Wings of a Dream Read Free Page B

moon’s journey across the star-pocked sky.
    The Lord finally had seen fit to deliver me from Downington. Arthur wasn’t the only one spreading new wings.

T he train slowed and the conductor called out the stop at Prater’s Junction just after bare fields blazed orange with the waning sun. The whistle screeched our arrival into the station. I wondered if Mama would be relieved that no strange man had tried to strike up a conversation with me or be disappointed that I didn’t get to heed her advice and freeze him with a silent stare. Not that I would have done that, exactly. It might have been interesting to converse with a stranger who would walk off the train and out of my life. But the opportunity never presented itself.
    Black smoke streamed in through open windows. I coughed until I made it to the open air of the platform. For the first time in my life, I’d left Downington—home—far, far away. My lips curved upward, my feet itching to dance a jig. Instead, they jumped when the whistle screamed and the train strained forward. A cinder landed on the skirt of my traveling suit. I brushed it away and lifted my chin, ready to meet my adventure.
    But where to begin?
    No one lingered near the empty tracks. Had anyone else disembarked? I didn’t recall. The heels of my laced boots clomped loud on the flat planks. I reached the small building at the back of the platform and peered through the windows. An empty waiting room opposite an empty office.
    I turned to look beyond the station. In spite of the dimming day, I recognized that Prater’s Junction had even less to recommend it than Downington. But no matter. I’d get Aunt Adabelle back on her feet, and she’d help me find a way to Dallas, to Arthur. Then my life would really begin.
    Two steps down and I stood in the rutted road that crossed the train tracks. A horse whinnied near my ear. I dropped my suitcase and jumped back with a squeal as hooves danced behind the hitching post. An empty buggy jiggled behind the startled animal. I stretched my hand toward the velvet nose.
    “There now, pretty boy.” I stroked him until he calmed.
    Voices murmured in the distance. I strained to see the people talking, but the depot building obscured my view. Surely one of them owned this horse and buggy. But as the shadows lengthened, the voices fell silent, leaving only the chirp of cicadas and an occasional lowing of faraway cattle.
    A bit of tinny music sounded from one of the storefronts that lined the main street of town. Beyond that, faint squares of yellow broke into the gray of evening. The thought of walking up to a strange front door to ask directions filled me with horror, so I decided I’d wait for someone to claim the horse and buggy.
    The coming night cooled the heat of day, and while I welcomed it, I still shivered as I picked up my suitcase and headed back up onto the platform. My foot hit something solid. I stumbled forward, the weight of my suitcase pulling me toward the floorboards. My ankle bent sideways, and I cried out in pain.
    Strong hands caught my arms, held me aloft.
    “Whoa, Nellie!” The man’s hat darkened his face.
    “Thank you, sir.” I took a step back, wincing at the pain in my ankle. I lifted my sore foot until only the toe of my boot touched the ground and tried to balance myself with dignity.
    “Are you injured?” The man pushed back the rim of his hat before cradling my elbow in one hand.
    “No, sir. I’ll manage.”
    He studied me now, seemed to realize he didn’t know my face. “Welcome to Prater’s Junction, Miss—?”
    I raised my eyebrows and tried to look down my nose at him, but Mama’s face wouldn’t work on me. I burst out laughing. He joined in. “I’m Rebekah Hendricks. And you?”
    “Henry Jeffries, sheriff.” He doffed his hat and tipped his head.
    “The sheriff? Quite a welcoming committee, I do declare.” Did I spy a blush creep over his face? “I wonder if you could help me find my mother’s sister,