by Jody Hedlund
Barclay began to put his shirt back on even though parts of it were burned clear through. “Aye, sure do wish we had ourselves a way to teach that crabbit a lesson about behaving like a good neighbor.”
“I guess not everyone can be the perfect neighbor like you, can they?” Reinhold tried to lighten his voice past the frustration cutting through him as sharp as a saw blade.
“That’s for sure.” Barclay gave him a beaming smile, one that lifted his mustache and lit his round face. “Ye won’t find another neighbor like me even if ye searched the whole world over.”
Somewhere over the past two years of hardships, Reinhold had lost his ability to jest and tease. But when he was with Barclay, that playful side sometimes emerged again. Barclay seemed to have a way of finding and bringing it out of him.
“And because I’m such a good neighbor, I was bringing ye news that ye’d be a pure idiot to miss.”
“As much as I appreciate the invitation to one of Euphemia’s dinners, I can’t take the time this week.” Reinhold was too embarrassed to admit that he’d worked last Sabbath and planned to do it again this week.
Barclay made another disapproving noise at the back of his throat. “Yer as stubborn as a raccoon holdin’ a copper penny, don’t ye know it? If ye’d take my offer of Alastair and Fergus’s help, ye’d be done with the haying by now.”
“You need them more than I do.” The Duffs had moved to Mayfield Township four years ago from western New York after selling their dairy farm. Barclay had purchased three hundred sixty acres of prime land and was well on his way to having one of the largest dairy farms in central Illinois.
Barclay glanced at his two sons, who stood next to Jakob. Alastair and Fergus’s legs stuck out of the bottom of their britches by several inches, their knobby ankles as scratched as their bare feet. They were growing fast, likely too fast for Euphemia to keep up with.
Their boisterous voices and laughter wafted as heavy and thick as the smoke. Jakob was grinning, his face more animated than it had been all week—since the last time one of the boys had stopped by. Their easygoing manner always brought out the best in Jakob in a way Reinhold couldn’t seem to do.
Barclay was fortunate his older sons still lived at home and hadn’t branched out on their own. But they both knew it was only a matter of time before they married and headed off.
There was always too much work and never enough hands, even for the Duff family. And although Reinhold had taken Barclay’s offer of help from time to time, he’d refused to make a regular practice of draining his friend’s already limited resources.
Barclay wiped at his perspiration again. “We were just in town and heard the news that a train of them eastern city orphans is passing through soon. Ye need to go and get yerself a couple of boys.”
Reinhold’s mind flashed to the image of Liverpool, the hardened orphan boy Mr. Turner had brought back to the farm last summer. Reinhold had taken the time to talk with the boy, to encourage him and teach him a few things. He’d hoped to make a difference in the boy’s life. But he’d only been fooling himself into thinking that was possible, especially when Liverpool had gotten into so much trouble.
Who was he to think he could take in any other orphans when he’d failed so miserably with Liverpool?
“They can help ye with the harvest,” Barclay said.
The possibility of acquiring extra farmhands was tempting. If they were under eighteen years of age, like Liverpool, the families didn’t have to pay the orphans wages. In exchange for work, the families were required to feed, house, and clothe the orphan children who came to live with them. More than that, they were asked to treat the orphans like members of their family, taking them to church and helping them to attend school.
Reinhold shook his head. If he couldn’t take Jakob to church and didn’t spare the boy the time off for school, he’d be hard pressed to do so for an orphan.
“Don’t be a Dunderheid again,” Barclay said, looking pointedly at his overripe hay. “Ye need the help. Get an orphan boy or two.”
The scattered swaths drying on the ground reminded Reinhold of the many steps that went into haying, that he was only at the beginning of his harvest, and that he and Jakob had weeks of work left ahead of them.
“All right,” Reinhold said, holding in a sigh. “I’ll think about it.”
Chapter 4
The squealing of steel against steel from an approaching train grated against Sophie’s nerves, which were already frayed as thin as the bag she clutched.
“Stay right by my side,” she hissed to Olivia and Nicholas, even as she drew them closer.
The people coming and going on the train platform swelled around the group of orphans, threatening to rip them apart. Sophie feared that a passerby would recognize her and Anna and point them out for the frauds they were. Worse, what if someone from the Roach Guards was in the crowd and recognized them?
Sophie darted a glance toward the depot. Several young men had been loitering on benches near the doorway before the group of orphans had arrived a short while ago. What if the Roach Guards had sent the men to prevent her and Anna from leaving town?
“Keep your head down,” Anna murmured from behind, her voice laced with the same anxiety Sophie felt.
If only they could board their train car . . . then they could hide away again.
The day before, after they’d left Mollie’s tenement on Mulberry Bend, they’d skirted main streets and stayed to back alleys as they half walked, half ran to the Children’s Aid Society, hoping all the while that no one would see them. They passed a drunk digging through a trash barrel. And they dodged an old woman setting up her corner vegetable stand with shriveled cabbages and potatoes.
When they’d finally reached their destination and pounded on the front door, one of the workers ushered them inside without any questions. The two grandmotherly women who seemed to be in charge of the gathering of orphans had been kind and didn’t seem to recognize Olivia and Nicholas from their brief stay last time. Sophie supposed the Children’s Aid Society workers saw so many children that they couldn’t possibly remember all the faces and names.
Even so, she gave the Society workers a false last name as she’d done so often at the asylums. She would have attempted to disguise their first names too, yet she knew Olivia and Nicholas wouldn’t have been capable of carrying out a name-change charade for long.
The women had provided them with the chance to bathe and had also given Nicholas a much-needed haircut. Then they’d offered each of them two new outfits, one to wear during their travels, and one to save for the day they were scheduled to meet their new families. Sophie had an easier time locating suitable garments for Olivia and Nicholas from among those available. But there were fewer choices for her and Anna, dresses that were plain and serviceable, nothing flattering or pretty or colorful.
Sophie gladly took what was offered, knowing if she didn’t wear it for herself, she could sell it when she reached Chicago and fetch a fair price for other things they might need.
When the grandmotherly workers asked Sophie and Anna about their families, Sophie had explained that Olivia and Nicholas were her sister and brother and their parents were deceased. “No, no one wants us, and no one will care if we go west,” she’d answered. That was the truth too, even if nothing else was.
They’d spent all of yesterday and last night with the other orphans inside the Children’s Aid Society building. Sophie had recognized a few from the Juvenile Asylum, though most of them she’d never seen before. By the time they’d lined up to walk to the train station that morning, there were thirty-five children in their group.
Sophie slumped her shoulders, hoping to make herself invisible among the others. With her hair coiled beneath a new hat, at least she had a measure of disguise. Anna likewise wore a bonnet and had tilted it to hide her face.
“Here we are, children,” said Mrs. Trott, the portlier of the two women who’d accompanied them. She stopped in front
of a passenger car and motioned for them to stay near her.
Several compartments down, train workers were standing on top of a wagon-like car as a chute overhead dumped coal inside it. Although Sophie didn’t know much about how trains worked, one of the other younger boys had patiently answered Nicholas’s questions about the train ever since they’d arrived at the station.
“Thata one there,” said the boy, pointing to the front train car. “That’s the locomotive with the steam engine inside of it that makes this whole thing go.”
“What’s a steam engine?” Nicholas stood on his tiptoes and tried to see around the children in front of him to the locomotive. Nicholas had been thrilled to don his new clothes that morning—clean trousers and a matching coat, a crisp white shirt with a bow tie, and black shoes polished so shiny he could see his reflection in them. He even had a new hat and underclothes, more new items in one day than he’d had in a lifetime.
At the excitement and pride that filled his face when he’d finished dressing, Sophie should have been happy for him. Instead she felt strangely inadequate, as if somehow she’d failed the little boy by not being able to give him such nice things when he clearly craved them.
Olivia had been less excited by her new dress, although she hadn’t been able to hide her pleasure over the new matching bow for her hair.
Thankfully, Olivia was less tearful today than she had been last night.
“Why?” she kept asking Sophie as they’d lain on blankets on the hard floor of the front room of the Children’s Aid Society after Nicholas had fallen asleep. “Why do we have to leave again? Why can’t we stay?”
Concerned that Olivia’s whispers would turn into hysterics and wake everyone, Sophie had told Olivia some of the truth, that they were in danger if they stayed in the city.
“Promise that after this trip, we won’t have to run away again,” Olivia said, her sobs finally subsiding. “Promise we can find a home and never have to leave it.”
Sophie had squeezed her eyes closed to fight back the sudden burn of tears. Find a home. It seemed like an impossible dream. But she had to do better for Olivia and Nicholas. She had to stop running away and needed to find a permanent place for them. “I promise,” she’d whispered, kissing Olivia’s forehead and drawing the girl into her arms. “I promise we’ll find a good home this time.”
Nicholas tugged at Sophie’s arm, bringing her back to the busy train station. “Up, please. I wanna see.”
Sophie hefted him to her hip as she’d done so many times in the past. His eyes widened as he took in the locomotive with its hissing engine and billowing smoke. “It’s a dragon,” he said in his most serious tone. “Like from the stories.”
At his comparison, Sophie smiled.
“Will it eat me?”
“No, Liebchen.” Sophie kissed his cheek. “It eats the black rocks. See, the men are feeding it right now.”
Nicholas continued to watch in wide-eyed amazement.
“There you are, Mr. Brady,” Mrs. Trott said with a thread of exasperation in her voice. She broke away from their group as a gentleman approached. He was dressed in a dark, crisp suit that spoke of wealth, but he had an easy air about him that lacked the formality of most in his social position.
“We’ve been waiting for you, as usual.” Mrs. Trott leveled a matronly look upon the man.
Mr. Brady smiled, giving his face a handsome appeal and revealing a dimple in his chin. “I’m sorry for the delay, but we’re not going with this time. My wife’s sister, Mrs. Quincy, is overdue with her baby. And my wife doesn’t want to leave her.”
Mrs. Trott’s eyes widened with dismay. “But, Mr. Brady, the children are ready and waiting.”
Sophie stilled, as did the others around her, and their attention shifted to the conversation between Mrs. Trott and Mr. Brady. Did this mean they wouldn’t be leaving today after all? Mollie had warned her and Anna that every day of delay in leaving the city would put them in more danger.
“Now, Mrs. Trott,” Mr. Brady replied in an amiable tone that contained a Southern twang. “You have to know by now that I might be impulsive, but I care too much about the children to delay a placing-out trip.”
Mrs. Trott gave him a grudging smile. “Yes, dear. You’re a good boy.”
“Thank you.” As if sensing the children’s attention upon him, Mr. Brady winked at them. “You’ll be happy to know that Reverend and Mrs. Poole have agreed to take over for Mrs. Brady and me.”
“Oh.” The relief in Mrs. Trott’s voice spread over Sophie and the other children, releasing the tension that had stiffened them only moments ago. Sophie supposed, like the rest of the children, that she was accustomed to disappointment, that it was as much a part of her life as breathing. Even so, she was counting on this train ride.
She darted a look toward the depot and the men still loitering there. One of them was studying her across the top of his newspaper with a hard, calculated gaze.
Sophie dropped her sights to the gleaming brass buttons on Nicholas’s coat. Had she been discovered?
“Reverend and Mrs. Poole are on their way even as we speak,” Mr. Brady continued. “I told the reverend I would assist with getting all the children on board and settled into their seats.”
Sophie didn’t wait for Mrs. Trott or Mr. Brady to give them permission to begin boarding. She pushed toward the metal stairs, holding Nicholas and herding Olivia in front of her.
As they climbed the steps and entered the train car, the fumes of the burning coal and the staleness of the compartment greeted them. Clusters of wooden benches facing each other spread out on either side of the aisle. The train car ended in a closet on one side, which Sophie guessed was the privy.
While the other little boys shot off down the aisle with shouts of glee, Sophie held tight to Nicholas until she reached a set of benches near the middle on the side opposite the train platform. She didn’t want to chance anyone detecting them through the window while they waited to leave.
Anna sat down with Olivia on the bench directly across from her and Nicholas. Her friend visibly relaxed, extending her legs out in front of her and leaning back into the hard bench. “We made it,” she said with a smile.
Sophie wasn’t so sure. She wouldn’t relax until the train was on its way. Nevertheless, the anxiety that had been plucking a dreadful rhythm finally ceased. Maybe everything would work out after all.
A short while later, Mr. Brady entered the train compartment, carrying boxes that he deposited at the front. He helped a few stragglers find empty seats, broke up a fight between two boys who both wanted to sit next to the window, and then showed another child to the privy. He seemed like just the kind of man these children needed—helpful and compassionate and yet confident and unafraid to apply discipline.
A feeling of anticipation permeated the commotion of the orphans, although Sophie could see the apprehension in some of the faces as well. She remembered all too well the first time she’d left New York City on the steamer headed to Boston, and the fears that had trailed along with her.
At least these children had homes waiting for them when they arrived. They wouldn’t have to try to survive on the streets or find room in crowded asylums.
“When will we go?” Nicholas asked half a dozen times as he bounced with excitement on the bench, before a couple finally entered the train, red-cheeked and breathless, clearly having hurried to make the departure.
Mr. Brady greeted the couple as Reverend and Mrs. Poole. He talked with them at the front of the compartment for a few minutes before finally turning to wave good-bye.
As he bestowed a smile over the children, his gaze passed over Sophie, but then just as quickly snapped back to her. One of his brows quirked, revealing curiosity in the depth of his eyes, almost as if he thought he recognized her, even though Sophie was sure she’d never seen or met him before.
For a moment he stalled, and suddenly Sophie was afraid he’d seen past her deception, afraid he’d figured out she w
asn’t planning to stay with the group beyond Chicago, afraid he even knew about her witness to the recent gang murder.
She dropped her sights and focused on Nicholas, smiling at the boy and nodding even though she hadn’t heard his most recent question.
Mr. Brady took a step toward her, and Sophie’s heart jumped into her throat. What excuses could she give him? What story should she tell of the many she’d used to cover her trail these past months?
The lurch of the train beginning its journey stopped Mr. Brady. He hastily turned and made his way out the door, calling a farewell to Reverend and Mrs. Poole.
Sophie released a breath as Mr. Brady bounded down the metal stairs. Through the window she caught a glimpse of him leaping off the slowly moving train. He landed easily on the platform and then disappeared from sight as the train picked up speed and left the depot behind.
She sagged against the bench with a smile. “We did it,” she said, finally agreeing with Anna.
“Yes, we did.” Anna smiled back.
The clacking of the train against the tracks and the clattering of the compartment at the fast speed of twenty-five miles per hour had frightened Olivia for the first hour of the journey. She’d huddled against Sophie, her face pale and her eyes closed.
Nicholas, on the other hand, had pressed his face to the window, like many of the other children, exclaiming over each new thing he saw as the crowded city buildings had changed into the sprawling open countryside. Sophie wasn’t sure he’d ever get his fill of viewing the passing farm fields, woodlands, and rolling hills that spread out on either side of the train for as far as the eye could see.
“Children, your attention please.” Reverend Poole had risen from the bench at the front where he’d sat with his wife. It was the first time he’d addressed their group since leaving, apparently having learned from previous journeys the futility of talking with the orphans until they had the opportunity to grow accustomed to the train and the scenery.
Both he and his wife were petite and certainly more reserved than Mr. Brady had been, having hardly spoken with anyone yet. Sophie liked Mr. Brady better, yet she hoped the Pooles’ reticent nature would work to her benefit, that they’d take less interest in her and Anna, and ask fewer questions.