

“Glory wants a playmate. I can't think of an easier way than this to get one. Frank didn't object. He thought it might be nice to have a boy to take into the business.”

“At seven years of age?”

“No, of course not. If we get one we like, we intend to keep him.”

“And if you don't like him?”

“We can always send him back.”

“You make the child sound like a piece of merchandise. Are you sure Frank won't sell him if he gets tired of him?”

“Oh, for goodness' sakes, Edna! Be sensible. You know better than that!”

She didn't, really, but she made no further comment.

Harriet turned her attention to the little girl. “Glory, why are you pulling on my shirt? I'm going to look as bedraggled as you do before that train ever gets here. What do you want?”

“I'm going to pick him out, huh, Mama?”

“Oh, I suppose so,” her mother replied. “Just don't grab the first one you see getting off the train. Remember that he's going to live in the same house with us.”

Edna watched the people standing along the platform in front of the depot. Some, she knew, had come out of curiosity, as she had herself. But many others were planning to return home with one of these children. It would certainly be interesting to know what all their reasons were.

The small town of Liberty lay along the Iowa River, less than one hundred miles from Davenport. Not many strangers came through, and certainly none who were unobserved. There had been great excitement when the notice of the Orphan Train appeared on the post-office door, on Hodge's mercantile window, and at the train station. Since everyone in town and many in the surrounding countryside entered at least two of those establishments daily, no one was unaware of the big event.

“I didn't even know I wanted another young 'un until I saw that notice,” Mrs. Tyler declared. “Just imagine being able to pick whoever you want from the bunch. I'm going to get a girl who can cook and sew. I just hate to cook and sew.”

“You're not too fond of mopping and washing clothes, either,” her daughter, Nita, observed. “You'd better be sure the girl can do that, too.”

The mother ignored the girl and turned to the woman next to her. “How about you, Jenna? What are you getting?”

“I don't know yet. We want to look them over and choose a child who looks needy. Of course, they're all needy,” she added quickly, “but I think I'll know the one for us when I see them all together. Jared and I want a child we can love and bring up to serve the Lord.”

“Well, I suppose there isn't that much work to do in a parsonage,” Mrs. Tyler replied. “Your husband only works on Sunday, and the church folks support you. I guess you do have a garden, though, don't you?”

Jenna smiled and answered quietly, “Yes, we have a garden. I hope our child will enjoy working in the earth, but the chores will be handed out evenly among us, just as they are now. I'm not planning to adopt a servant.”

Mrs. Tyler blushed and turned away. The minister's wife had obviously heard Nita's remarks. Her daughter needed some competition, Mrs. Tyler thought irritably. She was far too free to speak her mind.

Clayton Jones stood by himself, staring thoughtfully down the track. There might not have been anyone else on the platform for all the notice he gave them. Since reading the advertisement in the
Iowa County Courier
several weeks ago, Clayton had thought of little else. He had briefly discussed the matter with his sister, who shared his home.

“You know it will be all right with me, Clayton. I'd prefer you'd get a wife first, but that's up to you. I'm happy to stay right here and look after you and the boy.”

“Thank you, Cassie. You've been patient over the years. Unfortunately they aren't sending Suitable Wife Trains to Iowa this season. It's becoming a matter of necessity that I have help in the business, and I want it to stay in the family. I'm unsure how to approach a boy with the possibilities ahead of him. And I realize that any apprentice isn't
going to have years to grow used to the situation.” He pointed to the sign
Jones and Son
over the local funeral parlor.

It had been four years now since his beloved wife and only son had fallen victim to the smallpox epidemic that swept the area. Clayton had thought to carry on alone, but as he grew older, he realized that not only did he need help in his work but he needed a family of his own.

The thought that his occupation could be objectionable to some boys had entered his head, but his greater concern was about knowing what to do with a boy of fourteen or fifteen. He supposed they would need to carry on a conversation occasionally, but he had no idea what boys wanted to talk about. The few he had observed around town seemed to lean strongly toward things like, “Hey, Spike! Whatcha doin'?” or “Sez your old man!” and things equally unintelligible. City children would probably come equipped with a vocabulary completely foreign to him.

As the train drew closer, Clayton's apprehension grew. Should he go back home? Should he just forge ahead and apprentice the Wilcox boy, whose father had an eye on eventually owning the entire main street where Clayton's acre occupied a choice spot? The thought of the elder Wilcox's continual pushing of such an alliance strengthened Clayton's resolve, and he stood his ground.

No one walking by the tall, somber man clad in a black suit, white shirt, and black string tie would ever suspect that he was pondering anything but death.

Among those milling about the Liberty platform, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the children, was Julia Thornton. She had come many miles since morning to meet this train. The conversation with her husband, Isaac, yesterday evening remained fresh in her mind.

“Be heading for summer pasture next week,” Isaac said.

Julia had rocked in silence for several minutes, then said softly, “I'm not staying here alone this summer, Isaac.”

Her husband stared as though he had never seen her before. “Where you staying, then?”

“I said I won't be staying here alone. I'm going to Liberty tomorrow to get me an orphan from the train. I made arrangements when I first read the ad last month.”

“You never needed company any other year.” Isaac seemed genuinely puzzled. “You going to get an orphan to spend the summer? What are you going to do with the child after that? You never minded being here alone before.”

“I've hated being here alone. It's all I could do not to pack up the milk cows and the chickens and follow you up there. And I'm not getting an orphan for the summer. She'll stay here for good. Do you know how long it's been since I've had any womenfolk to talk to? I want a girl I can teach to cook and make dresses for and play tea party with. I want somebody who looks like me with long hair to brush and ribbons to tie. I might get two of them. I'm tired of being the only woman within fifty miles of this place. Not to mention the only human for four months of the year while you're gone.”

Isaac had been shocked into total silence, Julia recalled. He had eyed her cautiously this morning, but the buggy was standing ready when she emerged at dawn in a clean, crisply starched cotton dress and bonnet.

“There's food aplenty for you and the boys,” she said as she took up the reins. “I'll stay at Sadie's tonight and be back tomorrow afternoon.”

Isaac had nodded and stepped back as the buggy rolled out the lane. She heard him mutter to the tall son who stood beside him, “'Fraid yer ma's gone past it.” Then he moved on to practical business. “We'd best get at the chores.”

Now as Julia watched the smoke billow from the engine approaching them, she knew her appearance didn't indicate that she had “gone past it.” She smiled radiantly at everyone who walked by.

Her cousin, Sadie, was delighted to have an overnight visitor. But she was at a loss to explain Julia's behavior. “I don't understand, Julia. You're fifty-eight years old, and you have seven boys. Why in the world do you want to take on another young one at your age? If you need more help around the place, you could get a hired girl.”

“Mercy, no. I don't need help. Not for taking care of the house and garden, anyway. What I need is company. I want someone who speaks the same language I do.”

“I'd of thought those boys of yours would be married by now, and you'd have some girls. How old's the youngest one?”

“Eighteen this summer. They're busy with the ranch, and that's all they think about. At least the four oldest have houses of their own in case they want to find a wife. I guess no girl wants to live that far from civilization.” Julia reflected on the endless miles of pasture over which Isaac ran his cattle. As much as she had desired daughters-in-law, she had to admit that the prospects were pretty bleak. She needed to take steps to remedy things herself. That's why she was here.

“What age girl you looking to get?” Sadie was asking. “And where you going to send her to school?”

Julia had thought about that. “I don't care what age she is. Or they are. I'm thinking of two girls. They'll be company for each other. But schooling will have to be done at home. I was a teacher before I married Isaac, you know. I taught all the boys to read and write and cipher. I inherited Pa's library and Ma's organ. We'll get on fine with education. I just don't want them to be lonesome.”

“What does Isaac think about this?” Sadie wanted to know.

“Isaac?” Julia was surprised at the question. “Why, he never said. He leaves things like that up to me. 'Tain't as if I was buying him a new herd of cattle, you know.”

The ladies turned their attention to the train that was puffing to a stop and waited expectantly for the doors to open.

Caleb Pritchard, Liberty's only attorney and mayor of the town, also waited for the appearance of Charles Glover, the agent for the placement program. He was glad that his wife, Electra, had chosen not to be on hand this afternoon. She had strongly disapproved of the whole idea.

“Look at this list of people who want to adopt children,” she had said. “How could you possibly recommend all of them? There aren't more than five families listed here who would be fit to raise a child!”

Caleb couldn't deny that. “I've tried to look at both sides of the question. I can't be the judge of anyone's motives. All I know is that most any child has a better chance of survival in a home with a family than he has on a city street eating out of garbage cans.”

“I'd rather eat out of garbage cans than live with Cora Tyler, I can tell you that,” his wife declared.

Caleb had silently agreed, but he felt an obligation to defend his role in the matter. “It's not as though it has to be a permanent arrangement if it doesn't work out. If a child doesn't adjust, he can be removed and placed elsewhere.”

“Well, I'm glad I'm not one to be chosen today to be moved around like a pawn on a chessboard. It's hard enough to grow up in the family you're born into.”

Caleb pondered this philosophy as he paced the station platform. He was living proof that this was so. His father, Judge Pritchard, had insisted on his firstborn son following in his footsteps.

“There's always been a Pritchard in law,” he'd said. “Don't take it into your head to think that you'll do any differently. A blacksmith indeed! Use your common sense, boy. You'll be a lawyer.”

In spite of the success of his career, Caleb still resented being pushed into his father's choice. Electra was right. It wasn't easy to grow up. He was still being pushed, Caleb admitted. The list his wife had read was folded in his pocket, but he didn't need to look at it to know who was included.

John Muller shouldn't have been approved for a child, but Caleb felt he had no choice. His position as mayor depended upon John's goodwill. If Caleb had turned the man down because of the harsh treatment he gave his own family, there would soon be another mayor.

Ernest Rubeck wanted another farmhand and would probably not send the boy to school as required, but he held the note on Caleb's house. The Sinclairs were too old to raise a child, but they were fellow church members. How could he explain cutting them from the list?

Caleb stopped and wiped his brow with a big handkerchief. What his neighbors did wasn't his responsibility, he reasoned. At any rate, the train had stopped, and Agent Glover was coming toward him. Caleb pushed away his weary thoughts and met Mr. Glover with a big smile and a hearty handshake.