Orphan Brides Go West: The Complete Series Read online

  The next few weeks passed in a blur of activity. Christy and her parents packed their entire lives into boxes. Her beloved piano was sent to Hannigan’s for sale at auction, along with the furnishings from the large old house on Maple Avenue where she’d spent her childhood years that weren’t slated for use by prospective tenants. She shed tears over each piece as it was stacked into the back of a wagon before disappearing from view down the busy street.

  She arranged her own clothing and other necessities in a small trunk, making sure to include her favorite old stuffed bear, given to her by her parents one Christmas years earlier. “Will we buy a new piano in San Francisco?” she asked as the wagon that held the rug-covered instrument rounded the bend and vanished.

  “I’m sure we will,” her mother replied.. “I believe your father will be able to afford nice things in San Francisco, so don’t fret over your old ones, my dear.”

  Christy folded her arms and walked back into the house. Their traveling trunks were piled in the foyer, almost blocking the front door, while the rooms were now practically bare. Her parents had decided to let the house, and the agent would be arriving later that afternoon to take down a description of the place. Two maids worked hard in the parlor, scrubbing and dusting, scouring and wiping – part of the extra help Mrs. Hancock had hired for the last few days to help them pack and clean.

  There was a knock at the door. Christy turned and opened it.

  “Cab, Ma’am, for the train station.” The driver of the cab they’d ordered stood on the stoop, hat in hand.

  “Mam, the cab is here,” called Christy.

  “Oh, wonderful – the luggage is just over there, thank you.” Mrs. Hancock indicated the trunks, and the driver hurried to carry them to his buggy. “Horace!” she yelled up the stairway.

  “Yes, my dear, I’m here.” He emerged from their bedroom, toting her hat box under one arm and an umbrella in the other.

  “The cab is here, my dear.”

  “Good, he’s right on time. Let’s go then, shall we?”

  The three of them took one last look around the hollow rooms of their home. Christy pinned her hat to her head as a piece of her heart tore away. She stepped outside and descended the stairs to the cab. As she climbed inside, she looked back out the window. They pulled away from the curb, and she watched the tall red brick building with the white trim fade into the distance. Her cheeks wet, she sank back onto the padded bench seat and drew a deep breath. She had a feeling that things would never be the same again.

  3

  The steam train puffed loudly beside the platform. The sweeping dome of the Broad Street Station crisscrossed above the heads of Christy and her parents as they hurried toward the train. Porters led the way, expertly wheeling the Hancocks’ luggage on wide trolleys, pitching it up into the carriage, and heaving it across their shoulders into the baggage car. The Hancocks followed close behind, climbing the stairs into a passenger car, where they located their assigned seats.

  Christy sat by the window and stared out at the busy station. The engine let out another shrieking puff of steam. “Mam, did you remember to write to Aunt Penny in Ireland?”

  “I did. I let her and Hank know we’re moving, and that we’ll inform them of our new address as soon as we get settled.”

  “I do wish we had some relatives nearer by. I would have loved to grow up with cousins, aunts and uncles around.” Christy watched a family hurry down the platform together. They seemed to be searching for the correct train to board, each making sure the others were close by as they ran. The station housed more than a dozen tracks, all with trains huffing and rumbling to and from the platforms in a cacophony of clanking and hissing. Finally the family located their carriage and leaped aboard just before the final whistle sounded.

  “Yes, I know, my dear. I wish we could have given you siblings as well, but some things just aren’t meant to be. Only the Good Lord knows why things happen the way they do. Perhaps you’ll get to visit the family in Ireland someday.”

  “I would love to. I really don’t remember anything about it, since I was only four when we left. I vaguely remember the journey to America on the ship, but I don’t remember Ireland or the family at all.”

  Just then, their train blew a shrieking whistle. The noise echoed and bounced off the sloping walls of the station. A conductor on the platform, dressed in a smart black suit with silver buttons and a cap pulled low over his brow, cried, “All aboard, Topeka bound! All aboard!”

  “I do believe we’re off,” said Mr. Hancock. He leaned forward to peer out the window.

  The locomotive lurched, and after a few clanking heaves the pace smoothed out as the engine pulled the carriages from the station into the cold light of the grey winter’s day.

  As the train left Philadelphia, Christy looked at her family. Across from her, her mother was knitting, her brown hair swept up into a high bun. Daddy was settled next to Mam, his graying beard resting on the knot of the tie tucked into his buttoned vest. She thought back to the last time the family had taken a journey of the same magnitude together, when they’d emigrated from Ireland fifteen years ago. That seems like an eternity ago, another lifetime.

  The rail journey was a new experience for her, and for hours she relished watching the fields and woods flash by the window beside her as the train sped across the country. A green hollow filled with brilliantly-colored flowers filled her vision for a second, and she longed to be outside romping through it. She imagined their sweet scent filling her nostrils as the cool grass tickled her bare feet. At the very least, it would have been nice to stretch her legs after hours in her seat. A herd of lithe brown deer shied away from the noise of the train and bounded across the hollow, their soft wet noses raised high in the air.

  There were large, still lakes covered with waterfowl, followed by deep dark woods holding unknown secrets and tall trees with trunks thicker than a dozen men standing together. She saw birds of every kind, white-tailed rabbits, and once a black bear foraging along the edge of the woods beside the tracks.

  After a few days, though, the novelty of the journey wore off. She felt the lethargy that only utter boredom and the restrictions of a confined space for an extended amount of time could bring. Even the scenery had become tiresome, making her dizzy if she watched it for too long. She sighed and leaned back in her seat. “Mam, how long until we reach Topeka?” She knew how long, having already asked her mother half a dozen times. Topeka would be the next stop where they’d have a chance to get out of the train and take a decent walk.

  “About four hours,” answered her mother patiently. She’d taken a half-finished hat out of a bag at her feet and was carefully knitting a row of green pearl stitches across the top of it, her needles flying. “We should be in Missouri by now. Why don’t you go to the dining car and grab some lunch? Your father and I will come with you if you like.”

  Christy’s stomach growled, as if approving the suggestion. She rose to her feet and stretched her arms above her head with a great yawn.

  Just then, the engine slowed, and she heard the screech of brakes as the locomotive pulled to a sudden stop. She grabbed the back of the seat to steady herself and looked up with joy. “Oh, are we stopping here?” She looked out the window at the dense woods beyond.

  Her mother craned her neck, trying to see the front of the train. She looked stern. “Sit down, Christy,” she whispered, her brow deeply furrowed. She placed her knitting carefully back into her bag and leaned over to whisper something to her husband.

  Mr. Hancock nodded after a few seconds. “I’ll go and check it out.” He stood and straightened his suit vest, a frown forming above his bushy dark eyebrows. “You stay here, Christy, you hear me?”

  Christy nodded. It was unlike her father to speak to her with such a firm manner. “What’s happening, Mam?” she whispered. “Why have we pulled to a stop here in the middle of nowhere? I can’t see a station platform anywhere. Is there something wrong?”

  Chr
isty’s mother reached over and placed a hand on her arm. “I’m not sure. Just stay quiet.”

  After a few minutes had passed with no sign of Mr. Hancock’s return, Mrs. Hancock had had enough of sitting still. “I’m going to see what’s happened to your father. Promise me you won’t move from this spot, my child.”

  Christy nodded again, her hands pressed together in her lap. While she waited patiently for her parents to return, she scanned up and down the side of the train. What is happening out there? The rest of the carriage was quiet. She sat as silent as everyone else, peering through the window, straining to discover anything about what was going on outside. But all she could see was a thicket of fir trees running parallel to the rails about twenty yards away. Beyond the tree line, there were only dark shadows. She stood for a moment to gaze out the windows on the opposite side of the train, but again all she saw were stout, unmoving fir trees lined up squarely one beside the other.

  Suddenly gunshots rang out. They echoed back from the surrounding hills, filling the carriage with their sound. People spilled from their seats to duck under them.

  Christy ran to the opposite window and peered out, craning her neck to see where the shots had come from. She gasped as she saw her parents being dragged from the train by dirty men in big hats, kerchiefs obscuring their faces. “Mam! Daddy!” she screamed against the glass.

  The door of the carriage opened with a thud and one of the outlaws shoved his way in. He held a shotgun in his hands. “Listen up, everyone! I want yer valuables ‘n yer cash. Hand it over. No one hasta get hurt. Just do as I’m askin’ ‘n ya’ll all be on yer way shortly.”

  Christy couldn’t move. She couldn’t watch the man, her sights still fixed on her parents. They stood beside the train with one of the outlaws, his shotgun trained on them as he waited for his cronies.

  The passengers scurried to comply, pulling money from wallets and jewelry from luggage without leaving their hiding places. The man had taken off his hat and passed it around like a collection plate. He paused and stared at Christy above a greasy blue neckerchief. “Ya too, Miss.”

  She gaped at the window, unable to find her voice, unable to even turn her head.

  He sneered at her, grunted in annoyance and strode from the carriage.

  Soon the rest of the gang had finished scavenging the other carriages and jumped from the train. As the last one landed on the loam beside the tracks, the report of another weapon in the distance resounded throughout the valley. She heard a pack of horses galloping toward the train.

  The outlaws ran to their own horses, shoving the loot into their saddlebags and pockets. They scrambled onto the beasts just as the local sheriff and his posse pulled into the clearing, firing haphazardly at the thieves. Returning their fire, the men tried to gallop away, but it was too late for some of them.

  And then her father fell, red spreading across the pale skin of his forehead. Her mother collapsed a moment later.

  Christy stopped praying – she hadn’t even known she was – and began screaming. She dropped to her knees, unable to do otherwise, unable to stop her voice, unable to stop the horror of her parents’ death in the crossfire from playing across her eyes –

  – SLAP! She blinked, and found herself standing, the conductor gripping her arm with one hand, the other raised in case she still needed more rousing. “Are you all right, young lady?” he bellowed.

  She was only able to manage a shake of her head. No, she was most certainly not all right.

  “Do you know those folks?” He pointed out the window.

  “My parents,” she squeaked.

  His eyes widened and he let his free hand drop. “Come with me.” He led her out of the carriage and down the stairs to where her parents lay. Three outlaws also lay dead on the ground; the rest, along with the posse, were long gone.

  She walked, then crawled on hands and knees to her parents. She pressed one hand onto each of them and hung her head, letting the tears drip from her cheeks to the earth below. She smoothed her mother’s hair and patted her father’s chest as a sob escaped her and her entire body shook. “Noooo,” she wailed. Laying her head on the ground, she sobbed into the dirt.

  “I’m so sorry,” the conductor mumbled behind her.

  4

  That night, Christy stared out the window, her face a blank. She leaned her head against the glass, and it bumped with every clack of the train on the tracks. Her eyes were red-rimmed and watery, her throat burned.

  She still hadn’t been able to process everything that had happened. She couldn’t believe that Mam and Daddy were gone, their bodies left behind in some town in Missouri. She was all alone in the world, trundling through wild, untamed country.

  They passed through never-ending prairies, tall grasses swaying beside the tracks and the furry brown backs of buffalo peppering the undulating plains in patches. Apart from the buffalo, there was nothing to see but long open stretches of grey-green grass and the occasional bird hovering on an updraft.

  Overcome with grief and exhaustion, her eyes shuttered closed.

  The slam of the compartment door woke Christy. She stirred, pushed her loosened hair from her face and jolted upright in her seat. What had roused her? She stood, opened the door and saw the back of a boy disappear down the aisle of the train and out the carriage door.

  Instinctively, she pulled her mother’s bag to her chest and opened it to look inside. Mrs. Hancock’s pocketbook was gone, along with her jewelry box. Her mother had stashed them in a small box in her handbag to keep them safe. And now they were gone. She dropped it and reached for her father’s briefcase, now open with the latch flapping loosely. Opening it, she gasped. Her father’s wallet was gone, along with a few paper bonds.

  She dropped the briefcase on the seat beside her and covered her face with her hands. Anything of value her parents had left behind had been taken. She had nothing.

  Just then, she heard the conductor walk past. She opened the door again and waved him over. “Excuse me, sir.”

  He halted. “Yes, miss, how can I help you?”

  “A boy ran through the carriage just now and out that door. Did you see him?”

  “No, I don’t believe I did.”

  “He stole my … my money and jewelry. He took everything I have left. You have to find him, please.”

  The conductor’s face blanched. “Oh dear, I am sorry. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, very sure.” Christy rubbed her face and sighed deeply. “Please, can you help me?”

  The conductor nodded his head quickly, “I certainly will, Miss. After what you’ve been through, I owe you that.” He spun on his heel and trotted down the aisle and out the door the boy had disappeared through only moments earlier.

  Christy watched him go, then gathered all the hand luggage to herself and looped her arms and legs through the straps, keeping it as close as she could. She would be careful to guard it more closely now – though it was already too late.

  Meredith hurried down the Topeka train platform, calling for the train to stop as it hopped forward. She pulled her hat from her head and waved it frantically at the brakeman, hoping to catch his attention, but the locomotive wouldn’t stop. The engine edged forward, chugging and chuffing loudly, and was soon on its way.

  She stumbled to a halt. “Darn it!” she exclaimed as she realized she’d missed the train and would need to wait until the following day to visit her sister in Kansas City. In her late forties, she wasn’t used to exerting herself in such a way. It took her a few minutes to get her breath back.

  She fanned her reddened face with a handheld fan as she gazed around the platform. “Well, I suppose I just wasn’t meant to get on that train today,” she said to herself. “At least Morty will be pleased to see me home again, knowing I can make him a hot dinner rather than the cold cuts and bread I left out for him.”

  She was about to trot down the steps at the end of the platform and head back into town when she heard a wailing noise behind her. W
ho could that be, making such a wretched sound? She turned to see a young woman with a head of glossy red curls doubled over on a bench on the platform, weeping as though she’d just lost everything in the world. She hurried over to the girl. “Whatever’s happened, my dear?”

  The poor dear was barely able to stand up straight, even with Meredith’s arm to help her. With her entire body shaking, Christy Hancock, recently of Philadelphia, recounted her whole sorry story.

  Meredith listened with growing alarm. “And what are you doing in Topeka?” she finally asked. “Do you know anyone here?”

  Christy burst into tears again, and Meredith handed her a handkerchief to dry her eyes. “No. I don’t know anyone, anywhere except Philadelphia! My living relatives are all in Ireland. Only Mam, Daddy and I came across to start a new life here!” She let out another wail before blowing her nose. “All I have left of them now is some of their luggage and a letter my Mam sent me months ago when I was staying with a friend. It was stashed in my trunk. I’ve tucked it into my sleeve so I can read it when I miss them. I figured Topeka was as good a place as any for me to be. That miserable train … I couldn’t stay on board for one moment longer!”

  “Of course,” Meredith said, wrapping her arm around the girl. “So you have nowhere to go, no warm bed to spend the night in?”

  Christy shook her head. “I’ve got no one and nothing. I’ve barely anything in the world to call my own, just my luggage and Mam and Daddy’s. A thief stole their pocketbooks and valuables. We left our home in Pennsylvania to move to California … and now I’ve nowhere to go-o-o-o!”

  “Well, my dear, you must come home with me.”

  Christy looked up, still sniffling. “Oh, do you really mean that? That’s awfully kind of you, but I don’t want to be a burden to you …”