Trouble on the Orphan Train

by Marianne Hering

  “We’ll take him,” the man said. “We need someone to help with the farm. We need an honest, God-fearing boy to be our son. We lost our own two boys in the war.”

  The boy’s face had a strange expression. His eyes gleamed, but his mouth fell open. He looked happy and scared all at once.

  Beth wondered what he was thinking. He’d never even talked to those people. Yet they would be his new parents!

  Suddenly the Imagination Station’s windshield was covered in bright colors. The colors began to whirl. Beth couldn’t see what was happening anymore.

  She yanked the machine’s door handle. The door flew open.

  All at once, Beth found herself falling.

  Patrick stared at the boy who threw the apple. He was wearing a jacket, knickers, and a bow tie just like Patrick’s. He was missing his front teeth. He slid his tongue through the gap and wriggled it.

  Just then Mr. Alford said, “Patrick, I’d like you to meet Miss Cookson. She’s an agent for the Children’s Aid Society.”

  Patrick quickly shoved the apple into his pocket.

  Miss Cookson rose from her seat. She walked up the aisle toward him. Mr. Alford followed her.

  Miss Cookson was wearing a long black skirt and cape. She held a small black-satin purse. Several large fake lilies were on her floppy hat.

  Patrick thought she looked all set to attend a funeral. She was wearing the right color. And she could just leave the flowered hat on the grave. It would make a nice bouquet.

  “Miss Cookson,” the conductor said, “this boy is in need. Perhaps the Children’s Aid Society can help him.”

  Miss Cookson smiled at Patrick. Her face seemed nice. It was round with rosy cheeks.

  “God’s grace is with you,” Miss Cookson said. “Several of our orphans have found homes already.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?” Patrick asked.

  Miss Cookson opened her purse. She took out a thick piece of paper. It was the size of an index card.

  “Those children aren’t riding the last part of the orphan line,” she said. “I have extra tickets.”

  She handed the conductor the piece of paper.

  Mr. Alford pulled a metal hole puncher out of his pants pocket. He punched a star-shaped hole through the ticket. He handed it to Patrick.

  “Don’t lose this,” Mr. Alford said. “I need to punch your ticket at every stop.”

  “Thank you!” Patrick said.

  Mr. Alford left the car.

  Patrick put the ticket in his jacket pocket next to Eugene’s letter.

  He scanned the passenger car. He didn’t see Eugene or Beth. There were several empty seats. He planned to sit down and read the letter.

  He chose an empty seat in the front of the car. But Miss Cookson motioned for him to stand up.

  “All the orphans must sit in the back,” she said. “Come this way, please.”

  Miss Cookson led Patrick to the orphans. The two girls and two younger boys were sitting in one row. Patrick spotted the boy who had thrown the apple. He was surrounded by three empty seats.

  Figures, Patrick thought. No one wants to sit near that kid.

  Miss Cookson introduced the boys to each other. “Patrick,” she said, “please take the window seat next to Leonard. You’ll become good friends.”

  Patrick doubted that. But he was willing to try.

  Leonard smiled. He seemed happy to meet Patrick.

  Then Miss Cookson turned around to return to her seat.

  Patrick tried to pass Leonard to get to the window seat. But Leonard blocked his way. Then he stuck out his tongue.

  “I need to sit down,” Patrick said, scowling. “Let me pass.”

  “Do you like apples?” Leonard whispered. “I do. I wish I had mine back.”

  Patrick didn’t want to return the apple. He had a feeling that Leonard would throw the apple again. But the apple didn’t belong to him.

  So Patrick took the apple out of his pocket. He held it out to Leonard as a gesture of friendship.

  Leonard ignored the apple. He stood up.

  “Miss Cookson!” Leonard shouted. “The new boy just took my apple!”

  Beth’s head felt dizzy. All around her were spinning colors. The air was cold. Her lungs hurt when she breathed.

  She had no idea how long she fell. Or if she was really falling at all.

  Moments later Beth found herself tumbling on some grass. She rolled down a short hill. Her elbow banged into a rock.

  “Ouch!” she said. She stood up and rubbed her bare arm. She looked around for the Imagination Station. It wasn’t there. It may have never even landed.

  Beth was on a little hill overlooking a small wood building. It was painted gray. Pines, oaks, elms, and other trees surrounded the area. Vines were growing everywhere.

  Beth could also see a railroad-crossing sign and train tracks. A small train was stopped in front of the building. But she couldn’t see who was getting on or off. The building blocked her view.

  The air smelled fresh and smoky at the same time. A chilly breeze whipped through the trees. She shivered and wished she had a coat.

  Beth looked at her clothes. She was in a nice white cotton dress. Her shoes were sturdy black boots with black shoelaces.

  She reached for the dress collar. The fabric had a pattern. It felt like lace.

  Just then she saw something small falling from the sky. It was coming straight toward her.

  Beth stepped aside and covered her head. A yellow gourd landed near her feet. The gourd bounced and rolled a bit before stopping.

  Beth picked it up. It was dry and hollow. Inside she found a small book, a large tooth, and a bottle of medicine.

  The book title was English-Waodani Dictionary. The medicine was to stop infections. The tooth looked as if it was from a jaguar.

  “The wrong gifts again,” she said to herself. “The Imagination Station is still acting wonky.”

  She put the tooth in her dress pocket. But she left the gourd on the grass. She walked toward the train tracks and building.

  Suddenly a whistle blew three times.

  The train was leaving! Had Patrick or Eugene gotten on the train?

  Beth ran as fast as she could down the hill.

  The Apple

  Miss Cookson turned around when Leonard shouted. She didn’t look kind anymore. She was frowning sternly. Her eyes were black and beady like an eagle’s.

  Patrick gulped. He did appear to have stolen the apple. It was in his hand.

  Leonard started to cry. “Send the new boy away, Miss Cookson!” he said. “He’s a thief.”

  Patrick was amazed that the boy could act so well. Leonard truly sounded frightened. And his tears were real. Droplets rolled down his cheeks.

  “I know this looks bad, ma’am,” Patrick said. “But—”

  “There will be no tale telling,” Miss Cookson said. “Return the apple at once.”

  Patrick wanted to roll his eyes in exasperation. But he blinked several times instead. Inside he was counting to ten. One, two, three . . .

  Slowly he handed the apple to Leonard.

  The orphan boy’s tears were still flowing. He sniffled a few times. Then he reached for the apple.

  “Ew,” Leonard said. “It’s mushed.” He looked at Patrick. “You bruised it.”

  Four, five, six . . . Patrick counted higher.

  Leonard lifted the apple to show Miss Cookson. It did have a large brown spot on one side.

  “Whoever bruised that apple was wasteful,” Miss Cookson said. “I’m speechless.”

  So was Patrick. “I, I, I . . .” was all he could say.

  Leonard leaned a little toward Patrick. He whispered so only Patrick could hear. “If I had some candy,” he said, “I might sit down and be quiet.”

  Patrick’s anger was boiling. Seven, eight, nine . . . He choked back angry words.

  Patrick shoved his hand into the right pocket of his knickers. He pulled out a piece of candy. “He
re,” he muttered. He opened his hand and showed Leonard the wrapped sweet.

  “I saw from the window. I know you have three pieces,” Leonard whispered.

  Patrick ground his teeth together. He took out the other pieces of candy. He held out all three. Ten!

  Leonard snatched the candy from Patrick’s palm. Instantly his tears stopped. He sat down and unwrapped one piece. He popped it into his mouth.

  The train whistled three long bursts of sound. Then the bell rang. The locomotive began to move.

  Miss Cookson seemed satisfied that Leonard was happy. She moved down the aisle two rows and sat down.

  Patrick was not going to sit next to Leonard. This time he chose a pair of seats across the aisle. He sat in the window seat and turned his back to Leonard. He took out the letter from his jacket pocket.

  He needed more light to read. He lifted the window shade. Patrick peered outside.

  The train was pulling away from the platform.

  And Beth was running alongside the locomotive. She was yelling at the engineer.

  “Stop the train!” she shouted. She waved her arms. “Stop the train!”

  Beth

  Beth kept her eye on the train. Streams of smoke puffed out of the smokestack.

  The great black wheels groaned as they turned. The long rods moved slowly up and down as the wheels rolled.

  Loud hissing sounds came from the engine. A cloud of steam spewed from underneath the train.

  The heat washed over Beth. She ran in a wider arc to avoid being burned.

  “Stop the train!” she shouted again.

  Patrick needed to get to the back door. It was behind Patrick’s and Leonard’s row of seats. Patrick sneaked to the door.

  Leonard was watching. But Patrick didn’t care. “No tale telling,” he said to Leonard.

  Patrick grabbed the doorknob, turned, and pulled. The door swung open. He quietly sneaked out. He closed the door softly.

  Patrick stepped outside onto a wide platform. A gust of wind washed over him. He swayed a bit and grabbed the railing to steady himself.

  The train began to really roll now. The squeaks and groans of the wheels and rods were loud.

  Just then he saw Beth running alongside the train. She looked out of breath. Her face was red with effort. Her arms were pumping wildly.

  Patrick shouted, “Don’t give up!”

  Beth was falling farther back. Soon the train would pass her.

  Patrick heard the clickety-clack noises of the tracks. He heard the metal wheels grinding as they turned.

  Patrick also heard someone behind him. He looked over his shoulder. Leonard was there, right behind him. The boy grinned.

  “I’m not tale telling,” Leonard said.

  Beth was running full speed right beside the last car. Her dress was flapping in the wind. Her hair was bouncing on her back with each stride.

  Patrick scuttled down the platform stairs. He leaned over. He bent as low to the ground as he could get. He stretched out his arm and called to Beth, “Grab my hand!”

  “She’ll never make it!” Leonard shouted. “She can’t run fast enough!”

  Patrick felt Leonard’s hands on his back.

  He’s going to push me off the train, Patrick thought.

  Patrick looked over his shoulder. “Leave me alone!” he shouted at the orphan.

  Just then Patrick felt Beth’s hand grab his wrist. He swung his head around and focused his attention on her. He clasped her wrist and pulled.

  Beth lifted off the ground, but not high enough. She landed on the ground again. She was still running.

  Patrick felt her hand slipping from his wrist. He grabbed her palm this time. He squeezed her knuckles as hard as he could.

  Just then, Leonard’s arms wrapped around Patrick’s waist. The boy pulled Patrick backward and anchored him.

  Patrick gave a mighty tug. Suddenly Beth was on the stairs. She fell on top of him. Patrick leaned back into Leonard.

  “Ow!” Leonard said. “Don’t squish me.”

  The three children crawled and shuffled away from danger. They scrambled farther back to the safety of the platform.

  Beth was gasping for breath. “Thank you,” she said, panting.

  Patrick’s heart was pounding. He couldn’t believe Beth was safe. And he couldn’t believe that Leonard had helped.

  “Thank you, Leonard,” Patrick said. “Beth would be walking if it wasn’t for you.”

  Leonard shrugged. “I just want to see you get in trouble,” he said. “Miss Cookson’s gonna give you a tongue-lashing.”

  The Letter

  Beth’s breathing steadied as she sat on the platform. She flexed the hand that Patrick had squeezed. The pain was going away.

  A gentle breeze blew in her face. The train was chugging along now. The platform vibrated with motion. The car swayed slightly whenever the train tracks curved.

  A woman stepped out onto the platform. She wore black clothes and a large black hat with white flowers.

  “Leonard! Patrick!” the woman said sternly. Her hands were on her hips. “I have looked all over the train. You boys have some explaining—”

  Miss Cookson stopped taking when she saw Beth sitting next to Patrick.

  “Hello,” Beth said with a smile. She recognized this woman as the agent from the Children’s Aid Society.

  Beth stood up. “My name is Beth,” she said. “I’m Patrick’s cousin. I got on at the back of the train because I was late.” She held out her hand for a handshake.

  Miss Cookson looked stunned. She gently squeezed the tips of Beth’s fingers with her own.

  “Where are your parents?” Miss Cookson asked.

  Beth gulped. She didn’t know how to answer truthfully. She looked to Patrick for a clue.

  But Patrick’s face was hidden in his hands. He was no help.

  “My parents,” Beth said slowly, “are with Patrick’s parents.”

  Miss Cookson gave Beth’s hand another gentle squeeze. Then she let it go.

  “I’m so sorry your parents aren’t with us,” Miss Cookson said. “But the Children’s Aid Society can help you.”

  Beth nodded.

  “It’s very strange that you weren’t on the station platform with Patrick,” Miss Cookson said. “What made you dillydally?”

  Beth blushed. “I heard the whistle and bell only at the last minute,” she said softly. “I was behind the train station. My imagination kind of ran away with me. It seemed as if I had been in another world.”

  Apparently Miss Cookson was not fond of creativity. “Let’s talk no more about such fanciful subjects,” she said. “Orphans need a good dose of reality.”

  Miss Cookson then sent Leonard back inside. Leonard obeyed.

  Then Miss Cookson looked down at Patrick.

  He stood up and straightened his suit jacket. “Ma’am?” he said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you had a cousin?” Miss Cookson asked.

  “I hoped she was already on board,” Patrick said. “I didn’t see her inside the station. And she wasn’t on the platform.”

  Miss Cookson sighed and shook her head. She seemed annoyed. Then she motioned the cousins to get inside the railcar.

  “I’ll get Beth a ticket once you’re seated,” Miss Cookson said. “Conductor Alford is not going to like this at all.”

  Beth went in first and then Patrick. Miss Cookson was last.

  Miss Cookson assigned Beth a seat in the passenger car. She let Beth and Patrick sit together. Leonard was across the aisle. He had an empty seat next to him.

  “I’m going to find Mr. Alford about Beth’s ticket,” she said to all three of them. “Stay seated and be polite.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Patrick said.

  “Thank you, Miss Cookson,” Beth said.

  Leonard only grinned.

  Miss Cookson left the passenger car. Leonard leaned across the aisle. He grinned at Beth. He pulled an envelope out from the inside pocket of his jacket.
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  “What will you give me if I give you this?” Leonard said. He waved the envelope at Patrick.

  Patrick wanted to snatch the envelope out of Leonard’s hand. He reached across Beth and tried to grab it.

  But Leonard was faster. The orphan put the envelope back in his jacket. “Be careful,” he said, “or the letter might get burned.” He nodded his head toward the woodstove four rows up.

  Patrick got angry and pointed a finger at the orphan. “You pickpocket!” he said to Leonard. “You weren’t trying to help me get Beth on board. You were stealing from my jacket pocket!”

  Leonard grinned. “I wanted more candy,” he said.

  “I’ll tell Miss Cookson,” Patrick said. “I can prove the letter is mine.”

  “Miss Cookson doesn’t listen to tale telling,” Leonard said with a smirk.

  Beth pulled the jaguar tooth out of her dress pocket. She held it up by her first finger and thumb.

  Patrick recognized the shape of the tooth. It was like some he’d seen before in the rain forest. That meant the gifts were getting mixed up.

  Beth moved the tooth back and forth. Leonard’s brown eyes followed the movement of the tooth. He slowly reached out a hand toward it.

  Patrick leaned across Beth and pushed Leonard’s arm down. “Use your eyes,” Patrick said, “not your hands.”

  Beth smiled. She closed her fist over the tooth. “Anyway,” she said, “the jaguar tooth is mine.”

  Leonard’s eyes bulged. “A real jaguar tooth?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Beth said. “It’s worth way more than a letter.”

  Patrick knew the orphan had outsmarted him again. He sighed.

  “Beth,” Patrick said, “the letter is from Eugene. Give him the tooth.”

  Beth shook her head. “Nothing Eugene has to say is worth that much,” she said.

  Patrick was now getting angry at Beth, too. He said, “That letter is important, and you know it.” His tone of voice was tense.

  Beth glared at him. “The tooth is too valuable,” she said calmly. “And that’s a fact.” She looked at Leonard. “What else do you have?”