Whispers in the Wind (7 page)

At that moment, one of the girls said, “Here comes Bessie!”

All eyes turned to the girl who was running down the alley waving a worn but clean piece of toweling like a banner. She drew up, panting, and handed it to Dane. “This … is … all I could … come up with, but … it’s clean. Will it … do the job?”

Dane looked at the cloth, then the expectant look on the girl’s face, which was red from running. “It will do just fine, Bessie. You’re a good girl. Thank you.”

Bessie smiled at his words of praise and shyly dipped her head.

Dane poured water on the cloth and put compassionate eyes on the little boy. This opportunity was giving him a hint at what it would be like to be a doctor, and he was reveling in it. “Billy, I’m going to have to press on the cut to try to stop the bleeding. It may hurt, but the bleeding has to be stopped.”

Still panting, Bessie spoke up. “Billy’s a brave … boy, Dane. He’ll be … all right.”

Billy set appreciative eyes on the pretty girl, then looked at Dane. “Go ahead. I’ll be all right.”

The look in Billy’s eyes showed Dane that he trusted him.

While the group looked on, Dane dabbed the wet cloth on the cut lip carefully, trying not to hurt the boy any more than was necessary. Billy winced, but did not cry out.

After several minutes, Dane held the wet cloth against the lip and looked around at the group in the gathering darkness. “The cut is really deep. I’ve got the bleeding slowed down, but Billy will need a doctor to stitch it up. Any of you know where the nearest doctor might be?”

Russell was about to speak up when Bessie said, “There is a very kind doctor who has an office a few blocks away, Dane. His name is Dr. Lee Harris. He and his wife and daughter live in the apartment above his office. Dr. Harris has a concern for the children who live on the streets. One afternoon a week—usually on Saturdays—he goes into some of the alleys to see if there are any sick or injured street waifs like us who need his help. We’ve heard that he helps so many poor families in this part of the city, that he doesn’t make a lot of money. They can’t pay him, but he helps them, anyhow. He’s really a wonderful man. Dr. Harris was here just about three hours ago, so he won’t be back for another week.”

Dane rubbed his chin. “Billy needs his lip stitched up immediately. It can’t wait a week. I’ll take him to Dr. Harris right now if you will tell me how to find his office. Since he lives in the apartment above the office, he’ll probably be home.”

“I’ll take you there, Dane,” said Russell.

“All right,” said Dane, sliding his hands underneath Billy’s small body. He picked him up and rose to his feet, cradling him in his arms while holding the cloth against the cut lip to stay the flow of blood as much as possible.

Bessie smiled at Dane. “Thank you for being so kind, and for caring about Billy.” She frowned and cocked her head to one side. “You don’t live in this neighborhood, do you?”

“Actually, I don’t live anywhere right now. I used to live in the
two hundred block over on Thirty-third Street, but I became an orphan a few days ago when gang members murdered my parents and my little sister and brother. I came down here to live on the streets with orphans like you. I tried to get into two other colonies today, but they didn’t want me.”

“Well, you’re welcome to live with us,” spoke up Russell.

All the others joined in chorus to show their agreement with Russell, including Billy Johnson.

Bessie stepped up to Dane and laid a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry about your family. I know we can’t take their place, but we’ll try.”

Dane smiled at them. “Thank you. I feel at home with you already.”

Russell’s eyes sparkled, matching his smile. “We’re very glad to have you.”

One of the other boys said, “Dane, we have an extra cardboard box. You can sleep in it, just like we sleep in ours. It’s big enough for you.” He was pointing at the number of cardboard boxes that were grouped near the rear of the closest store.

Dane took a cursory glance at the boxes, then around the alley. “I want to thank all of you, again, for taking me in. I’ll do my part to provide food. I’m trying to find a job of some kind. And I’ll do what I can to provide safety for all of you, too.”

“You’re plenty good at that!” said Russell. “Believe me, we’ll get the word around about how you handled those two bullies. Nobody will want to bother us once they know you’re living here.” He paused. “Could I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Where’d you learn to fight like that? Both of those guys outweigh you ten pounds, if not more.”

“I learned to take care of myself in school and in our neighborhood. Plenty of toughs to put up with. When you fight enough of them, you learn real quick.”

“Well, you sure did all right with those two.”

Dane’s face tinted. “We’d better get going. Billy’s lip is still bleeding.” He looked at the others. “We’ll be back later.”

The small group of street waifs watched with appreciative eyes as Dane and Russell headed for the street with Billy cradled in Dane’s arms.

When the boys reached the street, twilight was on Manhattan and the lamplighters were busy doing their job.

Russell pointed Dane in the proper direction, and they headed that way, walking fast. As they moved along the street, they saw a pair of policemen on a corner across the street, walking their beat together.

Russell focused on them. “That’s different.”

“What’s different?”

“Two policemen on a beat together. It’s always one officer by himself.”

“Not anymore. I have a close friend who lives in the same block where I used to live, and his father told me that all five boroughs are putting two officers together on a beat as partners. Too many police officers have been killed and wounded by the gangs because they were alone on their beats, and the criminals on the streets are braver when a police officer is by himself.”

Keeping his eyes on the two officers as they walked, Russell said, “I’m sure that’ll make the streets safer. Some of the officers in our area check on us street kids once in a while. It’s good to know they’re around, and it’ll be even better with them working in pairs.”

“Um-hmm,” said Dane as he checked Billy’s lip and picked up the pace.

It was dark by the time they drew up in front of the doctor’s office, but there was a street lamp right in front of the building. There were no lights in the office—as they had expected—but there was a light in the apartment window above. A sign on the
office door gave Dr. Harris’s office hours, but added that in emergencies, if the doctor was home, he could be reached upstairs. An arrow pointed to the door that led up to the apartment.

Russell opened the door, allowing Dane to pass through with Billy in his arms. Together, they mounted the stairs. When they were almost to the top, Russell moved ahead and knocked on the door.

Footsteps were heard inside and the door opened. A tall, slender, gray-haired man appeared. His shoulders were stooped. He looked at Billy and the bloody cloth Dane was holding over his mouth. “Come in, boys. What have we here?”

“Some bullies beat Billy up, Dr. Harris,” said Russell. “They cut his lip real bad. Our new friend did what he could to stop the bleeding, but he said Billy needed to have the cut stitched up.”

Harris’s bushy gray eyebrows arched. “Oh, now I know you boys. Your colony is in the alley behind Powell’s Grocery.”

“Yes, sir. My name’s Russell Mims. Billy’s last name is Johnson, and our friend’s name is Dane Weston.”

The doctor moved up close to the boy in Dane’s arms, lifted the hand that held the bloody cloth, and studied the cut lip.

While he was doing so, Dane noticed an elderly silver-haired woman sitting on a sofa in the parlor behind the doctor, with a woman he judged to be about forty-five or so. He recalled that Bessie said the Harrises’ daughter lived with them in the apartment. Dane had not expected the doctor and his wife to be that old, nor their daughter to be in her forties, either. He noted that the daughter was looking at him with her mouth hanging open. There was a blank stare in her eyes.

Wondering how a boy Dane’s age would know whether or not the cut on Billy’s lip would need stitches, and how he knew what to do to slow the bleeding, Dr. Harris said with a hint of admiration in his eyes, “You’re right, Dane. The cut definitely needs to be sewn up. Not only for the bleeding’s sake, but otherwise it will
leave a nasty scar, and it could cause him a problem with his speech. You did the right thing by bringing him here. We’ll go down to the office, and I’ll get it stitched up.”

Dane felt a thrill of satisfaction run through him. Guess I diagnosed my first case correctly, he thought. Too bad I didn’t have the equipment or the capability to tend to him. Someday … Yes, someday.

Maude Harris drew up beside her husband. “Do you need my help, dear?”

“I don’t think so, honey. Thank you, but I can handle this one by myself.”

Maude ran her bespectacled eyes over Billy, noting the dried blood on his shirt. “Looks like this boy has lost quite a bit of blood.”

Billy put fingers to his nose again. “My nose isn’t bleeding anymore, though.”

“That’s good, dear,” she said, patting his arm.

“He has lost a lot of blood,” agreed Dr. Harris, “but this young man, here, did a good job of staying its flow.”

Maude smiled at him. “Good for you, son.”

Dane felt a warmth flow through his body. As he was turning toward the door, he noticed the Harrises’ daughter standing in the center of the parlor. Fear showed in her vacant eyes, her hands were trembling, and her mouth still hung open.

The doctor said in a low voice, “Honey, you’d better take Lawanda back to the sofa.”

Maude turned and took Lawanda’s hand. “Come, sweetie. Let’s sit down. These boys won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Lawanda gave her mother a blank stare, working her lips and making a low mumbling sound, then obediently followed with faltering steps as Maude took her by the hand and guided her back to the sofa.

Dr. Harris led the boys downstairs to his office, guided them
into the examining room, and when he had lit three lanterns and placed them on small tables to give sufficient light for his task, he pointed to the table. “Lay him right here, Dane.”

Dane laid him down gently. “Here you go, Billy. Dr. Harris is going to make everything better.”

While the doctor was gathering materials at the medicine cabinet, Billy’s
eyes
showed fear. His small shoulders twitched with an involuntary shiver. In a tremulous whisper, he said to Dane, “It’s gonna hurt, isn’t it?”

“Maybe a little bit, Billy,” Dane said softly, “but you’re tough, aren’t you?”

Billy swallowed hard. “I try to be.”

“You’ll be fine,” said Russell, patting his hand.

There was nothing wrong with Dr. Harris’s hearing. With the necessary tools and supplies in his hands, he stepped up to the table and laid them on the cart next to it. “Don’t be afraid, Billy. I’ll do my best to make this as painless as possible.”

The little boy met the kindly doctor’s gaze and nodded.

Dr. Harris looked at Russell and Dane. “You boys can sit down over there on those chairs.”

“Yes, sir,” said Dane, moving toward the chairs. “C’mon, Russell.”

When the boys were seated, Dr. Harris went to work.

While the split lip was being sutured, Russell sat quietly, his eyes on the doctor and his patient.

Billy made no sound.

Dane let his gaze roam around the room. He studied the medicine cabinet, the other examining table, and the cart that sat next to it.

There was a counter by the medicine cabinet where a large pitcher of water sat next to a metal wash pan. There were towels on a rack, and a bottle of lye soap sat next to the wash pan.

With his
eyes
still roaming about the room, Dane’s attention
was drawn to a picture frame on the wall closest to him that contained a Scripture verse printed on white paper. It read:

Dane recalled hearing that verse somewhere one time, but could not think of where it was. His line of sight went to another wall where a similar frame had another Scripture verse. This one read:

As soon as Dane read this one, he saw another frame on a third wall. The inscription read:

Dane licked his lips and read all three again, twice.

R
ussell Mims was still keeping his eyes on the doctor and Billy Johnson while the stitching was being done on the little boy’s lip.

Dane Weston glanced at the doctor and his patient periodically, but his eyes kept going back to the picture frames and the Scripture verses that were printed on the white paper. He was pondering their messages.

He kept trying to think of where he had heard the verse that spoke of the wages of sin being death and the gift of God being eternal life.

He scratched at an ear. Was it that Christmas program at school that time when that famous preacher was in town preaching at that big church on Forty-seventh Street? Yeah, that was it. What was his name? Oh yes. Charles Spurgeon. He was from England and was preaching in churches in three of the boroughs and in New Jersey. Principal Bateman belonged to that church on Forty-seventh Street, and invited Mr. Spurgeon to come and speak at the school’s Christmas program. That was … let’s see … four years ago last Christmas.

Dane recalled how the preacher had explained the Christmas story better than he had ever heard. He talked about Jesus Christ being born into this world to save sinners and that if people died without opening their hearts to Him, they would reap the wages
of sin—eternal death, which was the lake of fire. Mr. Spurgeon emphasized that the opposite of eternal death was eternal life, and that eternal life was only found in Jesus Christ.