The Chapel Car Bride

by Judith Miller

  Her father gathered a stack of flyers and divided them in half. He smiled and nodded at one of the mounds. “You take those and I’ll hand out the rest. Looks like we’re going to have good weather for the rest of the day.”

  She nodded. “No need to ask about using the train station for my lesson with the children.” On the rare occasions when the weather hadn’t cooperated, they secured permission to meet in the train stations. But the clear skies and billowing clouds overhead indicated perfect weather.

  Together, they stepped off the train and headed into town. Her father’s tall frame still made her feel like a little girl when she walked at his side. She reached up and placed her hand in the crook of his arm. As they crossed the train tracks, she glanced about. After seeing those men at the tavern, Hope wasn’t sure what to expect, but she was pleasantly surprised as she and her father walked the main street of town. Though few in number, the buildings that lined the brick street in the main portion of town were reasonably maintained. And, if one could judge from the wares displayed in the windows and crates in front of the Brookfield businesses, the stores were well-stocked.

  Hope displayed a bright smile as they handed out tracts and visited with folks. When she spotted a young woman with two small children in tow, Hope asked for directions to the schoolhouse and inquired what time the children would be dismissed for the day. As four o’clock approached, she gained her father’s approval and headed off toward the school located on the outskirts of town, with his admonition to be careful ringing in her ears.

  The woman’s directions had proved accurate, and Hope spied the schoolhouse in the distance—a rather small frame building in need of repair and a fresh coat of paint. She’d mention the project to her father. No doubt he’d have it in fine shape before they departed. While the few schools she’d visited since leaving Pittsburgh didn’t resemble those she attended as a child, she soon learned that families placed a higher value on physical labor than education. Consequently, schools were constructed where they would gain maximum attendance from the surrounding farms and from the families living and working in the small towns.

  The late April sun beat down with unseasonable warmth, and the scent of honeysuckle and lilac filled the air. Hope’s shoes sunk into the soft ground as she trudged toward the school with her skirt swishing the tall grass. How she longed for the wide brim of her hat that had gone flying into the hands of those rowdy men earlier in the day. That hat would have blocked the sun from her eyes to perfection. Certain she heard voices in the distance, Hope stopped short and tented one hand above her eyes, then glanced toward a grove of pawpaw trees. There had been no ringing bell to announce the end of the school day, and there were no children in sight.

  Her heart pulsed a beat that resounded in her ears. She tamped down her fear and glanced over her shoulder. There was no one in sight. She sighed in relief as she stepped forward. Likely she’d heard nothing more than some birds nesting in the trees. Keeping her attention fixed on the uneven ground, she started as a flash of red fabric flew in front of her and landed near her feet. Her hat!

  She gasped and clutched the remaining flyers to her chest.

  CHAPTER

  2

  Four men jumped from their hiding place among the trees and greeted her with loud guffaws. They pointed to the remains of her bedraggled hat lying on the ground. The wide claret ribbon that had formed a fan-shaped bow along one side of the hat now hung from the brim as a limp and lifeless reminder of the men’s rough handling, serving as a warning of the treatment she might receive if she wasn’t careful.

  Hope’s heart continued to race. She took a deep, calming breath. Best to keep a level head and begin with kindness. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I see you’ve been checking on the pawpaws.” She forced a smile. “Doesn’t look like they’re ripe just yet.”

  One of the men spit a stream of dark juice into the tall grass. “You know all about pawpaws, do ya?”

  “I know they turn from green to brown as they ripen, and when you shake the tree, they’ll fall to the ground if they’re ripe. My aunt once told me that a pawpaw was ripe the day it hit the ground and was eaten by a raccoon.”

  The men burst into laughter, but their howls soon subsided. The tallest of the foursome hooked his thumbs in the straps of his overalls. “You ain’t from around these parts. We seen ya on the train.”

  She wanted to say that she’d seen him outside the saloon with her hat smashed on his head, but she didn’t want to do anything that might stir them up. No doubt they still had plenty of liquor in their bellies. “I’m traveling with my father. He’s a preacher and we’ve been holding church services in some of the towns we pass through. We’re having services tonight down near the train station. You’re all invited to join us.”

  “I’d like to join you, but not at no church meetin’,” one of the men jeered. They jabbed each other in the sides with their elbows and once again broke into raucous laughter.

  Hope ignored the remark and leaned down to pick up her hat. She tucked the ribbon inside the crown of the hat. With a bit of work she might be able to salvage enough ribbon to make the hat presentable, but that all depended on whether she could get away from these men.

  “I hope you won’t think me rude, but I need to get to the schoolhouse before the children head off to their homes.” She prayed for enough courage to get by the men without incident.

  Easing to her right to distance herself from the men, Hope took several steps forward. As if joined at the hip, the men moved in unison and stopped directly in front of her.

  The tallest of the group ogled her with narrowed eyes. “No need to rush off, pretty lady. What’s your name?” His lopsided smile revealed a row of uneven yellowed teeth, obviously discolored by the wad of tobacco pouched in his jaw.

  Beads of perspiration trickled down her back, and in spite of the heat, Hope shivered. How was she going to get away? The thought had barely crossed her mind when the sounds of shouting children and the peal of the teacher’s school bell rang through the afternoon air. When the men turned, Hope raced toward the school, waving the flyers overhead while calling to the children.

  She’d expected to feel one of the men grab her wrist or catch her by the waist, but once she took flight, she didn’t hesitate. Her shouts challenged the teacher’s clanging bell. “Chapel car services tonight at the train station! Come get a flyer to take home to your parents!”

  Soon she was surrounded by the children, all of them clamoring to learn more about the church service. Only then did she dare look back at the grove of pawpaw trees. While the men had disappeared from sight, she couldn’t be sure if they’d merely returned to their hiding place or headed back to the saloon. Her stomach knotted. She’d soon need to retrace her steps, and those men could be waiting anywhere along the way.

  “Good afternoon. I’m Lillian Stanley, the teacher here at Brookfield School.”

  Hope turned toward the soft voice. The quiet tone didn’t match the sharp-featured woman with pale skin and eyes as dark as raisins. Her shoulders were held erect, and a few strands of gray colored her dark hair. “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Stanley. I’m Hope Irvine. My father is a pastor assigned to the Herald of Hope chapel car. We’re going to be in Brookfield for a few days and we’ll be hosting church services. I hope you’ll be able to attend.” Hope stretched her arm in a wide arc to include the children. “All of you, as well as your parents.” She extended one of the flyers in Miss Stanley’s direction. “This tells a bit more about my father and the chapel car ministry.”

  While the teacher scanned the tract, the children scattered and hurried toward their homes.

  Miss Stanley tapped the flyer. “I’m certain everyone will be delighted to have the chapel car visit us for a while. The pastor of the small church in town moved away almost a year ago, leaving a void in the town and surrounding farms. The church was the gathering place for community events. Seems no one is willing to organize anything now that the preach
er’s gone.” She sighed. “Some of the farm wives thought I should try to organize some picnics and such, but my time is as busy as everyone else’s during the school year. Once school is out for the summer, I plan to go home to visit my family, so I won’t be around. But it would be wonderful if we could get a permanent preacher.” She arched her brows. “Any chance you and your father might stay in Brookfield?”

  Hope shook her head. “My father has a commitment to remain with the chapel car ministry, Miss Stanley, but I’m sure he’d be willing to send word of the need back home to the association headquarters. That might help. Why don’t you come and talk with him after services this evening?”

  Miss Stanley tucked the flyer into her pocket. “I’ll plan to do just that. If you’re not in any hurry to return to town, do you mind waiting until I’ve locked up the school and I’ll walk with you?”

  Hope nodded. Earlier, the arrival of the children had curtailed any further advances from the four raucous men. And now Miss Stanley would be at her side on the return to town. If the men were still hiding in the trees, she doubted they would show themselves since she wouldn’t be alone. Her prayers had been answered.

  She followed Miss Stanley up the two wooden steps into the schoolhouse. Rickety tables were being used as desks. Benches bordered the tables and looked as though they would collapse under the weight of more than one child. A broken window was covered with oilcloth, though Hope doubted it would keep out much rain. “Looks like the inside of the school is in need of repair as well as the outside.” She immediately clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. That was unkind.”

  Miss Stanley shrugged. “No need to apologize. You haven’t said anything I haven’t already told the school board. They say there’s no money to repair anything right now, so we must make do. I’m hopeful they’ll at least find sufficient funds to repair the window before next winter. Unfortunately, the school isn’t much of a priority to the residents of the county.”

  “My father is an excellent carpenter. I’ll speak to him and see if he can help.”

  They chatted and walked side by side until the rooftops of the buildings that fronted the main street of town came into view. Only then did the tension ease from Hope’s stiff shoulders. Thankfully, there had been no sign of the four men on their return. She tightened her grasp on the brim of her upturned hat and moved it to her left hand.

  The teacher pointed at the hat. “That’s a beautiful color. A perfect match for your suit, though it appears the ribbon has come loose.”

  “Thank you. I’m hoping I can repair it.” No need to tell Miss Stanley about her encounter with the bullies, especially since they’d safely arrived back in town.

  The teacher waved toward a white clapboard two-story house near the far end of the street, not far from where they stood. “That’s my boardinghouse, so I believe this is where we’ll part ways. I’ll see you this evening, and I look forward to speaking with your father about repairs to the schoolhouse.”

  “Oh, yes—of course, but you might want to arrive early. After services, he’s sometimes busy talking to folks until time for the late meeting he holds for the railroad workers.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be there by half past six at the latest.” Miss Stanley gestured toward Hope’s hat. “I do hope you’ll be able to fix the ribbon.”

  She realized then that her father would question how she’d regained possession of the hat. Hope wanted to keep it, but how could she? Her thoughts whirred as she searched for a solution that wouldn’t be a lie. And then it came to her. She could tell him she’d found it lying on the ground on her way to the schoolhouse. After all, the hat did come flying from the trees and landed at her feet. A stretch of the truth? Perhaps, but still the truth. At least that was what she told herself.

  As expected, her father noticed the hat, but he’d easily accepted her explanation and had even accompanied her into the milliner’s shop, where the owner quickly refashioned the ribbon and tacked it back in place. Though the bow wasn’t exactly the same, it was far better than anything Hope could have re-created. Upon learning how the hat had been damaged, the shop owner refused payment.

  “The opportunity to hear you preach will be compensation enough, Pastor Irvine. We’ve been praying for a new preacher for over a year now.” The milliner arched her thin brows. “Maybe the Lord will reveal that this is the place where you should settle with your daughter and wife?”

  Hope didn’t miss the expectation in the woman’s voice, nor did her father. He shook his head. “My wife died years ago, but my daughter and I will be continuing on to Finch for a period of time. I don’t know where the chapel car ministry will take us from there. While we can’t remain here, I’m pleased to have a short time to preach and pray with folks. Perhaps I can help with some necessary repairs to the church building so it will be in good condition when the Lord sends a preacher to Brookfield.”

  Though the shopkeeper appeared disappointed, she bid them a cheery farewell and promised to attend the evening service. Once outside, Hope slipped her hand into the crook of her father’s arm. “When I was at the school today, I met Miss Stanley, the teacher.” Hope detailed their conversation regarding the town’s need for a preacher, as well as a list of repairs for the schoolhouse. “She’s planning to come to the chapel car at six thirty and visit with you.”

  Her father slowed his stride and looked down at her. “I hope you didn’t promise her that I would stay until they’ve located a preacher. While I can likely complete the repairs you’ve mentioned, we need to continue on our journey.”

  “I made no promises. I only said I would tell you of the problems, though I did say you might possibly write or telegraph the association headquarters and mention the need for a preacher.” Her eyes met his. “Was that wrong of me?”

  He shook his head. “No, that was an excellent answer, and I’ll be happy to do at least that much. No town this size should be without at least one church where the folks can gather to worship. I look forward to meeting Miss Stanley.”

  When they returned to the chapel car, Hope glanced at the clock. She had planned to wash clothes, but the task would have to wait until tomorrow. For now, she needed to cook supper and then prepare her materials for the children’s class.

  She let out a sigh when she opened a cupboard and two metal lids tumbled to the floor. Rather than putting them in the rack where they belonged, she’d shoved them atop a small skillet after drying the dishes last night. “A place for everything and everything in its place.” Her father’s first instruction when she’d stepped into the chapel car had once again been affirmed. She knew the rule, but sometimes she simply didn’t take time to wiggle and jiggle each pot, book, or jacket into its proper position.

  While their railcar was certainly handsome and a worthy addition to any train, living in a space that measured only eighteen feet long required adjustments. She sometimes wondered whether a little more of the seventy-seven-foot chapel area would have been designated as living space if a woman had been in charge of the railcar’s design. The toppling lids were a reminder that she needed to heed her father’s rule. Stooping down, she picked up the two lids and carefully slid them into the wooden rack.

  She’d already become accustomed to the wide-eyed stares of visitors when they viewed the compact quarters that accommodated their two berths, a dining room with fold-up table, a study with typewriter, desk and library, a kitchen with range and closet, an ice chest, pantry, wardrobe, toilet room, and a heater that was supposed to heat the entire car, though her father admitted it was a poor excuse for a heater. She hadn’t asked him what they would do when winter arrived in West Virginia, for she feared it would give him even more reason to believe that she shouldn’t travel with him.

  Supper this evening would be simple—fried potatoes, eggs, and a small piece of ham. More like breakfast than supper, but her father never complained. He was always appreciative of anything she placed in front of him. For that she was grateful. And sh
e was also grateful that as soon as she began her meal preparation, her father moved to the sanctuary of the chapel car to read his Bible, pray, or work on his next sermon.

  She hummed as she peeled and sliced potatoes and then scooped them into a grease-coated iron skillet. When the potatoes were almost done, she fried a piece of ham and then cracked eggs into the sizzling skillet. Leaning toward the doorway that led to the sanctuary, she called to her father. “Time to set up the table, Papa.”

  He stepped into their living quarters, removed the table from behind his desk, and unfolded the legs. Moments later, they were seated at the small yet surprisingly sturdy table. Her father gave thanks for their meal and then forked a slice of potato. “You did a fine job in such a short time.” He smiled across the table at her. “I’ve been praying that we’ll have a good turnout this evening. How did the children respond? Did they appear eager to attend?”

  She nodded. “Eager and curious. They all want to see the chapel car. They’ve never heard of such a thing, so they were very interested. I think we’ll have a good number attend. Miss Stanley mentioned that many of them live on farms, so I don’t know if their parents will be willing to hitch horses and wagons for the drive into town. I told them we would probably be here on Saturday and Sunday, as well. If they don’t come this evening, I’m sure most of them will attend some time while we’re here.”

  “I know I can’t expect everyone to come to all of the meetings, but it would be nice, wouldn’t it?” His eyes glistened with excitement. “I wish I could spend the time to preach of God’s love at every stop on our journey.”

  “We would never arrive in Finch if we spent time at every stop, Papa.” Hope sopped a piece of bread in the creamy egg yolk and put the bread into her mouth.

  “I know, but I often wonder about the people in the towns we pass by.” His words bore a note of melancholy that contradicted his smile. He pushed back from the table. “No time to fret about such things right now.” He nodded toward the window. “Is that Miss Stanley approaching?”