Orphan Train Escape

by Rachel Wesson

  Daniel hadn’t told her his background, but she had pieced some details together from Charlie. It seemed Charlie’s mother had tried her best to help Daniel, a kid she didn’t know. He was just another street boy. She had fed him when she had food available. When she fell ill, she had asked Daniel to look out for Charlie. Bridget couldn’t help but grieve for the wonderful woman who’d died terrified of what would happen to her precious child on the streets.

  Looking around her at the children, she wished all the people who had any involvement in the future of these precious human beings could spend some time getting to know them. They would see that rather than being an unwanted group of something only slightly better than animals, they were often the product of loving homes. Homes where mothers or fathers or, if they were really lucky, both parents had done their best to provide a decent upbringing. But through illness, death, poverty, or other harsh circumstances they had been unable to do that. Of course, some of the children had been abandoned, others didn’t know their real parents. But they were all innocents. Even the older ones who had committed some minor crimes while living on the streets, such as stealing bread or milk, had done so out of hunger. If only she could afford to give each and every one a stable home. But that was the stuff of dreams. She was in the same boat, after all. She couldn’t provide for her family and was giving herself to some stranger with the hope he would provide for Annie and Liam.

  She hugged her siblings closer, promising them and herself nothing would separate them. She would die before she would leave them in some town never to be seen again. As she sat thinking, she couldn’t help but compare herself to those mothers and fathers who had dropped their children off at the charity knowing they would head west on the orphan train. Those parents were the brave ones. To give your child a chance of a better future even if it meant you would never see or hear from them again, took a special type of courage.

  She spoke to every child and reassured them as best she could. The older boys didn’t want her to say anything, she knew they were afraid their composure would break. The reaction of the older girls depended on their background. Those that had up until recently enjoyed some semblance of family life cried. But the ones who pulled most at her heartstrings were those who stared through her. The girls who had some experience of living on the mercy of strangers. She didn’t have to ask what type of heartache they had endured, it was evident from their faces. At best they had watched their loved ones die. At worst, well, that didn’t bear thinking about.

  Chapter 30

  The train ground to a halt and, despite expecting it, Bridget couldn’t believe this was it. She carried baby Martha alongside three of the older girls carrying the other babies. They went to the hotel where they washed up and changed. The ones not selected would stay at the hotel that evening before going back on the train the next morning.

  Mr. Watson led the sorry little procession to the town church. Each child had a parcel containing their other set of clean clothes. Few had anything else. When they arrived at the church, she was surprised to find it was already full of people.

  The children seemed to turn paler, if that was at all possible.

  “Children, hold your heads high and let’s show this town what New Yorkers are like,” she said as they filed into the church. A stage had been set up at the top, she assumed so the people could see all the children.

  “Liam, keep Annie beside you at all times. Do not go anywhere without me, you hear?”

  “Yes, but where will you be?” Liam asked, his voice shaking with fear.

  “I will be here in the church, but I might be distracted with one of the other children. Just do not leave this place.”

  “I won’t,” he promised.

  Bridget patted her brother on the head. She couldn’t cuddle him with baby Martha in her arms. Six years of age was no age to put responsibility on him for his sister, but it was the only choice she had.

  Martha slept soundly. The sweet child was fine so long as she had her blanket in her hand. Bridget kissed the top of her head praying the little girl would get a loving family.

  The babies were dealt with first, leaving the children standing in rows. Bridget couldn’t help but think of the farmer’s fair her parents had taken her to many years before back in Ireland. At the fair, bulls had been held in pens waiting to be sold off.

  With effort, she held the tears back. She walked up to the town mayor who was in conversation with Mr. Watson. To her relief, the mayor was a kindly older gentleman who seemed very committed to finding good matches.

  “Miss Collins, this is Mayor Huckster,” Mr. Watson said.

  “Nice to meet you, Miss Collins. And who may I ask is this sweet little thing?”

  “Her name is Martha,” Bridget said. “Her new family is supposed to be waiting here.”

  “Yes, the Westbury’s. Lovely family. Four sons and no sign of a daughter. Mrs. Westbury is desperate for a baby girl. There she is now.”

  Bridget turned to see a young woman rushing up the aisle closely followed by a man and four boys, despite the rule that no town children should be present in the hall.

  “Is this my baby?” the woman asked, looking hopeful. “Oh my, isn’t she so sweet. Jessica, sweetie, come to Mama.”

  “Her name is Martha, ma’am.” Bridget didn’t think before she spoke, earning a reprimanding look from Mr. Watson.

  Mrs. Westbury glanced at Bridget. “I would like to call her Jessica after my mother, but I can keep Martha as her middle name. Would that be alright?”

  “Yes, of course.” Bridget couldn’t keep the smile off her face. This woman was lovely and clearly adored by her husband and sons. Martha would find a good home.

  “Mrs. Westbury, Martha’s…” What could she say, perhaps “mom” would cause an issue. Some people believed the child of an unmarried mother carried the sins of her conception. “Her friend gave her this little blanket, it helps to soothe her.”

  Mrs. Westbury took the blanket and put it back in Martha’s hands. “Thank you, miss, for looking after my baby for me. Can we go now?”

  “You need to see Mrs. White at the back of the hall, she will give you the details such as our contact in New York should you decide to return the child,” Mr. Watson replied.

  Return Martha? She wasn’t some unwanted gift. Bridget opened her mouth but closed it again at the look of horror on Mrs. Westbury’s face.

  “Return her? She’s my child. I wouldn’t give any of my children away. What type of ma do you think I am?”

  Bridget could have clapped. She watched Mr. Watson carefully, thinking she spotted admiration in his eyes. He really wasn’t as cold and detached as he made himself out to be. She wondered why he hid his feelings so well.

  “A wonderful one, Mrs. Westbury. I didn’t mean to cause offense,” he said, “but some people are not as loving as you are.”

  “I promise you, Mr. Watson, this child won’t lack for love. We may not be the richest family in town when it comes to money or land, but we are blessed.”

  Bridget wanted to cheer the woman on, but she held herself back.

  “Jessica Martha is a lucky girl,” Mr. Watson spoke for Bridget as she seemed to have lost her voice.

  “Thank you for bringing our daughter to us. I can’t have any more children, doc told me not to, but I so wanted a little girl. Thank you so much. I will pray for you.”

  Bridget had to take out her hanky and blow her nose to cover her emotions. Why couldn't everyone be like Mrs. Westbury?

  “The first placement is the worst,” Mr. Watson said in a low tone so only she would hear. “You are doing fine.”

  Surprised he had even acknowledged her, she murmured her thanks. But then he was gone. Her gaze trailed after him to where an argument had broken out on stage. She quickly followed to see if she could help.

  Chapter 31

  Jacob had his arms wrapped around his younger sister Lizzie. “You’re not taking her, you got mean eyes.”

  �
��Move away, lad, before I take off my belt and give you a hiding.” Bridget looked on in horror as the well-dressed dandy raised a fist. She couldn’t see his face but judging by the look on Jacob’s face, there was no way the boy was giving in.

  “I don’t care what you do to me. You ain’t getting your dirty hands on my sister,” Jacob replied, his voice shaking but with fear or anger, Bridget couldn’t tell.

  “Why you little guttersnipe—”

  Mr. Watson put his hand on the man’s arm and forced him to lower his fist.

  “Excuse me,” Mr. Watson said. “Jacob, what is the problem?”

  “Mr. Watson, this man says he wants our Lizzie, but he got a funny look on his face. I said he can’t have her,” Jacob said, glaring at the man.

  Bridget held her breath, silently begging Mr. Watson to listen to the child and not to tear him away from Lizzie. She was all he had left.

  “Now Jacob, we spoke about this. It is not always feasible to find families to take siblings,” Mr. Watson explained.

  “But he doesn’t have a wife and Lizzie needs a ma,” Jacob said.

  “See here, you listen to the man in charge. Now Lizzie, or whatever your name is, you are coming with me,” the stranger made a grab for her.

  “No, she isn’t. Take your hands off that child,” Mr. Watson almost roared. “Jacob, take Lizzie and go and stand over there with Liam and Annie.”

  As Jacob stood rooted to the floor, Bridget took his hand and Lizzie’s and moved them off to the side in the direction of Liam. Then she turned back to hear how Mr. Watson dealt with the man.

  “I want that girl.”

  “You, sir, will not have any child as long as I am in charge of this group,” Mr. Watson said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

  “I am as entitled to adopt a child as anyone else,” the man retorted.

  Bridget could see his cold, black eyes and thanked God Mr. Wilson was there to save Lizzie.

  “Where is your wife?” Mr. Watson asked. “Only married couples can adopt and only with my final say so. Please remove yourself from the hall before I have to call the sheriff, and have you removed.”

  “You God-loving half-legged varmint, you think you’re above the rest of us. I will get me the girl. Just you wait and see. I have money.” The man moved forward, his hand moving to his waist. Thankfully, the sheriff had insisted everyone remove their guns before entering the Lord’s house.

  “I don’t care how much money you have, mister. Now get out before this half-legged varmint, as you called me, takes his cane and knocks the head off your shoulders.”

  Bridget couldn’t believe her ears. Mr. Watson hadn’t shouted, but his tone suggested he would follow through on his threat if the man didn’t move.

  The mayor arrived just at that moment. “Johnny Felder, what are you doing here? You get yourself out of here right now or I will arrest you myself. I warned you guys over at the Mucky Duck your presence here would not be tolerated.”

  Bridget nearly fainted. The Mucky Duck could only be the name of a saloon. Jacob had saved his sister, with Mr. Watson’s help. She hurried back to where Jacob and Lizzie stood with Liam and Annie.

  “Well done, Jacob, for protecting your sister. We will all be getting back on the train together,” Bridget said.

  “Yes ma’am,” Jacob replied, but his hand gripped Lizzie’s tightly and his eyes were still glued to Mr. Felder’s retreating back.

  “That man is leaving,” Bridget hastened to reassure him. “Lizzie is safe now, thanks to you.”

  Only once they were safely at the back of the of the room with her sister and brother, did Bridget look over at Mr. Watson. But he had followed the sheriff down to the front of the church. She guessed he was ensuring the man left. What would happen if he came back with his friends?

  She murmured a quick prayer before going over to a couple who were talking to Sally.

  “Miss Collins, these people want to adopt me.” Sally’s enthusiasm competed with disbelief in her eyes.

  “So they should, Sally. You are a wonderful little girl.” Bridget turned to face the couple, glad to see their eyes full of kindness. “How can I help? Do you have any questions for me?”

  “I was wondering how Sally hurt her leg?” asked the man.

  Bridget’s expression faltered. She looked at Sally’s hopeful little face.

  “Sally was hit by cart when crossing a road. I’ve no medical expertise but I believe her leg was broken and never splinted. Her parents couldn’t afford a doctor,” Bridget said.

  Bridget didn’t add that Sally’s father preferred to drink all day long than work to pay for doctor’s bills or food. The man started to nod, his head going up and down.

  Bridget must have given him a funny look as he turned a little red before saying, “I am a doctor, I should have explained that. I believe I could fix her limp.”

  “Oh,” Bridget replied, wondering if he wanted Sally as a daughter or a test subject. The lady by his side moved forward, her plain face lit up by a beautiful smile.

  “What my husband is trying to say, but putting it badly, is we would love to adopt Sally and give her a home. If we can help her limp, we will do that. But most of all, we just felt drawn to her. We think we could be good parents if she would have us.”

  Bridget warmed to the couple immediately, particularly the wife. The expression on her face matched those of the children. She really wanted Sally to say yes.

  “What do you think, Sally?” Bridget asked.

  “I would like to say yes, if you are really sure? I mean there are prettier girls than me that don’t limp.”

  Bridget’s heart nearly broke hearing the small child dismiss herself. She took a step, but the woman got there first.

  “Nobody is better than you, Sally. Not in our eyes.” The lady bent down and cuddled Sally close. “Will you be our daughter?”

  Sally nodded, her arms around the woman’s neck. The doctor held out his arms and put them around both his wife and Sally.

  Bridget’s eyes were overflowing as she directed the happy threesome to Mrs. White at the back of the hall. Sally gave her a hug. “Thank you, Miss Bridget, for finding me wonderful parents.”

  Bridget was too emotional to answer.

  The next hour passed slowly with a few more children finding homes. Not everyone was brimming with affection like the couple who had adopted Sally, but as far as Bridget could see, the children were content with the matches. She took advantage of a lull to escape outside to the privy. There she allowed herself a little cry. Only once she had composed herself did she return to the event.

  Chapter 32

  On entering the Church, it was immediately obvious an argument had broken out although the people involved were using hushed tones. Bridget hurried over to help.

  “I only want two boys. I can’t afford three.” A farmer, if his clothes were anything to go by, appeared to be trying to explain himself to Daniel.

  “But sir, if I promise to share my food with him, will you take Charlie please? I promised his ma I would look after him. I don’t want to break my promise.”

  Bridget edged over to support the boys.

  “I don’t know, boy,” the farmer said. “I mean it’s admirable you want to keep your promise, but he doesn’t look too strong to me. He’s just skin and bone.”

  “That’s because he didn’t have enough to eat. With good food and fresh air, he will be as strong as me and Steven, I swear to you,” Daniel pleaded, his eyes so wide they dominated his face.

  Bridget wanted to cheer Daniel on, but she said nothing. Instead the man surprised her by saying, “Don’t swear son, especially in the Lord’s House.”

  “Sorry, sir. But please don’t split us up. I will do his chores and mine,” Daniel begged.

  Bridget had heard enough.

  “Daniel, nobody is forcing you to go with this man. We have several stops ahead of us and I am sure you will find another family.”

  To her surprise, Da
niel shook his head forcefully before saying, “Sorry, Miss Collins, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t want a family. I got a ma back in New York. She’s sick in the hospital. But when I get older, I want to go back and look after her. So, I am happy to go with this man. He looks fair. I just don’t want to leave Charlie behind.”

  Bridget looked into the man’s face. He seemed to be struggling with his decision.

  “Can I help in any way?” she asked.

  “No ma’am. I guess I just can’t afford it. I have a large enough place, but times have been hard, and it don’t seem fair if I was to take on the boys and not treat them as they supposed to be treated. I need boys who can help me work the farm. I don’t expect them to work harder than me and they will get their schooling, but I don’t have room for those that can’t work.”

  Bridget could see the man was sincere in his struggle. It made her feel for him. Here was a good man seeking the best for the children and himself.

  Dear Lord, please help us, she prayed under her breath.

  “Joshua, maybe I can help?” A softly spoken, well-endowed woman in her mid-forties stepped forward.

  “You, Mrs. Freeman? But how?” the man asked.

  “Excuse me for interrupting, Miss Collins, but my name is Mary Freeman. I own the farm right next to Joshua’s. He is an excellent neighbor and his wife, Annie, bedridden as she is, is a wonderful person. I couldn’t help but overhear. I am a widow, my husband died years ago, and I don’t intend to take another.”

  Bridget kept her face straight at that comment, but it was an effort.

  “I was thinking, what about if I offered to give Charlie a home? I have farmhands to do the main farming work but could use a hand with my horses and barn work. Would that be of interest to you, Charlie?”