The Train Stops Here

by Gail Sattler

  ❧

  Louise burst in through the door, not caring that it slammed on the wall as she ran inside. At the sudden noise, the chicks in their crate beside the cookstove cheeped louder than usual. “Mama! Elliott is going to be so pleased! A letter came for him from his brother!”

  Her mama smiled and wiped her hands on her apron. “Yes. He’s so far from home. Do you know it’s been three weeks since he’s arrived? It’s always good to hear from home. I remember when your father and I moved here to Pineridge, so far from our families. It was always so special to get a letter from home, but at least we had each other. Elliott has no one.”

  Louise was about to say that he had her but stopped. They had come to know each other quite well in the last three weeks. As well as being together every evening until bedtime, they were together almost every waking minute of every day on the weekends. Still, as much as they tried to make him feel at home with them, Louise could tell he felt awkward at times and sometimes even sad. Nothing could replace news from his family.

  “Do you think he’s happy here, Mama?”

  Her mama rested her spoon on the cookstove. “I think so, most of the time. I suppose you’ve noticed that at times he seems to disappear into a world of his own.”

  “Yes.”

  “You must admit, his life has been difficult. I only hope and pray that when he leaves things will go better for him. I wonder if his brother managed to contact that friend on the coast and if there’s also a letter about his other job.”

  Louise looked at the letter in her hand, suddenly feeling ashamed of herself. She had already been tempted to feel the thickness of the envelope to try to guess if the envelope held one letter or two, but it hadn’t been a letter from his future employer she’d been thinking about. She had been wondering if there was a second letter in the envelope from a woman—a woman who would have been missing him, and conversely, a woman whom Elliott would be missing.

  She laid the letter on the table as fast as if it might burn her skin. Until Elliott chose to divulge such information, such thoughts were not her business, no matter how much they disturbed her and no matter how she was coming to feel about him.

  A knock on the back door made Louise glance up at the time. The freight train had arrived before the return of the section gang, and with a freight train came more hungry men.

  “You’re busy, Mama. I can take care of him.”

  As usual, Louise answered the door, spoke to the man very briefly, gave him a plate of food to eat outside, and did her best to tell the poor, bedraggled, and skinny man that Jesus loved him. He didn’t look like he believed her, but hopefully one day he would remember this act of God’s love for him and see that God really did care. For now, his immediate need for food had been met. When the man was done, he returned the plate, thanked her quietly, and disappeared back to the freight train. She continued to stand in the doorway as the man, plus a few others, hopped back on as the train started moving.

  Louise turned and walked back into the house, closing the door behind her. “Papa and Elliott should be here soon. What can I do?”

  Her mama smiled. “Set the table. As you can tell, we’re having a treat for dinner today.”

  Louise took her time to set the table, then stood to chat with her mama about the things Mildred had told her at the post office until her papa and Elliott arrived.

  She waited until she heard the thumping of Elliott helping her father up the steps stop before she opened the door. It was important for her to respect her father and not witness his difficulty, allowing him to salvage some pride after needing to be helped with the simplest things.

  As soon as the door opened, her papa smiled. “Does that smell mean what I think it means?”

  Elliott’s brows knotted and his nose wrinkled. “Has a skunk made its home under your porch, too, now? I didn’t smell it outside.”

  Louise laughed at Elliott’s joke, then began putting the food on the table as Elliott slipped off the boots, removed his overalls, and both men washed their hands.

  After they paused for a word of thanks for their meal, her mama set the rest of the food on the table.

  Her papa took his portion and passed the plate to Elliott. Elliott held it for a few seconds, spooned a very small portion on to his own plate, and passed it on, as well.

  Suddenly it occurred to Louise that Elliott might not have been joking about the skunk-like smell. “It’s studenetz,” she said slowly as she spooned a generous portion for herself, hoping Elliott would take her hint. “This is Mama’s specialty.”

  Elliott looked at it, smiled hesitantly, then poked at the studenetz a few times with his fork before lifting a very small forkful to his mouth. With his first bite, his shoulders hunched slightly forward, his cheeks bulged slightly for a split second, and at the same time as he swallowed, he reached quickly for his coffee. Louise was about to warn him that it was still too hot to drink, but he moved too fast and drank it anyway, then flinched when he scalded his tongue.

  Elliott’s cheeks darkened, and he gave a forced smile to her mama, whose eyes were wider than Louise had ever seen.

  “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Demchuck, but what is that?”

  “It’s studenetz. My mother taught me to make it when I was a child. It’s a Ukrainian dish.”

  He looked down at his plate, staring at it, and saying nothing.

  Louise leaned forward across the table, lowering her voice. “The English translation is pickled pig’s feet.”

  Not only did all the high color fade from Elliott’s face, his cheeks paled to a ghastly gray.

  “From the pig we slaughtered last fall. We’re using up last year’s meat from the outdoor cellar, because soon all the snow will be melted. The weather has been too warm for it to stay frozen in there much longer.”

  “Pig’s feet?” He gulped.

  Louise lowered her voice even more. “It’s not as awful as it sounds. It’s just meat. The pig’s feet are cleaned and singed, and they are boiled with a beef shank, onions, and spices for half a day. Then the meat is picked off the bones and put with the liquid to cool, and it turns to jelly.”

  The continued pallor in his face told her that he thought it was indeed as awful as it sounded.

  Her mama rose from the table. “I’m sorry, Elliott. This is a very popular dish in our community, as most of the people here are of Polish or Ukrainian heritage, with some Germans. It didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t have seen it before. I’ll find you something else to eat.”

  He stood also, lifted one hand, and made what Louise thought was a very strained smile. “No, please, Mrs. Demchuck. It’s fine. You do so much for me. Please sit down and enjoy it. It’s just something I’ve never seen before. It’s good. Really.”

  Her mama smiled hesitantly, then returned to her chair. Everyone continued to eat their dinner, although Louise noticed that Elliott ate very little.

  When the meal was done and everyone had left the table, Louise opened all the windows on the main level of the house, as well as the front and back doors to freshen up the house, despite the cool evening air.

  She had almost finished drying the dishes when Elliott stepped into the kitchen. “Louise, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to be rude, and you certainly don’t have to risk everyone catching a chill just because of me. And look at your baby chicks; they’re getting cold.”

  Without waiting for her response, he closed the door and the windows, and immediately the house felt warmer.

  “Do you make that concoction, too?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, then closed it again and shook his head. “I’ll see you soon in the living room.”

  With that, Elliott turned and walked away.

  The rest of the evening passed quickly. No mention was made of their dinner, although Louise had a feeling her mama would not be making studenetz for a long time.

  Since both her papa and Elliott looked tire
d, they all went to bed earlier than usual, but sleep eluded Louise until the wee hours of the morning. When she finally did drift off, she didn’t sleep well, and it only took the sound of a small noise in the kitchen to wake her. Worried that something had happened to her chicks, Louise grabbed her robe out of the armoire and ran downstairs.

  Her feet skidded to a stop in the doorway. Elliott, wearing the striped flannel pajamas he’d purchased on their first shopping trip, with his back to her, was fumbling in the dark with something at the kitchen table.

  Immediately, she averted her eyes, putting all her concentration on the washstand. “Elliott! What are you doing!” she said in a loud whisper, not wanting her voice to carry upstairs to her parents’ bedroom.

  At the sound of her voice, the chicks cheeped louder, and whatever was in Elliott’s hands clattered to the table. He spun to face her, and she couldn’t help but look at him. The faint glow of the streetlamp in front of the train station coming in through the kitchen window was the only light in the room, but it was enough to show his surprise at seeing her. He glanced quickly down at his pajamas, then shuffled backward until he was against the table.

  “Louise! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered back.

  She clutched her robe closed around her throat and craned her neck in a futile attempt to see around him. “Are you looking for something to eat?”

  “I, uh, I was hungry.”

  Louise couldn’t contain her smile and covered her mouth with the hand not still clutching her robe closed. She forced herself not to look at his pajamas, so she stared very intently straight into his eyes and nowhere else. “I noticed you didn’t eat much at dinner. If you would like, I can find some of the leftover studenetz for you.”

  “Very funny.”

  She giggled again. “I’m sorry. I’ve grown up on it. I never thought anyone would find it strange. I don’t think Mama did, either. Papa just loves it.”

  “Does Heinrich love it, too?”

  Her smile dropped. “Heinrich? Why would you think. . . ?” She let her voice trail off.

  He dragged one palm down his face. “Don’t mind me; I don’t know if I’m more tired or hungry. Those chickens of yours woke me up, and once I was awake, my stomach wouldn’t let me sleep.”

  “The chickens?” She glanced toward the orange crate, where she could see a few of the chicks hopping after being awakened by all the noise. It was true that they did tend to cheep a lot, but with her bedroom upstairs, the chicks in the kitchen had never disturbed her. She had not considered that their cheeping would carry into the living room and disturb him.

  Guilt assailed her. “I’m so sorry about the chicks. Can I help you find something to eat? Mama has some wonderful wild strawberry jam, and there is bread from lunchtime in the bread box.”

  He smiled, then backed away as Louise walked to the bread box. “Thank you. But don’t worry; I can do it. I ate just fine by myself when I was living alone. Please, go back to bed. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

  She almost made a comment that judging by how skinny he was when he first arrived she doubted he fed himself very well but caught herself in time. It had not been lack of ability; it was lack of food.

  The concept of Elliott having to go hungry almost made her ill.

  She turned her head, but he remained backed up against the table.

  While she would gladly have sliced the bread to make him a midnight snack, she suspected that more than really wanting to do it himself, she had embarrassed him by catching him in his pajamas.

  She smiled, and he smiled back hesitantly. “Good night, Elliott. Sleep well and enjoy your snack.”

  Fifteen

  Elliott drove the spade into the ground and turned another shovelful of dirt. As he continued to dig, he ignored the telltale shaking of the ground. Today was Saturday. The morning track inspection was done, so he had the rest of the day off, and for today, he could ignore the trains.

  He stood and wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “Is this deep enough?”

  Louise leaned forward and looked down into the hole. “Yes, it is. Now come, help me split the root.”

  Elliott had never done any form of gardening before, but he found he didn’t mind the work. It was also a good way to spend the afternoon with Louise.

  Together, they tried as delicately as they could to split the large peony into two plants. Elliott was up to his elbows in dirt when a male voice sounded behind him.

  “Good day, Elliott. Louise.”

  Both he and Louise froze and looked upward at the same time.

  “Heinrich?” Elliott’s head swam. “What day is it? Isn’t it Saturday?”

  Heinrich smiled and nodded, and Elliott immediately felt some relief, but his heart still pounded. He stood and tried in vain to wipe some of the mud off his clothes and his hands. Rather than extend his muddy hand in greeting, he crossed his arms over his chest. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  Heinrich smiled at Louise, then turned back to Elliott, and his smile dropped. “I’d like to say that I dropped by for a simple visit, but, unfortunately, I’m here because I need to talk to you unofficially. Do you have a minute? I also need to talk to John. Do you know where he is?”

  Elliott’s stomach churned, and Louise’s face paled.

  Elliott cleared his throat. “He’s in the house. I’ll go get him.”

  He hadn’t taken more than a step when Heinrich stopped him. “Wait. I think it’s best we sit down and talk inside.” Heinrich turned to Louise. “If you will excuse us.”

  As soon as they were out of Louise’s range of hearing, Elliott spoke. “Is there something wrong? If there is, I take full responsibility.”

  “Not exactly,” Heinrich replied as they walked together up the steps and into the house. “John. Good to see you.”

  “Heinrich?” John struggled to his feet, taking a few seconds to stop wavering on the crutches in his hurry to stand. “How did you get here?”

  “Since this is an unofficial visit, I used my pass and came by the train.”

  “Anna! Can you make us some coffee?” John called over his shoulder, but Elliott saw that Mrs. Demchuck had already entered the room.

  “Heinrich? What are you doing here on a Saturday?”

  Elliott would have smiled if he hadn’t been so nervous.

  “There is a matter I must discuss with John and Elliott. If you’ll excuse us?”

  Mrs. Demchuck slipped out of the room in the blink of an eye, and Elliott’s stomach flipped over a few times as John and Heinrich sat on the couch. Rather than sit three in a row, Elliott brought himself the chair from the desk.

  Heinrich folded his hands in his lap. “I’ll get right to the point. First of all, there was nothing wrong with the inspection or the track, so don’t worry about that. However, I had to make a note of your broken leg and your new lead hand in my report, and that has drawn the attention of a few heads at the district office.”

  John raised one finger in the air. “Now wait a minute. I’m authorized to do all my own hiring and firing of my section gang without anyone’s permission or collaboration.”

  Elliott stiffened in the chair rather than let it appear like he was shrinking. Of all the things he’d tossed and turned about at night, being the cause of trouble for John at the district office was one thing he hadn’t considered.

  “Above everything, my only concern is the maintenance of the track, and your section is exemplary, as always. What I’m about to tell you is confidential, and I won’t reveal my sources. However, if you figure it out yourself, well, that’s your own reasoning. Let me say that a certain individual who heard that you fired Robert wanted the job as your lead hand. I know you are aware that your current section men get first consideration and that who gets the job is your decision.”

  “Yes, but nether Frank nor Henry want the job. They don’t want the responsibility.”

  “Yes, and this person apparently knows t
hat. He was going to apply for the job when he heard you had hired someone. Someone who has never worked for the railroad before. Someone with no experience.”

  “That was my choice, and I have every right to make that choice.”

  “Yes, you do. But be warned that this person has connections. Quite honestly, he’s a good man and a good worker, and he would be an asset to your crew. What I’m trying to say is that this man, as well as others in top positions, can cause you a good deal of trouble. I’m not saying you have to let Elliott go. Considering that Elliott has no experience, I’m surprised everything has gone so well, as I know you haven’t been out there working alongside him every day. I want you to consider this a friendly warning that you are going to have trouble behind the scenes, to watch for it, and to prepare yourself. I would hate for you to lose your job over this.”

  Elliott forced himself to breathe. His brother’s letter had been brief, but in it Ike assured Elliott he had immediately forwarded his letter to Edward in British Columbia. But Elliott still hadn’t heard from Edward about the logging job. If Elliott didn’t hear from him, or if he received a reply that the job was no longer available, Elliott had considered staying on as John’s lead hand. When the cast came off and John could manage on his own, he could simply move into the bunkhouse with Frank and Henry and hold down the job, doing as Robert, the previous lead hand, had done. At the end of the eight weeks, he would be free and would no longer have to do everything around the house and property for John, or help John over the tracks or up and down the stairs, or anything else with which he experienced difficulty.

  Now, due to extenuating circumstances, this was no longer an option. He was grateful beyond words for the job John had given him, but he couldn’t keep it, knowing he was the cause of dissention between John and the supervisors at the district office, who ultimately controlled John’s job.

  Elliott stood and cleared his throat. “Thank you for the warning, but it’s not necessary. As a friend, John and I had made arrangements for me to stay only as long as he is restricted by the cast. When the cast is removed and he’s back on his feet, I will be moving on, so the lead hand position will be open.”