by Gail Sattler
Out of the corner of his eye, every now and then Elliott stole a glance at Heinrich’s car, still parked beside the jigger. Both doors remained open as John and Heinrich discussed what was written on the papers attached to Heinrich’s clipboard.
The ground started to tremble. Elliott pulled on the chain attached to his belt loop to draw out the pocket watch John had loaned him. “Right on time,” he mumbled.
He climbed aboard the jigger, along with Frank and Henry, and waited for the train to pass. When it did, the engine of Heinrich’s car roared to life. Elliott pushed down on the jigger’s handle, and slowly, they made their way to the switch. Once there, Elliott jumped off the jigger and set the switch to allow the jigger to go from the siding to the main track. Once it passed, he reset the switch and they backed up the jigger to sit behind the intersection of track next to the switch. After setting it again, they signaled, and the road master’s car passed them and continued on, heading down the track to the station at Pineridge. Elliott watched it disappear into the distance, reset the switch for the last time for the next train to pass straight through, then clambered back aboard the jigger.
“Okay, let’s get going,” Elliott muttered. “And after the next one’s done, we’ll call it a day.”
The next tie they replaced went as smoothly as the previous one, boosting Elliott’s confidence in his new leadership capabilities. This time, he sat on the bench while Frank and Henry pumped the jigger’s handle as they made it back to the Pineridge station in plenty of time before the evening freight train.
The road master’s car remained parked on the siding at the station, even after they removed the jigger from the track and pushed it into the toolhouse.
Elliott bade good night to the other men, then walked to the Demchucks’ house.
When he opened the back door, he expected to see both Mrs. Demchuck and Louise busy preparing dinner, but only Mrs. Demchuck was in the kitchen.
He kicked off his boots and tucked them into the corner of the boot tray, then slipped off the denim overalls and hung them on the hook on the back of the door. After he smoothed some of the wrinkles out of his trousers, Mrs. Demchuck walked up to him and helped him brush the wrinkles out of the sleeves of his shirt.
“You’re early, which is good. We’ve invited Heinrich to stay for dinner, and we have to eat early so he can get to Winnipeg before nightfall, as he’s booked into a hotel there for the night.”
At the mention that the road master would be staying, Elliott glanced at the kitchen table. Instead of being set for dinner, it was spread with the bowls and utensils Mrs. Demchuck had been using to prepare their meal.
“I know what you’re thinking. We’ll be eating in the dining room today.”
“I guess Heinrich is a special guest.”
“Yes, he is. As you have no doubt seen, we don’t get many visitors. We like to treat all our guests as special, but I must admit that we give Heinrich better treatment than most. Now you go into the living room, and I’ll call everyone when dinner is ready.”
Since Louise was absent from the kitchen, Elliott wondered if she had made an unexpected errand to their favorite local farmer again to purchase the ingredients for a treat for the road master.
As he thought about it, he walked into the living room to wait for her return. His feet skidded to a halt when he saw Louise sitting in the center of the couch with John on one side and Heinrich on the other. She was laughing at something someone had said, but when she saw him, her laughter faded.
“Glad to see you here before the freight train,” John said. “Bring yourself the chair from the desk and please join us.”
Elliott preferred to remain standing, but he wouldn’t contradict his host in front of their distinguished guest.
Conversation had not yet resumed when Mrs. Demchuck called them for dinner.
John led everyone in prayer over the food, and Mrs. Demchuck and Louise served creamed chicken. Elliott knew they had no cream in the outdoor cellar, so Louise had made that special trip to visit the local farmer, as he suspected.
Elliott expected conversation would have centered around work-related projects, but instead, Heinrich spent most of his time talking to Louise. At first, Elliott found it strange that Heinrich knew her so well, but then he remembered John telling him that the road master paid every section foreman a monthly visit.
Since Elliott was new and since his method of arrival had been somewhat less than ideal, Elliott chose to add little to the conversation. As the meal continued, Heinrich talked more and more, entertaining everyone with his stories. Elliott found himself laughing with the others at the interesting twists, although it was more than obvious parts of the stories had been embellished for entertainment value.
At the end of the meal, instead of retiring to the living room, John saw Heinrich out the door and to the car on the siding. With Mrs. Demchuck and Louise in the kitchen cleaning up, Elliott made his way into the living room. He sat on the couch to listen to the radio, but he didn’t do much listening. Instead, as he sat alone, he did some thinking.
If he looked out the window from his place on the couch, he could see John and Heinrich talking.
Heinrich appeared to be a good man and a likable fellow. For his age, which appeared to be in his early to mid thirties, he carried a job with much responsibility. From the way John spoke of him, he appeared to do it well, and Heinrich had earned the respect of all the section gangs under his jurisdiction. Frank and Henry liked him, John liked him, and even Mrs. Demchuck liked him. Elliott thought that he would have liked Heinrich a little more if Louise didn’t appear to also like him.
Elliott watched as John and Heinrich walked to the toolhouse, where they disappeared inside. A few minutes later, they exited the small building, shook hands, and Heinrich walked to his car on the tracks. The engine roared to life and started to pull away. Rather than watch John struggle over the tracks with the crutches, Elliott sprang to his feet and jogged to John, barely beating him to the set of tracks.
In the distance, the road master’s car stopped. Heinrich exited the car, set the switch, drove off the siding onto the main track, exited the car to close the switch, and the car began its journey down the tracks.
Elliott stood beside John as they watched him disappear in the distance.
“Will he make it to Winnipeg before dark?”
John nodded. “Yes. He can’t go very fast, but you must admit, it’s a very direct route.”
Elliott didn’t look at John as he spoke. “It appears he didn’t know about your injury.”
“No, I didn’t tell him, nor is there really a way to do so, except on the morning scheduling call. My job is only to supervise and guarantee the quality of the maintenance and repairs on my section, but I tend to do extra and often pitch in and do some of the heavy work when necessary. Within reason, of course.”
“He didn’t say much to me. Is that normal?”
“I think he was surprised to see you join us at dinner. Anna doesn’t invite the section men in for dinner, not even the lead hand, when Heinrich comes for his monthly inspection. I have to warn you, though, he did question where you’d come from, because he’s never seen you before. Usually the lead hand position is awarded to someone who has been on their particular section gang for awhile, or at least it’s someone who has had experience with another section gang.”
Elliott crossed his arms, then turned to John. The road master’s car had long since disappeared from sight, yet they still stood beside the track. “My being here won’t cause a problem, will it?”
“Shouldn’t.”
John continued to stare down the empty track, his brows knotted.
After a few minutes of silence, Elliott turned toward the house. Even though John would never admit it, Elliott could tell the events of the day were taking their toll on him. “Let’s get back to the house. I think it might start to rain soon.”
Neither spoke as Elliott assisted John over the tracks. Loui
se met them at the door, shuffling her feet while she waited for Elliott to help John up the few steps to the house.
“Papa, I was at McSorbins’ farm today. They have some chicks ready for me. Can I pick them up tomorrow?”
Elliott blinked. “Chicks?”
John nodded and smiled as he slowly thumped his way across the room on the crutches. Elliott helped John lower himself onto the couch, and then John resumed speaking.
“Every year we get some chicks for Louise from one of the local farms.”
Louise smiled at her father. “Can Elliott drive me in the car to go get them when you come back from work tomorrow?”
John turned to Elliott. “Don’t ask me. Ask Elliott.”
She turned to him and smiled so brightly Elliott had to remind himself to breathe. “Elliott?”
He cleared his throat. “I suppose I can drive you. Where are you going to put them?”
“Mama and I found the crate from last year in the basement. Can you bring it up for me?”
“Crate? You keep chickens in a crate?”
“Of course I don’t keep them in a crate. They only stay in it until they’re big enough to go outside.”
Elliott shook his head. He wasn’t sure he wanted to ask the next question, but he had to. “Do you mean to say that you bring animals into the house?”
“They’re very young and have to be kept warm. It still gets too cold at night, so we keep them beside the cookstove until they are strong enough. Every year we lose a few, but Mr. McSorbin gives them to me for a lower cost if I buy them when they are this size. He needs the room for his own chicks that his family will keep and sell themselves when they get big enough. They also give me a better discount if I bring my own box to take them home in.”
Before he could ask any more questions, Louise had already left the room. He followed her into the kitchen, then down to the farthest corner of the basement to a pile of wood, a reel of wire mesh, a stack of stakes and poles, and an orange crate.
He stood behind her as she bent down, brushed some dust off the orange crate, picked it up, stood, and handed it to him.
“So how was it?” she asked.
“Pardon me?”
“The inspection. Did Heinrich say anything?”
“No, he didn’t. Should he have?”
“Not really, but I heard some of what he was asking Papa while they were at the desk. That was before I had to leave to get the cream from the McSorbins. He asked Papa who you were and where you came from and who was doing the track inspections.”
Elliott’s dinner went to war with his stomach. “Did I miss something or do something wrong?”
“It didn’t sound like it. I heard Papa tell him that you had done the track inspection a few times when he wasn’t able to. If he hasn’t said anything to you, then everything must be fine.”
“I know that Heinrich came to do an inspection, but does he usually stay for dinner?”
Louise tilted her head, and one eye narrowed. “Actually, no, he usually comes earlier, in the mornings; and Mama always asks him to stay for lunch, which he does. Now that you mention it, it is a little odd that he came so late and stayed for dinner.”
Elliott also thought it was strange that for a supposed business visit, very little of it was actually business. Most of his time was spent talking to Louise.
“Does he always spend so much time visiting with you when he’s here to talk to your father?”
She blinked twice and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know. He’s always been friendly to me. Just today he—”
John’s voice drifted from upstairs. “Louise! Come quickly! That cooking program is on the radio! They’re talking about that chicken dish you tried before!”
“Oh! I have to go!” Louise turned and ran to the stairs.
Elliott extended the orange crate slightly forward. “Wait! What do you want me to do with this?”
She turned her head and spoke over her shoulder as she ascended the stairs. “Put it outside by the back door. For tomorrow.”
With her words, she reached the top of the stairs and disappeared into the kitchen.
Elliott stared at the orange crate in his hands. It was nothing that Louise couldn’t have carried herself, and he wondered why she had brought him downstairs.
He shrugged his shoulders, walked upstairs and outside, and laid the crate on the ground, as requested. Before he went back in the house, he stared down into it and smiled, imagining three or four cute little baby chicks inside.
Thirteen
Louise slipped the cheesecloth over the bushel of grain she’d purchased for feed and carefully tucked in the corners. She stood back to admire her creativeness, then pushed the trunk of the car closed. “That should be it. I don’t think any will spill on the way home.” She turned to Elliott, who had the orange crate containing the chicks in his hands. “We should go quickly. They won’t stay very warm like that.”
He stared down into the wooden crate. “How many are in here?”
Louise stood aside and opened the car door. “Two dozen. They’re bigger than the ones I had last year. Maybe I won’t lose any of these.”
Elliott slid the crate into the center of the seat. “Twenty-four chickens. . . ,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped aside to allow her to get in. When she was sitting comfortably, he closed the door and walked around the car, giving her enough time to pick up one of the darling little chicks before the driver’s door opened and he slid in behind the steering wheel.
Nestled into her hand, the little chick curled into a ball and fell asleep. She gently ran her finger over the yellow fuzz that would soon be turning to feathers, then held it out to give Elliott the chance to pet the chick, too, which he did.
“Isn’t she cute?”
“She certainly is. What are you going to do with all those chickens? Would you really use two dozen eggs a day?”
Louise shook her head. “They wouldn’t start laying until late fall, but by then, most of them will be eaten.”
At her words, he jerked his hand back and his face paled.
“Why are you looking at me like that? You enjoyed the creamed chicken Mama made for dinner yesterday.”
“Yes, but I didn’t have to look it in the eye before I ate it.”
“It’s not a dog, and it’s not a pet. It’s a chicken.”
He started the car, not looking at her as he spoke. “Still. . .” His voice trailed off.
Louise couldn’t hold back her smile. “You really are a city boy, aren’t you?”
He turned and grinned at her, and Louise’s foolish heart fluttered. “Yes, it appears I am.”
She set all her attention on the chicks in the crate between them. “We must seem so primitive to you. I know when we visit my aunt in Winnipeg and stay overnight, it feels like a trip to a palace. I think the thing I like the best is my aunt’s icebox.” She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She wasn’t going to say out loud that the real best part was not having to go outside to use the outhouse.
“I know. At home in Katona Falls, the iceman came right to my door twice a week. When I was growing up, all the children in the neighborhood used to love it when he gave us chips of ice to suck on.”
Louise smiled, imagining him as a young child. “That sounds like fun. Of course you know we’ve never had an icebox, just the outdoor cellar. When I was a child, it used to be fun for my sister and me to pack snow in the outdoor cellar, but the older I got, the less fun it became, especially after she moved away. I guess that’s probably why I think the icebox is the best part about living in the city. What do you like best about living in the city?”
Elliott grinned. “Hot water.” He paused to glance at her, then turned his attention back to the road. “A few years ago, when business was still good, Ike installed a tank, kind of like a large boiler that keeps the water warm all the time so we don’t have to keep filling up the kettle on the woodstove at the barbershop, especially in the summe
r. Since I lived in the suite upstairs, we ran a pipe upstairs. My friends loved to come over just to get hot water from the tap.”
Louise turned her head and stared out the window, no longer interested in the chicks. Not that she was dissatisfied with her life in Pineridge; she enjoyed the simple lifestyle here, but she didn’t want to appear uncivilized in his eyes. Not only did Elliott have running water, he had hot running water. Even her aunt didn’t have hot running water, although Louise heard that the newer homes in the city did.
“I know what you’re thinking, Louise. I don’t mind having to pump the water and then wait for it to be heated. Aside from not having a few newer conveniences, your parents have a lovely home. Most of all, they’re wonderful people. They’ve been so kind and gracious to open their home to me, a stranger.”
Suddenly, Louise felt ashamed of her jealous thoughts. While it was true her home had none of the luxuries Elliott’s home had, in reality Elliott no longer had a home. He owned nothing but one set of clothes. Everything else he had was borrowed from her father or purchased with money he’d borrowed. Worst of all, he’d had to rely on the charity of other people, for now her family, even to eat. His life had come to the point that if it weren’t for her family, he wouldn’t be eating now.
In the end, it was not material goods or the luxuries of modern conveniences that mattered. Elliott had lost everything he’d ever held dear and was left to rely on God’s grace and the charity of strangers for his very survival. Because of that, Louise could see that underneath all the things that could hide a person’s true self, Elliott Endicott was a man of faith and fine character.
Louise cleared her throat. “I suppose I would be safe to assume that you’ve never raised chickens before.”
“I’ve never had the opportunity to raise any kind of animal before.”
“Then you’re in luck. Every spring Papa gets a pig. We fatten it up all summer and then slaughter it in the fall after we have enough snow in the outdoor cellar and it gets cold enough to keep the meat frozen until it’s used up. Maybe this year, you can get the pig for Papa and take care of it for him until he gets the cast off.”