The Chapel Car Bride

by Judith Miller

  He strained forward, hoping to hear what she was teaching the children, but decided against moving any closer. He didn’t want to cause a disturbance now that the children had ceased laughing and were listening to her every word. Maybe if he backed away, he could return to the chapel car and hear a little more of the preacher’s sermon. Besides, he’d like to get a look at the man fortunate enough to win the hand of such a beautiful young bride.

  He’d taken only a few backward steps when two men poked their heads above a stand of elderberry bushes. The young woman gasped, then frowned deeply.

  The two men came around the bush, and the taller man moved closer. “I see you got your hat all fixed up real fine. My friend thought he’d like to try it on for size.”

  The other man guffawed, yanked off a dirty cap, and ran his fingers through matted brown hair. “I always did think I’d look purty in a nice red hat.”

  The men started toward the young woman. She straightened her shoulders and pointed at them. “Stay right where you are.”

  The taller of the two took another menacing step in her direction, and one of the boys cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted toward the train. “Hey, Pa, Samuel Fields and his brother are out here. Come and take them inside the train. I think they’re lookin’ to find Jesus.”

  The boy’s effort was valiant, but his small voice went unheeded across the distance. The shorter of the two turned his gaze toward the boy. “We ain’t lookin’ to find Jesus, Johnny Wilson, so shut your trap afore I shut it for ya.”

  The young woman appeared to bristle at the man’s remark, and she took a step toward the men. “How dare you speak to a youngster in such a mean-spirited manner.”

  Luke grimaced. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to be within arm’s distance of the men. He could see that she needed more help than a group of young children could offer.

  He rushed forward. His pulse pounded in his temples. What would he do if the men didn’t take off running? “Get out of here!” His voice boomed across the short expanse.

  Startled, the two men backed up, but then stopped and eyed Luke. The shorter one grinned. “What you gonna do if we don’t? There’s two of us. You think you can handle us both?”

  Luke strode past the teacher and group of children. He should have thought this out before he made his move, but he couldn’t back down now. He took several long strides toward the men, then shoved his right hand beneath his jacket and let it rest there. Eyes narrowed, he tightened his jaw and hoped he looked more forbidding than he felt.

  When he was close enough for the men to hear him speak in a low voice, he nodded toward his right hand. “I don’t want to pull this gun in front of the children. I’d hate to shoot one of you with these youngsters looking on. It might scar them for life.” He arched his brows. “’Course it would do more than scar you.”

  The taller man glowered. “You can’t shoot us both afore we take ya down.”

  “Trouble is, you don’t know which one of you I plan to shoot. At this distance, I might even be able to get both of you before we’re done.” Luke kept his eyes fastened on the men. “I think both of you need to turn around, go home, and sober up before someone gets hurt real bad.” They hesitated and glanced at each other. Luke gave another nod toward his right hand. “Go on now, before the church service ends and those men inside discover what you’re up to out here.”

  The two of them mumbled, turned, and ambled away. Luke sighed and let his hand drop from beneath his jacket. What would he have done if they had called his bluff?

  A train hooted in the distance, and Luke glanced over his shoulder at the young woman. “Your husband should keep a better lookout for you, ma’am.”

  Before she could reply, he loped through the field and crossed the tracks toward the depot.

  CHAPTER

  4

  Kirby Finch stood in front of the building in downtown Pittsburgh that housed the offices of Finch Mining and Company. From an early age, Kirby had known he was expected to become the “and Company” portion of the business. Back then he hadn’t aspired to fill the position. He still didn’t. While he enjoyed the benefits that his father’s business afforded him, Kirby had no interest in the company. Or in work of any sort, for that matter.

  He much preferred to spend his days and evenings partaking in amusements of various sorts, primarily gambling—an illegal activity, yet one at which Kirby excelled. At least most of the time. He cared little whether it was horse racing, playing cards, or wagering on fisticuffs.

  Kirby turned to the policeman, who remained close to his side. “You sure we can’t work something out? If you wait down here, I’ll be back in no time with the money to cover my fine.”

  The officer shook his head. “The only reason you were released is because your father is Milton Finch. If it was my son who’d broken the law, he’d be in jail until I put up the money to bail him out.”

  There was enough bitterness in his voice that Kirby didn’t argue further. Side by side, the two of them ascended the marble steps leading to his father’s office. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. Kirby’s last escapade had resulted in an ultimatum from his father. If he couldn’t convince his father otherwise, Kirby would be on a train to Finch, West Virginia, in the very near future.

  The policeman knocked on his father’s office door, then nodded to Kirby. “Don’t just stand there. You heard him say ‘come in’ and so did I.”

  Kirby turned the brass doorknob and forced a broad smile. His father’s expression of pleasure swiftly turned to one of surprise and then anger. He pushed away from his desk and closed the distance between them in record time. His eyes burned with rage. “What have you done now, Kirby?” His attention moved from Kirby and lingered on the policeman.

  The officer released his grasp on Kirby’s arm. “Your son was among a group of men who were gambling in the back room of an establishment on Penn Avenue. We got a tip there were some high-stake games taking place most every afternoon. Guess they thought we wouldn’t suspect anything illegal was going on before dark.” He shook his head. “We’re not as uninformed as most criminals think we are.”

  Milton Finch’s jaw twitched. “So you were arrested? For gambling? Again?” He punched each question like an angry boxer going for a knockout.

  “So long as I pay the fine, the judge says he’ll release me to your supervision. I assured the judge he won’t see me in court again. I’ve learned my lesson. I promise it won’t happen anymore, Father.”

  “I’ve heard that promise before. I’ll pay the fine, but this time you’ll pay the consequences of your behavior.” He turned to the policeman. “How much? I’ll write out a check to the court.”

  Minutes later, the policeman tucked the check into his pocket and strode past Kirby on his way out the door. Kirby hesitated, uncertain whether he should sit down before being invited.

  His father shoved his large leather-clad checkbook into the center drawer of his massive desk. “Don’t just stand there staring out the window. Sit down. We’re going to have a long talk about your future.”

  Kirby dropped into one of the chairs opposite his father. “I know it’s time for me to take hold and do my part.”

  “Stop right there, Kirby. You’re not going to smooth-talk yourself out of trouble this time. The last time you got yourself into trouble, I told you to be prepared to make a move to our coal mine in West Virginia. I plan to keep that promise.” He leaned back in the chair and folded his hands across his midsection. “I’m going to send you down there to work. There’s unrest brewing among the miners. Maybe you can help discover who’s causing the problem. We can’t afford a strike, and I sure don’t want the union coming in there and organizing the men. You’ve proved you’re talented in sniffing out illegal activity. Let’s see if you can use that same ability to find out who’s causing the trouble in Finch.”

  Kirby drew in a sharp breath and prepared to battle the decision, but his father immediately waved him to si
lence.

  “I’m not changing my mind. You can argue as long as you like, but you’ll be on a train to Finch by week’s end.”

  “Since I’m being forced to leave home, I’m sure you’ll want to increase my wages.”

  His father laughed. “Quite the opposite. You’ll be paid only enough to cover room and board with a little extra to purchase necessities, but not enough to bankroll your gambling habit.”

  “That isn’t a fair exchange. I’m being sent off to live in a boardinghouse with strangers in a town where I don’t know a soul, and now you tell me you’re going to pay me next to nothing.”

  “What isn’t fair is the way you’ve squandered every cent you’ve been given since coming to work for the company. You’ve never given me an honest day’s work, and now you complain I’m being unfair.” His father shrugged. “If you don’t like the arrangement, you can go out there and make your own way in the world.”

  Kirby winced. He couldn’t carve out a place in the world. He didn’t even have enough money to buy his dinner. If only he’d saved a portion of the wages he’d been paid since coming to work for his father. But he hadn’t—not a cent. And now he’d pay the price for his careless choices and illegal activities.

  “How long do I have to stay there?” Kirby rubbed the kink in his neck.

  His father stood. “Until the problems are solved.”

  Hope fretted for the five additional days that she and her father remained in Brookfield. With each passing day, her fears had deepened. If her father learned of her encounters with the local hooligans, she had no idea what he might decide about her future. Every time she taught the children, she felt more assured that she belonged at her father’s side doing the Lord’s work and she didn’t want that to change. Two days ago, the railroad company offered to hook the chapel car onto a train going to Finch, but her father had refused. He’d promised to complete the much-needed repairs at the schoolhouse before they departed. And her father wasn’t a man who would break his word.

  Today the chapel car had been moved from the spur and coupled with a train going to Finch. Hope wouldn’t breathe a sigh of relief until the train had departed the station. Her father exited their car and stepped to the rear platform. He gestured to several of the workers and called out his thanks for joining their car to the train. One of the men chuckled and shook his head. “You shoulda let us hook you up to the train going to Finch a couple days ago. This here locomotive couldn’t pull a settin’ hen off her nest. Gonna take you a lot longer to get through the mountains.” He tipped his cap. “Good luck to ya. Enjoyed your sermons and hope to hear ya preach again. You maybe oughta whisper a few prayers afore you head up those mountain passes.”

  Another trainman nudged his friend in the side. “Stop trying to scare him, Henry. Ain’t no snow this time of year, so they’ll get through the passes just fine. Maybe a little slower than most, but just fine.”

  The men’s banter could be heard through the open windows of the chapel car. Hope winced. She had hoped to relax once the train left Brookfield, but now she wondered if they’d ever make it to Finch.

  The train belched a cloud of black smoke that slowly drifted to the rear of the train and through the open window. A long whistle signaled their departure as the chapel car lurched, jerking Hope forward. Her father held tight to the iron railing while he stepped inside and dropped into his chair. “Well, we’re on our way.” As the train chugged away from the station, he shot her a bright smile. “I thought you’d be singing for joy.” His smile faded. “Something troubling you?”

  “Didn’t you hear the men at the station? It sounds as though the locomotive on this train is far from reliable. What if we get stuck in the mountains?”

  “Those trainmen were joking. We may not arrive in Finch as quickly as we might have with another locomotive pulling us, but we’ll arrive safe and sound. You can use the time to prepare some new lessons. We’ll be in Finch for some time, and you won’t want the children to tire of hearing the same stories over and over.”

  Hope opened the desk and flicked through the folders her father had received from the ministry headquarters. She clasped her hand around a bulging folder labeled CHILDREN and lifted it from the drawer. Along with the preprinted tracts and lessons, there were designs to make crafts as well as short skits for children to perform. Unlike their other stops along the way, they’d be in Finch long enough to make use of these ideas. Her excitement mounted as she considered the possibility of the children performing a Christmas pageant, or the joy they’d experience giving their mother or father some special gift they made in her Sunday-school class.

  Images of the success she would have once they were able to establish a routine in the mining town flashed before her. She pictured towheaded boys and girls dressed in their Sunday best, flocking to the chapel car. Or maybe there would be a church like the one in Brookfield that was in need of a preacher to fill the pulpit. Wouldn’t that be grand! Folks wouldn’t have to squeeze into the chapel car for meetings, and she might even have a special room where she could teach the children.

  The train slowed and panted for new life before gradually chugging up another steep incline. With each ascent, Hope’s breathing turned shallow. When they finally arrived at the top, she blew out a breath. “I hope that’s the last mountain. I don’t think this train will make another climb.”

  Her father gestured for her to turn and look out the window. “I believe we’re coming down into Finch right now.”

  Hope twisted around in her seat and peered out the window during their descent. “Look at those houses. They look like they’re clinging to the side of the hill. I’m amazed they don’t topple over and wash away in a rainstorm.”

  Her father closed his Bible and put it inside the desk. “I’m sure they’re quite safe. Some of them have probably been on that hillside for many years.”

  No doubt he was right, but the ramshackle wooden houses looked no stronger than a row of matchsticks. There was nothing appealing about the sight, and she now wondered if the main portion of the town would be any more attractive. Their earlier stops had been in small towns, most of them somewhat impoverished, but they’d all had access to the main rail lines and weren’t so isolated. This coal camp was serviced by only one railroad trunk line, which catered to the coal company rather than to passengers. Of course, the coal camp was the end of the line and they’d come through only one other small town on the way. Still, Hope hadn’t expected to be surrounded by nothing but wilderness. Her father had assured her there were other small communities to the north and south, yet she wondered if he was merely attempting to appease her worries.

  Hope smiled weakly. “Looks like we’re in for quite an adventure. Somehow it feels as though we’ve departed civilization.”

  Her father chuckled. “I wouldn’t go quite that far. I’m sure we’ll both have a bit of an adjustment, but I think folks here will be much the same as those we’ve encountered since leaving Pittsburgh—glad to have a preacher and his daughter arrive in town.”

  When they’d departed Brookfield, she hoped they might move into a real house and temporarily leave their cramped quarters in the chapel car. However, one look at the wooden houses perched on the surrounding hillsides had changed her mind. Their limited space on the railroad tracks wouldn’t be as worrisome as living in one of those houses.

  A loud hoot announced their arrival, and soon one of the trainmen stepped into their car. He nodded toward the depot. “Not much of a station here.” He shot them a wry look. “’Course it ain’t much of a town neither, but I guess you knowed that or you woulda gone somewhere else. Just wanted to let ya know we’ll be moving your car onto that spur before we load the coal cars and head out. If ya don’t want to suffer through all the jostling, ya could take a walk into the main part of town. Ain’t much to look at, but ya might meet a few folks at the company store.”

  Hope stood and reached for her father’s hand. “Oh, please, let’s go, Papa. I need
to stretch my legs for a while. We can hand out leaflets to folks while we’re walking through town.” Before her father could answer, she stepped to a storage crate near the desk and removed a handful of the flyers.

  Her father pushed up from his chair, retrieved his hat, and grinned at the trainman. “It looks as though we’re going into town.”

  The worker tipped his hat before jumping down from the car. “Next time the train’s in Finch, I’ll try to attend a meetin’. You folks take care.” After shouting his parting words, he scuttled off and disappeared from sight.

  Hope handed the flyers to her father, then pinned her hat into place and made a futile attempt to finger-press the creases from her skirt. She sighed. After sitting for several hours, wrinkles were to be expected. Perhaps the walk into town would relax the fabric a bit. She wanted to make a favorable impression upon their new neighbors, but not enough to take time and change or press the offending creases from her skirt.

  Not far from the train depot, they made a left turn onto the county road that had developed into the main street of Finch, as well. Hope scanned the crooked line of wooden structures that constituted the Finch business district. It was a far cry from Pittsburgh. Instead of bustling into the new century, Finch looked as if it had ceased progress decades ago. Her stomach tightened. The other small towns on their route between Pittsburgh and Finch hadn’t offered the amenities of a large city, but she’d observed a sense of pride in the communities and an urgency to expand and grow. Finch appeared tired and worn, like an abandoned settlement left to die a slow death.

  Hope circled around a deep rut in the road. “From the look of things around here, folks don’t take much pride in their town.”