Circle of Love(45)

Hope shone in Eddie’s eyes as he said to Frances, “I’ve never been a farmer, but I know a pig from a cow, and I’m quick to learn. I’m not afraid of hard work, either. Maybe you could tell ’em that.”

“I’m going to brag about all of you,” Frances said.

Jessie sniffed. “Eddie does enough bragging about himself.”

As the train slowed, Frances straightened a collar, brushed down a jacket, and smoothed back locks of hair. “You all look wonderful,” she said.

The train came to a stop and Frances began to collect their baggage, but Aggie interrupted her, gripping Frances’s arm with damp fingers. “Please,” she begged in a hoarse whisper, “may I have a hair ribbon?”

“Of course,” Frances said, and hugged her. She pulled a ribbon from her carpetbag and tied it around Aggie’s hair. “You look lovely,” Frances said, “and—remember—you’re also lovely on the inside, Aggie.”

Aggie didn’t answer. Her face was pale with fear.

Frances led the children to the station platform, where she was met by a tall, prosperous-looking gentleman who introduced himself. “I’m Arthur Knowles, bank president and chairman of the local committee to approve or disapprove those who apply to adopt the orphan train children.”

His eyebrows rose and dipped again. “Only four children? We were hoping for more. There are at least a dozen couples who’ve come to the schoolhouse to meet the children.”

Frances smiled at her charges, but only Eddie smiled back. “Let’s not keep them waiting,” she said.

She took a step forward, following Mr. Knowles, but stumbled as, in the distance, she saw the man she had thought was Seth. He was standing at the far end of the railway platform, one hand on his horse’s reins, facing Frances, but his hat was pulled down, shading his face so that Frances couldn’t make out his features.

She gripped Eddie’s shoulder and asked, “Who is that man at the far end of the station—the one with the horse?”

“Can’t see him,” Eddie answered. “Only his pants and boots.”

Frances looked up quickly, but the man had moved to the other side of his horse.

If he’s Seth, Frances thought, he’s trying to frighten me. But he’s not Seth. He can’t be. Seth has better things to do than follow me. And didn’t Sheriff Malloy tell me that the sheriffs along the route would keep a lookout for Seth?

The man turned and squinted up at the sun as though trying to tell the time, and Frances could clearly see that he was not Seth. She let out such a long sigh of relief that Mr. Knowles turned to her with a questioning look. I have to stop worrying about Seth and what he might do, Frances scolded herself.

“Are you coming, Miss Kelly?” Mr. Knowles asked. “Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Frances said. Standing tall, she strode after Mr. Knowles and the children in her care. All she had time to think of now was finding homes for the four of them.

As they entered the cool dimness of Woodridge’s school for the first through the eighth grade, Frances could hear a hum of voices.

“We built the meeting hall along with the school,” Mr. Knowles said proudly. “It’s the only school in these parts with its own auditorium.”

Frances murmured something polite, but her mind was on the people who had stopped talking and had turned to watch as she escorted the children to the stage.

She began to speak about the Children’s Aid Society’s placing-out program. Then, when she introduced the children, she mentioned not only their names and ages, but all the good things she’d observed about them.

“I’ll be down here,” Frances told them as she left the stage. “Please feel free to talk to the children. I know that you’ll love them when you meet them.”

Two couples, disappointed expressions on their faces, came to Frances.

“We were hoping for a baby,” one woman said.

“We wanted a little boy, around four or five—the age of our only son. These are all older children,” another woman complained.

“Jessie is only nine,” Frances said. “She’s hoping for a mother and father to love.”

The woman’s husband shook his head. “Too old,” he said, and both couples left the auditorium.

But the man and woman who’d been talking to Harry came to Frances. “Harry Stowe’s a nice boy,” the man said. He held out his hand. “I’m Luther Dunkling, and this is my missus, Rhoda. We’d like to take Harry to live with us.”

Frances liked the honest happiness in the Dunklings’ faces. She beamed. “Harry is a wonderful boy,” she said. “He’s going to be sad for a while because his little brother was adopted at the last stop, but please be patient with him. I’m sure he’ll be obedient and cooperative and will soon be very happy with you.”