by Al Lacy
With that declaration, the parlor lanterns were doused, except for the one Ralph held in his hand. With Ralph in the lead, they followed him up the stairs. When they came to the door of Rex’s room, he said, “G’night, Ma. G’night, Pa.” He opened the door and stepped in.
Just before he closed the door, Norma said, “Son, aren’t you going to tell your new little sister good night?”
Rex set emotionless eyes on Deena. “G’night.”
The door closed in the middle of Deena’s, “Good night, Rex.”
Ralph moved on down the hall with Norma and Deena staying close behind him in the circle of light provided by his lantern. When he reached Deena’s open door, he set his lantern down on the hall floor, stepped into the room, and lit the lantern on the small table by her bed. It cast a warm glow around the room, and as Deena moved in with Norma at her side, she looked sleepily at the bed.
“Good night, Deena,” Ralph said. “You sleep tight now.”
“I’m sure I will,” replied Deena, stifling another yawn.
Norma hugged the girl and kissed her cheek. “Good night, dear.”
“Good night to both of you, and thank you, again, for choosing me.”
Norma smiled. “We’re glad we did. Sleep well. See you bright and early in the morning. There’s a nightgown in the top drawer of the dresser. It’s one of mine, but I think you can sleep in it all right.”
“Thank you, ma am.”
The Dexters stepped out into the hall, with Ralph closing the door.
Moments later, clad in the nightgown, Deena doused the lantern and snuggled between the sweet-scented sheets. Sleepy as she was, she let her thoughts go to her sister. “Oh, sis, I wish you were here instead of the obstinate Rex. Everything would be perfect then.”
She kept her mind on Donna, speaking to her in her thoughts, and soon was asleep.
The orphan train made a few more stops in Kansas, where small numbers of children were chosen, then it crossed the Colorado border. At the moment the sponsors in both coaches told the children they were crossing into Colorado, Donna Mitchell felt her sorrow and loneliness deepen. Somehow crossing the border made her miss Deena even more.
The first stop in Colorado was in Cheyenne Wells, which was seventeen miles from the border. The children were lined up as usual, with the boys and the girls interspersed.
When the prospective foster parents began moving along the line, Donna Mitchell noticed a couple talking to Betsy Gilder, showing definite interest in her. Donna could tell that Betsy liked them very much. Soon the man turned to Shelley Nelson, who was standing close by, and told her they wanted to take Betsy as their foster daughter.
Although Betsy was saddened to leave Donna, she was happy to have such nice people choose her. The girls had a tearful good-bye, and Donna smiled in spite of her tears as Betsy walked away between the man and his wife, looking back and waving.
On Tuesday morning, April 11, Sheriff Clay Bostin rode into the town of Wild Horse, Colorado, which was fifty miles west of the Kansas border.
He knew from people along the way who had reported seeing the black Appaloosa gelding with the spotted blanket coat on its haunches and the bulky-bodied rider he had described, that he was close on Shad Gatlin’s heels.
As he rode slowly down the town’s main thoroughfare, he let his eyes drift from side to side. “Lord, please let me catch him today. I know I’m getting close to him, and my instincts tell me that he may very well be in this town.”
Suddenly, he saw a black Appaloosa with a spotted blanket coat on its hindquarters tied at the hitch rail in front of the Wild Horse Hotel. The markings were so distinctive, Bostin knew it was the horse stolen by Shad Gatlin.
Moving to the next hitch rail, the sheriff dismounted and tied his horse to it. He glanced at the Appaloosa, and with a keen eye on the front door of the hotel, slipped up beside him. Making sure no one was looking, Bostin loosened the cinch beneath the horse’s belly a couple of notches.
As he walked toward the hotel, he loosened the Colt.45 in his holster. He’s in there, Lord. I can feel it in my bones. Please don’t let anybody get hurt when I’m in the process of capturing him.
Moving through the door, the lawman approached the desk where a skinny clerk with carrot red hair looked up at him through a pair of thick spectacles.
The clerk’s eyes went first to the badge on Bostin’s chest, then met his cool gaze. “May I help you, Sheriff?”
Bostin read the name tag on his shirt. “I think you can, Mr. Kappel. I’m Clay Bostin, sheriff of El Paso County. I’ve been pursuing a convicted murderer who escaped from the Colorado Territorial Prison at Canon City. His name is Shad Gatlin. Is he registered here?”
“There is no one registered here by that name, Sheriff.”
Bostin was concerned about Kappel’s edginess. “I’ve been on Gatlin’s trail for several days, Mr. Kappel. His horse is tied at the hitch rail right in front of the hotel. He must have registered under a false name.”
Melvin Kappel sensed that the young sheriff was no man to fool with. He must be extremely careful. “Well, uh … Sheriff, can you describe this outlaw for me?”
“He’s thirty-four years of age. Stands about five-ten. Weighs about two-forty. Has blunt features. Thick lips. Big ears. Has a mean look in his hazel eyes. His two upper middle teeth are missing.”
Kappel’s heart was pounding. His scalp felt as though tiny ants were running along the hairs. “Oh, him. He did register under a different name, Sheriff. He’s in room twelve on the second floor.”
Bostin thanked him and headed for the stairs.
Kappel kept a close eye on him, and when the sheriff topped the stairs and passed from view, he picked up a small sign that read: Clerk has stepped away for a moment. Will be right back. Placing it on the counter, Kappel dashed into the hotel’s restaurant. He paused just inside the door, running his gaze from table to table. When he spotted the burly outlaw, he rushed up to the table, bent low, and said in a hushed tone, “Mr. Gatlin, Sheriff Clay Bostin from El Paso County just came in looking for you.”
Gatlin set his cold hazel eyes on the clerk. “I paid you well to cover for me if any lawmen should come in lookin’ for me. What’d you tell him?”
Kappel swallowed with difficulty. “I sent him on a wild goose chase, Mr. Gatlin. I sent him to room twelve upstairs. You’d better get out of here fast.”
Gatlin stood up. “You didn’t tell him about Bart Caddo, did you?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Thanks, Melvin.” With that, he hurried out the back door of the restaurant into the alley.
“Bostin, huh?” he breathed to himself, and ran around toward the front of the hotel to get on his horse and ride. “He ain’t catchin me!”
At the same time, inside the hotel, Bostin was coming back down the stairs. As he moved past the desk, he looked at the clerk. “Gatlin’s not in his room, Mr. Kappel.”
Without waiting for any comment Kappel might make, Bostin hurried out the door. At the same time, he spotted the killer about to mount his horse. “Gatlin!” He whipped out his revolver. “Hold it right there!”
His jaw set in determination to get away, Shad Gatlin stepped in the stirrup. The saddle slid downward, dumping him on the ground. The frightened Appaloosa whinnied and stiffened, trying to back away, but the reins held him.
Before Gatlin could gain his senses, Bostin was standing over him with his Colt.45 cocked and aimed at his face.
Defiance came alive in the killer’s eyes.
“Don’t try whatever you’ve got in mind, Shad,” Bostin said icily. “I’d hate to take you out before they can get the noose around your fat neck.”
Gatlin licked his lips and leered menacingly at the sheriff, but did not move.
Bostin leaned over, slipped Gatlin’s revolver out of it’s holster and tossed it toward the boardwalk where people stood gawking wide-eyed. “Roll over on your belly.”
The outlaw licked his thick lips
again and did as commanded. Bostin holstered his gun, took the handcuffs off his belt, and shackled Gatlin’s wrists behind his back.
The crowd was gaining in size.
Bostin jerked Gatlin to his feet and ran his eyes over the faces of the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Clay Bostin, sheriff of El Paso County. My prisoner is Shad Gatlin. He’s a convicted murderer who escaped from the Canon City Prison only hours before he was to be hanged.”
At that moment, a man with a badge on his chest rushed up, noting Bostin’s badge. “Sheriff, I’m town marshal. My name’s Walt Crawshaw. One of the townsmen just came to my office and told me a lawman was capturing a criminal here in front of the hotel.”
“Yes, sir. I’m Clay Bostin, sheriff of El Paso County.”
“Oh, sure. I’ve heard much about you from some of the federal marshals who pass through here from time to time. And who is your prisoner?”
“Shad Gatlin.”
Crawshaw put narrowed eyes on the outlaw. “I know about him, Sheriff. He’s a cold-blooded killer. Wanted in New Mexico too.”
“Right,” said Bostin. “He broke out of the territorial prison the night before he was to be hanged. He had a grudge toward my deputy who had apprehended him over in Widefield. When he broke out of the prison, he beelined for my deputy’s house. Murdered him and his family, then headed east out of Colorado Springs. I’ve been on his trail ever since.”
“Well, I’m glad you caught him, Sheriff. Your plan is to take him to Colorado Springs on horseback?”
“That’s it.”
“Well, there’s a train from the East due to stop here this afternoon. I happen to know it’s going through Colorado Springs and will arrive there tomorrow morning. Would you rather make the trip on the train?”
“That would be nice, Marshal, but what would I do with my horse and the one Gatlin stole?”
“There’s a cattle car sitting on a sidetrack over by the depot. I’d be glad to talk to the engineer and the conductor when the train comes in, and get them to transport the two horses to Colorado Springs for you. The cattle car can be returned on the next train coming east from Colorado Springs.”
“Hey, I’d appreciate that, Marshal. That way I can see that he is taken back to Canon City and hanged sooner.”
Gatlin stared at Bostin with the intensity of a coiled rattler.
Bostin saw it, but ignored him. “So what time is the train due in, Marshal?”
“Three-fifteen.”
“Okay. Mr. Gatlin and I will be ready.”
Suddenly the day’s date came to Bostin’s mind. The incoming train was due to arrive in Colorado Springs tomorrow. “Marshal, do you happen to know if this train that’s coming in is one of the orphan trains?”
Crawshaw grinned. “Sure is. We’ve got farmers and ranchers I know of planning to come and look them over. Does it bother you taking your prisoner on a train that’s pulling coaches with all those children in them?”
“Oh no. I can keep him in check.”
“Well, I’ll take care of getting the cattle car hooked onto the train, and if you’ll bring the horses over to my office, I’ll see to getting them boarded.”
“Will do.”
“If you want to put this killer in my jail till it’s time to go, you’re sure welcome to do so.”
Bostin grinned. “I’ll take you up on that.”
There was hatred in Shad Gatlin’s eyes when he looked at the sheriff.
Chapter Nine
In his cell at the Wild Horse jail, Shad Gatlin—who was the only prisoner—sat on the bunk and looked at his pocket watch as he heard the sound of the train chugging into the depot with the bell on the engine clanging. It was just after three-thirty.
Rising to his feet, he sighed. “Bart, ol’ pal, I’m dependin’ on you.”
At that moment, he heard the door of the cell block open, and looked to see Sheriff Clay Bostin come in with one of the deputy marshals at his side.
While the deputy lifted the key ring from a hook on the wall next to the door, Bostin drew up to the cell, and pulled the handcuffs from his belt. “Okay, Shad. Time to get on the train.”
Gatlin neither spoke nor moved; the defiance in his eyes a silent challenge.
“Don’t look at me like that. You chose the path of a killer. I’m taking you back so you can pay for your deeds on the gallows.”
At the depot, the children were brought out of the orphan coaches as usual, once the regular passengers who were getting off the train had done so.
While the children were lining up for inspection and questioning by the prospective foster parents, Nurse Mandy Hillen moved up to Donna Mitchell, who was positioning herself between two boys.
“Are you all right, honey?”
Donna tried to smile. “Well, I can’t really say I’m all right, Miss Hillen. I’ll never really be all right till I see Deena again.”
“Well, maybe that day will come, Donna.”
“Miss Hillen …”
“Mm-hmm?”
“How far have we come since we left Salina?”
“Well-l-l … about three hundred miles.”
Donna’s lips pulled into a thin line. “That’s a long way. And who knows how much farther I’ll go before someone chooses me.”
Mandy hugged her, then drew back and looked into her sad eyes. “I know I can’t imagine how hard it is for you and Deena to be separated, honey, but just think about this. What if you’d stayed on the streets of New York and one of you froze to death or died from starvation? It could be worse.”
Donna bit her lower lip and nodded. “You’re right about that.”
As Mandy walked away, Donna thought about her twin and about Betsy Gilder, wondering if they were happy in their new homes.
Farther down the line, Teddy Hansen, Johnny Smith, Clint Albright, and Jerry Varnell prepared themselves for the interviews with the adults who were about to approach them.
A few minutes after the prospective foster parents began their inspection and interviews, a young couple in their early thirties stepped up to Donna Mitchell.
“Hello, little lady,” said the man. “My name is Ken Talbert, and this is my wife, Molly. We have a cattle ranch about ten miles south of town.”
Donna did a polite curtsy. “I’m glad to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Talbert. My name is Donna Mitchell.”
Molly smiled, showing a bright set of even, white teeth. “We noticed a few minutes ago that the nurse was talking to you and you seemed a bit upset. Are you all right, Donna?”
“As well as can be expected in my situation, ma’am. You see, I have an identical twin sister. Her name is Deena. She was chosen by a couple some three hundred miles back, in Salina, Kansas. It’s just so hard to be separated from her. The people who chose Deena couldn’t afford to take both of us into their home.”
“Oh,” said Molly. “I know about identical twins, and how close they are. I’m so sorry.”
Donna shrugged. “I’ve just got to make the best of it. Maybe time will help. I’m not sure.”
“How old are you, honey?”
“Thirteen.”
“Donna,” said Ken, “how did you and Deena become orphans? Did your parents both die at the same time?”
“Oh no, sir. They’re not dead. They just had to send us away from the apartment in Manhattan because they couldn’t afford to keep us any longer. We’re the oldest of seven children, and our mother is going to have another baby.”
The Talberts looked at each other, both showing the empathy they felt for the girl. They were deeply touched with Donna’s sorrows.
Ken nodded at Molly, and she nodded back. She then took hold of Donna’s upper arm. “Honey, as Ken and I watched you while you were talking to the nurse, we agreed that if you showed the charm and politeness we expected from you, that we would pick you to come home with us and be our foster daughter. This is what we want to do. We’ll do everything we can to make you happy if you will agree to come live with us.”
“That’s right,” said Ken. “We’ll give you a good home. We’ll provide for you and do everything we can to put happiness and real meaning in your life. We know if we tell the sponsors we want to take you, you will have to go whether you want to or not, but we wouldn’t do that to you. What do you say?”
Donna was touched by the offer. She knew they had to be kind people since they were considering her feelings. A far-off look captured her eyes as her mind went back to her home and family, and to the noisy, teeming streets of New York. The prospect of living somewhere so different from the harshness and poverty of where she was born was very appealing. She thought about the three hundred miles that now separated her from Deena, and told herself there might be a slight possibility of seeing her again. Certainly, the farther west she went, that possibility would grow slighter.
The Talberts waited patiently for Donna’s answer, watching the play of emotions on her young face.
A rush of gratitude came over Donna. Here was a fine couple that wanted her. I need a home and someone who will care for me and give me a promising future. And I also need someone to love and to make happy because they chose to take me into their home.
Donna set her eyes on the Talberts. A sweet smile curved the corners of her mouth. “Mr. and Mrs. Talbert, I would love to come and live with you. Thank you for wanting me. I will do my best to please you and to be the daughter that you want and deserve.”
Molly put her hand to her lips. “Oh, honey, that’s what we wanted to hear!” Ken and Molly smiled at each other, then at Donna as they hugged her in a three-way embrace.
When Ken let go of them, he set his eyes on Lorinda Radcliff, who was free at the moment and signaled to her.
As Lorinda drew up, Ken said, “Ma’am, we want to take Donna home with us.”
Lorinda noted the smile on Donna’s lips and the light in her eyes. “You look pretty excited about this.”
“I am!” said Donna.
Moments later, after the official papers had been signed, Ken carried Donna’s cloth bag as he and Molly guided Donna out of the depot toward the parking lot where their buckboard awaited them.