The Little Sparrows

by Al Lacy

  Both men turned their attention to Jimmy, who was observing the scene with wide, tear-filled eyes.

  Stanfield looked back at the offenders. “Stand up!”

  At the same instant the train began to curve, and as Jason and Rick rose to their feet, they lost their balance and plopped back down on the seat. Quickly, they scrambled to their feet once more. Fear showed in their eyes.

  Stanfield scowled. “I thought we had this issue settled. Is there something you two don’t understand about do-not-pick-on-Jimmy?”

  The offenders exchanged glances, then Jason looked back at Gifford Stanfield. “No, sir. We … we didn’t mean no harm, Mr. Stanfield. We was just funnin’ him.”

  Barry’s features tinted. “What do you mean, funning him? It was plain and simple being cruel and mean to him! Jimmy can’t help it that he stutters, and he can’t help lisping! And he’s not retarded, either!”

  Derek Conlan’s brow furrowed. “Is this what you two said? That Jimmy’s retarded?”

  Both boys blushed and avoided his steady eyes.

  “Is it?” demanded Conlan.

  Barry’s eyes flared. “Well, tell the truth! Everybody in here heard you say it.”

  Rick nodded, his head bent forward. “Yes, Mr. Conlan. But like Jason said, we was only funnin’ him.”

  “Well, it was you who were having the fun. Jimmy certainly wasn’t.”

  Rick swallowed hard. “No, sir.”

  Gifford Stanfield’s face was like stone. “Barry was right. What you two did was cruel and mean. And if you do it again, you’re in real trouble. Understand?”

  Both boys met his steely gaze but did not speak.

  “I said do you understand?”

  Both offenders nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “All right. Now I want your promise that you won’t pick on Jimmy again.”

  With a sullen look on his face, Rick said, “I promise.”

  “I’ll believe it when you get that sour look off your face.”

  The sullen look disappeared.

  “That’s better. Now, Jason, what about you?”

  Jason kept a pleasant mien on his face. “I promise.”

  “Promise what?”

  There was a brief silence, then Jason said, “I promise I won’t pick on Jimmy any more.”

  Stanfield ran his gaze over the faces that were looking on. “You all heard what Rick and Jason said. Mr. Conlan and I want to know if you ever see them bothering Jimmy again.”

  Many heads were nodded.

  “All right, boys,” said Stanfield, “you can sit down now.”

  Stanfield turned to Conlan. “Let’s go sit down.”

  When the two men headed for the rear of the coach, Barry Chandler leaned over Jason and Rick. “If you do it again, you’ll not only have Mr. Stanfield and Mr. Conlan to face, you’ll answer to me too. Got that?”

  Both boys gave silent nods.

  “Good. Now find another way to have your fun.”

  The boys in the immediate area heard Barry’s words, including Jimmy.

  Barry then turned to Jimmy, who was alone on his seat. “Hey, little guy, I’m sorry for the way those two have treated you.”

  The five-year-old managed a smile. “T-thank you f-for being on m-my thide.”

  Barry tousled his blond hair. “I’m your friend, little pal. I’ll always be on your side.”

  There were tears in Jimmy’s eyes as the boy crossed the aisle and sat down. The boy sitting next to Barry smiled at him. “Good for you. Maybe Rick and Jason learned their lesson.”

  “It’ll go better for them if they did.”

  Johnny Marston was seated with a sixteen-year-old boy three rows behind Jimmy Kirkland. Having observed it all, Johnny said, “I’m gonna go talk to Jimmy.”

  “Sure,” said the older boy, then turned and looked out the window.

  Jimmy was sitting next to the window, peering over the bottom edge at the countryside when he heard a voice say, “Hi, Jimmy.”

  He turned to see a smiling boy who was a bit older than himself. He had observed him at the Children’s Aid Society and on the train, but didn’t know his name. “Hi.”

  “My name’s Johnny Marston. Could I sit here with you?”

  Jimmy smiled and patted the seat. “Th-thure.”

  Johnny eased onto the seat. “I’m sorry those big boys have been picking on you, Jimmy, but you know what?”

  “Wh-what?”

  Johnny grinned impishly. “I’d rather be handsome like you and have to stutter and lisp than to be ugly like Jason and Rick and not have to stutter and lisp.”

  Jimmy giggled. “C-can you th-thit with m-me longer, Johnny?”

  “Sure. I can stay here as long as I want.”

  “Okay.”

  “I saw you at the Children’s Society, but I never knew your name until we were on the train and those bad guys started picking on you. Are both of your parents dead, Jimmy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What? You don’t know?”

  “Huh-uh. I wath l-left on the d-doorthtep of the or-orphanage wh-when I wath a b-baby. They never f-found my p-parenth.”

  “Oh.”

  “J-Johnny, are y-your parenth d-dead?”

  Johnny’s countenance sagged. “Yeah. They were on a ship on the Atlantic Ocean. It went down in a storm, and they drowned. I have two sisters in the other coach.”

  “Oh. I’m th-thorry. F-for you and y-your thithterth. Wath thith very l-long ago?”

  “Huh-uh. Not very long.”

  Jimmy shook his head. “It mutht b-be awful t- to know your p-parenth and have them d-die.”

  Johnny nodded. “It really is bad. Me and my sisters miss Mama and Papa so much.”

  “I h-hope you g-get a nithe home out wetht.”

  “I hope you do too. And that nobody ever picks on you again about the way you talk.”

  M-me too.

  In the girls’ coach, Josie Holden was seated next to a thirteen-year-old girl named Wanda Stevens, whose parents were also dead. They talked about their parents for a while, then told each other how they came to be on the orphan train.

  Wanda had lived on the streets in Manhattan for two years before being spotted by Mr. and Mrs. Brace when she was staggering out of an alley. The Braces had stopped their buggy to check on her and learned that she was at the point of starvation. They picked her up, took her to the Society’s headquarters, and fed her well for weeks. When she had put some weight back on, they scheduled her to ride this train.

  When Josie had finished her story, Wanda said, “I’ve heard some marvelous things about Miss Wolford, Josie. From what I know about her, I can say it’s just like her to approach a girl beside a grave and offer help. She’s usually on one of these orphan trains, but what little time she’s been at the Society while I’ve been there, I’ve grown to like her very much.”

  Josie sighed. “After what she did for me, I’ve come to love her a whole lot.”

  The girls continued to talk, telling each other things from their childhood, as well as more recently. After a while, they saw Rachel Wolford coming down the aisle of the coach. She spoke to girls along the way, showing a cheerful countenance. When Rachel’s line of sight fell on Josie, a smile curved her lips. She paused to say something to a teenage girl, then drew up. “Hi, Josie, Wanda.”

  They both greeted her, then Rachel set her eyes on Josie. “You doing all right, sweetie?”

  “Yep. Wanda and I just met this morning and decided to sit together. She and I are becoming friends, and this helps.”

  “It sure does,” said Wanda. “And Miss Wolford?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Josie told me how you two met. I think it’s wonderful what you did for Josie by approaching her at the cemetery and then taking her to the Society’s headquarters so she could eventually be on this train.”

  Rachel smiled. “Well, honey, all the praise goes to the Lord. It was Him who guided me to Josie.”

  Wa
nda looked at her blankly. “Oh. Of course.”

  Rachel told the two girls she would see them later, then moved on down the aisle.

  Josie turned to Wanda. “I don’t understand what Miss Wolford meant, saying the Lord guided her to me.”

  Wanda shrugged. “I don’t understand it, either. Anyway, you were telling me about playing baseball with the boys in your neighborhood. I want to hear some more.”

  The train made its stop at Des Moines, Iowa, as the sun was setting. From the windows of their coaches, the orphans watched a few people get off the train and a few more get on. By the time the train pulled out of the station, the sun had dropped below the western horizon, leaving a glow in the sky.

  In the girls’ coach, Mary Marston had her little sister on her lap. Lizzie had tears in her eyes. “But Mary, why can’t Mama an’ Papa come back? I want ’em to come back.” The tears began streaming down her cheeks.

  Rachel Wolford was coming along the aisle behind Mary and Lizzie, and heard Mary say, “Lizzie, I keep telling you that Mama and Papa can’t come back from heaven. They’re with Jesus, and as much as they love us, they want to stay there with Him. They will be there to meet us when we get to heaven someday.”

  Rachel stopped, leaned down to Lizzie, and wiped away the tears. “There, there, sweetie, don’t cry.” Then she said to Mary, “Is this your sister? You resemble each other.”

  “Yes, ma’am. My name is Mary Marston, and this is Lizzie. She’s only four years old and is having a hard time understanding that our parents can’t come back from heaven and be with us.”

  Compassion showed in Rachel’s eyes. “Mary, did both of your parents die at the same time?”

  Mary’s voice cracked as she said, “Yes, Miss Wolford. Back in April. Papa worked for American Ship Lines in New York Harbor. He took a business trip on one of the company’s ships, and Mama went with him. They were going to St. John’s, Newfoundland, but a bad storm came up, and the ship sank in the Atlantic Ocean several miles off the coast of Nova Scotia. Mama and Papa drowned.”

  “Oh, Mary, I’m so sorry. I’m sure it had to have been horrible for you.”

  Mary nodded, biting her lower lip. “Yes, ma’am. It was hard for my little brother, Johnny, too. He’s six years old.”

  “And Johnny is in the boys’ coach, I assume.”

  “Uh-huh. But it’s really been hard for Lizzie. Johnny and I thought we had finally been able to help her to understand about death, and that Mama and Papa can’t come back from heaven, but she still thinks they should be able to come back to us.”

  “I heard you telling her that your parents are in heaven with Jesus and will be waiting for you when you get to heaven someday.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Mary. “I’ve been telling her this for weeks. Sometimes I think she understands, then when she comes up with it again, I realize she doesn’t.”

  “It’s her young age, honey. It will just take time.”

  “I suppose so. I’ve prayed a lot lately and asked Jesus to help her to understand so she won’t cry like she does.”

  “Mary?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “You talk like you know about being saved.”

  “Mm-hmm. I asked the Lord Jesus to come into my heart and be my Saviour two years ago when I was six. He washed away my sins in His blood, and I was born again.”

  Rachel’s heart seemed to swell within her. “Oh, honey, I’m so glad to hear this. So your parents raised you this way.”

  “Yes. Mama and Papa were both faithful Christians and loved the Lord with all their hearts. Papa was a deacon in our church. My little brother got saved about six months ago.”

  “Well, Mary, you and I have something in common. Both of my parents are in heaven too. And what a wonderful moment it will be when we meet our parents in heaven.”

  Lizzie looked into Rachel’s eyes. “I wanna go heaven now. Be with Jesus an’ Mama an’ Papa.”

  Rachel kissed her forehead. “That would be wonderful, Lizzie, but Jesus still has plans for us down here. Don’t you cry, now. Be a big girl. That will help your sister.”

  Lizzie nodded slowly. “Big girl. Help Mary.”

  “That’s it. Well, Mary, I have to keep moving. I’m glad I got to meet you and Lizzie, and I’ll look forward to meeting Johnny.”

  When Rachel had gone, Lizzie looked up. “Mary?”

  “What, honey?”

  “Is the next town where people will look at us?”

  “No. It will be the town after that. It’s called Kearney. We’ll be there tomorrow.”

  Mary noticed that Laura Stanfield and Tabitha Conlan were out of their seats and moving toward the front of the coach. “Are you hungry, Lizzie?”

  The little child’s face lit up. “Uh-huh!”

  “Well, Mrs. Stanfield and Mrs. Conlan are about to pass out the trays so we can eat. They’ll bring the food from the cooks, and we’ll have our supper.”

  “Oh, goody! Will Johnny get supper?”

  “Yes, he will.”

  Supper was over by 7:30, and the train made its stop in Omaha, Nebraska, at 8:45. It pulled out at 9:30. The children were reminded in both coaches that lights-out time was ten o’clock.

  By ten o’clock, many of the children were sound asleep, curled up on the seats. The sponsors dimmed the lanterns in the coaches, and began covering them with blankets and placing pillows under their heads as they moved down the aisle. Those who were still awake were handed pillows and blankets.

  In the girls’ coach, when all the children had been tucked in, Laura Stanfield, Tabitha Conlan, and Rachel Wolford stood at the rear door and ran their eyes over the blanketed forms in the dim light. Some were lying flat on the seats and others were slumped down in a seated position. Sniffles could be heard as some of the lonely little girls were seeking comfort in sleep. Two or three could be heard calling for their mothers.

  Rachel looked at Laura and Tabitha and sighed. “I know we’re doing all we can, but my heart is so heavy for these dear little ones who are too young to fully understand what has happened in their lives. I know the Lord cares more for them than I do, but it’s so hard to hear them cry for their mothers. I wish I could just make one big happy home for all of them.” She sighed again. “But that’s impossible.”

  “I know how you feel, Rachel,” said Tabitha. “It affects Laura and me the same way.”

  Laura nodded. “And when we return to New York, there’ll be another coach full of them heading west, looking for someone to take them in and give them love and shelter.”

  In the boys’ coach, as Derek Conlan and Gifford Stanfield were moving down the aisle handing out pillows and blankets to the boys who were still awake, Barry Chandler was standing in the aisle speaking to little Jimmy Kirkland. Johnny Marston was curled up beside Jimmy and already asleep.

  When the two sponsors drew up, Barry was telling Jimmy good-night. A sleepy-eyed Jimmy was smiling up at him.

  Gifford Stanfield said, “Barry, Mr. Conlan and I very much appreciate the interest you’ve shown in Jimmy and for protecting him from the boys who would pick on him.”

  Barry was patting Jimmy’s head. “I can’t stand to see someone with a weakness of any kind be ridiculed for it. My little brother, Billy, also stuttered. He didn’t lisp, but so many children used to tease him about his stuttering and make him cry. So I understand how Jimmy feels. This is why I feel a special kinship with him, and why I went to his defense when Jason and Rick were picking on him.”

  Jimmy looked up at the sponsors. “I really l-like B-Barry.”

  Conlan smiled down at him. “Well, we can understand why.”

  Stanfield set his eyes on Barry. “You spoke of your little brother in the past tense.”

  “Yes, sir. Billy died when my parents died.”

  Conlan’s brow furrowed. “How did it happen?”

  Barry’s face pinched. “We lived in a tenement in Queens. One night, just two months ago, when I was staying all night at a fri
end’s house a few blocks away, the tenement caught fire. My parents and little brother were trapped on the fourth floor and burned to death.”

  The two men spoke their condolences to Barry, then Derek Conlan covered the sleeping Johnny Marston and put a pillow under his head.

  As Gifford Stanfield was about to take care of Jimmy, Barry took the pillow and blanket from him. “I’ll tuck Jimmy in, sir.”

  Stanfield smiled and nodded silently, then moved on with Conlan beside him.

  Barry placed the pillow under Jimmy’s head and laid the blanket over him. “Okay, little pal, it’s night-night time.”

  Jimmy nodded, then looked at the sleeping boy beside him. “J-Johnny and I are g-good friendth n-now, Barry.”

  “I’m glad for that.”

  Jimmy lifted his arms toward the older boy. When the muscular Barry leaned down and hugged him, Jimmy said, “You are m-my very betht friend.”

  Touched by this, Barry squeezed him extra tight. “Hey, little pal, you’re my best friend, too. Sleep tight.”

  Barry walked away, and with a smile on his face, Jimmy put his pillow close to Johnny’s head, laid a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, and fell asleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In the coach just ahead of the girls’ car, Lance Adams sat alone on his seat, reading his Bible. The lanterns had not yet been turned down in the regular coaches.

  Lance was reading in Genesis 32 where God changed Jacob’s name to Israel. “For as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, and hast prevailed.”

  He grinned to himself. Yes, sir, Jacob, you were a prince, all right!

  He finished that chapter, then went on into chapter 33, where Jacob and Esau came together and were reconciled. Lance smiled when he read: “And Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck, and kissed him: and they wept. And he lifted up his eyes, and saw the women and the children; and said, Who are those with thee? And he said, The children which God hath graciously given thy servant.”

  Lance paused in his reading and thought about the children in the two coaches behind him. A lump rose in his throat. His mind went to Carol and the fact that she could never bear children. He thought again of the orphans on the train and of the people in towns along the line ahead of them who would choose a child, or even more than one, and take them home. He couldn’t help the longing that often arose in his heart to be a father. Though he could never be the literal father of a child, it would be a pleasure to adopt one—or even more.