Whistle-Stop West (3 page)

They hadn't gone through any more large towns before it began to get dark. At suppertime, Matron passed out the bread and milk with fresh fruit that Mr. Glover had bought in Davenport, and the children ate with good appetites. Then Matron surprised the children by handing out cookies for dessert.

“How did you bake these on that little stove?” Philip wanted to know. “I didn't smell them.”

“These were baked at Hull-House,” Matron said. “I saved them to eat a few at a time. Two apiece tonight, and more tomorrow.”

“Too bad they can't last like the cakes the widow in the Bible made,” Riley said. “These are good.”

“What kind of cakes?” Trudy asked. “How long did they last?”

Matron sat down and smoothed her apron. “You never heard that story? Well, I'll have to tell you about it. There was a widow who had a young son,” she began.

“Was he an orphan?” Trudy interrupted.

“He was fatherless,” Matron said. “His mother was caring for him alone.”

“Just like me.” Trudy nodded.

“Yes, just like a lot of you,” Matron agreed, then continued. “A stranger named Elijah came to town, and he asked if she would bake a cake for him.

“‘Oh, sir,' she said, ‘I would gladly do it, but I have only enough meal and oil for one cake to feed myself and my son. That's all the food we have in the house.'

“‘Bake one for me first,' Elijah said, ‘then you can feed your son. I've come a long way, and I'm hungry.'

“The widow felt sorry for the man, so she did as he asked. She took the cake outside to where he sat and gave it to him.

“‘God will bless you,' Elijah said. ‘You will not run out of meal or oil as long as you need it.'

“The widow returned to her house and found that what Elijah had said was true. God provided for her needs from then on.” Matron smiled at Trudy. “We know that He will provide for our needs too, because He promised that He will take care of His children. Now, let's have evening prayers and get ready for bed.”

The lights were soon out, and Ethan and Bert curled up in their seats at the end of the long car. It had been an exciting day, and the boys were tired. They fell asleep almost at once.

That night the train slowed, then jerked to a stop. Ethan roused enough to turn over. He would have gone right back to sleep, but a sound like a low roar began right behind his ear. Wide awake now, Ethan sat up and listened.

Yes, there it was again. There was the noise of heavy feet stomping, and Ethan pulled his blanket around him and stared into the darkness. He reached out and shook Bert, who lay on the seat across from him.

“Bert … Bert,” he whispered. “Wake up! There's something in here!”

Bert opened his eyes. At that moment the train began to roll again, with the usual grinding of wheels and puffing of steam.

“There's a lot of us in here,” Bert said grumpily. “How come you woke me up to tell me that?”

“It's not us,” Ethan insisted. “It's something making a big noise. Can you hear it?”

“I just hear the train. You're as bad as Simon. Go to sleep.”

Ethan lay down again and closed his eyes. The
chug-chug
of the train was familiar, but he had heard something else.

He knew he had.

As the Orphan Train whistled and clattered through the night on its way west, a small country town in Nebraska lay quietly in sleep. Earlier that day its inhabitants had gathered around the post office and read with interest the notice tacked up there.

“Wonder how many children they have on that train?”

The man who spoke had read the information slowly and carefully. His question was directed to anyone standing around who wished to answer.

“Don't know as I approve of giving children away,” someone else commented.

“Doesn't look to me like taking in a stray cat. Look what you have to do. Feed and clothe 'em, send 'em to school and church, and treat 'em like family.”

“Might be worth it to get a good, strong boy to help out on the farm.”

“I'd think awhile before I'd take a strange child into my home, I'll tell you. Especially when they're part grown. How do we know where they come from?”

“We know.” The postmaster entered the conversation. “They come from orphanages and off the streets. The cities can't take care of all of 'em. Some have probably been in trouble with the law, too. Could be we'll be taking in their problems.”

“If everyone stayed home and took care of their own children, they wouldn't be in this fix.”

“Come on, now, Rhody. That ain't fair.” The miller's wife spoke up. “Some folks in the city die sooner than we do out here. What happens to those poor little ones when they got no parents left? You can't say that's their fault. Most of us have lots of space and enough food for another mouth. It won't hurt us to help out. I, for one, intend to be here to look them over.”

Heads nodded in agreement.

“I think I'd like a little girl. She'd be real company for me out there so far from town. The menfolk are gone all day, and I can't say as they're much good when they're home. For company, that is.”

“A young 'un would be nice. Think I'll speak to Ed about it tonight. When does it say they'll be here?”

Several bystanders peered at the notice again. “Looks to me like a couple of weeks. We got time to think it over.”

The group began to drift away from the post office, and only those who chose that spot to spend their day were left.

One of them called out to a departing farmer. “You plannin' on trying for another orphan, Chad?”

“We're thinkin' on it,” the man replied shortly. Without a backward glance, he climbed onto his wagon, clucked to the horse, and moved down the road.

The others silently watched him drive out of sight.

“Pity the orphan who gets picked by him.”

“Oh, I don't know. He's fair. He'll provide for 'em and send 'em to school.”

“If it's a girl. If it's a boy, Chad'll send 'im to school when he can't think of something else for 'im to do.”

Others voiced their dire predictions.

Chadwick Rush was making his way home. He hadn't entered into the conversation with his neighbors in town. There would be talk enough when the train arrived, he knew. The countryside went by unnoticed as he reflected on his life.

Chad was a successful man by anyone's standards. He had, by the age of thirty-five, managed to acquire more property than any of his neighbors, and it had produced more abundantly than the areas around it. He had a sharp eye for a bargain, whether it be land to homestead or equipment to run it. His neighbors knew him as a hard man.

While still at home on his father's farm, Chad had met Manda Scott. She seemed to be a steady, industrious girl from a good family and was willing to start a home. Chad decided it was a good idea to marry her, especially when his father offered them a parcel of land to get started on.

It wasn't long before Chad learned that Manda was as determined as he was, and not always in the same direction. There were stormy days ahead.

The first house to be built, for example, should have been a simple affair. It was not.

“I'm not going to work in a kitchen the size of a henhouse,” Manda declared. There had to be a separate pantry and a cold room. “Take the partition out between here and the parlor, and it'll be about right,” she directed.

“We don't need a house that big for the two of us,” Chad protested. “I can't spend all spring working on it. I have to get my crops in. You can make do until I have time to add on.”

“I don't ‘add on' to anything,” Manda snapped. “I do it right the first time. Now, are you going to put up a decent house, or will I call Pa to do it for me?”

Chad had put up a “decent house,” and in the years that followed, he had constructed several others, each more elaborate than the last.

Manda took a critical view of all of them.

“Seems to me you could have made that bedroom a little bigger.”

“Two windows will never let enough light into that north room.”

“Should've gone for the paint myself. I could have found a better color than that.”

“I don't like the way the curtains hang. We'll have to take time to go to town today.”

Eventually Chad began to spend as much time as possible in the fields or exploring possibilities for acquiring new land.

The state of affairs in the Rush home didn't escape the notice of neighboring wives.

“Have you seen the new linoleum Manda Rush has in her kitchen? Must have cost at least five dollars.”

“That ain't all. She's having Chad put a pump in her sink! Says she's not about to lug her water from the well.”

“Has a hired girl, too. And nobody but them two to look after.”

“What she needs is some kids to take up her time. Give her something to do besides nag her husband into fancying up that house.”

“He could say no. That's what my Horace would do if I tried it.”

“Hah. You don't say no to Manda without living to regret it.”

One neighbor tried to find a bright spot in the dreary picture. “They are church comers, and they tithe regular.”

“Takes more'n that to make you act like a Christian,” sniffed another. “And as for havin' children, it's the Lord's blessing they ain't got none. Them two hasn't got a heart between 'em.”

Chad Rush wasn't aware of his neighbors' opinions. He did feel that life had dealt him some raw deals, and that he had the privilege of staying out of everyone's way and minding his own business. He wasn't downright unfriendly, but he wasn't the most sociable member of the community either.

Now, as his horse plodded down the dusty road in the direction of the Rush farm, Chad thought about the notice at the post office and sighed. Soon he and Manda would have something else to scrap over. He knew that's how it would be. Chad's shoulders drooped, and he felt the weight of sadness that had hung over the place in recent months.

It had all begun five years ago on a Sunday morning in church.

“We've had a letter this week from back east,” the preacher had announced. “As you know, our church sends support to a children's orphanage in Pennsylvania. They write once in a while to tell us how our money is used. I thought you might like to hear about what they're doing now.” He proceeded to read the letter.

Money has been received from many areas of the church, some as far west as Nebraska and Colorado. We do appreciate the sacrifices these good folks have made to keep Briarlane going. This spring we have been able to paint the barn, repair the steps to the main building, and purchase two cows. Our older boys assist with the farmwork, and the girls help with cleaning and looking after the younger children.

At this date we have thirty-two children to care for, with a staff of seven dedicated people. Three orphans have been adopted this year, and many others are available. We ask that you would prayerfully consider taking a boy or girl into your home. Godly parents can change the lives of these children, who have been left homeless through no fault of their own. If you are interested, please contact George Lehman, director of Briarlane Christian Children's Home.

Chad hadn't given the announcement another thought, but on the way back from church, Manda was unusually quiet. Eventually she spoke up.

“We could take one of those little ones,” she said. “I could use a girl to help out around the house. Or if we got a boy, he'd be a hand for you on the farm. The way you're taking in property, you'll need more than hired men to run it. Be nice to have someone to leave it to when we're gone.”

“Lot of work to bring up a child,” Chad had replied. “You need to think about that before you take one on.”

Manda waved her hand impatiently. “No more than I'm already doing. I cook and clean and wash and sew for everyone who works on the place now. Another one won't make any difference.”

“Don't know,” Chad said to his father later. “If it will make Manda a little more contented with the place, it'll be worth it. If it gives her something else to complain about, it won't.”

In spite of his misgivings, Chad had agreed to write to Briarlane for information. In return came a description of an eight-year-old girl.

Frances is a happy, dependable child. She is helpful and intelligent. Both her parents are dead, and Frances and her eighteen-month-old brother, Robbie, were sent here by the state. Could you see your way clear to taking both of them? You will not be disappointed. They are good children who will fit well into any family situation.

“We can certainly afford two, especially when one is just a baby,” Manda had declared. “I think we should take them. If they don't work out, we'll send them back …”

Chad now flicked the switch over the horse's back to dislodge the flies that swarmed about. It had been such a day as this when he and Manda had gone to town to board the train for Chicago. They were to pick up Frances and Robbie at Hull-House, the way station for orphans going west.

Five years ago. So much had happened in that time, and in spite of the fact that Chad didn't want to remember most of it, his mind continued to play the scenes out before him ...