Whistle-Stop West
Authors: Arleta Richardson
Tags: #historical fiction for middle school;orphan train history;orphan train children;history books for children;historical fiction series
Ethan Cooper and his best friend, Bert, each grabbed one of little Simon's hands again and hustled him along between them. Quickly they rounded the station house and charged down the crowded platform. When it seemed as though they had passed more ore cars on the way back than they did when they came, the boys slowed down and surveyed the scene.
“We never went this far from our train,” Bert said, “and we still can't see the end. How come?”
Ethan frowned. He had no answer to that. The trio turned around and made their way toward the front again.
“Do you see anyone you know?” Bert asked.
“Nope. Where do you s'pose Matron and the girls are?”
The crowd was much smaller than it had been, and the boys anxiously searched the faces of all who passed by.
Simon tugged at Ethan's hand. “I sawâ”
But Ethan cut him off. “Wait until we get on the train, Simon, and then tell me.”
Bert stopped and looked back. “I know we were on this side of the station house. The train didn't move, so our car has to be here somewhere. Where is everybody, anyway?”
Looking for Home
Whistle-Stop West
Prairie Homestead
Across the Border
WHISTLE-STOP WEST
Published by David C Cook
4050 Lee Vance View
Colorado Springs, CO 80918 U.S.A.
David C Cook Distribution Canada
55 Woodslee Avenue, Paris, Ontario, Canada N3L 3E5
David C Cook U.K., Kingsway Communications
Eastbourne, East Sussex BN23 6NT, England
The graphic circle C logo is a registered trademark of David C Cook.
All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts for review purposes,
no part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form
without written permission from the publisher.
This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.
All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible. (Public Domain.)
LCCN 2015952819
ISBN 978-1-4347-0956-1
eISBN 978-1-4347-1010-9
© 1993, 2016 Arleta Richardson
The Team: Catherine DeVries, Ramona Tucker, Ingrid Beck, Amy
Konyndyk, Jon Middel, Nick Lee, Tiffany Thomas, Susan Murdock
Cover Design: DogEared Design, Kirk DouPonce
Cover Photo: Kirk DouPonce and iStockphoto
Second Edition 2016
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To Ethan's children:
John, Bob, Carroll, Clark, Faith, and Hope
The just man walketh in his integrity:
his children are blessed after him.
Proverbs 20:7
The Orphan Train Family
En route west
Summer 1908
Charles Glover decided there was nothing as lonesome sounding as a train whistle moaning through the night.
Whooo, whooo, who, whooo.
The pattern spelled the letter
Q
in Morse code. What had that to do with approaching a railroad crossing?
Charles turned over on the hard seat that served as his bed. What they needed was a whistle that signaled “help,” especially on a train like this one.
The sky was lightening in the east. If Charles wanted any waking moments of silence, he would have to take them now. Wearily he stood, folded his blanket, and tossed it on the overhead rack. Squinting through the dusty window, he was unable to tell where they were or what the new day promised in the way of weather. Not that it mattered. This train car was home for several weeks, whatever went on in the outside world.
The train lurched and swayed as Charles attempted to shave in the tiny washroom.
“It's a wonder you don't cut your throat or put an eye out,” he said to his image in the mirror. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
This wasn't what he'd had in mind when he had joined the mission staff to work with Chicago's homeless. Charles had been excited about being associated with the famous Hull-House, founded by Jane Addams. The work was all he had expected it to beâhard but rewarding. He had cheerfully done every task assigned to himâtoo cheerfully, according to his friend Paul.
“You're also so good-natured, Charlie, that you're going to get the assignments others don't want. Do you know anyone else who begs to spend eight months a year on a train with a bunch of street kids?”
“They aren't all âstreet kids,'” Charles had protested. “We pick up a lot of children from orphanages and county homes. And it's worth it to see them all placed in good families.”
Some days were more worth it than others, Charles admitted as he made his way back to his seat. In the dim light of the long car, he could see boys of various ages sprawled on the seats. Unless some had left during the night, there were fifteen of them.
Not much chance of anyone escaping
, he thought as he grinned. They were so worn out from the excitement of being on the train that they scarcely moved after the lights were out.
If the nights were quiet, the days were not. These were obedient children and for the most part well behaved, but they were still boysâgiven to pushing, poking, and shoving. Nor were they above teasing. Charles had searched for his tie yesterday, only to find it looped on the door of the girls' car ahead of them.
As he sat down and opened his Bible, Charles breathed a prayer of thankfulness for Matron Daly, who had overall charge of the twenty-five children in their care. Eight of the boys and four of the girls had come with her from the Briarlane Christian Children's Home in Pennsylvania. Charlie had been relieved to discover she was a lady who understood and loved children and was able to direct the activity of a trip like this. As agent for the placement program, he was willing to watch over a group of sleeping boys, but the daily care and discipline of the many young ones was best left in Matron's capable hands.
Charles leaned closer to the window to take advantage of the early light and discovered that his Bible had fallen open to the book of James. The first verse to catch his eye was most appropriate: “Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.”
To visit the fatherless.
For over a year, Charles's job had been finding homes for children who were wards of the state or who lived on the streets. Each month, coaches called Orphan Trains were attached to railroad cars going across the country. At each small town the orphans were lined up in the local church or town hall, and people in the area were invited to choose a child to take into their homes. So far no child had been returned to the streets because there wasn't a place to live. Folks in the West had opened their hearts warmly to care for the children whose lives had been hard and lonely.
Across the aisle, Riley Walter sat up and folded his blanket. At fifteen, Riley was the leader of the group. The children respected and liked him, and he did a lot to keep things running smoothly.
Charles smiled at him. “Good morning, Riley. I guess it's time to rouse the troops, isn't it?”
“Yep. I'd better see that they get washed and brushed before Matron comes in, or we'll be in trouble. Come on, guys,” Riley called. “Let's get ready for breakfast. Move along, now.”
There was a rustle of activity, and heads appeared over the backs of the seats. Another day had begun.
In the girls' car, Shala O'Brien was assisting the little ones with a hairbrush and a soapy washcloth. Her no-nonsense approach to tangles and grimy faces was met with cries of protest.
“Ow. You're pulling!”
“I've got soap in my eye!”
“Hold your head still, and your hair won't pull,” Shala advised calmly. “Wait until you're dressed to look out the window.”
“Where are we, Matron?” Betsy asked. “Are we there yet?”
“We're there, all right,” Matron replied, “but I'm not sure where âthere' is.” She peered out the window at the moving landscape. “It looks about the same as it did before dark yesterday. Here, sit down and put your stockings on. It's time to get breakfast. The boys will be ready for us in a few minutes.”
Matron Daly gazed fondly at the ten little girls busily preparing for the day. She was grateful for Shala's help. The twelve-year-old had come with her from Briarlane, as had Betsy, Alice, and Millie. The other six had joined them in Chicago, along with seven boys. Only four of the childrenâthe Coopersâhad been requested by a family before the trip began.
As she watched Alice putting her new belongings in order, Matron knew she would miss the Cooper children more than any of the others. She was especially attached to nine-year-old Ethan. His concern for his younger brothers and sister was as great now as it had been when the little family arrived at Briarlane over a year ago. The year hadn't been an easy one for them, and Matron prayed that their new home would provide the love and care they deserved.
Shala, Matron thought, could fend for herself wherever she was placed. She was an in-charge child who wasn't afraid to tackle any job or situation. Betsy was an independent little girl too. Her sunny disposition would soon win her a place in someone's home. Millie, at age three, was still a baby. Matron knew well that babies were easiest to place, and little girls often had the advantage over little boys in looking irresistible.
The train was slowing, and the girls rushed to the windows to see where they were.
“We're going to stop, Matron. Do we get out here? Is someone waiting for us?”
“Not yet. Mr. Glover said it will be several days before we come to towns that are expecting us.”
“Are you sure they know we're coming?” Eight-year-old Trudy looked anxious. “Did someone tell 'em?”
“Sure they did,” Shala answered for Matron. “It's right there in the paper, see?”
“I can't read. I ain't never been to school.”
“Never been to school! What orphanage were you in that they let you stay home from school?” Shala stared at Trudy in disbelief.
“Weren't in no orphanage,” Trudy replied. “I lived in a walk-up with my ma until she died. Then the mission said I could go on the train.”
“Oh. Well, look. I'll read it for you.” Shala picked up the newspaper and read the advertisement with the headline “Notice.”
Wanted: Homes for Children
Children of various ages and both sexes will be arriving soon on the Orphan Train. These children are well disciplined and self-reliant. They must receive education, religious training, and good treatment in every way as members of the family. Distribution will take place at the local hall. Train stations will post specific times of arrival. Friends from the country, please call and see them. Merchants, farmers, and friends generally are requested to give publicity to the above, and much obliged.
C. Glover, Agent
“What's
self-reliant
mean?” Trudy asked.
“It means you can take care of yourself.”
Trudy nodded. “I can do that, even if I ain't been in school.”
“We all can,” Abby broke in. “We've been doing that all our lives.”
You have indeed
, Matron thought sadly.
Poor little waifs. I hope the rest of your lives isn't as hard as the first has been.
Aloud she said cheerfully, “The cocoa is ready, girls. Wanda, you bring the bread, and Nell can carry the jam. Don't forget your mugs. Walk carefully now. The train is gaining speed again.”
Shala went ahead to open the doors, and Matron followed with a big kettle of steaming cocoa.
Alice Cooper, almost seven years old, closed her eyes and clung to Betsy as they crossed the narrow bridge where the two cars were coupled together. She dared not look down at the swaying metal beneath her feet. The wide cracks revealed the rushing earth below them, and the wind whooshed their skirts out.
The girls' car went one way, and the boys' car went the other. What if the two were to come apart while they were in the passageway? The possibility was horrible to consider, and Alice was relieved when the journey was completed. The children were free to come and go between the coaches during the day, but Alice preferred to make the crossing only when it was absolutely necessary. She felt safer in the same car with Ethan.
When they reached the boys' car, Matron announced, “All right, children. Line up. Little ones first, please. Get your bread and jam and sit down. I'll bring the cocoa to you.”
Very quickly, thick slices of bread, each spread with a generous spoonful of jam, were handed out. With Charles carrying the kettle, Matron ladled out the warm drink at each seat.
“Arthur will pray for us this morning,” Charles directed.
Arthur shouted out the blessing. “For what we are about to receive, we thank You, Lord. And help us not to spill. Amen.”
In spite of the petition and the best intentions, there were mishaps as mugs reached small mouths just as the train lurched. Matron was ready to mop up with a towel.
“If this is the worst that happens, we'll be blessed,” she said. “I've never seen twenty-five clean children together in one place in my life.”
“We're in Iowa now,” Charles told her. He pulled a watch out of his pocket. “Should be getting into Davenport within the hour. The train will be stopping for coal and water, so we'll have twenty or thirty minutes there. The children can get out of the car and run a little.”
Matron was alarmed. “Get off the train? This is a big station, isn't it? What if we lose someone?”
“We've never lost one yet,” Charles assured her. “I'll pair them off so no one is ever alone. They won't leave the area. There's too much to see here. I think we can put Riley and Shala in charge, and we'll keep Millie and Will with us.”
