30

Copper was numb in mind and body as the train rolled on toward Jackson. She didn’t know how the sheriff managed to get the conductor to make an exception for them, and she didn’t care. She supposed everyone who had anything to do with the dreadful accident was making exceptions and bending rules. Her only focus was on getting home and finding Lilly, and to do that with half a mind left, she had to keep herself in check.

John had caught on and had stopped trying to talk to her. She knew he was in his own torment of fear for Lilly, but she couldn’t help him. She couldn’t help anybody. Keeping her face turned to the window, she watched a brewing storm as miles passed by. A mantle of self-reproach as heavy as the leaden clouds settled on her shoulders. She toyed with guilt as if her how-could-I? litany might change the past. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had blithely turned her back on her family, her precious children, and gone off to minister to the Mortons. How could she have been so cavalier?

The click-click-click of the wheels on the track lulled her as heavy raindrops spattered against the window. John leaned across her, watching as lightning flashed a warning in the strangely green sky and the tops of trees twisted in a fierce wind.

With a fearsome screech the train stopped short. The force flung Copper forward. Bracing himself, John shot one arm in front of her, barely managing to keep her from slamming into another seat.

“Something’s up,” he said.

“Is that the train?” she asked, straining to be heard above the howling sound.

“No. It’s the wind.” He leaned over her. “Look out the window.”

Just across a field they could see a twirling black mass of debris. As delicately as flowers plucked from a garden, the suction from the wind tweaked a post-and-rail fence from the ground and then deposited each piece, as neat as you please, along the fence line. Suddenly a barn burst apart, sending boards and roofing skyward. As if compelled, they stared as the mammoth twister dipped and lifted in an obscene dance of destruction.

“Wow,” John kept saying. “Wow.”

As abruptly as it had formed, the storm cloud dissipated into many impotent arms. Through the window, they watched men from the train sprinting across the field toward a white wood-sided house with half a roof.

John rose and started up the aisle.

Copper felt under the seat for her doctor’s bag. “Wait for me. I’m coming with you.”

The woman of the house and her three small children were unhurt. Her husband, she told them, had gone to check on an elderly neighbor whom they knew would be frightened by the coming storm.

“I wish you’d check on my cow,” the lady said. “I’m scared to look.”

Everyone from the train looked at the pile of splintered black boards and twisted tin roofing that had been the barn.

“Stay here,” John said, and Copper did. The last thing she wanted to see was the family’s cow at the bottom of that heap. Instead she waited on the porch with the farmwife and the three children.

The woman’s eyes sparkled with tears. “I’ll sure miss my Bossy. She was a good milker.”

Copper murmured words of condolence as they watched the men heave rubbish to the side. Then the mood turned. They heard laughter and saw men slapping each other on the back. John turned toward the porch and motioned them over.

They hurried to what minutes ago had been the barn. Copper couldn’t believe her eyes. The Guernsey stood in front of a feed box, chewing her cud, as placid as the day is long.

“Praise the good Lord. He saved her.” The lady smiled through her tears. “We can fix the barn and the roof, but I couldn’t replace my Bossy.”

As if in acknowledgment, a rainbow arched across the sky. Copper could have fallen to her knees. The Lord was good. He was in control. Whatever they faced, He would see them through.

The men worked until the woman’s husband came home, bringing the elderly neighbor with him.

“Love thy neighbour as thyself,” the man’s deed reminded her. Though she was just as frightened and just as heartsick, she was no longer in the depths of despair.

After they walked back to the train, John saw her to her seat, then went back out to help clear the fallen tree that had brought the train to a screaming halt. It was late and dusk was falling. It felt like they would never get home. She rested her head on the seat back. All she could do was wait. Wait and pray.

They sat on the tracks for hours and didn’t make it to Jackson until way after midnight. The station was deserted when they arrived. Nobody knew they were coming, so nobody waited with a ride. The livery wouldn’t be open this late. They’d either have to walk the few miles home or wait until morning.

“Let’s walk,” she said. “I can’t stand another minute of sitting.”

They went past the telegraph agent’s office, which was located inside the train station. The door was open, and they could see the dispatcher’s fingers tapping out Morse code on a set of brass keys. He squinted in the smoke from a cigarette. A half-empty mug of what looked like coffee was within easy reach. While typing with one hand, he put up the other as if to say, “Wait.”

Finished with the message, he pushed a green eyeshade off his face. His hair stuck up behind it like a bad cowlick. A faint red line creased his forehead. “Say, ain’t you the folks that went to the train wreck?” he asked, stubbing out his smoke in an overflowing ashtray.

“Yes,” John said. “We’re on our way home to Troublesome Creek.”

Still sitting, he walked his chair to the doorway. “Ain’t anybody coming to carry you home?”

“No, we didn’t know we were coming tonight ourselves.”

“Ain’t you the ones had a girl on that train? What happened there?”

Copper tugged on John’s sleeve. She didn’t think she could bear to hear the story spoken to a stranger. “Let’s go. We’ve a long walk yet.”

“You can take my horse. He’s the only one in the lot out back. The saddle’s on the fence.”

“That’s mighty kind of you,” John said.

“Glad to be of help. Leave me directions, and I’ll borrow the stationmaster’s nag and come fetch mine after my shift ends.”

John fished a silver dollar from his pocket.

The man threw his hands up. “No, I ain’t doing this for pay. Your daughter’s the talk of the town. Everybody’s real concerned.”

Despite her weariness, Copper was touched by the dispatcher’s words. “Thank you,” she said as John went to get the horse. “It’s good to know people care.”

He coughed dryly and lit another smoke. The chair creaked when he leaned back. “Some people say us that telegraph news over the wire’re no better’n dogs sniffing after spoiled meat. But what I’ve learned is that folks care about other folks—that’s why they read the news. And they always want to hear the rest of the story.”

“I never thought about it that way, but it’s true. You can tell people our daughter wasn’t on the train after all. We’re going home to find her.”

“Tell you what,” he said as a message jiggling across the wire caught his attention, “I won’t send anything out until I know the end.”

* * *

A coal-oil lamp in the kitchen window welcomed them home. Copper was thankful the children were asleep.

Remy hobbled into the room. She was fully clothed as if she had been waiting for them. “Ary news?”

Copper pulled a chair out from the table and sat down wearily. “We don’t know where she is. I hoped against hope that she’d be here when we got home.”

“I’m sorry, Purty. I was praying you’d bring her with you. I can’t figure what could have happened.”

Copper took off her gloves and unpinned her hat. “How are we going to stand this? How could we just lose her?”

Remy filled the kettle with water and set it on a hot burner.

“Have you not slept at all tonight?” Copper asked.

“I cain’t get me no rest with Lilly out there somewheres all alone.”

Copper rubbed her eyes. “Is Cara still here helping with the children?”

“Yup, I give her and Dimmert yore bed. He’s kept everything up, and she’s real good with the young’uns. Everybody’s been good. We ain’t cooked nothing save breakfast since you left.”

“Looks like the storm followed us home,” John said when he came in. Striking lightning cracked beyond the open door.

Remy put a bowl of brown beans and a triangle of corn bread on the table for him. For Copper she offered a smaller piece of the bread and a cup of sassafras with honey stirred in.

“I’ll eat if you will,” Copper said.

Remy fixed another plate and sat at the table with them.

John ate like he was starved, then served himself another bowl. “Are you hearing anything?” he asked Remy.

“There ain’t hardly been time,” Remy said. “Dimmert went scouting down by the creek once Brother Jasper left. We was thinking she might . . .”

Copper forced a sip of tea. She put a dab of honey on her corn bread and one on Remy’s. “Remember when Lilly was little and got lost? We hunted the place over for her. Dimm and I walked up and down the creek and . . .”

“I’d almost forgot,” Remy said. “I found her and set her back on the bank. She was splashing around having a good old time.”

“She’d been chasing that cat Old Tom. God gave her back then, and He will again,” Copper said.

Thunder boomed and shook the house. Rain pounded on the roof.

“It’s been doing this off and on since yesterday noon,” Remy said, licking honey off her fingers.

John pushed his plate away. “I’m going out.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.” Copper followed him to the door. Rain whooshed in. “You won’t find anything in this.”

He took his old, brown oilcloth slicker from a peg and put it on. “I’ve got to do something,” he said, brushing her cheek with his fingertips. “You keep the faith. Something good will come from this. You’ll see.”

She watched the rain swallow him up as soon as he stepped off the porch. Please, Lord, let him be right.