Wings of a Dove (3 page)

    Allie's fine lips narrowed into an angry line. It made little difference what those nasty children had said, the names they had called her when she and Mama moved into that terrible room where Mama died. She knew none of it was true. Mama had loved her father. She had loved him very much, and Mama had loved her, too. Allie didn't care about anything else.

    Uncertainty again touched her mind. She was going to Michigan where she would meet people who wanted to take children into their homes in exchange for good honest work. But who would want a girl who was small for her age and thin besides, whose hair was colorless and never neat, a girl who looked frail and who could not seem to make herself smile? Of all the girls in the group, she was surely the one least likely to be

    Allie stopped abruptly in her tracks. Deep, hoarse sobs were coming from a point nearby, behind a great pile of unattended freight in the corner of the yard. Someone was crying.

    Reacting instinctively, Allie took a few quick steps toward the sound, her heartbeat escalating as the low sobbing grew louder, more intense. She had almost reached the spot when she heard a hard, familiar voice cut into the tortured moans.

    "You're not calling me names now, are you?" Silence, and then a harsher prompting, "
Are
you?"

    The response was a single, gasping "No."

    She heard a short, grating laugh and then the familiar voice continued, "You won't be giving me any more trouble, will you?"

    "No… no."

    "Say it again, brave man!" A low, grunting sound ensued and the familiar voice prompted more harshly, "I said, say it again!"

    Another low sob was the only answer.

    Allie stepped around the piled crates to stand immobile at the sight that met her eyes. Delaney Marsh and Sam were sprawled on the floor. Sam, his face flushed, his mouth bleeding, was lying on his stomach as Delaney sat on his back twisting Sam's arm cruelly behind him. Still waiting for Sam's response, Delaney tangled his free hand in the boy's blond hair and jerked his head viciously backwards.

    At the sound of her step, Delaney Marsh turned sharply in her direction.

    "Get out of here! This is none of your business."

    Allie remained motionless, unable to move. As if from a distance she heard Delaney give her another harsh command. It also went unheeded, but the violent scene she had stumbled onto was not the cause of her numbed silence. Her gaze was fixed on Delaney Marsh's heaving chest. She stared at a silver chain that had worked loose from underneath his shirt. The religious medal suspended from it hung dangling over Sam's back, catching the light.

    Sam sobbed anew, succeeding in breaking Allie's mesmerized stare. Tearing her gaze from the medal, she looked into Delaney's cold, light eyes as he spoke again in a low, warning voice.

    "I told you to get out of here."

    Allie frowned, shaking her head. "M-
Mr
. Smith is talking to the conductor. We're going to board the train any minute. You'll be left behind."

    "
I'm
not going to be left behind."

    His words little more than a weak gasp, Sam pleaded with a sob, "Let me go, Delaney. I won't say
nothin
' no more. I promise."

    A cruel smile flickered across Delaney's lips as his gaze dropped back to Sam, and he gave a short triumphant laugh. Allie watched, realizing she had been right from the first. Delaney Marsh was trouble. But she wasn't ready to leave yet. She had to ask him if he

    Delaney looked again in her direction. His eyes narrowed, his voice a low, warning growl, he barked, "I'm only going to tell you one more time. If you don't get out of here right now, you're going to be sorry."

    Allie did not wait for Delaney to say any more. Turning, she ran as fast as her feet would carry her.

    Breathless, she drew herself to a halt beside the line of waiting children a few moments later and raised her eyes to Mr. Smith's relieved frown.

    "There you are, Allie!" His tone was admonishing. "A few  more minutes and we could have left without you. What would you have done then?''

    Not waiting for her response, Mr. Smith motioned the line forward. An unexpected panic gripping her, Allie shouted over the din of the congested depot, "Mr. Smith, we can't leave. Not everyone has returned yet."

    Mr. Smith's narrow face tightened. "Only two fellows are missing now, Allie, and it is my thought that if those two have not returned by this time, they will not return at all. In any case, I will not wait any longer. The cars will be loading any minute."

    "But, Mr. Smith"

    "Follow me, children."

    Mr. Smith motioned the line onward and Allie's heart began to hammer in her chest. He had to wait!

    Allie cast another anxious glance over her shoulder as she stepped forward. Her heart leaping, she caught sight of two lanky boys running through the depot. A wave of relief swept over her trembling frame as she saw Sam's frantic, bruised face, and then Delaney's tight, tense expression bobbing through the surging throng. Within seconds they had caught up and attached themselves to the end of the line.

    Allie looked forward, unconsciously releasing a short, tense breath as she maintained her step. She only hoped Sam would be smart enough to keep his word. She knew Delaney Marsh would not let him off so easily again.

    Allie coughed and choked in the stifling rail car. She struggled for breath as the floor rocked and swayed unsteadily beneath her and the din of the wheels clicking over the rails echoed in her ears. She looked toward the great sliding doors, the only source of ventilation in the windowless boxcar, but not even the slightest gust of fresh air circulated past the passengers crammed into the limited space between her and the opening.

    Allie shot a short glance toward Mr. Smith's sleeping figure, remembering his discouraged expression as they had boarded. His protests had been vigorous as the car designated as theirs pulled up in front of them, only to be filled by waiting immigrants. The conductor had shrugged at the uselessness of attempting to convince the frantic, uncertain people that they must step down and seek other accommodations.

    The children had finally boarded the crowded car and taken whatever space remained some standing, some sitting on laps, some seated on the floor beneath the crowded, backless benches. The day had passed slowly as the train progressed from one stop to another. The only break in the monotony of their journey was the bawdy songs a group of Irish immigrants sang as they passed a bottle among them, and the unrelenting crying of babies reduced by discomfort to constant fretfulness.

    A night had begun to darken the interior of the car, Allie heard Mr. Smith's low exclamation when the conductor appeared to announce, "Passengers furnish their own light." She had cast a quick glance around her, grateful that a few meager lights were raised in the growing darkness.

    Allie had remained rolled up in her blanket, unable to sleep, when the train came to a shuddering stop and the conductor's shout, "Utica!" echoed in the sudden stillness. Relieved of a number of passengers, the car was moving again, and Allie raised her head. Her eyes watering from the choking tobacco smoke that emanated from the pipes of dozing male and female passengers, she cast a searching glance into a darkened corner of the car.

    Finally coming upon the object of her search, Allie hesitated. Motionless, sleeping on his side as if the hard floor offered all the comforts of home, lay Delaney Marsh.

    Allie took a short, anxious breath, her mind returning to the scene she had witnessed in the depot before the train departed. The gleaming silver chain and religious medal dangling from Delaney Marsh's neck had been on her mind ever since. She swallowed tightly. She remembered that medal. She knew every detail of the figure carved onto the small silver disk: the soft expression on the Lady's beautiful face, the smooth, flowing veil that covered her hair and shoulders, her simple but graceful garments, the serpent crushed beneath her small bare feet, the way she held her arms, slightly raised, palms upward.

    She wanted that medal desperately.

    Allowing herself a moment more to assess the steady rise and fall of Marsh's chest, Allie slowly began inching her way toward him. With great care and a sharp eye on Mr. Smith's slumped figure, she worked her way among the sleeping passengers. She continued crawling stealthily until she was within a few feet of Delaney Marsh.

    It was then that she hesitated, doubt and no little fear creasing her brow. She remembered the coldness in those eyes now closed in sleep, the pain inflicted so heartlessly as Marsh had twisted Sam's arm tighter.

    Allie took a short breath, her determination failing. Perhaps she should not try to

    An unexpected jolt shook the car as it continued onward. Momentarily losing her balance, Allie righted herself in time to see that Delaney Marsh had shifted his position. A small gasp escaped her lips. The silver medal and chain were again visible inside his unbuttoned shirtfront.

    Her heart hammering, Allie gave a short, unconscious nod. She had to have it.

    Silently, Allie slipped to Delaney Marsh's side. She paused to study him again. She had not realized how big he was, how very broad his shoulders were underneath his worn shirt, despite his boyish thinness. But he did not seem so frightening in sleep, now that his cruel eyes were closed and his mouth was not issuing threats. She followed the strong curve of his profile as he turned onto his side. He had a surprisingly pleasant face when he was not frowning or glaring.

    Allie took another deep breath. Carefully, she extended her hand toward the medal. A flickering shaft of light from a nearby lantern caught its carved facets, and it sparkled appealingly. The Lady was calling her.

    Delaney Marsh was suddenly fully awake. His hand snaking out, he grasped her wrist, holding her prisoner with a painful grip as he hissed, "What do you think you're doing?"

    A jolt of fear shook her at his menacing tone, and Allie pulled back. She opened her mouth to cry out, but Marsh was too quick for her. With a quick, agile movement, he clamped his other hand over her mouth and pulled her down beside him. Holding her motionless with his superior strength, he whispered harshly into her ear, "Be quiet! I can't afford any more trouble, understand? I'm not going back to prison, not for you or for anybody else!"

    Allie's eyes widened. The rumors were true! He
had
come from the city prison!

    Marsh flicked a brief glance across her frightened face. Slowly he lifted his hand from her mouth.

    "That's right, prison. You made a mistake when you tried to steal from me."

    Finding her voice, Allie shook her head in denial. "II wasn't trying to steal your medal. I just wanted to borrow it for a while."

    Delaney Marsh's low, scoffing laugh sent a flush of anger surging to her face. Allie attempted to pull herself upright, only to have his hold tighten even more restrictively than before. Wincing against the pain, Allie was mortified as she felt a tear squeeze out the corner of her eye.

    "Crying won't do you any good."

    "I'm
not
crying!"

    Marsh's expression registered impatience at her denial. Furious at her helplessness, she continued hotly, "You shouldn't have that medal, anyway. You're too mean to pray! If I had it, I'd pray for it to be mine instead of yours, and that you'd go out west where you want to be, so you wouldn't be here, making trouble and hurting people."

    Delaney Marsh's light eyes narrowed.

    "Only weak people pray people who are too afraid or lazy to do things themselves. And then they cry when their prayers aren't answered!"

    Shocked at his reply, Allie pulled back. Regretting her movement as his grip tightened further, she managed a reply. "If you really believe that, why do you keep the medal?"

    "For the same reason you tried to steal it. Because it's valuable. When the right time comes, I'm going to sell it."

    "Sell it!"

    Allie shook her head, incredulous. Mama would
never
have sold her medal! Allie lowered her gaze to the medal lying against his chest. Her throat tightened, and her voice was a choked whisper.

    "I wish
I
could buy the medal from you. If I had it, God would hear my prayers."

    Delaney's short, mocking laugh pushed Allie beyond the bounds of fear, and she raised her chin defiantly.

    "My mother said God
always
heard her prayers when she held the Lady's medal in her hand, and Mama wasn't weak
or
lazy!"