Echoes of Dark and Light (4 page)

I spun around to face the angry voice, my heart lodging into my throat.

“Answer me!”

The large, muscular man dressed in grungy coveralls towered over me, his long hair wild, greasy and unkempt, his eyes blazing with authority. His sudden appearance shocked me into an unusual silence, though even if I could have found my voice, I don’t think I would have been able to come up with a believable explanation anyway.

“I think we need to go talk with the manager. Come on, kid,” he grumbled as his big, beefy hand reached for my arm.

“Uh, I don’t think so, mister,” I muttered and took off running.

“Come back here!”

I stumbled and tripped as my heavy pack bounced awkwardly on my back, but when the angry man’s co-worker suddenly stepped out in front of me, I found an extra burst of speed and ducked into the nearby forest.

“Piss!” I swore under my breath, jerking free of the branches catching at my coat, and leaping over a rotting log.

“This way! I saw him duck through here!”

I slid down an embankment and scrambled into a hemlock stand, my lungs gasping for air.
Not good, not good at all!
And I’d been so close! I heard the men crashing through the underbrush, searching for me. I cautiously peeked out from behind the scaly-ridged trunk of a hemlock, lifting aside the flat, feather-like needled branches to take a peek.
Oh, bollocks, here they come!
No time to move. I slunk down to a squat, trying to tuck my long frame into as small an object as possible.

“Where’d he go?”

“How should I know? Keep looking. If we let another freeloading bum slip past us, we’ll get fired for sure.”

They clamored closer and I struggled to keep still, but my calf chose that exact inopportune time to cramp up like a vise. My mouth dropped open in a silent screech, and I clutched at my calf muscle desperately needing to move. The rail workers stepped mere feet from my hiding tree, arguing loudly.

“I bet he circled back to the train.”

“No, we’d a seen him. Besides, he’s just a dumb kid; he’s probably running home to his mother’s skirts by now. This is a waste of time.”

“Of course that’s what you’d think. Anything not having to do with your stomach or a deck of cards is a waste of time for you.” He ran a hand over his jaw, rasping the scruffy growth.

Ow! Ow! Ow!
Didn’t these fellows have anything better to do? I couldn’t stand still another second; I had to move. Carefully, slowly, silently, I eased my foot out, stretching the clenched muscles, easing the cramp, and knocking loose a pile of rocks that proceeded to clamor noisily down the slope.

Thankfully, the train’s engineer chose that exact moment to blare the whistle long and loud, covering up the noise of the tumbling rocks.

“Train’s leaving. Come on, let’s get back to the station. That kid is long gone.” The two rail workers turned back toward the station, their feet rustling through the fallen leaves.

The train’s leaving? Not without me!
If I missed this ride, I’d have to wait three days for another. Frustration surged through my veins at yet another delay.
How the heck am I supposed to rescue my brother if I can’t even get out of Marquette?
My temper flared as I scrambled to my feet. I still had a chance. I broke into a clumsy run and angled off to the west hoping to both avoid the angry men and to catch the train as it pulled out of the station.

Limping on my sore calf muscle, I hurried toward the tracks, pushing through the fading brown ferns and the rusty-red leafed blackberry canes, the thorns catching at my britches. Then I dodged through a stand of aspen trees with their golden yellow leaves trembling in the breeze.
There!
The enthusiastic sun glinted off the steel rails just ahead. I burst out of the forest gasping for air, just in time to see the impressive black locomotive charging around the curve. Great billows of smoke and steam rose from the stacks in rhythmic poofs, merging into a stream that trailed behind the engine as it slowly gathered speed. The chugging of the train grew louder as it approached, and I resisted the impulse to slink back into the trees like a frightened squirrel. Closer and closer, and then the steam engine roared past me, almost blowing my cap off my head. I snatched the cap and stuffed it in my pocket.

Now!
I started jogging alongside the train, my eyes pinned on the fourth car, which thankfully no one had remembered to close. I blazed into full speed and reached out to clamp a hold of the metal rungs as they came alongside of me. I took another running step and then leapt at the boxcar, hauling my weight up until I had all four limbs securely clinging to the side. I risked a second to catch my breath as the wind blew through my sweaty, short-cropped hair. The train’s speed slowly, steadily increased, the rail side trees blurring into streaks of greens, golds, oranges and browns as they swept past. I gulped in another deep breath of sooty air, secured my grip on the rungs, and then carefully stretched out my booted foot, reaching for the meager opening in the doorway. I pressed my body flat against the air-cooled wooden siding, willing my long legs to lengthen just another inch.

Then an unexpected, overgrown oak tree scraped along my body, the brown-leaved branches clawing at my arms and legs, and yanking my one boot off the rung. My heart fell out of my chest, painfully splattering beneath the crushing wheels of the train. I clung to the rungs with my sweaty hands as my boots bounced and scraped along the ground. The muscles in my recently healed dislocated shoulder screamed in pain.

“Piss!” My right hand slipped off the rung, wrenching every muscle in my left side while the rest of me, including my forehead, smashed into the boxcar. I desperately needed help. I frantically wished for my brother to be there to haul me to safety, but I only had me. Me and God.

“Come on, girl!” I muttered to myself. “Haul your rear up! Now!” With an agonizing growl, I lurched my weight up and latched a death grip on the metal rung. I scrabbled for a foothold, and then clung there trying to remember how to breathe. I peered up the track for any other unwelcome surprises, the brisk breeze causing my eyes to tear. I felt near worn out, and shocked that just a little train hopping could exhaust me so quickly. Grunting with determination, I rechecked my grip and then stretched out my leg.
Almost there… just another inch…

A slight change in the steam engine’s grumblings caught my attention and I jerked my eyes forward to see the train beginning to climb a very steep incline.

“Great, another challenge,” I muttered, by now not enjoying a challenge near as much as I used to. By the look of the upcoming hill, I would have a heck of a time trying to hold onto the rungs. No more time for fooling around. I grabbed a deep breath, aimed as best I could, and then jumped!

I desperately clawed for a handhold as my foot almost slipped off the edge of the boxcar. But I managed to hang on, painfully embedding a few splinters in my palm. I lodged my shoulder into the opening and heaved with all of my weight, forcing the meager opening wider. I tumbled into the wooden box, weak with relief. I lay there for a few seconds, just breathing, and then mentally crossed the first step off my list.

The train followed along Lake Superior for awhile, then angled southwest into Wisconsin and then south towards Chicago. I settled into a simple routine, trying to rest, eating my meager rations, cleaning the Colt, and practicing loading the revolver with ammunition, powder and percussion caps until I could do the exercise with my eyes closed. Even after just a few hours, my muscles begged for some sort of activity, and I’d spend hours running in place and pulling chin ups on the door track, anything to spice up the day and tire out my muscles. I took special care with my shoulder though, determined not to reinjure it before I even set foot on the battlefield. My lurch onto the train had not only strained the healing muscles, but also painfully wrenched my memory back to when I last injured it, a real life nightmare for both Emma and me. Our little brothers had nearly died in that abandoned mine, and a dislocated shoulder came at an easy price for their lives. If only saving Robert would be that simple. Despite the aches, keeping my body and mind busy helped get through the long days.

But the dark, lonely, endless nights gnawed at my innards like a starving buzzard. The cold air bit at my toes while sleep evaded me hour after hour. And the ceaseless clackity-clack, clackity-clack of the wheels on the rails vibrated into my brain and bones until it felt like my very own heartbeat. Eventually, I fell asleep, but then dreams plagued me with horrid images of my brother’s fate. Nightmares splattered him across the battlefields, disemboweled him with musket balls, filleted him with swinging swords. I tried everything to shove those lingering images out of my head; I couldn’t afford such negative thoughts whittling away at my resolve. Even our deep connection that assured me he still lived and breathed somewhere in this world couldn’t compete with those vivid, too real dreams that attacked in the lonely darkness of night when both my mind and heart lingered in a more vulnerable perspective.

The train pulled into depots along the way, and I would slip out on shaky legs in search of fresh water. I filled my canteen and stomach with sparkling stream water, and then making sure no one lurked nearby, I’d strip down a little at a time in an attempt to bathe. I couldn’t believe the grime and soot accumulating on my skin, clothes and hair from the steam engine. Though the icy water brought goose bumps to my skin, it felt wonderfully refreshing. I especially relished in unbinding my breasts from the length of linen I’d wrapped around me. Thankfully, I didn’t have a very buxom figure to try and hide, which definitely helped in my disguise. But the wrap did provide an extra security. I had to be careful; if my secret slipped out, I’d be shipped home quicker than I could spit, and that’s if I was lucky. More likely, I’d find myself making my bed in a prison cell.

After my makeshift bath, I’d scrounge up a bit more food. Once, I’d hit the jackpot when I found a tree heavy with red, ripe, juicy apples. I filled my pockets and pack to brimming. Another time, I came across a thick ham and cheese sandwich on crusty rye bread, forgotten on a train bench. Well, okay, maybe not so much forgotten as out of the owner’s sight for a second or two. But my stomach had been protesting for a day and a half, and I’d started feeling lightheaded. Besides, the fellow had another one, plus a humongous piece of cake.

I found life while traveling in secrecy on a rocking train beautiful, amazing, enlightening, exciting, a bit scary, more often than not boring, always dirty, and at times, very gross, just like life in general. My monthly cycle showed up about halfway through and I’d packed my strips of cloth to deal with that. Unfortunately, my lack of unlimited water supply while on the train kept me from washing them out for reuse, so I ended up tossing them out the door. I had no idea what I’d do for my cycle next month, but I’d deal with that later. My little house on wheels also lacked an outhouse, but I won’t go into how I coped with that challenge.

I sat in the doorway with my legs dangling over the edge, my feet swinging with the rocking motion of the train, and just absorbed the changing scenery with an intense curiosity. As the steam engine continued south, I found it interesting the way the autumn season seemed to ease backwards in time the farther south we traveled. The sun shone brighter and warmed the air enough so that I stuffed my jacket away in my pack. The beautiful oranges and yellows and reds that had decorated the forest back home had not yet revealed themselves; the oak, maple, magnolias, dogwoods, and tulip poplar leaves shimmered just as dark green as the neighboring pines, spruce, and cedars. Late summer wildflowers, like blue chicory, Queen Anne’s lace, black-eyed Susans, and purple asters grew along the rail corridor, bobbing and waving in the breeze as the train blew by them.

One particular morning had me breathless with awe. The rain from the night before had washed the dust from every surface, leaving the landscape sparkling in the bright reaching sunshine. I hankered to see more of the bright red cardinals that never fluttered up to the Upper Peninsula., and maybe I would even glimpse another bobcat returning from her nighttime hunt, or a lumbering black bear, fluffy and fat and ready for hibernation, so I grabbed my meager breakfast of one small golden apple and crawled across the rocking boxcar for my perch.