Whispers in the Wind (32 page)

She paused, took a deep breath, and went on. “Lord, I beg You: Please don’t make him have to spend the rest of his life in there. Set him free. And, Lord, please bring him out West and let us be together again. He risked his life to save me from death. He—he’s the best friend I have in this world. And he’s my big brother. Please let us live near each other for the rest of our lives. I—I may be asking a whole lot, Lord, but it’s the way I feel. I love my big brother, and I want to be close to him.”

On Tuesday morning, November 7, the train pulled into the Pittsburgh railroad station. The orphans were allowed to leave their coaches so they could stretch their legs and release some of their pent-up energy.

They walked through the depot, escorted by their chaper-ones and nurse Millie Voss. Tharyn held Leanne’s hand and described the interior of the depot to her as well as the milling
people all about them.

After an hour of walking around, orphans, chaperones, and the nurse boarded their coaches once again, and soon the train chugged out of the station.

Moments later, the train was running at top speed over the Pennsylvania hills, headed toward Ohio.

In the girls’ coach, Eva Newton stood at the front. “Girls, I want to tell you a little bit about where you’re going. You’ve heard people talk about the wide open spaces out West. And that description is quite accurate. Out there, you can go hundreds of miles sometimes from one town to the next. Ever since the Children’s Aid Society started the orphan train system, most of the orphans have been chosen by farmers and ranchers. Out there in farm and ranch country, the rolling land seems to stretch on forever. Depending on where they are, sometimes there are ranges of towering mountains with peaks that reach fourteen thousand feet or more above sea level. Those peaks are capped with snow in the wintertime, and on some of them, their snow never even melts off in the summertime.”

The girls were surprised to hear this and looked at each other in amazement.

“Now many of the orphans have been chosen by people who live in the rural towns. Those children learn quickly that living in the western towns is vastly different than living in New York City. Out there, it is a country atmosphere and the air is always clean and refreshing.”

Eva ran her gaze over their excited faces and smiled. “How does this sound to you?”

Answers came back from all through the coach. The girls were very excited to see what lay ahead of them.

As the voices began to grow quiet, Leanne raised her hand.

Eva smiled. “Yes, Leanne?”

“Mrs. Newton, I won’t be able to see the wide open spaces
around Denver, and I won’t be able to see the Rocky Mountains that I’m told are just west of there, but I’m going to love it anyhow!”

The other girls applauded and cheered her.

“And Mrs. Newton, I’m glad you mentioned about the air out West always being clean and refreshing. I can’t see like the rest of you can, but there’s nothing wrong with my sense of smell. We all know about the disgusting odors we so often have in New York City’s air. I’m looking forward to the clean, refreshing air where I’m going to live!”

Eva nodded and said, “Girls, how many of you like music?”

Every girl lifted a hand.

“Good! Recently, one of the women sponsors at the Society composed a little song about the comparison of New York City’s atmosphere to that of the wide-open spaces of the West. I would like to teach it to you. How many of you like to sing?”

Again, every girl lifted a hand.

“Wonderful! I’ll teach it to you, then we’ll all sing it together.”

The girls listened intently as Eva sang the song:

The orphan girls loved the song, which had a catchy tune as well as a message of hope to them, and Eva had them sing it over and over several times. She noticed that Leanne sang along with everyone else, a radiant smile on her lips.

Sitting on a front seat, Barbara and Millie sang along with the girls, enjoying the happy enthusiasm they displayed.

Once the girls were singing the song well, Eva said, “Okay! All
of you learned the song pretty fast. I’m going to the boys’ coach now to teach it to them.”

As Eva left the coach, the girls were singing it on their own.

When Eva entered the boys’ coach, Mark left Colin’s side on the front seat, and moved up beside her at the front of the coach.

Her entrance already had every boy’s attention.

Mark said, “Boys, listen up. Mrs. Newton wants to talk to you.

Eva made the same speech as she did in the girl’s coach, then taught the song to the boys. They sang it with her over and over again, showing that they loved the song as much as the girls did.

At the Tombs in the Hall of Justice, Dane Weston sat on his bunk, thinking about Miles Coffer, who had been transferred to a cell on another floor yesterday. He smiled as he thought of how Miles hugged him when the guards came to take him to his new cell and thanked him for caring about his soul, and for giving him the gospel.

He would never forget Miles’s words as the guards closed and locked the cell door. As he looked back over his shoulder, he said, “Dane, my body will be locked up in this place for another twenty years, but my soul is free! I’ll see you out in the prison yard one of these days.”

“Sure will!” called Dane, his face pressed against the bars.

Dane shifted his position on the bunk and thought about Tharyn on the orphan train. “Lord, take care of her. She’s such a sweet girl.”

Now that Dr. Lee Harris had retired and moved away and Tharyn was gone, the only person that visited him regularly was Pastor Alan Wheeler. The pastor had been there two times since Dane had last seen Tharyn, and had been given permission by the guards to have a brief Bible study each time with Dane on the
other side of a barred window in the visiting room.

These visits had been a real encouragement to Dane, and a source of inspiration for him to keep up his witness to prisoners and guards alike. Dane was becoming a serious student of the Bible, and between visits, he often jotted down questions to present to Pastor Wheeler the next time he came.

Charles Loring Brace had been there that very morning and promised he would be back as often as possible. Dane had told him that he understood he had a very busy schedule, but he would welcome his visit any time he could come.

The next morning, about an hour before noon, a guard drew up to the cell door and said, “Dane, you’ve got a visitor.”

Dane smiled as he rose from the bunk and stuffed the slip of paper with his latest Bible questions in his shirt pocket.

Moments later, when the guard ushered him into the visiting room and told him which window to occupy, he was pleased to see that his visitor was his previous landlord, Mitchell Bendrick.

Sitting down with a smile that spread from ear to ear, Dane reached through the bars and said, “Mr. Bendrick! What a nice surprise!”

They shook hands, and Bendrick said, “It’s good to see you, son.

“How did you know I was in here, sir?”

Bendrick grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Well, my boy, you know what the neighborhood grapevine is like. Slow, maybe, but always sure. The word about your arrest and trial finally got around to Mrs. Bendrick and me. I came as quickly as I could.”

“Thank you, sir. It sure is good to see someone from the old neighborhood. So—so—you know why I’m in here.”

“I know you were convicted of stabbing an eleven-year-old boy to death and sentenced to life in pr—”

“Mr. Bendrick, I didn’t do it!” cut in Dane. “I swear I didn’t do it. The killer looks like me, but I’m innocent!”

Bendrick shook his head. His voice was thick with confidence. “Son, I never believed for one moment that you committed that crime. I know you better than that. There’s a mistake of some kind, here.”

Tears moistened Dane’s eyes. “Thank you, sir. It means a lot to me that you don’t believe it.”

Bendrick let a thin smile curve his mouth. “Maybe one of these days something will happen just the right way, and the guilty party will make a mistake and get himself caught by the law. Then you’ll go free.”

“I’m sure praying that way, sir.”

Bendrick nodded. “Would you like for me to bring your medical books to you?”

“I sure would appreciate it, sir. I would love to have them so I could keep studying them. That way, when this ‘something’ happens and I get out of here, I can keep working toward my goal of being a doctor. I’m especially eager to read that new book my parents bought me for my birthday.”

“Good. I’ll bring them to you tomorrow.”

“Ah, Mr. Bendrick?”

“Yes?”

“I was told a couple of days ago that I will soon be allowed to go out into the prison yard so I can walk around and get some exercise.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’ll need my winter clothes that I left with you.”

“Sure. I’ll bring them, too.”

“All right. Thank you. Ah, I’m curious, sir.”

“About what?”

“Have you rented our apartment yet?”

“Yes. I rented it to a family named Atwood. They have a nine-year-old boy named Kenny. But, well, things aren’t going too well with the Atwoods. I’m having some problems.”

“What do you mean?”

“Leonard Atwood is a heavy drinker. He has a bad temper when he’s sober, but boy, oh, boy, it’s
really
bad when he’s drunk.”

Dane nodded. “I’ve seen men like that before.”

“Me too, but Leonard’s the worst I’ve ever seen. ’Nother thing. His wife, Vera, is not well. She has consumption. Vera’s not completely bedridden yet, but she’s moving in that direction. She still does the cooking, even though she has to spend most of the day lying down. Kenny does the housecleaning for her—you know, the sweeping, mopping, and dusting. He also helps her with the washing and ironing. One of these days she’ll have to be put in a sanatorium. I don’t know what will happen to poor little Kenny.”

“That’s too bad,” said Dane, shaking his head slowly. “I sure hope this Mr. Atwood doesn’t cause you and Mrs. Bendrick any trouble.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Bendrick, rising to his feet. “Well, Dane, I’ve got to be going. I’m not sure at this point what time I’ll be here tomorrow, but I’ll be here.”

Dane reached through the bars and shook his hand. “I’ll look forward to it, sir. And thank you for coming to see me. It’s been real nice talking to you.”

“Been my pleasure, son.”

“Please tell Mrs. Bendrick hello for me.”

“I’ll do that. See you tomorrow.”

Bendrick turned and walked toward the door behind him, and the guard who waited there opened it and let him through the corridor.

When the door clanked shut, a deep sadness invaded Dane’s being. It was good to see his family’s old landlord, but it evoked many memories of a time gone by and now lost forever.

The guard who had escorted him to the visiting room stepped up from behind. “Okay, kid. Let’s go.”

Mentally shaking himself, the young prisoner rose from the chair.

Moments later, Dane stepped into his empty, lonely cell. When the guard turned the key in the lock and walked away, Dane sat down on his bunk and sighed. As he thought back on his conversation with his old landlord, a small stirring of pleasure dispelled some of his sadness.
It’s good to know that someone else believes I’m innocent. It’ll be great to have my medical books with me. That way I can continue learning. Then when the Lord decides I’ve been in here long enough and sees that I’m cleared of the murder charge, I’ll be even better prepared to get on with my education
.

He picked up Dr. Lee Harris’s medical bag from the foot of the bunk, rubbed it lovingly, then lifted his eyes toward heaven. “Thank You, Lord, for bringing me Mr. Bendrick for a visit. I
will
get out of here someday, and I
will
become a doctor. You knew exactly how to lift my spirits!”

When Mitchell Bendrick arrived at 218 Thirty-third Street and stepped into his apartment, he called out, “Sylvia, I’m home!”

Silence.

“Sylvia! Are you here?”

Silence.

Knowing his wife often visited neighbor women and women in their own apartment building, Mitchell was not concerned. He moved to the closet where Dane’s medical books and his winter clothes were kept. “Guess I’d better put these out so I won’t forget to keep my promise to that boy tomorrow.”

He placed the books and the clothing on a chair nearby, then picked up the day’s edition of the
New York Times
from a small table. A bit tired from his long walk to the Hall of Justice and emotionally drained from his visit with Dane Weston, he sat down in his favorite overstuffed chair and immersed himself in the paper.

Moments later, Mitchell heard the door open, and though he was engrossed in an article about crime on Manhattans streets, he
looked up at Sylvia. Having been married to her for many years, he was aware at once of the worried expression on her lovely face.

As she walked toward him, Mitchell folded the newspaper and laid it aside. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You look worried.”

Sylvia sighed and sat down in her own favorite overstuffed chair. “I was just up in the Atwood apartment with Vera, darling. She’s not doing well at all. About an hour ago, I was walking down the hall on the second floor, and as I was passing the apartment, I heard Vera sobbing. I knocked on the door. When she let me in, I found her with a large purple bruise on her face.”

Mitchell’s bushy eyebrows arched. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes. Vera had been on the sofa, so I made her lie down again, and asked her to tell me about it. She told me that last night, Leonard came home quite late from work. He had stopped at his favorite barroom—as he often does—and was drunk when he entered the apartment. She was lying on the sofa, as usual. He asked why supper wasn’t on the table.

“Vera told him that she and Kenny had eaten at the regular time. Since she had no idea when he would come home, she and Kenny did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. He told her to get up and cook him a meal. She told him she was too weak to cook another meal; that he would have to make himself a sandwich. He—he jerked her up off the sofa and slapped her face, demanding a hot meal.”