Forgetting Tabitha: An Orphan Train Rider (7 page)

The symptoms of cholera appeared instantly. Someone who appeared healthy in the morning could grow violently ill by mid-morning and have their skin turn a ghastly grey blue tint; they would become severely dehydrated and die shortly after. The city’s inhabitants walked on eggshells in fear for their lives.

“Children, it has been decided that we will not stay in the city a moment longer than we have to with cholera rising once again. Prepare to load the train tomorrow morning as we are heading west at once. We will have a large group this time, so please, do your best to be courteous and kind to anyone in need.”

Typically the Sisters would pre-arrange trips with very specific stops along the route however, in this emergent instance children frantically boarded the trains and set out for destinations unknown. The conductor agreed to stop in all major cities bound west in hopes of finding the children new homes.

Edmund and I were once again under the guardianship of Sister Agnes as we headed north west. Our route was slightly different this time, as we would head further north and go further west. We had near one hundred children on our train; all the children less than six years of age were with us in coach, while the older children rode in the cramped quarters of the boxcars. It was my duty to help Sister Agnes with all the small children, not just Edmund. Edmund was growing more plump and cheerful and had several more words to his vocabulary. He could even recognize letters now when I read to him. Although his features grew darker he was a precious boy who would have no trouble being adopted this trip.

We had two additional chaperones on our trip this run, Mr. and Mrs. Porter who helped with the infants, of which there were at least a dozen and a half. The infants needed constant dressing, changing, bundling, and feeding, which made me wonder why anyone who had a choice would prefer an infant to Eddie. I decided somewhat selfishly, I would train Eddie to use the potty like a proper big lad and alleviate the necessity to change his nappy. He did very well on his first few tries. The trick was getting him to realize when he had to make a dooty and tell me in time to get to the potty which was several cars behind us and therefore took some time getting to.

Wanting very much to please me Eddie eventually succeeded in becoming potty trained increasing his odds of going to a good home. I imagined a loving young mother who would dote on him endlessly and a father that would teach him to chop wood and feed the barn animals. Eddie already knew all the sounds the barn animals made and could sing a few lines from ‘Mary had a little lamb’…it was quite precious.

When I told Agnes of our success at potty training she pushed her frizzy brown hair behind her ears and pulled me in for a hug. It was the first hug I had received from an adult since my mother passed away and I stiffened at the sensation the embrace left me with.

“You did well, Mary, now surely Edmund will be adopted and you can help me with the other toddlers in need of attention.” She gave me a quick smile and was off preparing for our first stop.

As usual our first stop was in Pennsylvania and despite the fact our stop was not advertised in the paper it was a huge success, eight of the infants were given new homes and a dozen of the older children were exchanged for work to farms, mills, and even to hotels. Eddie and I were clinging to each other when a dapper couple came towards us. The young woman had brassy hair and a face full of freckles. Her curly locks attracted Edmund and as she approached he reached out to feel her tresses. She put her hands out in hopes Edmund would come to her but instead he clung tighter to me. I leaned into the lady with Edmund and tried to unhinge his little fingers from my dress. I asked him, “Eddie, what does the bunny do?” and he replied by squinting up his teeny nose and making a snuffling sound. The woman laughed at this and tried again to pry Eddie from my arms. After much coaxing with a grape sucker Edmund got down from my hip and stood at my side. His little hands held tight to my calico dress while he sucked his pop loudly and drooled out the side of his mouth. The woman and her husband asked if he was a bright boy, and did he sleep through the night, was he potty trained, did he have trouble hearing or seeing things? I answered all of the questions thoughtfully. I told them Eddie was the dearest child I had ever known, I told them of his nature to want to cuddle, how he liked to be sung to sleep and have his head rubbed. They were enchanted by him and decided that they would love nothing more than to welcome him into their home as their son. Tears filled my eyes. Eddie would have a loving home, a real family, and he could grow up to be a business man like his adopted father, or perhaps he could learn a trade. He would read and write, learn arithmetic and have a wife and children of his own one day. More than anything this family would see to his health and his ailing cough. He hardly noticed me as his new parents bribed him off the platform with stuffed animal toys and more treats.

Feeling a kinship towards me, Agnes placed her hands upon my shrugged shoulders in comfort, “Mary, I will talk to the Sisters about having you assist me with other small children, would you like that?” I hugged Agnes and stifled my tears, “Yes, I would like that very much,” I said feeling my heart break at the loss of Edmund. I also felt saddened and suddenly very worried about my own future and what it would bring. Edmund had become a crutch and once again I was alone.

Later I found out that Agnes had approached the family about adopting me as Eddie’s nanny, she showered me with praise for my ability to calm him when he was upset. But they declined, only having the financial capabilities to care for one child at this time.

I had many other children to look after on the train but at every stop more of them were finding homes. Terrified siblings clung to one another in fear of being ripped apart; happily most of them were taken together on this journey. All the infants were gone and most of the older lads and gals were gone too.

Agnes always talked up the clean air and when I closed my eyes I could taste it. I remembered the farm when both my mama and da were alive and we lived nestled in a two room split frame house with loft that my da built by himself. I had my own bed and starburst quilt and even had a window to see the constellations at night. The smell of fresh cut hay and the taste of the crisp apples that came from the trees by our stream filled my senses. I wished fervently that we could have stayed on that farm, that we could have figured a way, but the good Lord must have had a different plan in mind for me.

One day on the train when the children were napping I sat next to Agnes and asked about her family. She cleared her throat before recounting her story to me, fondling the cross she wore around her neck all the while. Her mother was a German immigrant in New York City struggling to feed her three small children. Her father left her mother for days on end heading to the brothels or opium dens in The Five Points. Her mother, Anna, starved herself in order to feed her children the scraps she could beg or find in garbage cans around the city. Hearing the news her husband died in a bar brawl she was overcome with shock and walked away from her children for an entire day. When she returned she had food and drink, blankets and a few spare coins for emergencies. She began going out at night and returning in the early morning hours, often times she was drunk and always she was sore down there. She smelled of cheap perfume and male body odor and more than once she came home with large bruises across her face. Agnes recounted the time her mother’s wrist was broken and she cradled it in her other arm, still she was able to put food on the table for her small children. When Agnes was thirteen her mother was gone so much she had to quit school and watch over her siblings. She herself would venture out in the daytime to sweep storefronts or beg for coin for more food. One night her mother didn’t come home at all and she was found dead in the ally way near their small home in lower Manhattan. She had been brutally raped and beaten to death. They found her with no shoes, no skirt, just a torn shift and simple cross around her neck tied with shoestring.

Agnes was separated from her siblings and brought to a corporately funded House of Refuge with hundreds of other neglected and abandoned children. The home for the refugees was poorly run and Agnes spent many pointless days scrubbing floorboards and washing windows. The children were given jobs to help keep them out of trouble but in many instances they were whipped and beaten or deprived of food if the overseer didn’t approve of their work. The children were often sickly and went without proper medical attention. Thankfully the Sisters of Charity were in need of a few young ladies to help them in the new journey they were set to begin across the countryside. The journey involved taking destitute children out of the filthy cramped city teaming with crime and delivering them to the countryside for a more healthy way of living. In return for the help the Sisters promised to bring children from the refuge home on their next trip west.

Agnes fingered the smooth wooden cross around her neck, “This was my mother Anna’s. She did her best to care for us. I will never know what happened to my siblings, but my destiny now is to help all of these children, and you too.” A tear trickled down her cheek and she let it roll onto her habit, she had chosen a life of faith instead of the painful life of family. She opened her bible and began mouthing the words to her favorite psalm, “The Lord is my Shepherd…..”

“How old are you, Agnes?” I asked interrupting her recitation.

“I suspect I am nearing eighteen,” she answered without looking up from her bible.

I crept back to my wooden plank seat in the last row of the carriage and thought of my life on the farm and of my parents. Suddenly I was grateful that neither of my parents agonized with death. To think of my mama giving herself to men for coin was sickening. To think of that act at all was disgusting but if it was with someone you loved perhaps it was okay.

I grew sullen as the days passed and more children were taken into loving homes. It wasn’t fair that my da died nor was it fair I had no mama; I had no one in this life to love me. Scotty and Little Eddie were the closet things I had to family and now they were gone, too.

I was setting up my new plan when the train pulled into our next stop, this time in Ohio. I was thinking of turning to the Lord and becoming a Sister like Agnes when a familiar cry reached my ears. We were walking off the train when the sound captured my attention; it was the wail of Edmund! He was being returned on account of his difficult nature. The gentleman who had signed the papers for him handed him to me and sought Sister Agnes. They were deep in concentrated discussion about the situation.

“It isn’t natural ma’am, if you’ll pardon me for saying so.” The gentleman had taken off his top hat while speaking with Agnes and gesturing to Eddie who was now safely in my arms.

Clinging to me as though his life depended upon it, I wiped Eddie’s snotty nose and kissed him on his cheeks. I missed this child dearly and now that he was back I would never let him go again. His eyes were puffy and tear stained and I kissed them too. I overheard the gentleman’s comment on Eddie’s unnatural affection for me and shook the thought aside. I was the closest thing he had to a mother and being separated from me caused him too much anxiety.

“Oh Eddie, I love you!” I exclaimed, selfishly happy he was back with me.

“Eddie wuvs you!” the child said softly before nestling into my welcoming arms once again.

Agnes had much to do with the other children so she instructed me to tend to Edmund. I gave him a pail with sweet milk and a buttered roll that he gobbled down immediately. He savored the tart green apple, letting the juices run down his chin, and holding it out to share with me.

A dozen children were adopted on that stop but more than half of us remained homeless so we pushed onward to the Dakotas. The conductor yelled “all aboard” setting us in a click clack motion that we were well accustomed to now.

Agnes approached me cautiously. “We have a slight problem.”

“Oh dear, I hope it doesn’t have to do with me, Sister.” I was afraid for Agnes was very serious.

“Well in fact it does. It seems Edmund simply can’t be placed without you. He was inconsolable, crying for you nonstop.” The nun gently fluffed Edmund's dark curls while he sucked his thumb trying to make sense of our conversation.

“Oh, Sister, do you mean it?” I asked. “Can we possibly be placed as siblings? That would be marvelous!” I might not have to become a nun like Sister Agnes; there still remained hope for me after all.

“It may be impossible, it’s difficult enough to find a home for a dark skinned toddler and red headed girl but we will try.” Agnes adjusted her cross and left us to reunite, a wistful expression crossing her face as she went.

The train rambled on a northwest route taking us through Wisconsin and Minnesota before stopping in North Dakota, then heading to South Dakota and continuing on through Nebraska and Kansas. We would eventually cross into Missouri, Kentucky, and wind our way back through Ohio, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, and New York. But that took many weeks and everyone including Agnes was growing restless. Mr. and Mrs. Porter left us in the Dakotas as there were no babies left to tend. I would put braids in the little girls’ hair and we would sing Christian songs to keep the children entertained. The older boys played at checkers and cards and arm wrestled in the filthy boxcars, but many more jumped out of the train in an attempt at finding their own way.

As we approached Pennsylvania and New York Agnes spent her time finishing up paperwork for the children already adopted. She continued to make notations in her folders for those of us still available as well. One day while Agnes was bathing and dressing the elementary age children I found her notebook open and snooped.