Whispers in the Wind (9 page)

Rubbing his eyes, he stretched his cramped legs and crawled out of the box. He bent down to look into Billy’s quarters and found him awake. “Did you sleep all right, little buddy?”

Billy started to move his lips to speak, winced slightly, and simply nodded.

“Good. Come on out here into the light and let me have a good look at you.” As he spoke, Dane reached down into the box and helped him out. Carefully taking the boy’s chin in his hand, he eyed the stitched lip and turned his head from side to side. “It looks pretty sore yet, and is still swollen some. After you have your broth, I’ll wash the cut and put some more ointment on it. We’ll have it feeling better in a few days.”

After a meager breakfast of yesterday’s biscuits and gravy donated by the café owner—along with broth for Billy—Dane washed the cut and applied a fresh coat of ointment. Bessie announced that she would stay with Billy while the others went out on the street to beg and Dane went job hunting. She and two of the other girls would go to the local market and buy some food late in the afternoon when the begging was done for the day. The two dollars Dane had put in the kitty would supply more food than they had been able to purchase in a long time.

It was just past 4:30 in the afternoon when seven of the orphans on the street corner saw Dane coming down the street toward them. His countenance told them he still had not found a job.

As Dane drew up, Russell said, “Guess it didn’t go so good.”

Dane shook his head. “No, but I’ll be back out on the streets tomorrow. I’ve got to find a job. How’d it go here?”

“Well, we just pooled our money and were about to head back to the alley,” said Russell. “We got ninety-seven cents today.”

At that moment, one of the girls—Melinda Scott, who was
twelve years old—pointed to a buggy passing by. “Oh, look! It’s Mr. and Mrs. Charles Loring Brace.”

Dane eyed the couple in the buggy. “You mean the Charles Loring Brace who’s the director of the Children’s Aid Society?”

Melinda nodded. “Mm-hmm. So you know about the Society and that they send orphans out West.”

“Sure do. I’ve heard about the orphan trains many times. Just recently I was eating supper at my best friend’s apartment. His mother was talking about Mr. Brace and the orphan trains. She read some things to us at the table from a newspaper about the orphan trains.”

A tear formed in the corner of Melinda’s left eye as she watched the Braces’ buggy turn the corner and vanish from sight. She looked at Dane as she wiped away the tear. “I used to live in another alley a few blocks from here. I watched Mr. and Mrs. Brace pick up some of the children in that alley and take them away to put them on orphan trains. I—I always hoped I would be chosen, but it never happened. Of course, I realize they can only take so many children off the streets to send them out West. I just wasn’t one of the fortunate ones.”

“Well, maybe one of these days you will be,” said Russell. “Let’s get on back to the alley. Bessie wants to go get some groceries.”

As they headed for the alley, Dane’s thoughts went back to Mona Baxter, and what he had said when she read aloud the words of the orphans’ song from the newspaper:
“Hey, Mrs. Baxter, I really like that! If I didn’t have such a good home with my wonderful parents and sister and brother, I wouldn’t mind going out there on the western frontier where the fragrant breezes sigh myself. When those fragrant breezes sigh to the orphans out there, maybe each one hears whispers in the wind, welcoming them to a new and wonderful life.”

Quickly, Mrs. Baxter’s comment came back to him: “Whispers in the wind welcoming them. That’s good. Yes, from what I’ve read, I think they do, Dane. I think they do.”

Dane thought again about his words: “such a good home.” His heart felt like cold lead. He had no such home now. His family was gone. It would be the streets for him until someday he could find a way to finish high school and go to medical school.

But first, he must find a job.

When they turned into their alley, they saw Bessie sitting on the ground next to the rear wall of the store with Billy beside her. Both jumped to their feet, and as the group drew up, Bessie looked at Dane expectantly. “Did you find a job?”

Dane shook his head. “Nothing so far. I’ll be back at it in the morning.”

Bessie said, “Maybe you should just beg on the street corner like the rest of us do.”

Dane shook his head. “I’ll keep trying to find a job. I have to.”

Russell gave Bessie the ninety-seven cents from the day’s begging, and with the two dollars Dane had contributed, she and two of the girls headed for the market.

As the days passed, Dane returned to the alley each afternoon, still with no job. On Thursday morning, he went out job-hunting again. When he returned that afternoon, he sadly told his friends that he was still jobless.

Russell said, “Dane, I know you want a job real bad, but maybe Bessie’s right. Maybe you should start begging with the rest of us. You might only come up with a nickel or a dime a day, but at least it would be more than you’re bringing in now.”

“Maybe it
would
be best if I beg for a few days, then when I have some money in my pocket to pay for my part of the food, I can go back to looking for a job. If I don’t have some money saved up by the time I work out how to finish high school, I won’t be able to enter medical school. I’ve just got to find a job.”

“We all understand that, Dane,” said Melinda, “but Russell
and Bessie are right. You need to bring in some money by begging, like the rest of us do.”

Dane smiled at her. “I agree. Tomorrow morning I’ll be on the corner out there with you.”

On Friday, Dane begged with the others and ended up with a whopping forty cents. He pooled it with the money the others had taken in so they could have a meager supper of day-old bread and celery.

When Saturday morning came, the children had their small portions of breakfast provided by the café, which included broth for Billy Johnson.

Five-year-old Nettie Olson had a stomachache and did not eat.

Dane placed a palm on Nettie’s brow and told the others she didn’t seem to have a fever. When he suggested that he carry her to Dr. Harris’s office, Bessie reminded him that Dr. Harris would be coming today to check on Billy’s lip. He could examine Nettie at the same time. Dane said since Nettie wasn’t vomiting, it would be all right to wait for Dr. Harris.

After breakfast, Dane washed Billy’s lip and applied the ointment as usual. Bessie told the others she would stay with Billy and Nettie.

The other seven were about to head for the street corner for their day of begging when they saw the physician enter the alley, carrying his black medical bag. One of the boys commented that he had never come in the morning before. It was always in the afternoon. One of the girls said, “I’m glad he’s here, now. I’m worried about Nettie.”

As Dr. Lee Harris drew up, he said, “Good morning, children. I’ve come to check on Billy’s lip. Everybody else all right?”

“All but little Nettie Olson, Doctor,” said Dane. “She’s over here in her cardboard box. She has a stomachache. She doesn’t seem to have a fever.”

Harris smiled. “So you checked for that already, did you?”

“Yes, sir. She hasn’t been vomiting, or I would have brought her to your office.”

“Good thinking, son,” said the doctor as he moved up to the cardboard box that held the little girl. He looked at Billy, who stood close by. “Billy, I’ll check you in a minute, but I want to examine Nettie first.”

Billy nodded and tried to smile, but when he felt a stinging in the cut, he let the smile die on his lips.

Dr. Harris knelt down beside Nettie’s box with some difficulty, and as he felt her brow, Dane Weston knelt down beside him. The doctor said, “I think you’re right, Dane. She doesn’t feel like she has a fever, but I’m going to take her temperature just to be sure.”

Harris opened his black bag and took out a tongue depressor. “I need to check your throat, honey,” he said to Nettie. “Open wide for me, will you?”

Nettie complied, and after a few seconds, the doctor laid the depressor aside and took a thermometer out of his bag. He told Nettie he was going to place it under her tongue and asked her to press her lips tight around it. When it was in place, he said, “It will take a minute to get the reading, Nettie. Hold it right there, won’t you?”

She nodded, tightening her lips around it.

Dane observed as the doctor carefully and methodically pressed experienced fingers on her stomach, covering every inch. When he finished, he slipped the thermometer out of her mouth and read it. “You were exactly right, Dane. No fever. Nettie, you just worked yourself up a tummy ache. Nothing serious at all.” He turned to the others. “I need some water and a cup.”

“Coming right up,” said Bessie. She hurried to a box where they kept their tin cups and the jug of water, and was back in a matter of seconds.

Dr. Harris examined the cup to make sure it was clean. Satisfied that it was, he poured the cup half full, then took a dark-colored bottle from his bag. He poured a portion of the clear liquid from it into the cup, then took an eyedropper from
his bag and used it to stir the mixture.

He filled the eyedropper. “Nettie, I’m giving you oil of peppermint mixed with water. Open your mouth a little bit for me.”

Nettie did so and the children watched as he gave her several droppers of the liquid.

When he had finished, he took a stick of peppermint candy from the bag. “Nettie, I’ve given you a sufficient amount of oil of peppermint to do you until noon. At that time, I want you to suck on this peppermint candy until it is all gone. You should start feeling better in about half an hour. You’ll feel even better when you’ve consumed the candy.”

Nettie smiled up at him. “Thank you, Dr. Harris.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart. Now I need to tend to Billy.”

The aging physician had difficulty rising to his feet.

Dane moved to the spot where Dr. Harris had Billy sit down on a wooden crate near the back door of the store and observed as the cut was examined. The others pressed up close.

After making a close examination, Dr. Harris looked at Dane. “You’ve done an excellent job on this cut, Dr. Weston.”

Dane grinned. “Thank you, sir, but I’m a long way from being Dr. Weston.”

Harris chuckled. “Yes, but at least you are headed in the right direction. I called you that because I see the potential in you to be an excellent physician. Keep doing the same as you’ve done with Billy’s lip. I’ll take the stitches out next Saturday.”

In spite of his injured lip, Billy grinned—enduring the pain—and said, “Dane really is a good doctor.”

“He sure is!” Russell said with a lilt in his voice.

Dane’s features crimsoned.

Dr. Harris closed his medical bag and looked at Dane. “Dr. Weston, keep a close eye on Nettie. If her stomachache isn’t gone by sundown, come to my office and let me know.”

Dane was eyeing the medical bag in Harris’s hand. He looked
up and said, “I’ll do that, Doctor. In fact, Russell and I will bring her to you just like we did Billy.”

“That will be fine.”

When Dane looked back at the bag, Harris grinned. “You’ll have one of these someday, son.”

Dane grinned back. “I sure am planning on it, sir.”

“Have you found a job, yet?”

“No, sir. So far, I can’t find anybody who wants me.”

“Good!”

The children eyed Dr. Harris curiously.

Dane’s dark eyebrows arched as his brow furrowed. “Good?”

“Yes. I have found you a job. If you want it, that is.”

Dane swallowed hard, eyes widened. “Sure I do! What is it?”

T
he rest of the children looked on with interest as Dr. Lee Harris laid a wrinkled hand on Dane Weston’s shoulder. “Dane, I have a close friend whose name is Bryce Clarkson. Bryce is a pharmacist. He owns the Clarkson Pharmacy on Broadway just four blocks south of here. I do all my medicine business with him, and—” Noticing the strange look that had come into Dane’s eyes, Harris said, “What is it?”

Dane grinned crookedly. “I went into the Clarkson Pharmacy on Monday. Mr. Clarkson said he didn’t have any work for me.”

“Oh, really?

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, that’s changed. Just yesterday, I was in the pharmacy, picking up some various kinds of medicine I had ordered for my office, and Bryce told me that the young man who did the sweeping and cleaning and sometimes delivered prescriptions to his customers’ homes, had quit on Thursday without notice, saying he was moving to Brooklyn immediately. He asked me if I knew a reliable young man anywhere in the area who might want the job.”

Dane’s eyes brightened. “And—and you told him about me?”

“Yes, I did. I explained that you were fifteen years old and were living among other orphans in a nearby alley and that I would be seeing you today. I told him that you have been looking
for a job, and that if you hadn’t found one yet—or even if you had—and the job at the pharmacy sounded better to you, I would bring you to him today so the two of you could talk.”

Bessie Evans said joyfully, “Oh, Dane, I think that’s wonderful!”

Dane smiled at her. “Thanks, Bessie.”

“So do the rest of us,” spoke up Russell.

“Yeah!” chimed in Billy Johnson. He winced and his hand went quickly to his cut lip.

The rest of them joined in, saying they hoped it worked out.

Dr. Harris said, “Dane, I asked Bryce for some particulars about the job. It pays twenty cents an hour. You would work three hours each morning, six days a week. Your job would be to sweep and mop the floors, wash the windows, keep the store dusted, and any other cleaning job Mr. Clarkson might give you. When it was needed, you would also deliver prescriptions to his customers, and you would sweep the sidewalk in front of the store periodically, and shovel snow off the walk in the wintertime.”

Excitement built inside of Dane with each word Dr. Harris was saying. Eyes dancing, he said, “How soon can we go so I can talk to Mr. Clarkson, Dr. Harris?”

The doctor chuckled. “Well, right now, if you want to. My first appointment today isn’t until one o’clock this afternoon.”