Wings of a Dove (4 page)

    "Is that so? Where's your mother now?"

    An almost indiscernible flicker of pain moved across Allie's face. "Mama went to live with God."

    "Where's your father?"

    Allie was suddenly angry. "That's none of your business!"

    Marsh's expression was all too knowing, and Allie's anger turned to fury. Suddenly she was struggling to be free of his imprisoning hold. She didn't care how much he hurt her! She wasn't going to let him call Mama or her names!

    Easily subduing her, Delaney Marsh held Allie immobile a few moments later as he looked down into her flushed face. His expression flickered a second before he loosened his grip on one of her wrists. He hesitated only a moment longer before guiding her hand toward the medal, his skepticism obvious.

    "For all the good it's going to do you…"

    Allie looked at the medal, which was now only inches from her hand. The dim light in the swaying car again glittered on the carved figure and familiar warmth came alive inside her. The Lady
was
calling her.

    All thought of the intimidating Delaney Marsh slipping from her mind, Allie took the medal into her hand and held it tight. She remembered the many times Mama and she had prayed together. She had asked Mama why she held the medal when she prayed. Mama had smiled and said that when she did, the Lady sent her prayers on the wings of a dove directly into God's ear.

    Allie clutched the medal tighter. It was still warm from the heat of Delaney Marsh's body, and Allie hesitated. Finally closing her eyes, she began to pray with all the fervor in her young heart. She prayed that her uncertainty would soon come to an end. She prayed that she would find a home and someone to love her as Mama had loved her. She prayed that she wouldn't be afraid anymore.

    At an unexpected sound behind her, Allie opened her eyes and saw Marsh's face stiffen. She followed his gaze and saw Mr. Smith moving through the darkened car as he checked the sleeping children. Glancing back to Delaney, she saw his expression change again before he pulled her closer, shielding her from Mr. Smith's view with his broad shoulders.

    Allie lay perfectly still, suddenly grateful for his protection. She was not yet ready to give up the medal and the serenity that had touched her the moment she took it in her hand.

    She again closed her eyes to pray. She was tired, but she was strangely at peace. For the first time in many months, both Mama and God seemed very close.

    Delaney lifted his head from the blanket and furtively inspected the shadowed, silent forms in the crowded rail car. Mr. Smith was sleeping soundly, and except for the car's rhythmic creaking and jolting as the train moved steadily forward, all was motionless and quiet within.

    Turning, Delaney peered into the face of the sleeping girl lying beside him. She was such a pale, scrawny little thing. His gaze moved to her hand where it curled loosely around the medal suspended from his neck. He forced away the almost forgotten sadness that touched his mind.

    He had seen the fear in her eyes when he first caught her looking at him. It had not been difficult to read her thoughts: prison boy. His anger had been instinctive, and it had flared even more hotly when that fool, Sam, had taunted him. Well, Sam wouldn't taunt him anymore, and for all her fear, this puny little girl had faced him with more courage than Sam had.

    Delaney cast another cautious glance toward Mr. Smith, who was now lying down. He was well aware that taking a "prison boy" on this trip was an experiment. Not everyone agreed that it was wise to include him as part of the company. But someone had marked him as "reclaimable" and decided to give him an opportunity to make a fresh start in the West. He was determined to take advantage of that chance. There was nothing left for him in New York but trouble, and he had made up his mind never to spend another day behind bars.

    He had meant what he said to this girl. He couldn't afford any more problems that might turn Mr. Smith against him. He had been too smart for his own good in the past when he had been ten years old and destitute and no one wanted to hire him for honest work. He had found other ways to support himself. But he was going west now, and he was going to put in a day's work for a day's pay. And he was going back to school, at least for another few years. Pa would have liked that. When he turned eighteen he would be free to go out on his own. He'd have decent clothes and a full stomach, and there would be no stopping him from there. He'd show them all.

    Delaney's handsome young face creased in a frown. He was certain of one thing. Nobody would ever take advantage of him again. He was too old, too big, and now he was on the right side of the law.

    His thoughts returning to the little girl sleeping beside him, Delaney frowned again. Small, obviously lacking in street experience, she was a prime target for those who preyed on homeless kids. He had seen what happened to her kind. She had a lot to learn, and she'd probably learn it the hard way. The truth about the medal and "the Lady" would not be the least of those hard lessons.

    Delaney's frown deepened and he shrugged away memories of countless unanswered prayers which still filled him with pain. He had stopped praying after Pa was killed, but despite what he had said to the girl, he knew he'd never sell the medal. Pa had given it to him, and he had loved his father too much to ever give it up.

    Unwilling to pursue his thoughts any further, Delaney lowered his head to the blanket. The girl's small hand twitched in sleep and he hesitated for a brief moment before curving his body toward her. He was somehow unwilling to force the sleeping child to relinquish the medal any sooner than was necessary. He could afford to give her that much, at least for a little while.

    Allie awakened to a stifling closeness, suffocating stale air, and the rattle and shaking of the floor beneath her. Momentarily disoriented, she strained to see into the unfamiliar semidarkness. She felt a warm breath on her cheek and turned her head toward the shadowed form curved toward her in sleep. Delaney Marsh. She paused, her gaze dropping to the chain hanging around his neck, only inches from her upturned hand.

    She looked up again, studying Delaney Marsh's sleeping face for long, silent moments. A smile flicked across her lips and she allowed her eyes to drift slowly closed once more. Mama had been right about the medal. One of her prayers had already been answered: She was no longer afraid.

    "What's all them red things out there on the trees, mister?"

    Loud squeals of laughter followed the question, succeeding in bringing Allie abruptly awake to the new day within the swiftly moving rail car.

    "
Them's
apples. Apples
growin
' on trees, that's what!"

    Allie opened her eyes and gasped. Mr. Smith was grabbing one of his young charges as the boy leaned from the door of the rail car, arm outstretched in an attempt to snatch the apple-laden branches as they flashed past. She pulled herself erect and glanced around, momentarily disoriented. The loud, screeching whistle, the clicking of the wheels against the rails beneath her, dozing immigrants raising sleepy eyes to the commotion the boys were making, and flashing glimpses of a brilliant sunlit landscape through the open doors of the rail car brought back the reality of her situation.

    Allie looked down. Her blanket lay at her side, but Delaney was gone. She glanced up toward the open door as Mr. Smith attempted valiantly, but with little success, to move the children gathered there to a spot that posed less risk. Delaney stood behind them, exhibiting none of their excitement or enthusiasm. His expression unrevealing, his eyes were slits of blue as he stared at the passing orchards.

    Turning, Allie attempted to fold her blanket, only to find her Bible tucked safely beneath it. A spot long cold and dead inside her stirred to life as she completed her task and drew herself to her feet. She started hesitantly toward the open door of the rail car as exclamations started anew.

    "Oh, yonder! Look! What's them?"

    Squeezing herself into the excited crowd, Allie could not help echoing the gasps of those around her. Fields, great, golden fields as far as her eyes could see were coming into view, replacing the burgeoning orchards of a few minutes before. Scattered on the ground in endless rows were big, orange

    "
Mushmillons
!
That's what them are!
Mushmillons
!" And then the ecstatic question, "Mr. Smith, do they make
mushmillons
in Michigan?"

    The chorus of laughter that followed little Peter's shouted question did not allay the excitement in his wide eyes as Mr. Smith replied with an almost indiscernible twitch of his lips, "Pumpkins, Peter. Those are pumpkin fields, and yes, I'm certain Michigan has its share of pumpkins."

    Feeling no inclination at all to join in the laughter, Allie continued staring out through the open door. She blinked incredulously. She had often stolen into the vegetable patch that Mrs. Van
Houten's
gardener had maintained for the household, and she had marveled at the beautiful melons growing on creeping vines and the tall green stalks that produced juicy red tomatoes. But this she had never seen the likes of this before!

    Feeling the weight of someone's gaze, Allie turned to catch Delaney Marsh's eye. Startled at his coldness as he abruptly turned away, Allie felt the small spot of warmth within her shrivel and die. He was the old Delaney Marsh again, the one with the cruel eyes. It was as if the night before had never happened and he…

    No! Catching herself as she began to slip back into her former fears, Allie raised her chin determinedly. The night before
had
happened. She had held the Lady's image in her hand, and she had felt the Lady's strength and courage touch her. Her prayers had flown directly into God's ear, just as Mama had said they    would, and her fear had faded. She would not let the Lady down by allowing those fears to return. She didn't care about Delaney Marsh and his cold eyes. It was the Lady and her image on the medal she wanted and needed. She wished…

    Halting the rapid progression of her thoughts, Allie gave her head a short, determined shake. She was being stupid again. How many times must she remind herself that wishing, no matter how very hard she wished, did not make it so?

    The smell of the docks was strong and pungent in her nostrils, and Allie grimaced. Mama had once told her that ships and the sea often got into a man's blood, and when that was so, a man would sometimes abandon all he held dear to follow the sea for all of his life. Allie had seen sadness in Mama's eyes then and had accepted her statement without question. But now, in this place with the confusion of loading lake boats, the complaints of disgruntled passengers, and the ever-present odors that seemed to accompany both she was uncertain how that could be true.

    The sudden forward surge of their group brought Allie sharply back to the present, and she stumbled in an attempt to stay close behind the girl ahead of her as they made their way along the dock. Righting herself a moment later, she darted a quick glance toward the streaming throngs that threatened to overwhelm them.

    Buffalo. Somehow that name did not conjure up teeming wharves, endless confusion, and the stench of fish. How very much she preferred the countryside they had passed through only hours earlier, but those burgeoning fields and orchards had yielded only too soon to this unappealing port on this great lake that stretched out endlessly before her eyes like a huge, open sea.

    Mr. Smith had accepted the news of another delay with grace when he was informed earlier that morning that there would be a nine-hour wait for the lake boat that was to take them to the next stop in their journey. He had turned the older boys out on their own, with strict instructions as to the time to return. During the long hours when the younger members of the group had little to do to entertain themselves, Mr. Smith had explained to them that the boat would take them across Lake Erie to Detroit, Michigan. They would board a train in that city and proceed to a little   town called Dowagiac, where he expected to meet with the people who would find them their new homes.

    Many of the children imagined Michigan to be filled with fields and orchards like those they had recently passed through, a land of plenty where they could pick the fruit off the trees, but Mr. Smith had cautioned them against wild dreams. He had informed them that not all the children would be placed on farms that many would go into the homes of professional men, possibly doctors, teachers, or men of the cloth. Others would go into the homes of business people storekeepers,
tinners
, and the like. But he had promised that not a one would go into a home where he or she did not wish to go. For that reassurance Allie had been immensely grateful.

    Determined to hold fast to her courage, Allie had spent the day with the children her age, with nary a glance toward the dark, unsmiling Delaney Marsh. Along with the other older boys, he had disappeared for the greater portion of the time they had spent in Buffalo, returning only a short half-hour before the appointed hour. But now, as their wavering line again made its way through piles of unclaimed freight and around loudly complaining livestock waiting to be loaded, Allie felt her determination slowly slipping away.