The Little Sparrows (20 page)

“She sounds like a fine young lady.”

“That she is.”

Harold’s eyes went to the orphans in the two coaches. “Have you considered adopting a child?”

Lance’s mind flashed back to a day a few months previously when he had mentioned the idea of adopting a child to Carol. She seemed cold to the idea. By the few words she spoke, Lance figured that Carol felt if she couldn’t bear a child, an adopted child would not fulfill her need as a mother. He cleared his throat gently. “We’ve … ah … talked about it some, but at this point, I guess we’re just not ready.”

“I see. Well, children are a blessing. I hope someday you will adopt one, or even more than one. Otherwise you’ll never have any grandchildren, and believe me, you don’t want to miss out on that.”

At that instant, the conductor yelled, “All abo-o-oard! All abo-o-oard!”

Lance stood up. “Well, Harold, the man is telling me to get on the train.”

The bell on the engine began to clang.

Harold rose to his feet and they shook hands, telling each other good-bye. Lance picked up his briefcase and hurriedly boarded the coach just ahead of the orphan girls’ coach. He found an empty seat, and sat down next to the window. He saw Harold Fremont standing close to the coach, looking at him. Harold smiled, waved, then turned and walked away.

As Lance placed his briefcase on the floor next to his feet, he heard other passengers around him talking about the orphans in the last two coaches. Soon the engine whistle sounded, and the train rolled out of the station.

In the boys’ coach, little Jimmy Kirkland was alone on his seat as he turned around and rose up on his knees. Smiling at the two six-year-old boys in the seat behind him, he said, “W-won’t b-be l-long, now! P-pretty thoon we’ll b-be out w-wetht, an’ I’m gonna have a m-mama an’ a p-papa! I c-c’n hardly w-wait to thee who ch-chootheth me!”

Jimmy wiped a hand over his mouth, removing the saliva that always appeared on his lips when he spoke.

One of the boys laughed gleefully. “I’m excited about who’s gonna choose me too, Jimmy!”

“Me too!” said the other boy. “I sure hope the people who choose me will be farmers! I saw some farms one time when my parents took me all the way up to Buffalo. I really like horses and cows. I wanna be a farmer!”

On the seat directly across the aisle from the six-year-olds were two twelve-year-old boys, who had already been teasing Jimmy about his speech impediment. Jason Laird elbowed Rick Schindler with a grin, then looked at Jimmy. “Hey, Jimmy! Nobody’s gonna choose you! They wouldn’t wanna listen to all that stutterin’ and lisp all the time!”

Rick Schindler laughed. “Yeah,
retard!
And they wouldn’t wanna clean up that spit all the time, either!”

Jimmy’s features twisted up and tears filled his eyes.

“Hah!” Jason laughed. “The lame brain retard’s cryin’, now!”

Jimmy broke into sobs and buried his face in his hands.

Three seats behind Jason and Rick sat a muscular fifteen-year-old boy named Barry Chandler. His eyes riveted to the backs of their heads. As he stood up in the aisle, he was unaware that Derek Conlan and Gifford Stanfield were entering the coach from the rear door.

Barry moved up to the spot where Jason and Rick sat, laughing, and when they looked up and saw his burning eyes, the laughter
died on their lips. Every eye in the coach was on Barry as he leaned down, putting his face close their faces. “You two leave the little guy alone! Do your hear me? I’m not going to put up with it!”

Conlan and Stanfield looked at each other, then hurried down the aisle. As they drew up, Derek Conlan ran his gaze between Barry and the two on the seat. “What’s going on here?”

Barry set his jaw. “These two are picking on Jimmy about his speech impediment again.”

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.”

Wanda 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.”