Trouble on the Orphan Train Page 3

  Leonard jammed his hands into his knickers pockets. He pulled out two pieces of candy and a penny. He put them in Beth’s hand.

  Beth looked at the candy and the penny. She shook her head. “That’s not enough,” she said. “But you can do something for me.”

  “What?” Leonard asked.

  Beth smirked. “Promise that you’ll stop stealing,” she said.

  “It’s a deal!” Leonard said, grinning.

  Beth held out her hand. “The letter first,” she said.

  Leonard reached inside his jacket. He handed her the envelope.

  Beth leaned across the aisle. She put the tooth in Leonard’s hand.

  “Be good now,” Beth said. “No more stealing, okay? You’re not a Whyos gang member.”

  Leonard frowned. “How did you know about them?” he asked.

  Beth smirked again. “I know lots of things,” she said.

  Leonard put his hands in his pockets. “Okay,” he said. “I promise, no stealing.”

  “He’s got his fingers crossed,” Patrick said. “You can’t trust him.”

  Beth whispered, “Never mind him now. Just open the envelope.”

  Patrick slid his finger underneath the envelope flap. He neatly tore the paper. Inside were two train tickets and a folded piece of paper.

  Patrick took out the letter and unfolded it. He showed it to Beth.

  Dear Patrick (and Beth if you’re together now),

  If you have this letter, it means you landed at the Hogan Mountain, Missouri, train station. I waited there for about two days. No one familiar appeared, and so I headed south. I plan to assist the Pinkerton agents to gather evidence about a recent stagecoach robbery. Jesse James and his gang are believed to have committed the crime. It is to this end I believe Mr. Whittaker programmed this adventure. Come immediately to Little Rock on the number 7 train.

  Your friend,

  Eugene

  PS: Don’t travel on January 31. It would be disastrous. That’s the day J J and gang robbed a train.

  Beth wondered what day it was. She glanced at Patrick. Her answer was in his face.

  Patrick’s mouth was shaped like an O. His face was as white as milk.

  “Today’s January 31, isn’t it?” Beth said.

  The Horseman

  “Eugene could be wrong,” Patrick said. “He might have mixed up the date.”

  Beth took the letter out of Patrick’s hands. She folded it up. Then she put it back in the envelope. “When was the last time Eugene made a mistake?” she asked.

  Patrick thought Beth was right. Eugene’s memory could be trusted. He probably hadn’t made a mistake since kindergarten.

  He took the envelope from Beth. He put it back in his jacket pocket.

  “Maybe Eugene and the Pinkerton agents will catch Jesse James,” Patrick said. “Then he won’t rob this train.”

  “The letter said ‘gather evidence,’ not ‘capture,’ ” Beth said. “Eugene can’t change major events of history. The Imagination Station won’t let him.”

  “But the Imagination Station isn’t working properly,” Patrick said. “Anything could happen.”

  Patrick leaned forward and glanced across the aisle at Leonard. He didn’t want the boy to overhear them.

  Leonard had shifted over to the window seat. His forehead was pressed against the glass. He seemed to be intently watching something.

  Patrick noticed movement at the front end of the car. Mr. Alford and Miss Cookson were entering the passenger car. They began to walk down the aisle.

  Patrick nudged Beth. “Here comes the conductor and Miss Cookson,” he said. “Do we tell them about Jesse James?”

  “I don’t think they would believe us,” Beth said.

  Miss Cookson walked primly down the aisle. Her small purse was clutched in her hand. She stood in the aisle next to the cousins.

  Mr. Alford followed her. He was so tall that his head nearly bumped the ceiling lamps. Every few steps he had to duck to miss one.

  He came to the back of the train. He scanned the orphan section.

  “Which girl is our latecomer?” Mr. Alford asked.

  Beth raised her hand. “Here, Mr. Conductor,” she said. “I’m sorry I had to jump on board.”

  Mr. Alford said kindly, “That’s all right, miss.” He patted Beth on the shoulder. “You’re an orphan, after all. You probably didn’t know any better.”

  Miss Cookson handed Beth a train ticket. “Mr. Alford has been very generous,” she said. “Please remember that and follow his example.”

  Phew, Patrick thought. We missed the tongue-lashing.

  Mr. Alford took Beth’s ticket and his hole puncher. He poked a little star in the ticket. He handed it back to Beth.

  Beth said thank you.

  Mr. Alford took out his gold pocket watch. “Ten minutes till we reach Des Arc, Missouri,” he said.

  Leonard turned his attention away from the window. “Mr. Alford, there’s a fellow on a horse following us,” he said. His voice was loud with excitement. “I think you should look.”

  Mr. Alford leaned over and rested his hand on the seat’s back. “By golly,” he said. “There is a man coming along the tracks. He’s working that horse mighty hard.”

  The people with window seats on Leonard’s side looked out the window too.

  Beth whispered to Patrick, “Do you think it’s Jesse James?”

  “I don’t know,” Patrick said. “Let’s get a better look.”

  Beth noticed the train was slowing down. The Missouri hills were steep on this section of the line. A man on a horse could gain ground on it.

  Patrick crossed the aisle. He moved to an empty set of seats.

  Beth followed Patrick and looked out the window.

  The man was wearing a brown hat and a white shirt. His horse was gray and white.

  The engineer blew the train’s whistle. There was one long whistle followed by three short blows.

  The man on horseback took off his hat. He waved it in a wide arc.

  Mr. Alford turned from the window. He quickly moved away from Leonard’s seat.

  “What did those whistles mean?” Leonard asked the conductor.

  “That whistle pattern means we’re coming to a stop,” Mr. Alford said. “I’ve got to see to the first-class guests in the sleeper car.”

  Mr. Alford headed out the front door.

  Beth watched the conductor leave and then said softly, “It’s not Jesse James.”

  “Is too,” Patrick said. “Who else would be out there?”

  “I don’t know. But this horseman isn’t trying to hide,” Beth said. “He wants to be seen.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Any robber with a brain would plan a surprise,” Beth said. “He would wear a mask and attack at night.”

  Leonard’s face suddenly appeared at the window next to theirs. “Or ruin up the tracks,” the orphan said. “That’s what Jesse James did in Iowa.”

  “What happened then?” she asked.

  “The train’s engine fell over sideways,” Leonard said. “Then someone blew up the safe. Everyone’s money was stolen.”

  Beth gasped.

  Patrick said, “You’re making it up. Stuff like that happens only on TV.”

  “On TV?” Leonard asked.

  “It’s not important,” Beth said. “Did you read about him in the Tribune?”

  Leonard nodded. He pulled a small piece of newsprint out of his knickers pocket. “There,” he said. He held it out.

  Patrick took the newsprint and skimmed the article.

  He said to Beth, “Jesse James and gang robbed a stagecoach. That was two weeks ago. A few months ago he robbed a train in Iowa. And in Kentucky, he robbed a bank.”

  “What about the Pinkerton detectives?” Beth asked. “Why can’t they stop him?”

  Leonard said, “Because gangs are smart. No one can catch the Whyos either.” He took the paper back. “They call the Jesse James gang ‘brazen’ and ‘bold.’”
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  The train’s whistle blew several long blasts.

  Mr. Alford opened the back door. Cold air came in with the conductor.

  He hurried up the aisle. “There’s a fire at the Des Arc station,” Mr. Alford said. “Everyone stay seated.”

  No one did. The passengers all rushed to the windows. Leonard moved to the opposite side of the train.

  “Another train is on fire,” Leonard said. “One of the cargo cars has flames as high as the treetops.”

  Beth looked out the window at the horseman. He was almost at the station too.

  She felt a chill. And it wasn’t because of the cold.

  The Cotton Fire

  Patrick watched the train workers battle the orange flames.

  First the men detached the cargo car from the other cars. This gave the men space to work. It also kept the sparks from drifting to the other cars.

  Patrick could hear the loud crackling and snapping of the fire. The smoke mingled with the clouds, and the sky turned even darker.

  Workers near the station were stomping on flying sparks.

  A line of bucket carriers formed. Men brought water from a stream that flowed behind the station. Men perching on the side of the cargo car took the buckets. Then those men hoisted the buckets up to douse the fire.

  Several male passengers from the number 7 got out to help. Even a man from the first-class sleeper car joined in.

  “I’m going out there too,” Patrick said to Beth.

  Beth opened her mouth to say something. But Patrick didn’t wait to hear it. He left through the back door.

  “Keep a lookout for Jesse James,” Beth shouted after him.

  Patrick approached the fire. The heat was intense. His face began to sweat as he neared the burning cargo car. No campfire he’d ever been near was this powerful.

  Ashes floated through the air. A large, white tuft landed at his feet. Cotton was burning.

  He joined the men who were carrying buckets of water. Someone put a bucket in front of him. He picked up the handle with one hand and lifted. The bucket wouldn’t move.

  Patrick put two hands on the handle and lifted. This time the bucket got four inches off the ground. Then he dropped it.

  “Mind if I help?” a man asked. “I’m Reverend Hagerty.”

  Patrick recognized him as the passenger from the sleeper car. He was in a dark suit with a high white collar. His bow tie was a bit crooked. He had a thick beard like Mr. Alford’s.

  “I can’t lift that much water,” Patrick said. “It’s too heavy.”

  “Tell you the truth,” the reverend said, “I’m getting tired. I could use a hand. Let’s share the load.”

  Patrick stood on one side of the bucket. The reverend stood on the other. Each put one hand on the bucket handle. Together they lifted the bucket.

  “Much better,” Reverend Hagerty said. “Now let’s move toward the fire.”

  Patrick could now see the cargo car up close. It was full of burning cotton bales.

  The flames were now only a few feet high. The fire hissed when a bucketful of water was dumped on it.

  Patrick and Reverend Hagerty made seven trips with the bucket. Finally the fire was ebbing.

  “That’s it for a while,” a man in overalls said. “We can beat the fire down now.”

  Patrick used the break to look around. He studied the faces of the men. None of them had the long, straight nose and moustache of Jesse James that Patrick had seen at the station.

  But he did recognize one person: Leonard. The orphan was seated on the edge of the cargo car. He was covered in soot. The little guy was beating back the last of the flames with a rug.

  Beth was watching the fire from her seat inside the passenger car. Miss Cookson was two rows up with the other children. They were wailing and sniffling. Beth guessed the fire scared them. They needed Miss Cookson’s comfort.

  Beth felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around. It was the horseman.

  He had on a white shirt and a jacket. The man’s jacket was a little damp. He held his wide-brimmed hat in his hands.

  Beth had seen a hat just like it. But she couldn’t remember where.

  “Are you the traveler who got on board late at Hogan Mountain?” the man said.

  “I got on at the last stop,” Beth said. “Is that the Hogan Mountain depot?”

  He nodded. His eyes narrowed. “Did you see anyone or anything that was suspicious?” the horseman asked.

  Beth felt nervous. “I, um, was in a hurry,” she said. “I didn’t see much of the depot at all. Just the outhouse.”

  The horseman laid his hat on a seat. Then he sat down next to her. His long legs barely fit in the space between seats. His boots smelled a little bit like corn chips.

  He twisted the ends of his thick moustache.

  “I’m Robert Pinkerton,” he said. “I’m looking for some missing evidence. It’s from a recent stagecoach robbery.”

  Beth said, “I’m sure I haven’t seen it.”

  “I’ll describe it,” Mr. Pinkerton said. “You might remember.”

  “Okay,” Beth said, “but—”

  Mr. Pinkerton cut in. “It’s a saddlebag,” he said. “With horseshoes burned into the leather. Inside was a badge—”

  It was Beth’s turn to interrupt. “It was star-shaped,” she said. “And there were some bandanas, rope, and glasses!”

  She clapped her hands. “I remember it now, even the carrots. And a hat went missing too, didn’t it? One just like yours!”

  Mr. Pinkerton sat forward. “That’s right!” He seemed excited now too. “Where did you see it? I need to find it.”

  Beth froze. Her eyes grew large with fear. She figured out her mistake too late. She couldn’t tell Mr. Pinkerton his evidence was in ancient Pompeii.

  “I-I-I think,” Beth said, “you need to look out for Jesse James. The evidence isn’t really important. Here’s what is: the James gang is going to rob this train today.”

  Mr. Pinkerton’s eyebrows shifted in concern. “And how do you know this?” he asked.

  “My friend Eugene told me,” Beth said.

  “Eugene again!” Mr. Pinkerton said. “I can’t believe it!” He got out of his seat and put on his hat. He leaned over Beth.

  Beth shrank in her seat. She hoped Patrick would come back soon. She needed help.

  “Stand up, miss,” Mr. Pinkerton said. His voice was steely. “You’re coming with me.”

  “But the conductor told me to stay here,” Beth said.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Mr. Pinkerton said. “Because you’re under arrest!”

  The Express Car

  The cotton fire at Des Arc was out. The reverend invited Patrick and Leonard to come to the sleeper car.

  “You’ve helped a great deal,” Reverend Hagerty said. “You deserve a treat. I’ll make sure you boys get some tasty first-class food.”

  Patrick felt a little guilty going without Beth. But he was tired from all that work.

  “Yes, sir!” Leonard said. “Thank you.”

  Reverend Hagerty left for a moment. He said he was going to tell Miss Cookson where the boys were.

  Two women and a few men were traveling in the sleeper car. There were plenty of empty seats and beds. Leonard picked a seat at the back of the car. It was several rows behind the stove.

  Patrick climbed into a cushy bed not too far from Leonard. It was across the aisle from Reverend Hagerty’s seat.

  The train whistle blew. The engine and the four cars began to move along the tracks again.

  Patrick was tired even though it was still daytime. He pulled down the window shade to block the sun. He snuggled into his bunk.

  Reverend Hagerty came back and settled in his seat. He began to read a book.

  The sleeper car was warm from the stove’s heat. The rocking of the train lulled Patrick to sleep in seconds.

  Patrick woke for a moment when Mr. Alford came in. The conductor punched his ticket. Mr. Alford said something
about Beth. He left a plate of tiny sandwiches near Patrick’s pillow.

  But Patrick was too tired to pay attention. He fell into a deep sleep.

  Mr. Pinkerton took Beth to the Adams Express railcar. They stepped up to the only door. It was on the side of the car.

  Beth noticed the car was divided into compartments.

  The detective and Beth hurried through the first compartment that held sacks of mail. They went through a second compartment. Baggage was stowed inside that one. The third compartment belonged to the Adams Express Company.

  Beth and Mr. Pinkerton went inside. Mr. Pinkerton closed the interior door. There were no windows, only vents near the ceiling.

  Another agent was inside the compartment. He wore an all-white suit.

  Mr. Pinkerton said, “I’m leaving this girl in your car, Agent Wilson.”

  Agent Wilson looked confused. “That’s unusual,” he said.

  “She knows too much about Jesse James,” Mr. Pinkerton said. “She might be a spy for the James gang.”

  “So that’s how he does it!” Agent Wilson said. “I never would have thought to use children.”

  The train whistle blew. Mr. Pinkerton opened the narrow compartment door.

  “Please stay here,” Beth said. “Jesse James will come. I know it.”

  The detective looked at Beth, then tipped his hat. “Miss, I believe you are lying to help the James gang,” Mr. Pinkerton said. “He’ll be robbing some other train or stagecoach today. The last place Jesse James will be is anywhere near this train.”

  Mr. Pinkerton closed the interior door behind him. Beth heard his heavy boots trudge through the other compartments. Then she heard the side door of the railcar slide shut.

  Beth guessed Mr. Pinkerton was going to get back on his horse. He was going to ride far away. He wouldn’t be there to protect them.

  She felt as if it were all her fault.

  The train began to chug slowly away from Des Arc.