A Family Apart (8 page)

She turned to Megan. “And you’re a real beauty in that dark red dress, Megan.” Frances sadly wondered how she would have looked wearing a proper high-waisted dress and pantalets, with a ribbon tying back her hair.

But Megan blushed and ducked her head. “You don’t have to say that, Fr-Frankie. You know I’ve always been plain.”

“Well, you’re not plain now,” Frances said firmly. She took Megan’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “I just noticed—your eyes are as big and blue as Petey’s.”

Mrs. Minton patted Megan’s shoulder. “Wait right here, children. I’ll be back in just a minute.”

As she left the room Peg said proudly, “I have new shoes.”

Petey’s mouth curled down abruptly. “I don’t like
shoes,” he complained. “My toes can’t wiggle, and my feet can’t breathe.”

Mike picked Petey up and laughed. “Feet don’t breathe! Besides, my fine lad, you’d better get used to shoes, because where you’re going everybody wears shoes.”

Petey began to whimper. “I don’t want shoes. I want Ma!”

Peg’s lower lip jutted out. “It’s Mike’s fault that we’re here.”

Stricken, Mike stared at Peg, but Danny shoved her, almost knocking her off-balance. “Don’t ever say that again!” he shouted.

Megan stepped forward, holding Peg protectively. “Leave her alone, Danny! She’s upset.”

“I’ll not have her blaming Mike! And don’t you, either!”

“Stop yelling at me!” Peg demanded.

“I’m not yelling!”

“You are so!” Megan said.

“Stop it, all of you,” Frances said. “It’s not Mike’s fault that we’re here, and I’ll not hear another word of blame from a one of us.” She met the gaze of each of them in turn. “We’ll have to stick together, come what may, and that’s the all of it.”

For a moment there was silence. Then Danny murmured, “You sounded just like Ma.”

Frances gulped back the sob that rose in her throat. Without a word Megan reached for her sister’s hand, and Frances gratefully took it.

Mrs. Minton returned and led them all to a large room in which children of all ages were gathered around a tall young woman with sandy hair, green eyes, and a smattering of freckles across her nose. She was dressed in a deep brown, tailored traveling dress trimmed in rows of black braid.

Most of the children ignored the Kellys, but a little girl of about four, the ends of her pale, wispy hair flying about her face, took her thumb from her mouth and said to Peg, “Are you going with me?”

“Where are you going?” Peg asked.

“I’m going to the West with her, with Katherine.” She pointed to the tall woman.

“We’re going west, too,” Peg said.

Satisfied, the little girl nodded. “A mother and father will adopt me. Katherine said they would.”

“What’s
adopt
mean?” Peg asked her.

The little girl thought for a moment, then said, “It means what Katherine said. I will still be Clara, but I will have a mother.” She looked at Peg. “Do you have a mother?”

A tear began to roll down Peg’s cheek as she nodded vigorously.

“Let’s find some string. Have you ever played cat’s cradle?” Mrs. Minton asked. She took both little girls by the hand and briskly walked away.

Frances counted the children in the room. Twenty-eight, most of them boys, many of them older and taller than she.

One of the older boys made his way through the group and clapped Mike on the shoulder.

“Jim!” Mike said. “So you’re going west, too.”

Jim shrugged. “I figured the West couldn’t be worse and might be a lot better than what I had.”

“What you had? You didn’t have anything.” Mike grinned, and Jim grinned back.

“All the children are here now, Katherine,” Mrs. Minton shouted over the loud chatter, laughter, shrieks, and occasional sobs that filled the room.

Peg ran back to join her family, a circle of string
dangling from her hand. She began to loop her fingers through the string, her face somber with concentration on the game. “Look!” she said, holding up the string, woven into the shape of a cradle, to Megan. “You do it!”

The woman Clara had called Katherine stepped to the side of the room and clapped her hands for attention. As soon as everyone had turned her way, she said, “Children, my name is Katherine Banks. I’m going to be with you on your trip to St. Joseph, Missouri.

“We’ll be leaving soon for the train station, and our ride will take a number of days. When we get to St. Joseph, many families will come to meet us. We’ll introduce you to them, and they’ll choose you to come and live with them.”

Voices called out. “What if they don’t like us?” “What if nobody wants us?”

In the silence, as the children waited for the answer, Frances heard Megan’s long, shuddering sigh.

“Believe me, they’ll want you,” Katherine said. “They’re eagerly waiting for you to arrive.”

Katherine’s voice was cheerful, but Frances doubted the words. Who would want children whose own mother didn’t want them? She shivered.

One of the taller boys asked, “But what if we don’t like the people who want us?”

Again the room was very quiet as Katherine answered, “This choice will be yours, too. We’d never make you go with a family if you didn’t want to.”

“We aren’t in much of a spot to object—are we, now?” Jim said with a laugh. Some of the older boys joined in the laughter, shoving at one another and hooting, trying to cover their fears, Frances knew.

Katherine held up her hands until everyone was quiet again. “When you’re placed with a family you’ll be treated
like kin. You’ll be expected to do chores along with the rest of the family, but you’ll also get schooling and a warm, comfortable bed of your own, and plenty of good food.” She smiled, and her voice grew even warmer. “And oh, how you’ll love the fresh vegetables and fruit and meat, and the warm milk from the cows, and the big open sky, and the places to run and play. In the summer the fields are high with grass and wildflowers. In the winter the snow covers the land as far as you can see, but you’ll go sledding and build snowmen, and maybe even take sleigh rides.”

All the children began to murmur to one another.

Frances scowled as she thought. This was a scene she couldn’t picture. Who would want strange children from the New York streets to take care of along with their own? And why should they give them all these fine things? Katherine’s telling sounded very much the way Ma and Da must have imagined America to be—which turned out to be far from the truth for them.

Peg, at seven years much shorter than many of the other children, suddenly stood on tiptoe and shouted over the hubbub, “You said we’d each have a bed, miss. But I don’t want my own bed. A bed would be lonely without all my brothers and sisters in it. I want to be with them.”

“Dear child …” Katherine said, and for a moment she looked distressed. “Mr. MacNair will do his best to place you and your brothers and sisters near one another, so you can stay in touch.” She added quietly, “But I can’t even promise you that.”

Before anyone could ask another question, a tall gentleman entered the room and strode with long steps to join Katherine. His smiling face was deeply tanned, almost the same color as his sun-bleached brown hair. The
dark gray material in his suit coat strained across his broad shoulders, and the stiff, high collar of his white shirt seemed almost out of place.
He’s an out-of-doors man, like Da was
, Frances thought.
And he’s almost as handsome as Da.
Frances was surprised when her cheeks suddenly turned warm, and she ducked her head so that no one could see her blush.

The man introduced himself as Mr. Brace’s scout, Andrew MacNair, and reassured the children that they’d be placed in good homes.

From then on, events happened so quickly that Frances had little time to think about them. First, Andrew and Katherine took the children by horse-drawn car to the noisy, reeking docks, where they were led aboard a paddle wheeler, which began the trip up the Hudson River to Albany.

Frances found herself shoved by the crowd of excited children against the rail around the boat’s lower deck, where she watched the New York skyline recede into the distance. New York City had been the only home she’d ever known, and she wondered if she would ever see it again. She thought about the room in which they had lived, and she could picture Ma, sewing in the chair near the small window, leaning into its meager light. She tried next to picture the room of her dreams, with Ma laughing and swirling the skirts of her beautiful green coat, but the image wouldn’t come. It had abandoned her, just as Ma had.

Frances gripped the rail, tears burning her eyes. “Good-bye, Ma,” she whispered. “Good-bye.”

T
HE TRAIN STATION
at Albany was a noisy, busy place, with passengers and visitors, bustling with armloads of parcels and baggage, crowding the platform and talking loudly to be heard as they waited for the train to arrive. But a hush fell over the platform as a huge, silver-and-black monster, trimmed in red and brass, a high, conical stack over its gleaming eye, huffed and creaked into the station.

As soon as they had been given permission, the children climbed aboard one of the railcars near the end of the train, following Andrew. “Wait, Mike!” Frances called, but Mike scrambled aboard, Danny right behind him. Mike had to be tugged back by Andrew’s strong hand as he leaned far out one of the windows to reach a hand to Petey.

“Only through the door!” Andrew said sternly.

Breathlessly Frances boosted Petey up the steps, making sure that Peg and Megan were right behind him.

She stopped just inside the door. On each side of a narrow aisle were rows of wooden seats that faced forward. Each was wide enough for two adults, so three—or even four—children could squeeze together easily. From the ceiling at the center of the car hung a whale-oil lamp. Wide sash windows were open to catch the breeze, but previous breezes apparently had carried with them plenty of cinder dust from the smokestack. A fine film of grit covered the seats and floors. Narrow wooden racks, where Andrew was now busy stowing parcels, hung above the seats.

The children were not the only passengers in this car. A plump woman cringed and pulled her skirt from the aisles each time one of the children passed by her seat. With her was a gentleman whose gray sideburns swept almost to his chin. He tapped his silver-headed cane on the floor and muttered loudly to his wife, “Not another batch of orphans! I’ve said it before, they’re all young criminals and should be kept in New York City.”

Danny, with a flare of quick temper that matched his red hair, bristled, but Katherine held his arm. “Mr. Crandon will change his mind when he discovers what fine young people you are,” she murmured.

Frances looked up at her gratefully. Maybe she would like Katherine Banks. At least Katherine seemed to be on the children’s side.

“Do you know Mr. Crandon?” Danny asked.

“Amos Crandon is an important businessman in St. Joseph,” Katherine answered. “He’s well respected and most successful.”

“But he doesn’t like us already,” Danny murmured. “Maybe nobody will.”

Frances shivered as Danny put her fears into words. What if nobody wanted them? What would happen to
them then? She quickly shoved the terrifying thought away.

“You can be sure that someone will like you,” Katherine said. She patted Danny’s shoulder and left to find seats for the other children.

A few of the passengers smiled at the children and stopped to ask Katherine where they were going. A young woman wearing an elegant rose dress with a matching jacket, who had paused to chat, yelped and pulled Clara out from under her wide hoopskirt.

“But I never in my life seen anything like that!” Clara exclaimed loudly. “And there’s ruffles all the way from her ankles to her knees!”

The woman, blushing furiously, handed Clara over to Katherine, who held her on her lap. Frances, remembering she was supposed to be a boy and would get into trouble for snickering, turned away quickly and tried not to laugh.

“All aboard!” voices yelled.

“Over here, Abby!”

“Come on, Hal!”

“Jim, where are you?”

The children scrambled onto the benches. Frances slipped into a seat next to a window and put an arm around Petey, who yawned and snuggled against her.

Within a few minutes they’d begin their journey. This wasn’t just her first train ride. It was the start of a new life. Frances’s stomach was tight with fear, but as she looked around the car, she shivered with excitement. The sight of all these curious people headed west on the very same train as Frances Mary Kelly, disguised as a boy, made her begin to believe anything could happen. At the thought of her disguise and her promise to Ma, Frances’s feelings became even more of a jumble. Guiltily,
she wondered why Ma couldn’t share the new life that she and her brothers and sisters were going to have. But her mother had chosen to send them away while she stayed behind. Resentment swept away Frances’s guilt. “Ma! Oh, Ma!” she whispered. “How could you do this to us?” If only she could sneak off somewhere, put down her head, and cry.

She noticed Mike glance at her, so she took a deep breath and pushed her feelings away. She was the eldest. She was in charge. She had to be the responsible, strong one.