The Train Stops Here

by Gail Sattler

  She smiled at him as she slipped the apron back on. “Yes, Elliott, as a matter of a fact, there is.”

  Elliott smiled back. He wanted so much to do something for these kind people. More than anything, he hoped that whatever she was about to ask would in some way be of benefit to the ministry they provided for other men in his situation. “Anything, Ma’am. Just name it.”

  “You can stop calling me ‘Ma’am.’ ”

  “Yes, Ma’—uh—Mrs. Demchuck.”

  They smiled at each other.

  “That’s better. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go heat the rest of the stew. I think I finally hear the jigger coming. Louise, why don’t you take Elliott into the living room, and you can listen to the radio until your father has finished eating.”

  Three

  Louise tried not to let Elliott see her shock at her mother’s request to invite him into the living room. Never before had one of the hobos been invited into their home past the kitchen. Some were too awkward to come inside at all, and some were too dirty. Those who did come inside only stayed as long as it took to eat the food given to them, and they never went beyond the kitchen. The men left quickly and quietly once their physical needs were taken care of, hiding until the next freight train came by, and then they were gone from Pineridge forever.

  Secretly, it made Louise happy that Elliott had been invited into their home and not encouraged to leave immediately following dinner. Of the countless men riding the trains for whom her family had provided food and clothing, he was not the first to be a Christian. However, beyond his faith, Elliott seemed different than the others, although she couldn’t define why.

  The majority of the men she’d met who came off the trains had seemed like honorable people. They weren’t lazy, nor did they expect free handouts or figure they were owed something for their misfortune. Even though they had fallen on hard times, most of them were riding the trains because they had some specific destination in mind, usually a large city, in the hope of finding a job.

  Elliott, it seemed, did not just hope to find a job. From his comments at the dinner table, it sounded as if a job awaited him—he only had to arrive at his destination. She didn’t question why he wasn’t traveling as a paying passenger if he had a prospective job.

  Louise led him through the doorway from the kitchen into the larger room, half of which served as a dining room, the other half as the living room. His eyes widened as he quickly glanced over everything, taking in the fine furnishings and her mother’s beautiful doilies, lace runners, and embroidery scattered throughout. His attention lingered first on the piano in the corner and then on the framed photograph of her family, taken before Louise’s sister had married and left Pineridge.

  As her mother had suggested, Louise approached the radio. While Elliott studied the family portrait atop the piano, she discreetly swiped off a little dust from the polished wood just above the dial that she must have missed earlier. “Please, sit down. We might be able to catch the ‘Jack Benny Show.’ Do you listen to Jack Benny where you come from?”

  He turned and briefly studied the couch, then turned back to her. “Yes, I do,” he said as he smiled. “But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stand.”

  Louise turned the radio on, then turned to face him. During dinner she had noticed the exhaustion apparent in his face. Of course, she had never ridden the trains any other way than in the comfortable passenger cars, but from what her father had told her about how the hobos had to travel, she doubted Elliott had seen comfort since he left home, wherever that was.

  “Please,” she said, extending one arm toward the couch. “Don’t be nervous. Consider us your Christian family and relax. Papa isn’t going to lecture you about how you got here. None of the railroad employees like to see people ride the freight trains in such a way, but they also know there is no way to avoid it, so it’s going to happen. You look so tired. Please, sit down. I’m sure Papa would love to talk to you once he’s finished eating.”

  He rammed his hands into his pockets. “I do appreciate your hospitality, but I don’t want to sit down because I’m so dirty. I don’t want to ruin the fine fabric of your couch or leave a mark that will remind you of my presence long after I’m gone.”

  Louise’s throat clogged, and a strange burning sensation began at the backs of her eyes. She didn’t know where he came from, but his words made her wonder what horrible situation had caused a man of such a caliber, who would be concerned about soiling their furniture, to be reduced to such means. His concern made her ashamed that her family was doing so well in these troubled times.

  “You’re so kind to be concerned,” she ground out through the tightness in her throat. “I’ll be right back.”

  Quickly, Louise scurried into the kitchen, where her mother was stirring the stew. “Mama, I need a blanket or something for Elliott to sit on. He doesn’t want to soil the couch with his dirty clothes. I don’t know what to say. He seems so different from the other men who’ve come through in the past few years.”

  Her mother nodded. “I know. He seems like an extraordinary young man of good faith and strong character. Your father seems to have been so discouraged lately. I thought that speaking to Elliott would be good for him.” Her mother smiled. “I knew you were wondering why I’d invited him in like this.”

  Louise nodded. “Maybe a little.” Abruptly she slapped her hands over her mouth, then shook her head. “I mean, no! I knew you had a good reason.”

  “Hush, girl. Take the blue blanket from the dresser in your bedroom and throw it over the couch for him.”

  Louise ran upstairs for the blanket, and she had just returned downstairs as the thumping of the jigger sounded from outside, signifying the return of her father and the section men.

  A loud banging sounded on the front door, causing her to nearly drop the blanket. Very aware of Elliott standing not far away, she ran to the door and opened it. Frank, one of the men from the section gang, stood in the doorway, wringing his hat in his hands. “Miss Demchuck, where’s your mama?”

  Louise’s knees turned to jelly. As she wavered, she grasped the frame of the doorway for support. “Papa. . . Is he—?”

  Frank shook his head. “No, he’s just hurt, but it’s bad.”

  Louise turned to run into the kitchen, but her mother was already running toward the front door, a dish towel clutched in her hand. “What happened? Where is John?”

  “We’re going to be bringing him in, Mrs. Demchuck. We think his leg’s broke. You’re going to have to take him to the hospital.”

  Frank disappeared outside, and after a few agonizing minutes, Frank returned with Henry, slowly bringing her father to the door. Louise and her mother stood aside as Frank and Henry carried her father to the couch, where they laid him down.

  Louise had never in her life seen such pain on a person’s face, not even when Richard Sabinski fell off the roof of his daddy’s store and broke his arm.

  “If you need us, just call. We’ll be at the bunkhouse.”

  Without another word, the two men left.

  Louise watched as her mother bent over and reached out one hand in readiness to touch his wound but then jerked her hand back. Instead of touching him, she wrapped both arms around her own waist. “How badly does it hurt? Is it really broken?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut, pressed his open palm against his lower right leg, then winced in pain. “Probably. A bundle of new ties fell on me. A split second sooner, I might have been killed. Praise the Lord for strange miracles.”

  Louise watched the change in her father’s expression, recognizing the exact moment he realized that a stranger was amongst them.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  “My name is Elliott Endicott, Sir. I’m here passing through on my way to British Columbia. Your family invited me in for dinner. I have been waiting for your return so we could talk, but this isn’t the meeting I had anticipated. Is there anything I can do for you?”
/>   “You wouldn’t happen to be a doctor, would you?”

  “Unfortunately, I am only a barber. But I can drive you to the hospital, if you’ll give me directions. I’m assuming you own an automobile?”

  “Yes.”

  Her mother glanced nervously between the two men. “What about your lead hand, Robert?”

  Drawing in a deep breath, her father turned to her mother, wincing with the movement and scowling at the same time. “I caught Robert drinking some moonshine when he was supposed to be working. I don’t know how I didn’t notice sooner, but I guess it’s because we were busy. By the time I noticed, he was quite drunk, so I fired him. We were at the end of the shift, getting everything ready so we could leave a bundle of new ties for the section we have to do Monday morning, when Robert tripped and knocked the stack of ties off the jigger and onto me. I couldn’t get out of the way fast enough.”

  Her father turned back to Elliott. “Robert’s not going to be driving me anywhere. Are you a good driver, Mr. Endicott? These are all dirt roads here, and it’s going to be getting dark soon. The clay is slippery to drive on if it rains, and the clouds are coming.”

  Elliott nodded. “I assure you, I am a cautious driver, even though most of my driving has been within the city. It’s not dark yet, which is good. I don’t know where we are or how far it is to the nearest town with a hospital, but I’ll gladly do what I can for you. It appears the good Lord set me here at this time for a reason.”

  Her father started to smile and opened his mouth to speak, but then his smile turned to a grimace, and he sucked in a deep breath of air.

  “Can I help you to the car, Sir?”

  As soon as her father nodded, Elliott wrapped one arm around her father’s chest. Bracing both of them by pressing his other hand into the top of the couch, he then pulled her father up. While leaning on Elliott and balancing on one leg, her father positioned one arm over Elliott’s shoulders. In response, Elliott repositioned his arm tightly around her father’s waist, and they started moving.

  Louise stood in one spot and watched as her mother ran for the keys, while Elliott and her father very slowly hobbled toward the front door. Despite his slim build, Elliott supported her father firmly as they made their way down the steps.

  Louise couldn’t imagine either herself or her mother trying to move her papa. She and her mother were the same height of five foot two. Her father was a big man, nearly six feet tall, towering over Elliott by a couple of inches, at least. In addition to being so tall, because he worked hard every day, her papa was muscular and, therefore, heavy. She didn’t even know how Elliott managed to support her father, but she had a feeling that the fine meal they’d fed him had helped provide the strength required.

  While Elliott very carefully helped her father down the front steps one at a time, Louise mumbled a prayer of thanks for Elliott being with them today.

  Her mother ran past her, speaking quickly. “I’m going to go to the hospital with them. Take dinner off the stove before it burns. I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

  Louise stood on the top step and watched Elliott and her mother make sure her father was able to support himself on one leg while leaning against the railing. When they were assured he wouldn’t fall, Elliott ran to the garage, opened the door, and slowly backed the car out. He turned around and drove as close as he could without driving over her mother’s flowers. They helped her father into the car, trying to position him so he would suffer the least amount of pain and discomfort, and drove off.

  Louise stared blankly down the road long after the cloud of dust settled. The drive to the hospital in Beauséjour would take close to an hour. She didn’t know how long it would take to set her father’s leg and do the cast, and then the trip home would take them much longer in the pitch-black of the night, so she had no idea when they would be back.

  Absently, she gazed skyward and prayed for a cloudless night and that what little light the moon provided could help keep their journey a safe one.

  A bang from beside the bunkhouse made Louise flinch. She stopped studying the sky and watched Robert and the men of the section gang carry out a suitcase, a bedroll, a pillow, and a few personal items and throw them into the trunk of Robert’s car.

  Louise wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the cooling night air, continuing to watch as Henry and Frank struggled to load Robert’s heavy radio into the passenger side of the car.

  Swaying as he walked, Robert opened the driver’s door. He hopped in and the motor roared to life. Robert drove off so fast that his spinning tires created a cloud of dust so thick she couldn’t see the bunkhouse while he disappeared down the road leading to the highway.

  She thought of Elliott driving her father’s car and of both her parents with him. She’d been on that road countless times, and the road was barely wider than one car. She didn’t know if Elliott really was a good driver, despite his assurance. However, she did know that Robert was a poor driver, plus, in addition to being angry, he was drunk.

  Her stomach clenched so tightly it hurt. The possibility existed that in his angry state, Robert might not care if he ran his former boss off the road.

  She squeezed her eyes shut to say a quick prayer for their safety.

  Needing to distract herself from the possibilities of her father’s car lying in a ditch somewhere, Louise returned inside the house, removed the pot of stew from the stove, and tidied up the kitchen. When all was done, she returned to the living room. Rather than stand and look out the window, she turned off the radio and sat down at the piano to occupy her mind and soothe her fears. It was too early to worry. If morning came and they hadn’t returned, then she would have the right to panic.

  Alternating between her favorite hymns, Bach, Mozart, and other classical pieces, Louise played until her eyes were sore from concentrating on the paper in the yellow light. She averted her gaze to rest her eyes, but that only drew her attention to the photograph, on top of the piano, of her family, which only served to remind her of their absence.

  Louise closed her books, tucked them into the bench, then crossed into the dining room, stood in front of her father’s desk, and looked up at the clock hanging above it.

  It was nearly midnight, and Louise had never been alone so late at night or for so long. She tried to calm her fears by telling herself that she’d lived here all her life and Pineridge was a safe community. She knew everyone here well. The three men of the section gang were the only changing faces here. Except for Robert, who would not be returning, Frank had lived in the Pineridge bunkhouse for nearly six months, Henry was the last person in the community who was new.

  As she had done earlier that same day, Louise went up-stairs to her bedroom window and pressed her fingers to the cold glass. She watched out the window, looking for something, anything, to tell her that she was not the only soul still awake in Pineridge.

  The only sources of light were the two streetlamps, one in front of the train station, the other in front of the school. Then, a glow appeared in the distance, along with a low hum. Louise smiled and ran downstairs to the door.

  They were home. All was well.

  Four

  “Where’s Papa?”

  Her mother smiled wearily, pushing her hair back from her forehead. “They decided to keep him overnight. We’ll have to go back tomorrow to get him. At least the drive will be easier in the daytime. Your father hates that road, and now I remember why we seldom go anywhere at night.”

  Elliott pushed his fists into the small of his back. “No, it wasn’t a pleasure trip, that’s for sure. But Mr. Demchuck is being taken care of properly, so that’s what’s important.”

  Louise glanced up at the clock, although she didn’t know why. “I guess we can ask Mr. Pollack to drive us to Beauséjour tomorrow when we have to pick Papa up.”

  “We all talked about it, and Elliott is going to stay with us tonight so he can drive me to the hospital tomorrow and bring your father home.”


  Of course she was glad that Elliott would be driving the car for them, but her relief went far beyond the simple need of transportation for her father.

  Ever since the men started riding the freight trains, she had been told of the dangers. The evening freight trains stopped at their station, but the early morning trains only slowed as they passed through their small burg, some well before daybreak, making it very dangerous to climb aboard as the cars moved. She knew that despite the risk involved the men still did it.

  Over the past few years she’d watched men who’d wandered away from the tracks in search of food when they missed the evening train. Most of them hid in the trees until the next train came. Of those who came begging for food, it was usually her mother who gave them something, so she didn’t often get to meet them. However, the early morning freight trains didn’t stop. Her heart had missed many beats watching men falter or stumble while trying to jump onto the moving boxcars. A number of times she had been positive that when the train rolled away she would see a man sprawled across the tracks, dismembered or crushed by the huge steel wheels after missing his mark. So far, that had not happened in Pineridge, but fatalities did occur when men rode the freight trains.

  Plus, there were other less obvious but still very real dangers besides being hurt jumping on and off. She’d heard many instances where men were unintentionally locked in the boxcars which were detached from the trains and left in the train yards. The men inside had died because no one could hear them calling out for help.

  While she always had been concerned for the safety of the men, they were still strangers and her worries had never been personal. Now that had changed. In the short amount of time since she’d met Elliott, she’d come to know him a little bit as a person—he was no longer a nameless entity passing in the night. She didn’t want to think of the many risks he was taking as he made his way to his final destination.