Whistle-Stop West Read Free Page A

on the train, Simon, and then tell me.”
    Bert stopped and looked back. “I know we were on this side of the station house. The train didn’t move, so our car has to be here somewhere. Where is everybody, anyway?”
    While they stood, uncertain which direction to take, three shrill blasts from a whistle sounded behind them. Mr. Glover stood on the step of their coach, waving. “Come on, boys, this way. Hurry!”
    Simon’s feet almost left the ground as they raced toward the open door. He was lifted aboard, and Bert and Ethan clambered after him as another whoo, whoo sounded and steam puffed around them.
    Chug, chug, chug, chug, chug, chug. The train shuddered and shook and gathered speed as the boys fell into the nearest seat, panting heavily.
    Riley surveyed them with disgust. “I rounded everybody up down there by the coal car and told you to get back here. Where’d you go?”
    â€œWe stopped to get a drink,” Bert gasped when he could speak again. “How come they moved our car?”
    â€œWhat’s the matter with you, boy? This car was right where we left it! We better not let you off again if you can’t find your way back.” Riley sounded annoyed … or maybe worried.
    â€œWe was the last one in line,” Bert maintained stoutly, “and now there are some behind us. How come?”
    Charles Glover overheard them. “The boys are right. I didn’t think to warn you about that. The train takes on more cars between cities and carries them short distances. When we reach the first town in Iowa, where we’ll stay overnight, our cars will be unhitched and then picked up by the train going west the next day. We can’t tell coaches apart by where they stand in line. We’ll need another way.”
    â€œI’ll tie a scarf on the bar beside our door,” Matron announced. “Then no one will miss it. All right, girls. Let’s go back to our car and get ready for lunch. Wash up, boys. We’ll be back shortly.”

    By the time lunch was over, the train was speeding across the open prairie. The smaller children napped, and the older ones, seeing nothing new to keep their attention, were staying busy as best they could.
    Bert watched as Ethan sketched a picture on a tablet balanced on his crossed legs. “Looks just like the station house,” Bert commented. “Where’d you learn to draw like that?”
    â€œI don’t know. Guess I always could. I used to make pictures in the dirt back home, and Ma always knew what they were. This is better, because I can keep them to look at later.”
    Bert picked up a box of drawing pencils that lay on the seat beside Ethan. “Mr. Smalley knew what to give you for a gift, didn’t he?”
    â€œI’d rather have these than anything else,” Ethan replied. “He was a good teacher, wasn’t he? I guess he was sorry to see so many of us leave Briarlane.”
    â€œI ’spect he thought he’d always have us orphans in school,” Bert said. “But there’ll probably be more to take our place next year. It was nice of him to give us all something to remember him by.”
    The boys leaned back and peered out the window. So much had happened recently that it was hard to sort it out.
    It had all begun with news that twelve children would be traveling on the Orphan Train to a new home in a western state.
    â€œThere is a family by the name of Rush who lives in Nebraska,” Mr. Lehman had told Ethan. “They want you to come and live with them. You’ll have a mother, a father, and an older sister named Frances.”
    â€œAre you sure they know that there’s four of us?” Ethan had asked, concerned. “They won’t just take one and leave the rest of us on the train?”
    â€œI’m sure. They know that you’re all to stay together. Mr. Rush has a large farm and a lot of room. I’m sure you’ll be