Oh Lord, the pastor has told me You have mercy. Please have mercy on that poor youngin.
It didn’t take but a minute for Ralston to figure somethin was wrong, and he flung open the door to find me layin on the floor. “Miss Worie, are you sick?” He pulled me to my feet.
“I am sick, Mr. Ralston. Sick to death that Calvin broke a family apart. Sick to death he has busted our family up. And sicker still that his greed shows no mercy.”
“Let’s get you outta here.” He put his arm around my waist and took hold of my wrist. We walked to the edge of the train, where I went to sobbin tears that wouldn’t cease.
“Lordy mercy. What will that little girl do? What will happen to her?”
Doanie come to mind, and I knew I was gonna have to find the words to tell her that her sister was gone. I couldn’t ration tellin her the truth. Would it be easier to tell her Farrell was dead, or leave her to wonder the rest of her life what happened? They didn’t seem to be no good answer.
I walked down the platform to the window where Calvin set, tears streamin like a rollin flood. “Calvin, what will I tell Doanie? You give Farrell to a man who sold her? What will I tell that little girl about her sister?”
Calvin stared past me, his eyes coal black. They wasn’t an ounce of regret in him.
Ralston led me toward the door. “Come on, Miss Worie. Things will be alright. You have little T. J. here that needs you.”
I know Mr. Ralston was doin his best to comfort me, but it was like when a body went to a wake. Sometimes you kept your mouth shut despite your good intentions. Words don’t help.
Calvin leaned his head outta the window and spit, then swiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Ain’t you pitiful?” He snarled when he spoke.
This time Ralston set between me and Calvin. Pastor Jess and T. J. set across from me and the sheriff stood, hand restin on his gun.
I never figured myself to be strong. Momma would say, “Strength comes from deep in your belly.” She would pat my stomach. “It rises when you need it most.” I hoped this gnawin in my gut was the strength Momma talked about. Calvin was like a hungry wolf, starved by bitterness. That is what filled his belly when he was hungry. That bitterness only served to make him angry and weak. Was this the edge I needed over him?
I decided right that minute to make my peace with the devil. They was this calm in my gut. The train jerked to a start.
“Pastor Jess, what does it feel like when the good Lord nudges you?”
The pastor stammered around, searchin for the right words. He shook his head and let out a sigh. “I suppose it’s different for ever person. It depends on if the person is willin to listen or if the good Lord has to thump them on the head.” He smiled.
“What about peace, Pastor? Does a body have peace and calm when the good Lord nudges?”
Pastor Jess sat starin at me. I know I sent him for a flip by askin such questions, but I watched as he mustered his wits and put on his preachin hat.
“Worie, the good Lord has a plan for ever man and woman.” He patted T. J. on the back. “Ever child.” Pastor Jess went to bouncing his knee, givin T. J. a little ride. “We don’t always know what the plan is, but they is one thing for sure. The good Lord does. And they ain’t been nary a time that His work has gone undone.” He stood and swung T. J. to his hip. “Ever nudge ain’t one of peace. Speakin for myself, ever one I’ve had never give me peace. It give me determination to do somethin I wouldn’t choose to do. Like go to fight for a young woman who found herself carin for a bunch of orphans.”
I stood, and the sheriff stepped toward me. “I ain’t gonna do nothin. I’m gonna talk to my brother.” Brother . . . Despite Momma’s notes, I didn’t know no different. Calvin was still my brother.
I took T. J. and set down in the pastor’s place. Calvin wouldn’t look at me.
“It’s fine that you don’t look at me. I still got things to say to you.”
T. J. climbed off my lap and grabbed the pastor’s legs. I pulled open my bag and brought out the notes Momma had wrote.
“Calvin, I shouldn’t have broke that news to you about bein found like I did. I was angry. That was wrong of me.”
Refusin to look at me, he stared at the passin trees. Daddy used to say that talkin to Calvin was like talkin to a rock. His eyes was fixed like a dead man and his jaw flinched as he gritted his teeth. He had no intentions of listenin or of softenin up.
“All you wanted was Momma’s jar.” I held up the roll of notes. “This is what was in the jar. Notes from Momma. It was like she was writin her every thought for us to read.”
Calvin glanced toward me.
“Why would you take them youngins, Calvin? Why them little youngins? When Momma and Daddy took you in and raised you. They loved you with all they had. Never treated you no different. You, better than anyone, knowed what it was like to be an orphan.”
He never uttered a word.
“Calvin, they’s somethin else you need to know.”
That caught his attention and he turned toward me.
“Ellie Olsen. You remember Ellie?”
A snide smile crossed his face.
“You told her you had medicine that could save her sick siblins. But you didn’t.”
Calvin’s smile never cracked.
“You promised Ellie if she found that stone, you’d give her the medicine. You promised that girl hope, but you took her flesh instead.”
Calvin went to laughin. “She was a tender one.”
I felt my anger rise, but that voice inside my gut calmed me. The wolf feeds on bitterness.
“Just spit it out, Worie. I’m tired of listenin to you yackin,” Calvin snapped.
They was no bein kind to Calvin, and when Pastor Jess realized what I was about to spill out, he nodded in approval. Calvin needed to know.
“You had a red stone. Ely said it was a ruby. Valuable. And I ain’t sure how Mrs. Olsen come upon one or how you knew she’d have it, but you waltzed into that Olsen house when them youngins was sick, and you promised Ellie false hope and healin for that stone.”
They was nothin meaner than the laugh that seeped outta Calvin. It grated against me. He was right proud of hisself. Right pleased at what he’d done.
“Foolish girl,” he uttered. “Foolhearted. Stupid.”
I come to my feet and pressed my finger toward Calvin’s face.
The sheriff pushed me back onto the seat. “I ain’t aimin for no more fightin on this train. You stay on that bench.”
The sheriff meant business, but I was past bein nice. I leaned forward. “Look at me, Calvin.”
He moved closer. “You think you can make me flinch?”
One more time, the child come outta Calvin. Anything I had to say was just a game to him. So I did what I needed to do and blurted it out.
“Was that stone worth the seed you left behind? Cause Ellie is full with your youngin.”
Calvin cocked his head. I could see he was surprised, but then he shrugged. “What about that. I get to make an orphan of my own.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
I had little left to say to Calvin the rest of the trip. Every bend in the tracks brought us closer to home. I pulled T. J. onto my hip and leaned against the train window. “Don’t that wind feel fine, little man?”
T. J. lifted his arms into the air and giggled.
I rested my hand behind his head and pulled him close to kiss his forehead. “Miss Worie is so, so glad to have you back. I feel the need to squeeze the stuffin outta you.” I tickled his tummy and then twisted from side to side, squeezin the little feller close.
We pointed at everthing we could along the track. Birds, a bear fishin by the river, men on horses.
“Look how big them trees is gettin,” I said. “Turn your nose up and smell the air.” Despite the train’s smoke that hit us in the face as we rounded the bends in the mountain, a body could catch a whiff of the river and the pine waftin through the pass.
&nb
sp; Pastor Jess come close and took T. J. “This is a right sweet child, ain’t he?”
“He is, Pastor. And Farrell is too. It just breaks my heart to think of that baby girl all alone.”
“I done told you. She’s goin to a good home. The Holtsclaws don’t sell children for slaves.” He bent forward and dangled T. J., makin the youngin bust out laughing.
“Pastor, them people took money for a youngin. A youngin that wasn’t theirs to take or give. It ain’t no use tryin to justify evil.”
“I can’t rightly argue with that. But we have to hope for the best. Believe things will be good for Farrell. They ain’t nothing we can do for that child now. Nothin but pray.”
“At least you see things my way.” I smiled and scratched T. J.’s back. “You know, Pastor Jess, something ain’t settin just right.”
“What’s eatin at you?”
“It ain’t like Calvin to be quiet. I ain’t never knowed him to hold his tongue more than a few minutes. He ain’t hardly uttered a word.”
Pastor Jess glanced toward Calvin. “He looks pretty solemn.”
“That’s what I’m sayin. This ain’t right for Calvin.” I searched for the sheriff, and when I caught his attention I motioned him over.
“Is they a problem?” The sheriff rested his hands on his waist and stretched. “Train seats ain’t good on the back.”
“Look, Sheriff, I know I’ve give you some fight, but for the most part I’ve done everthing you asked me to do.”
“You have. Once I got you and Calvin to hush, things has been good.”
“That’s the problem. Things is too good. Calvin is my brother. I’ve been raised at his feet, and that ought to carry some weight when I tell you somethin ain’t right. I ain’t never knowed Calvin to sit quiet for this long.”
The sheriff leaned back and roared laughin. “Well, he is hog-tied. That tends to quiet anybody.”
“No! It don’t. Not Calvin. Just because he can’t move around don’t stop him from runnin his mouth. I’m tellin you. My gut is tellin me somethin is wrong.”
The sheriff eyed me, then walked real calm like to Calvin. He bent over and tested the ropes to see they was tight, then made his way back. “You need to sit down and follow your brother’s example.”
I could feel my stomach rumble and fear inch its way up my throat. “Please, Sheriff. Please listen to me.”
The sheriff had no intention of listenin to me any more than he’d listen to Calvin. But I knew Calvin and he was a swindler. “Pastor Jess. Take T. J. all the way to the back of the train car. Put him on the floor against the wall and set tight in front of him. You hear?”
“Worie, don’t you think you’re—”
“I ain’t. No, I ain’t. Please, Pastor. Please. Outta sight, outta mind. Please.”
Pastor Jess took the boy by the hand and led him to the rear of the car. If anything he could sense my fear. I sat on the bench behind Calvin and never opened my mouth. The deeper the train chugged through the mountain passes, the more my gut churned.
I tried to rest my head against the window, but they was no rest to be had. T. J. was quiet, and when I looked over my shoulder he was stretched out on the floor against the wall. Pastor Jess pressed his finger against his lips to let me know the boy was asleep.
The train groaned, and I felt the steel wheels slip on the rails as we climbed the mountain. To my right, I could stretch out my arm and let my fingers drag against the side of the bluff. To my left, a long, steep drop into the gorge below. The echo of a wild river made it hard to hear what a body was sayin.
Calvin craned his neck and peered over the gorge. “Long way down, ain’t it?” He hauled off and spit, and the saliva flew back and hit me in the face.
I wanted to vomit, but I just wiped my face and never said a thing. Calvin had done got the last rise from me he was gonna get.
Steam hissed from the sides of the train as it topped the ridge and started down the other side. It put me in the mind of an old man huffin and puffin to climb a hill and then sighin in relief as he headed down.
The mountains quickly turned into open meadows filled with deer nibblin on buttercups, and the river soon run even with the tracks. A body can’t never beat the beauty of a field of wildflowers. Me an Momma used to cut flowers ever day when they was in bloom. Our little cabin smelled as sweet as lilac and honeysuckle.
Calvin went to wigglin, and before I could holler at the sheriff, five men come tearin out of the woods on horseback, makin their way to the train.
I moved to set in front of Calvin. It was easy to see he was up to something. I tried to shout at the sheriff, but Calvin leaned back and lifted his feet, landin his boot heels in my gut. He fell backward onto the floor and I went sailin over the benches. It all happened so fast.
“Watch the boy!” I squalled at the pastor. “Don’t you let him outta your sight.”
Mr. Ralston and the sheriff wrestled two of the men, but a third grabbed hold of the train window and pulled hisself on board. He pulled a knife from his boot and sliced the ropes loose from Calvin’s hands.
As I tried to stand and catch a breath, Calvin hit me again. Him and his friend dragged me across the car. Pastor Jess come to his feet.
I screamed, “Keep T. J.! Keep T. J.!” Then I felt a boot in the middle of my back.
I soared like a bird, hit the ground, and rolled to the edge of the river. My eyes was blurry, and all I saw was Calvin ride deep into the woods. I crawled to my knees, my arm danglin like a wet rag. Pastor Jess hung out the window of the train, T. J. on his hip. I fell, took a deep breath, and watched as the river went black.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
I come to layin in a small cabin. A woman dabbed my face. My arm was braced between two strong sticks, and white strips of cloth tied them tight. They was no openin one eye, and ever breath I took felt like Calvin’s boot heel kickin me again.
“Where am I?” My mouth was so swelled I could hardly speak.
“You’re safe.”
The voice sounded familiar, but I struggled to figure things. My one good eye was blurry, and the light caused it to water like a well pump.
A soft whisper tickled my ear. “Worie, honey. It’s Bess.”
“Who?”
“Ely and the pastor got you home. You’re safe. Pretty tore up, but you’re safe.” She patted the shotgun settin next to her. “I’m a pretty good shot. Ain’t no reason for you to worry.”
“T. J.?” It was comin to me. “Where’s my boy?” I tried to raise myself off the pallet, but this lady would have nothin of it.
“No, no! You lay right back down. I told you everthing is fine. The pastor, the youngin, even that sheriff, they all here. Don’t you know me, baby girl? Come on now. Try hard.”
She squeezed the water from the rag and dabbed my lips. I felt myself lift from the bed.
“Am I dyin?”
“Lord have mercy, I hope to goodness not. You’re sure a mess though.” She patted my forehead with the rag. “Come on, honey, it’s Miss Bess. I changed your diapers when you was born.”
I shook my head, tryin to clear the cobwebs. “Bess? Ely?”
“Yessss. Oh yes, baby girl.” She come to her feet and run to the door. “Ely, she’s awake. And she knows me.”
The sound of boots across the slat floor reminded me of herdin cows. A man kneeled next to me. “Worie, it’s me. Justice. You ’member me?”
I lifted my hand to his cheek and nodded.
Tears filled his eyes, but as quick as they come, fury dried them. “I’ll kill him when I find him. You hear me? I’ll kill him for doin this to you.”
Ely touched his shoulder. “Come on, son, this ain’t helpin your sister. Help me tend to the sheriff.” He gently lifted Justice from his knees and led him out the door. “Bess, I’ll manage him. Spend your time on our girl. Hear me?” He brushed her cheek as he passed. She leaned her head into his touch.
“Lawsy, Miss Worie, you’s a mess.�
�� Bess lifted my head and poured a spoonful of something nasty into my mouth. I twisted my lips. “Don’t you spit that out. That’s castor oil and alum root. It’ll numb the pain.”
She was right. My mouth drawed tight as I swallowed.
“Where’s T. J.?” I grimaced to open my mouth.
“He’s as cute as a cherry on a tree. Doanie has him down at the creek. They’ll be along in a minute. That youngin was beside herself when the pastor carried that boy in.”
I tried to smile, but my mouth and cheeks was numb.
“Lordy, yes. That girl fell flat on her knees and went to bawlin like a whipped animal when she saw her little brother. She ain’t turned him loose since.”
I laid back. Ever bone in my body hurt. Things started to come to me, and I remembered Calvin and his thug shoving me off the train. I tried to take a deep breath, but it hurt too much. I groaned.
“Then we done good.” I spit some blood. “We got the boy.”
Bess tenderly wiped my mouth. “Yes, you did right good. Now take a sip of spring water. It’s right cold. Oughta feel good on that swolled lip.” She slipped her hand under my head and gently lifted me enough to drink. The water stung hard on my cut lip.
I tried to smile. Tried to nod. But anything I did to show my gratitude hurt too bad.
Bess lifted my arm and checked the ties. I could see the wheels in her head turnin as she looked over the sticks. “I believe Ely is gonna have to get me two bigger sticks. Your arm is swellin over these.” She made her way to the door. “Ely! Ely!” she shouted. “Bring in two more sticks for this youngin’s arm. These is too small.”
Her voice gnawed into my head. Just don’t squall no more. Please don’t squall no more. I’d never been drunk on shine, but Justice told me when the burn wears off, your head feels like it’s been hit with a coal bucket. My head hurt just like that.
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