Willie

The train stopped. Patrick looked out a small window. The sign above the depot said “Willoughby.” He picked up the black bag. Then he opened the side door.

Patrick and Beth hopped off the baggage car and onto the tracks. He heard the door slide shut behind them.

Crowds of people quickly gathered around the back of the train. They cheered for Mr. Lincoln. They were happy and loud. The men and boys wore suits. The women and girls wore dresses with petticoats. Everyone looked as neatly dressed as they would for church.

The cousins glanced at the smoking car that held the reporters.

Patrick felt as if someone was watching him. He looked at the train windows.

A man was staring straight at them. He had red hair and a bushy beard. His forehead was pressed against the glass. But then the man abruptly pulled a shade down.

“Hurry,” Beth said. “We might miss Mr. Lincoln.”

The people in the crowd yelled, “Speech! Speech!” Their voices rose above the band music coming from the depot.

Patrick turned sideways to squeeze through the crowd. He held the bag over his head to keep from bumping people.

As they reached the back of the train, the bag was yanked out of his hands. Patrick looked up at a tall man wearing a black stovepipe hat. The man stood on the platform at the rear of the last car. He had a familiar face: the dark hair; the deep-set eyes above a long, bony nose; the sad, thin smile.

“At last,” Abraham Lincoln said, “my bag is returned to me. One problem solved.” He handed the bag to a young boy in a black suit standing behind him. The boy dropped the bag on the platform.

Then Lincoln leaned over the platform’s iron railing and offered Patrick a hand. “Want to come aboard?” Lincoln asked.

Patrick grasped his hand. Mr. Lincoln lifted him to the edge of the platform. Patrick swung a leg over the railing.

I can’t believe I’m standing next to Abraham Lincoln, Patrick thought.

“Patrick!” Beth called. “What about me?” She reached up and grabbed two iron rails.

Patrick pulled on Lincoln’s sleeve. The tall man looked at Patrick. Patrick pointed to Beth and said, “She helped with the bag too.”

This time Lincoln leaned farther over the railing. With two hands, he held Beth around her ribcage and lifted her. Then he gently placed her on the platform.

“Thank you,” Beth said. She pushed back her cloak’s hood. Then she curtsied to Abraham Lincoln.

The crowd went wild with cheering. The people pressed even closer to the platform and raised their hands toward Lincoln.

The president-elect leaned over the railing again. He shook the hands of men, women, and children.

The other young boy on the platform stepped forward. He cupped his hands around his mouth. Then he shouted to Lincoln’s fans, “Want to meet Mrs. Lincoln?”

The crowd offered more cheers and whistles. The boy pushed Beth to the front of the platform railing.

“Boo!” someone from the crowd said. The cheers turned to jeers and laughter.

The boy laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach.

Beth’s cheeks flushed red. She backed away and hid behind a large American flag. It was hanging from a long wood pole. The flag looked odd to Patrick. It had fewer stars than the one at his school.

Lincoln turned to the boy. “Apologize and then go inside, Willie,” he said, “and visit Mrs. Lincoln and your younger brother.”

“Yes, sir,” Willie said. The boy lifted the flag and spoke to Beth. “I was wrong to embarrass you,” he said. “But it was a great joke!”

Beth mumbled something that sounded like “Okay.” Willie let go of the flag, and Beth was hidden again.

Willie paused before leaving the platform. He said to Patrick, “You look like a fun sort of fellow.” Then the boy pulled something out of his pocket. He opened his palm so Patrick could see. “Want to play with my tin soldiers?”

“Uh . . . sure,” Patrick said. “Later, though. You should obey Mr. Lincoln.”

Willie grinned and went inside.

The train whistle made two long toots. The train began to pull away from the depot. And the locomotive started to chug.

Lincoln said, “Goodbye, friends in Willoughby! I am honored by your loyalty.” He turned to Patrick. “Will you be traveling with us to Buffalo? Or are you staying in Willoughby?”

“My ticket was punched for Buffalo,” Patrick said.

Several young men raced after the train. They waved small American flags. One raised his arm and hurled something at the platform. Patrick heard a whistle and a loud ka-bang!

“A firecracker,” Beth said. “How patriotic!”

Patrick looked at Lincoln to share a smile.

But Lincoln had turned pale. “It’s time to move inside,” he told Patrick and Beth.

Mr. Lincoln picked up the bag and entered the train car.

Patrick was surprised. He looked at Beth. She raised an eyebrow as if to ask, “What’s going on?”

Patrick whispered to her, “Perhaps a missing bag wasn’t the only problem Mr. Lincoln has.”