Orphan Train, page 21
“Wow! How did you do that?”
Mrs. Hutson laughed aloud and taught her son how to catch and hold onto a chicken. More smiles and laughter followed, and when her basket was filled with eggs from the coop, the two began their leisurely journey back toward the house. The two were just coming around the barn when they saw Farmer Hutson approaching in the distance, returning from his affairs in his small carriage pulled by a single horse. Otto, she saw on the other end of the barn, was standing in a cart hitched to their one donkey while Fred was throwing tools into the cart. Then Grandfather, old and bent as he was, emerged from the barn and threw a handful of rope into the cart.
Mrs. Hutson was alarmed to see an urgency in the men, especially in her elderly father, and led Rollie quickly toward the cart. Their arrival was timed perfectly as her husband’s carriage came to a stop next to them and the cart that was being loaded. She untied her bonnet as she spoke. “Is something the matter?”
“Yes ma’am. Afraid so.” Fred strode over to the carriage after throwing an armload of digging tools to Otto, who was standing on the cart and piling things atop carefully. Fred took a quick break from his sweaty work to drink from a water bag and explain the urgency. “The herd got spooked out there on the south field. We ain’t sure if it ‘as a wolf again, but they ‘as scared something fierce. Tore through the fence above the cliff. Least a dozen fell over. We knows three of ‘em’s dead, and the ones that didn’ die sure are makin’ some horrible noise at the bottom. We got all the rope we could find and the three big pulleys. Hopin’ to save the ones we can. Then get to mendin’ the fence quick. Rest of the herd won’t leave the fence line and keep nosin’ closer to the openin’.”
Farmer Hutson rolled up his sleeves and jumped from the carriage. The importance of the matter at hand was made clear to Rollie as he saw Farmer Hutson didn’t bother to change from his nice business clothes. The farmer took control of the situation with commanding authority.
“What more do you want to take?”
“I ‘as gonna hop on your horse and use him to pull. He’s saddled ‘n ready to go.”
“You do that. Papa, would you stow the carriage and horse for me? Rollie, you come along. We’ll need all the hands we can get for this. Hop up on the cart and hold tight.”
Rollie did as he was told and quickly found himself standing next to Otto atop the cart. Farmer Hutson walked into the barn with Fred. He returned quickly, wearing a worn out, wide-brim hat that he kept on a nail near his saddle. He kissed his wife and took a quick look in the cart to inventory what they were bringing with them.
“I’ll hold supper for a couple of hours,” Mrs. Hutson added as everyone around her seemed to be in a whirl of motion. “You boys watch yourselves on that cliff.”
Otto took the reins and gave the donkey a gentle tug. The strong animal obeyed and the cart began to move. Fred emerged from the barn, high atop the biggest horse on the property. The man looked like a giant and commanded the horse as well as Farmer Hutson did. Rollie looked over his shoulder and waved at Mrs. Hutson nervously. He wanted to show he could help, but what they were about to do sounded like a lot of hard work; he wasn’t sure how much help he would be at his age and small size. Rollie could see the bright white of Mrs. Hutson’s teeth when she returned his wave with a big smile.
ROLLIE GAVE ONE FINAL pull on the rope. His hands were raw from the constant sliding of the rope through them. Blisters had long ago formed and had now popped on both hands between his thumb and forefinger. He was bleeding from his elbow, a result of slipping multiple times during the struggle. He leaned back as far as he could, holding the rope tight and digging his heels into the buried rock to brace himself. Otto hollered from behind Rollie, pulling with all his might on the reins and encouraging the donkey to give one more pull. Farmer Hutson pulled the rope just in front of Rollie. He, too, was covered in dirt and tired to the point of collapse. Fred stood closest to the edge of the cliff, and as soon as the front legs of the last living cow cleared the ledge, he gave it a whack on the hind quarters. The cow kicked and rolled until it had its feet underneath it, then triumphantly stood. The rope went slack. Rollie fell onto his rear-end for the umpteenth time. Farmer Hutson stood up straight and removed his hat to wipe sweat from his brow. Otto gave the donkey a comforting rub of the neck, and Fred inspected the cow as it walked, favoring one of its front legs.
Otto took a long drink from his waterskin while walking toward Fred. He passed the waterskin and pointed to the cow that was now limping in front of them. “Well?”
“Gotta nasty cut, but don’t see no breaks. We’ll clean it good but I think she’ll live.”
“Six dead, two limp, and seven don’t seem to notice they fell down a cliff this afternoon,” Otto was still breathing heavy, like the others, and wiped the sweat from his head as he spoke. “Sorry we couldn’t save those six, Mr. Thomas.”
“I’m just glad we saved as many as we did.”
“Good news is,” Fred, still smiling despite the extreme effort the group had just exerted, pointed to the fence line. “The herd broke only one post. We can have this back up in twenty minutes. Supper still be hot when we get home.”
Although they were too tired to laugh, Farmer Hutson and Otto both smiled. Neither one had noticed that the fence wasn’t in too bad shape. The three men leaned against the cart, and Rollie sat in it, while they rested from their labors before finishing the task. Nobody spoke. They drank water and seemed lost in their own thoughts for a time before they finally got to work mending the fence.
“Sure is hard work sometimes, isn’t it?”
Farmer Hutson handed Rollie the water bag and watched him take a long swig. The boy, like everyone there, was exhausted. Rollie just nodded. Although he was much younger and smaller than the men, he’d worked just as hard to get the cows back to the top of the cliff and in mending the fence post. Fred and Otto were placing the last boards. The herd of cattle had moved away from the fence line and were grazing peacefully once again, as if nothing had happened. Farmer Hutson looked around at the scene and smiled. It was hard work, but he was working with good friends and a new son. The herd was safe and the fence whole once again. He truly was blessed.
“Something a lot of people don’t know about me,” the farmer sat on the back of the cart next to Rollie with his feet dangling. “I was an orphan too.”
“You were?”
The farmer nodded. “My parents died when I was young. A neighbor took me in, you could say. But the old widow wasn’t in no condition to watch children. She died a couple years later, when I was thirteen or so, and I kind of just went out on my own. Started working for food and a place to sleep at night.”
Rollie just listened. For some reason, the story already made him miss Theodore. He hadn’t thought about his brother all day; the backbreaking work hadn’t allowed much free time for wandering thoughts. But as soon as the memories of his lost brother returned, so did the pit in his stomach and lump in his throat. He didn’t realize he hadn’t felt those feelings in more than a day.
“I also had two little brothers. When the old widow took me in, I begged her to let the twins come with, but she wouldn’t have it. Said she couldn’t manage three kids at her age. She was right too,” he chuckled. “I was a handful, but my brothers were hellions. They would’a done her in for sure.
“But a family in town that the widow knew took them. For a couple months they lived across town, and I’d go see them every night before supper. But then their family joined up with the Mormons and headed west. I never did see them again. Last I heard, I got a letter from one of ‘em when I was about seventeen or so. Still keep it in my dresser. He said they settled in some place called Holladay’s Burgh, and become friends will all sorts of Indians in the area.”
The story made Rollie sad, but also made him feel just a little bit better. He didn’t understand why. But he wanted the farmer to go on with his story, which he did after finishing the water in the bag. “I guess what I’m sayin’ is, I know how hard it is to lose your brother. If we’d have known that you two was brothers, well, we’d either taken neither of you or both of you. I, um – I’m sorry, son. I never meant to tear you away from your brother.”
Rollie stared at his shoes, covered in mud and with a hole on the outside big enough for his small toe to poke out when he stepped wrong. Then his eyes caught gaze of the farmer’s boots. They, too, were worn thin and covered with drying mud. Thinking about the story he’d just heard and the man sitting next to him – his father – he suddenly didn’t feel so alone. And for the first time since his mother died, he didn’t feel like an orphan.
“Will you ever get to see your brothers again?”
“You know, I think about that every day. Most nights as I lay in bed, or out here working when I stare at the fire, I think about hitchin’ up a carriage and heading to Holladay’s Burgh. It’s been near thirty years since I saw ‘em last – I wonder if they’d recognize me at all.”
“I hope I see mine again someday.” Rollie looked far to the south, over the newly replaced fencing and the cliff beyond. The blue sky was endless, touching the tops of the trees so far away that Rollie figured that was where Theodore must be. “I’d hate to go thirty years without seeing him again.”
“We all finished, Mr. Thomas,” Fred broke in as he tossed a heavy hammer and a pickax into the cart behind the two. “That fence is sturdier ‘an ever.”
“Good. I sure do appreciate your help with this.”
“Ain’t nothin’, Mr. Thomas. All I ‘as doin’ today was breakin’ that new colt,” Otto took a long drink and leaned against the cart next to Farmer Hutson. “You know I’d much rather be out here doin’ the hard work.”
“Well I sure wouldn’t,” Fred said with his jovial tone. “I’d rather be doin’ the chores in the barn, smellin’ Mrs. Hutson’s supper right ‘bout now.”
“As would I,” Farmer Hutson patted Fred on the back. “Let’s get back to it before it gets cold on us.”
The sun was getting lower in the sky and the temperature was cooling off as a good breeze had picked up. The sky overhead was quickly filling with wispy clouds, which were being chased far in the distance by large puffy clouds that filled the horizon. The storm was far to the north and looked as if it would pass by without bothering the area. It was a sight to see – the white and grey clouds in the distance were catching the rays from the setting sun, painting a picture of the horizon full of orange and red and even purple hues. Rollie watched it all, fascinated by the beauty he had never before noticed. The three men all walked alongside the donkey and didn’t seem to notice the beautiful scene around them. Rollie enjoyed the breeze that blew his hair around. It was a cool breeze – a product of the distant storm – and it felt nice after his stimulating day.
When the work group neared the house, Rollie jumped down from the cart and caught up with the older men. Otto gave him a smile and a friendly shove.
“I’ll help put the tools away,” Rollie offered.
“That’s my boy,” Farmer Hutson wrapped an arm around his son proudly.
“Look at that. Already more help than Otto,” Fred announced and laughed heartily.
“I’ll go check in with the misses, then I’ll be out to help put things away,” Farmer Hutson bounded into the house while the others led the donkey and cart straight into the barn.
The donkey was unhitched and munching happily on hay. Otto pushed the cart into the corner of the barn while Fred and Rollie hung the tools on the wall. It wasn’t long work and the farmer hadn’t returned before they were done. The three of them walked toward the house, stopping to slide the barn door shut.
“That game you ‘as talkin’ ‘bout earlier,” Otto talked while sliding the heavy door. “I played that once as a kid. We didn’ call it stickball, but we played it jus’ like you talked ‘bout.”
“It’s my favorite game!”
“I couldn’ hit the ball with the little stick. But I sure had fun tryin’.”
“I’ll teach you!” Rollie was getting excited once again. “I was learning to hit and getting good. Not as good as Theodore, but he was teaching me and I was a good learner. I thought one day I could hit as far as he could.”
“You still can, if you keep practicing.”
The voice stopped Rollie in his tracks. He knew Theodore’s voice anywhere. The lump in his throat returned and tears welled in his eyes. Had he imagined it? He slowly turned his attention from Otto and looked toward the house, where the voice had come from. There, standing on the porch between his new mother and father, was the one thing he missed most in his life.
His voice quivered and he began to cry. “Theo?”
He broke into a sprint. Theodore jumped down from the porch and met Rollie halfway. Rollie wrapped his arms around Theodore and drove him into the ground, burying his face in Theodore’s chest.
Rollie sobbed tears of joy into his brother’s dirty shirt. Mrs. Hutson wiped a tear from her cheek, and Farmer Hutson put his supporting arm around her shoulder. The reunion was just as he’d always imagined he might have with his own brothers. Some day.
“I told the boy he was welcome to stay.” Mrs. Hutson said quietly, leaning her head on her husband’s shoulder.
The farmer replied with glistening eyes. “He can stay as long as he wants.”
THE END
Zach Stookey, Orphan Train
