Whispers in the Wind

by Al Lacy

  Before Dane returned to the boys’ coach he asked if Dr. and Mrs. Logan would pray that the Lord would give him foster parents who would see his heartfelt desire to become a doctor, and would help him get his medical education once he had finished high school. They assured him that they would pray to that end.

  The next day snow was falling heavily and was accompanied by a stiff breeze when the train pulled into Kearney, Nebraska, that afternoon. Since the weather was a problem, the orphans were taken inside the terminal building where the prospective foster parents could look them over. As many of the regular passengers looked on—including Dr. Jacob Logan and his wife—six children were chosen.

  Kenny was happy that Dane was not one of them.

  The next day, the train stopped in North Platte with two feet of snow on the ground, and four children were chosen. Another storm was approaching from the northwest.

  When it was time to get back on the train, Dane pushed the wheelchair past a group of regular passengers. He and Kenny heard one of the men telling the other passengers about Indian trouble in western Nebraska, northeast Colorado, and southeast Wyoming. Dr. and Mrs. Logan were in the group.

  Dane paused to listen, and at the same moment, Derek Conlan drew up and listened too. The man was telling the others that there was a Cheyenne chief named Black Thunder who was leading the warriors of his village in attacks on wagon trains, stagecoaches, and railroad trains that passed through that part of the country.

  Dr. Logan spoke his agreement that Black Thunder and his warriors were especially vicious, adding that they had a burning hatred toward white people and had vowed to kill as many as they could.

  The conductor called for everyone to board. As Derek carried the wheelchair into the boys’ coach while Dane was carrying Kenny, he told both boys that he and the other Society sponsors had heard much about Black Thunder’s attacks on trains, but so far no orphan train had been attacked. He went on to tell them that when Black Thunder and his warriors attack a train, they gallop up beside it while it is moving and fire their rifles through the windows of the coaches and the engines cab.

  “I really doubt they will do that now,” said Derek, “with so much snow on the ground and more snow obviously on the way. Trying to gallop in deep snow is too dangerous for both horses and riders.”

  “I hope they don’t,” said Kenny. “I don’t want no Indians shooting at us!”

  The train pulled out of North Platte, heading northwest toward Julesburg, Colorado, which was seventy miles away. Word had spread throughout the train about the Cheyenne threat under the leadership of Chief Black Thunder, and passengers were discussing it with fear-edged voices. Some of them stopped the conductor and asked him about it. He told them the weather would no doubt keep the Indians from attacking the train. Once they were in Cheyenne and beyond, they would be out of Black Thunder’s territory.

  Snow began to come down heavily, driven by a fierce north wind. The train stopped at Julesburg, and because of the near-blizzard conditions, few prospective foster parents were on hand.

  Two children were chosen, and soon the train pulled out and headed toward Cheyenne, which was some ninety miles away.

  After a half hour, the snow quit falling and only the wind was left. Within another hour, the sky was clear and the sun sent its pleasant light down on the snow-laden plains.

  When they were within forty miles of Cheyenne, with almost three feet of snow on the ground and drifts piled ten feet high at some spots, the train began to slow down and finally came to a halt. Passengers, including orphans, pressed their faces to the windows of the coaches, wondering why the train had stopped.

  Presently, the engineer and fireman entered the first coach and told the passengers the engine was approaching a trestle that spanned a deep gully, and they saw snow piled at least ten feet high on this end of the tresde. There was no way to tell just how far that depth of snow was on the trestle, and the engineer decided it was too dangerous to start across with the snow so deep. They had plenty of shovels in the caboose and would need the male passengers to help them remove the snow.

  Every able-bodied man in the coach volunteered. It was the same in the next two coaches, and by the time the engineer and fireman reached the orphan coaches, the conductor had already advised the adults and the children of what had happened.

  Conductor, fireman, and engineer went to the caboose and gathered what shovels they could carry and began distributing them in coach number three. They had a few left over, so they carried them into coach number two. Just as Dr. Logan was taking a shovel in hand, a woman in the coach pointed out a window. “Indians!”

  Everyone dashed to the right side of the coach and saw a band of Cheyenne warriors slowly riding toward the train through the three-foot depth of snow.

  Men dashed to the other coaches to sound the warning. Some men had guns and were preparing to defend the train against the savages.

  In the orphan coaches, frightened children peered over the bottom edge of the windows and looked on wide-eyed as the band of some twenty Cheyenne warriors approached the train. Each warrior was clad in a buffalo-skin coat with fur collar.

  Terror was running rampant among the passengers in the other three coaches.

  In coach number two, one of the armed passenger’s looked at the engineer and said, “Shouldn’t we open the windows so we don’t splatter glass when we start shooting?”

  The engineer was about to reply when Dr. Logan spoke up. “Hey! Their leader is holding up his hand in a sign of peace. I can guarantee you, he isn’t Black Thunder. I know what he looks like.”

  “Are you willing to go out there with me and talk to them, Doctor?” asked the engineer.

  “Certainly. I really believe these are not hostiles. I know a lot about the Cheyenne. If they meant to kill us, they would be shooting, not making a sign of peace.”

  The engineer told the fireman to go tell the people in the next coach and the orphan coaches to sit tight. One of the male passengers volunteered to take the same message to those in coach number one. The engineer thanked him. “Let’s go, Doctor.”

  Seconds later, everyone on the train was peering through the windows on the right sides of the coaches—including Dane Weston and Kenny Atwood. Dane’s admiration for Dr. Jacob Logan took a big leap when he saw the doctor going out to talk to the Indians with the engineer at his side.

  Outside, the engineer stayed close by Dr. Logan as he plodded through the deep snow and halted a few feet from the leader. “Do you speak English?”

  Remaining on his pinto’s back, the young leader nodded. “I do. My name Iron Hawk. We from nearby village led by Chief War Bonnet. We riding on high spot few minutes ago, see train stopped at bridge. See much snow piled on bridge. Think maybe you need help remove snow.”

  The engineer released his pent-up breath in a relieved sigh. He said to Dr. Logan, “We have enough shovels in the caboose if they want to help us.”

  Dr. Logan smiled. “Well, Iron Hawk, we really could use your help. We were afraid when first sighting you that you might be part of Black Thunders warriors.”

  Iron Hawk shook his head. “No. We not. We at peace with whites. Do not want bloodshed. We against what Black Thunder and his warriors do to whites.”

  Dr. Logan smiled again. “I’m glad for that, but you are different than any Cheyenne I have encountered. I am Dr. Jacob Logan. I have a medical office in the town of Cheyenne.”

  “We have reason we not hostile toward whites, Dr. Logan. Do you know what ‘born again’ means?”

  Logans heart skipped a beat. “You mean as in the Bible?”

  “Yes. Open heart to Jesus Christ and be born again.”

  “Am I hearing him right, Doctor?” said the engineer. “I used to hear a lot about being born again from my grandmother.”

  “We’ll have to talk about it sometime,” said Logan. Then he said to the Indian leader, “I am a born-again child of God myself, Iron Hawk.”

  Iron Hawk showed
his teeth in a broad smile. “Then you my brother.”

  “Wonderful! Are these other braves with you born again too?”

  Every one of them was nodding his head when Iron Hawk said, “Yes. People of our village, including Chief War Bonnet, have all become born-again Christians because of testimony of nurse from Denver name Breanna Brockman. She come to our village many moons ago when most of our village smitten with smallpox. She save many lives. Iron Hawks squaw, Silver Moon, has become very close to Breanna Brockman. We visit Chief United States Marshal John Brockman and his wife, Breanna Brockman, in Denver quite often.”

  Logan said, “I have heard of both Chief Brockman and his wife. We welcome you and your braves, Iron Hawk. We have many shovels in the caboose for just such an occasion as this. Please dismount. We will get the shovels and let the passengers know that you are peaceful toward whites, and are going to help us clear the bridge. We have others that I know of who are born-again Christians on the train.”

  Moments later, the male passengers joined the Indians at the tresde and began shoveling snow. Inside the train, passengers in the coaches talked with relief that these Cheyenne were peaceful toward white people.

  Dane Weston sat on his seat, thinking about what Dr. Logan had passed on to them. “God bless Breanna Brockman for the testimony she has for Jesus! When I meet her in heaven someday, I’m going to thank her for saving our lives.”

  Some two hours later, as the train chugged toward the trestle, Iron Hawk and his braves sat on their pintos and waved back at the people inside the train who were waving to them.

  In coach number two, Dr. Logan and Naomi talked in low tones together for about twenty minutes, then the doctor said, “All right, sweetheart, I’ll go get Dane so we can talk to him about it.”

  Less than five minutes had passed when Dr. Logan returned with Dane, who sat down in the empty seat ahead of them. “I’m ready to talk. What’s this about?”

  The doctor took hold of Naomi’s hand, and Dane could tell that whatever was about to be discussed had both people very excited.

  Dr. Logan took a deep breath. “Dane, Naomi and I have been talking and praying about something very important these past few days.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “The Lord has given you a special place in our hearts since we met you in Chicago, and—well, we want to take you into our home in Cheyenne and legally adopt you as our son.”

  Dane’s heart thundered in his chest. His face was a sudden mask of pleasant shock. He said breathlessly, “You mean it? You really mean it?”

  Naomi reached toward him and patted his cheek. “We really mean it, sweet boy.”

  The doctor tweaked Dane’s ear. “We sure do.” A sly grin was on his lips. “Well? What about it?”

  “Yes! Oh yes!”

  Other passengers heard Dane’s outburst and turned to look at him. When they saw that he was smiling broadly, they went back to what they were doing.

  “All right!” said the doctor. “Dane, we will see to it that you finish high school, and then we’ll send you to Northwestern University Medical School in Chicago.”

  Overwhelmed, Dane felt tears fill his eyes. He raised his eyes heavenward as the Logans looked on. “Thank You, dear Lord, for Your wonderful guidance and for answered prayer!”

  People were watching again as both the doctor and his wife stood up, bent over, and embraced Dane, telling him how happy they were that God had sent him into their lives.

  Before sitting back down, Naomi kissed Dane’s cheek. “I love you, son.”

  He grinned and wiped tears. “I love you too, Mama. And I love you too, Papa.”

  Dr. Logan chuckled happily. “And I love you, son.”

  When the train arrived in Cheyenne some three hours late, all the prospective foster parents were there—as were Mike and Julie Ross, who had come to pick up Kenny Atwood.

  They all stood in a group while the sponsors came to question them before the children were brought off the train.

  Mike Ross stepped up to Gifford and Derek as they drew up to the group. “Gentlemen, I’m Mike Ross and this is my wife, Julie.”

  Both stopped. “Oh, sure,” said Gifford. “We were on the train when you took your first orphan.”

  “Right. I recognized both of you. It’s been a while.”

  “Yes, it has,” said Derek. “Tell you what, folks. I’ll take you to the boys’ coach and we’ll get Kenny off for you right away.”

  “Sure!” said Julie. “The sooner the better.”

  When they drew up to the boys’ coach Derek said, “There’s a teenage boy who’s been taking care of Kenny since we left New York. His name’s Dane Weston. I’ll get the wheelchair off while Dane carries Kenny. Be right back.”

  Mike and Julie held hands while waiting. They noticed several boys looking at them through the windows of the coach.

  A moment later, they saw a dark-haired boy lift a small boy off the seat, then caught a glimpse of Derek standing in the aisle talking to them.

  Mike led Julie by the hand to the front platform of the coach, and at the same time, Dane came out with Kenny in his arms.

  Since Derek had already told them the Rosses were waiting outside the coach for Kenny, Dane smiled at them. “There they are, Kenny!”

  Kenny’s eyes danced with glee as Dane carried him down the metal steps of the platform and the Rosses moved up.

  Kenny looked at Mike, then set his eyes on Julie. The very instant Julie’s eyes captured those of Kenny Atwood, she lost her heart to him.

  “Hello, Kenny,” Mike said with a warm smile. “I’m your new papa and this is your new mama.”

  Derek came down the steps with the wheelchair and set it on the platform.

  Kenny reached for both of them, arms wide. “Papa! Mama!” Mike took him from Dane, and both the Rosses embraced the little boy, each kissing a cheek.

  Tears misted Julie’s eyes and love for Kenny filled her heart. “Welcome, son. We’re so glad to have you!”

  “We sure are!” said Mike. “We’re so happy and blessed to have you as part of our family. Welcome home!”

  All trepidation immediately left Kenny. He gave his new parents his lopsided grin. “Thank you. I’m glad to be home.”

  Dane pushed the wheelchair up close.

  Mike saw it. “Well, Mama, we’d better let our boy sit in his wheelchair.”

  As Mike eased the boy into the wheelchair, Kenny looked up at Dane. “You were right, you know.”

  Dane smiled. “Right about what?”

  “When you said that I would have a special caring family to take care of me. They’re wonderful!”

  Julie laughed. “We think you’re wonderful, honey.”

  Kenny flashed her another lopsided grin. “This is my friend, Dane Weston. He took real good care of me all the way here.”

  Mike playfully clipped Dane’s chin. “Good for you, Dane. Thank you.”

  “Yes, thank you,” said Julie.

  A serious look captured Kenny’s face. “Dane, I’m gonna miss you.” Then he said to his new parents: “Dane is being ’dopted by Dr. and Mrs. Logan. They live here in Cheyenne.”

  “It’s already settled, Dane?” asked Julie.

  “Yes, ma’am. We met them just before they got on the train in Chicago. During the rest of the trip, they decided they wanted to adopt me, so Cheyenne will be my new home.”

  “Papa?” said Kenny.

  “Yes, son?”

  “How far is it from here to Denver?”

  “Almost exactly a hundred miles.”

  “That isn’t real far, is it?”

  “Not really. Why?”

  “’Cause I want to see Dane when I can.”

  “Well, that isn’t beyond possibility, son.”

  “Of course not,” said Julie.

  “Good! Dane, will you come see me?”

  “I can’t say how often, little pal, but one way or another, we’ll get together once in a while. But in the meantime, I’ll wri
te to you.”

  “Oh, boy!”

  Dane turned to Mike. “Mr. Ross, would you have something you could write your address on for me?”

  “Sure,” said Mike, pulling a sales receipt from a shirt pocket. “I’ll put it on here. Julie, you have a pencil in your purse, don’t your

  Julie produced the pencil, Mike wrote the address on the back of the receipt, and handed it to Dane. “There you go, Dane. And if you make it down to Denver, please come see us.”

  “I sure will.”

  “Stay in touch, and maybe we can bring Kenny here to see you sometime.”

  “Sure enough.”

  Kenny saw Dr. and Mrs. Logan coming toward them as all the other orphans began filing off the train to form their usual line. He raised his arms toward Dane, who bent over and embraced him tightly. “Bye for now, Kenny. I love you, little buddy.”

  “Bye. I love you too, big buddy.”

  Derek came out of the boys’ coach again and handed Dane his medical bag and small stack of books. “Thought you might need these.”

  Dane smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Conlan. It’s been nice knowing you.”

  When Derek was hurrying toward the spot where the line was forming, Dane put the medical bag down, laid the books on it, looked at his new parents, and introduced them to Mr. and Mrs. Ross. The adults chatted for a minute or so, then the Rosses excused themselves, saying they had to hurry and catch the next train for Denver.

  Dane hugged his little friend one more time, and Kenny was still waving back at him when they passed from view.

  Dane picked up his books and medical bag. “Guess we can go now.”

  Both Logans put their arms around their new son and Jacob said, “All right, Mama, let’s take our boy home.”

  When they stepped outside at the front of the depot, a soft wind was blowing. Dr. Logan motioned to the driver of a hired buggy.

  Soon Dane was sitting between his new parents on the buggy seat behind the driver, and as it moved out onto the street, the wind seemed to kiss Dane’s face. He thought of the little song the orphans sang on the train—which was first read to him by Mona Baxter so many months ago.