The reverence each one held for the dead claimed the room ushering in a momentary silence. This town had been the very last stop along the westward line of the railway this side of the Mississippi. The agent, Miss Josephine, was supposed to have another agent with her, but he had taken ill and had to stay behind. Along the way, we stopped at each town, lining up on the stations' platforms or in churches so that people wanting children or needing workers on their farms could come and inspect us. Each time I was passed up, Miss Josephine and I moved on to the next town.
When we arrived in this town, we disembarked and headed for the church. While crossing the roadway, Miss Josephine grabbed her chest and collapsed beside me. She was not a young woman and had had a few episodes of breathlessness on the train ride. The chaos that erupted caused my head to whirl. By the time the town doctor arrived, she had passed from this life. I was alone in a town I had never been in, with no money or anyone to care for me.
A modestly dressed woman with a kind face finally stood to speak. Her voice shook as she delivered her verdict. "I think she's a fine girl, and I wish we could take her home." She shot a sidelong glance at her husband, the full-bearded man sitting beside her. "As the schoolteacher, I spoke with this young lady today and found her to be bright and smart. But I have four boys who are becoming men, and well, you know what I mean. It just wouldn't be fittin'." She gave a slight shake of her head. "It just wouldn't be fittin'." She sat back down and looked my way. Giving a light shrug, she mouthed the words I'm sorry.
Grappling with what she meant by "not fittin'," my insides began to feel uneasy. I wiped my tears and looked out at the congregation while they all stared at me like I would pounce on them and scratch them at any moment. What was so wrong with me that they wanted me far from them?
Reverend Wilcox took in a deep breath. "We have committed to being a community of love and acceptance. Surely someone can take in this young girl and keep her long enough to allow me to get this sorted out."
"Winter's a-comin'!" One man called out.
"That's right." A woman in the back stood tall, donning a calico bonnet. "And we don't know when the next train will come. Truth is, she could be here 'til spring, Reverend."
Reverend Wilcox opened his mouth to respond, then thought better of it. His eyes wandered the room, looking for an answer to the dilemma.
Earlier that day, there had been a hullabaloo about the adoption papers found in Miss Josephine's satchel. All of the parents adopting children had to sign a contract with the Children's Aid Society binding them to an agreement to care for the adopted child. Miss Josephine had told me that the children traveling on the trains were anywhere from four to sixteen years of age. I would be seventeen in two weeks, at which point I would be ineligible for adoption. My head spun with the information. As the deadline approached, another detail of the adoption was looming. While the adoption papers did use the term "adoption," they also included the words "indentured servant until the age of twenty-one." If I found a family to take me in, they would be my guardians until I turned twenty-one. If I did not find a family, I would be out in the cold at nearly seventeen.
(NB:- to be continued in the girl on the train part3)