Orphan Train, page 19
He reached over to a small bell hanging from a post near the schoolhouse door and rang it loudly. The children obediently returned to the schoolhouse, and Rollie and Mrs. Hutson walked back into town.
Rollie talked incessantly during the ride home, excited that he’d made friends and elated that he got to play stickball again. He told Farmer Hutson all about it, practically bouncing in the bench seat of the carriage as he did so. Farmer and Mrs. Hutson were filled with joy to see their son so happy. They paid close attention to his story and Farmer Hutson even expressed interest in learning this new game of which he’d never before heard. The enthusiasm with which the boy shared his story made the ride home fly by for all of them.
The infectious excitement of Rollie permeated into the night. Upon returning to the quiet homestead, Mrs. Hutson invited Rollie to help her make a pie. Rollie happily accepted the offer, and after helping Farmer Hutson stow the carriage and leading the horse team into the large corral behind the barn, he bounded into the house, washed and ready to help her.
The apples had been picked from the tree and sliced. They sat enticingly on the counter as Mrs. Hutson and Rollie kneaded and rolled the dough that would become the crispy crust of the dessert. Grandfather, who always seemed present but wasn’t often seen, couldn’t resist the deliciously large apple slices and grabbed a handful with one big paw while giving Rollie a wink before wandering from the kitchen into the sitting room. Mrs. Hutson hadn’t seen the thievery and didn’t understand why Rollie began giggling as Grandfather walked through the kitchen.
“Where’s your mother?”
“She died, some time ago.” Mrs. Hutson smiled as she said it. She sounded like she sincerely missed her mother but didn’t show the sadness that Rollie still felt when he talked about his.
Maybe, he thought during a long pause in the conversation, one day I’ll be able to talk about my mother too. Then his childhood curiosity continued. “Does Grandfather miss her?”
“Even more than I do. They married quite young. Mother was just fifteen. They spent thirty-five wonderful years together. I know he misses her every day.”
“Did you she teach you to cook?” Mrs. Hutson nodded with her pretty smile present on her face. “Do you have any brothers?”
Mrs. Hutson laughed at the array of topics in his line of questioning. “One brother. I had two sisters as well.”
“I don’t have any sisters. Just Theodore. But Mother always wanted a girl. Theodore said one time when I was a baby, she put me in a long dress that she bought before I was born in case I was a girl. I never saw the dress, so I think he’s lying. But Theodore doesn’t lie. One day, when I asked Mother about the story, she just laughed. So maybe it was true.”
The boy went on, talking about this and that. Mrs. Hutson listened as the boy spoke and answered when the occasion called for it. But she marveled in the change that had overcome her son. Before the trip into town he’d been shy and quiet; slow to come out of his shell. Ever since he played with the children, he’d been a lively, animated child with an enormous personality. And it wasn’t lost on Mrs. Hutson that Rollie was now mentioning both his mother and brother without hesitation or sadness. As the pie slowly came together and, eventually, made it into the hot oven, Mrs. Hutson’s heart was full. This was the feeling she hoped to achieve in adopting a beautiful boy into their family.
After the meal was complete and with the sky growing darker outside, Rollie stuck the large fork into a piece of the warm apple pie. His eyes were wide with glee as he held the fork up to eye-level and watched the steam lift off the large apple slice and dissipate right in front of him. The fork traveled to his mouth and the flavors of apple and cinnamon – which he’d used a little too much of when helping make the pie – enveloped his mouth. The boy ate every bite of his slice of pie while talking and laughing with the farmer and his wife, and Fred and Otto. His family. He didn’t even realize this pie was not his mother’s pie.
33.
A crackling noise woke Theodore with a fright. His eyes popped open and he took a deep breath, then held it. His heart beat loudly in his ears; he felt as if his chest rose and fell a whole foot with each rapid beat. He looked all around without moving his head. He saw nothing. It was predawn twilight. The low sky in the east was in the earliest stages of its transformation from the dark of night; a lighter shade of blue was glowing on the horizon. He could still see dozens of stars overhead, but the smallest were gone from his view, pushed away by the encroaching daylight. He heard it again, a stick break. He sat up quickly, ready to run. Five feet in front of him, a deer with ten points on its antlers froze in fear, staring at the boy who appeared from the grass. Theodore froze too, having never been this close to a wild animal. A moment later the deer jumped away. Theodore was startled by the sudden movement. The deer did not slow until he reached the tree line in the distance, and disappeared as soon as he did. Theodore collapsed back to the earth, catching his breath and eventually laughing at himself.
The sun was well into the sky when Theodore crept back toward town. He hadn’t heard a sound, save the deer, since he fell asleep the night before. He walked in the crouched position he’d mastered at the orphanage until he reached the back of the building he was closest to. Then a slow upright walk back through the alley he had sprinted through the day before, and he was peering around another corner onto a road. He saw a lone horse tied to a post; the rider was nowhere to be seen. With a double-check in every direction and a deep breath full of worry, he stepped out of the alley. He walked across the dusty road looking straight ahead until he reached the next set of building fronts. He stayed as close as he could, ready to dart into an alley or doorway should he see the sheriff again, and continued slowly.
When he came to the next corner, he looked around and was surprised to find a busy road. The main road of Ozark came to a T at the road on which he was standing. The main road had many horses and carriages, and a handful of people. It seemed to Theodore that every one of the men he could see wore a long moustache that curled into a circle at both ends. He slid like a snake, tight against the building. Then he stopped abruptly when he smelled it. Fresh baked goods! Breads. Cinnamon. Perhaps, he though excitedly. Scones!
He located the bakery, directly across the road from where he stood, and ran to it. He quickly closed the door and gave a cautious look out the large window.
“Help you?” A woman’s voice with the thickest accent he had heard yet came from behind him. She was nestled behind the counter in a large high-back chair.
“I’d like some food, please,” Theodore put on his best smile.
“Watcha lookin’ fowr?” The woman stood and leaned with all her might against a thick cane. She had been crippled by some earlier incident in life and standing took all the energy she possessed. Theodore also noticed that, along with her crooked posture and her slowness of speech, she had beautiful blonde hair that stretched far down her back, and her dress was as bright and clean as if brand new. She had a motherly beauty about her, although Theodore couldn’t begin to guess how old the woman truly was.
“I haven’t got much money,” Theodore was not nearly as ashamed of that fact as he had been the day before, but it still hurt him to say. “I’d like the most filling food I can get for ten cents, please.”
The woman walked unsteadily down the counter and pointed to large pastries displayed nicely on an ornate china plate. “Dis here as good as you go’a get for ten cent. Getcha two for dat. Dem dere’s pastry with a apple jelly scooped atop. One next to it’s cherry. Taste jes like momma’s cherry pie.”
“Those would be delicious,” and he reached for his money. The woman picked up the two pastries with a piece of wax paper.
“You’s dat boy dey’s lookin’ fowr, aint ya?”
Theodore was taken aback, unsure of what to say. It took him a moment to formulate any sound at all. “Pardon, ma’am?”
“Sheriff’s offerin’ a small reword fowr ya. Aint much. Just two dollar. Don’t seem like he much cares either way uh findin’ ya.” The woman exchanged the pastries for the money Theodore had laid on the counter. “Aint got no worry from me, son. I aint lookin’ fowr no dollar from that wretched sheriff. Man as evil as him ought be floatin’ in da bottom uh da river.”
Theodore smiled and took a bite of the apple pastry. It tasted better than he imagined it would. He finished the bite while the woman returned to her high-back chair, then walked toward her cautiously. He felt that she was honest and wouldn’t turn him in to the sheriff. “Could you please tell me how to get to Russellville?”
“Take da main road. Folla it fowr two days. Land ya right in Russellville.”
“Is Dardanelle closer than Russellville?”
“Aint by much. Ot’er side uh da river.”
“How do I get there?”
“Easy as pie. Go straight south ta Caulksville, turn left on da Dardanelle Road. Two-day ride ‘n yer dere.”
Theodore jumped with excitement and practically ran out the door, thanking her once more for the food. He walked through the door and looked up and down the road, orienting himself and finding which direction was south. He realized the way he needed to travel and began the journey with an extra pep in his step. He felt closer to Rollie than he had in three days. Walking wasn’t ideal, but his supply of money was only shrinking, and the number of lawmen chasing him had grown to more than he’d ever had chasing him in his life. One.
Caution was thrown to the wind in his excitement. At the very next corner he turned as any man turns a corner, and the wind was taken from his sail. There in the middle of the road, sitting high atop what appeared to be a massive horse, was the sheriff. He was talking with two other men who all seemed to be enjoying a light-hearted conversation. None of them men would have noticed Theodore, had he not froze and his eyes not widened to the point of alarm. One of the men looked at him curiously, and this caught the attention of the sheriff. The sheriff hadn’t been looking at Theodore two whole seconds before he recognized the boy. He turned his horse and excused himself from the other two men. In one swift move, Theodore jammed the remaining pastries into his pants pocket and turned and ran.
He was passing the bakery once again in a full sprint when he heard the beat of horse hooves turn the corner behind him. The horse was not running full speed, but Theodore didn’t know that. The experienced lawman had no care for a stowaway and had already written the boy off. This chase was more for the excitement of something to do than it was for catching an accused criminal. Still, the boy’s speed surprised the sheriff. He sped his horse up with a click of his tongue and poke of his spur.
Theodore made it to the next road and turned. This one was smaller than the two roads he’d been on; only slightly wider than an alley. But there were people walking in the road. A group of men sat in rocking chairs on the boardwalk of the first store. Theodore slid to a stop in the dirt, jumped onto the boardwalk and plopped down in an open rocking chair right in the middle of them. The five men watched the boy curiously without a word. No sooner had he plopped down than the sheriff came tearing around the corner on his steed. The horse ran the length of two stores in the road, and the sheriff didn’t notice the boy sitting among the men. By the time the horse had come to a stop, Theodore was a block away, turning back onto the main road in a dead sprint.
He followed the same pattern he had used the day before, turning at every corner and not staying on a road more than one block. He tried to keep his heading in a southern direction but added time to his journey with every turn. He heard no hoofs behind him and was confident that the sheriff was on the other side of town. When he reached a long straight road that headed south, he stepped off the road and behind the first few trees where it would be hard to see him if the sheriff came looking. He sat for a moment against a tree, catching his breath and watching over his shoulder. Once he was rested and sure he wasn’t being followed, he began walking, staying in the trees just off the road.
THE ROAD TO CAULKSVILLE was wide and well used. After an hour of walking in the tree line alongside, Theodore finally stepped onto the dirt. It was much easier to walk on the flat surface, not having to avoid brush and roots. And he was deeply scarred by his experience with the snake; every stick and lump that was solid black caused him to stop and investigate with a stick before passing by. No harm came to him, and once he was on the dusty road, he increased his speed without realizing it.
More than another hour passed before he heard the squeaking, creaking sounds of an approaching carriage. It clearly wasn’t a man on horseback; in the short time he’d been in Arkansas he’d come to know what a slow-moving carriage sounded like. He slowed his pace slightly and waved a friendly wave when an old man riding an old carriage attached to an old mule came around a curve in the road.
“Fine mornin’,” the man tipped his cap.
“Yes sir.”
The slow pace allowed for a brief conversation.
“You a long way from anything. Where might you be heading?”
“Caulksville,” he replied defiantly. He was a man on a mission now. With the sheriff behind him and easy-to-follow directions in his head, he’d see Rollie by sundown tomorrow. “Hoping to find that Dardanelle road. I’m meeting my brother there.”
“Well you have my best wishes in your journey. Should I come across you when I return this afternoon, I shall offer you a ride.”
“Thank you, sir.” The two exchanged polite waves and the man continued on his way.
THE SUN WAS GETTING lower in the sky, although still a couple of hours from sundown. Traffic on the road had increased – Theodore had seen three carriages pass by in the last half hour. He maintained a brisk pace but felt his body wanting for water and food once again. After coming around a long curve in the road, Theodore spotted a building ahead, just off the road. Much too big to be a home, he thought. When he spotted a horse tied to a post in front of the building, he stepped into a jog and reached the Caulksville General Store in no time. He was surprised to see it was the only building around. No telegraph office, no sheriff’s office. Just a general store.
Theodore entered quickly and nodded to the storekeeper, who was busy stocking the shelves behind the counter and only returned a tired smile. The store was larger inside than it had looked from the road. Behind the counter were two dozen small square boxes, with the familiar sign of the Post Office hanging above. The front of the store appeared to be goods one would by for himself, and a second store seemed to have been added on and connected by a narrow doorway. The back half of the store had an assortment of tools and equipment for farming and plowing, keeping livestock, and tending to horses. Theodore had no need for the back half. After he’d made a quick lap around the front half of the store, Theodore was back at the counter, gently laying a large piece of jerky with an apple atop next to his remaining change.
“I’ve been walking all day and intend to walk well into the night,” he boldly told the storekeeper when the man joined him at the counter. “I’d be mighty thankful if you’d take what’s left of my money for these two things.”
The storekeeper gave the contents spread on the counter a quick glance and squeezed his eyebrows together, which made his nose look tight and pointed. Theodore gathered the man wasn’t happy with the deal. The man took a slow, deep breath in and stared at the boy, which Theodore took as an accusing gesture. Theodore reached into both pockets of his pants and turned them inside out, an offering to show he wasn’t lying about his money. The man finally nodded, though his facial expression didn’t change. “Alright.”
Theodore thanked the man repeatedly as he exited the store, taking a bite of the dry jerky as soon as he was through the doorway. He hopped down the two steps and landed next to the horse, who startled at the boy’s sudden movement. Theodore saw the trough and remembered how thirsty he was. He didn’t hesitate to reach down and scoop water into his mouth. It wasn’t cold and tasted terrible, but it quenched the dryness that had overtaken his mouth. He scooped a few more handfuls – as much as he could stand with the taste – then dunked his whole head in, careful to not get his food wet. When he raised his dripping head from the trough, he opened his eyes to see the horse had leaned toward him and was now just inches from his nose. Theodore jumped back, and the horse jumped again, startling one another. Theodore let out a laugh and smacked the horse on his hind quarters as he walked away.
The junction was merely twenty feet away. The road he was on continued straight and immediately got more narrow and was thickly rutted by remnants of many wagons passing through on rainy days. To his left and right was a wide and flat road that looked to be the better option for walking. And there was the sign he’d been looking for. It was nearly four feet long and hand painted in big bold letters: DARDANELLE ROAD. Below it, a smaller sign with an arrow pointing to his left announced the way: Dardanelle, 40 miles. He took a bite of the apple with a big smile, then turned left.
THE SUN WAS NEARLY gone from the sky. The road around him was dark and seemed to be alive with shadows made by overhead limbs blowing in the gentle breeze. The air was warm and sticky, as it had been all day, but the breeze came from the north and seemed to cool him as it blew his hair around. There wasn’t a light to be seen in any direction, save the last rays from the setting sun which could be seen over his shoulder. He was having a harder time seeing the small ruts and holes in the road and his body was telling him it was time to rest for the night. But his brain told him he was close to Rollie and wouldn’t let him stop.
