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AN HOUR LATER, JOY and Marit walked together down the train to find Breona. When they drew abreast of Breona’s seat, the girl’s response was cool and distant.
“Breona, I must apologize to you. I was delayed in bringing our lunch, but I have it right here. I hope you will forgive me.” Joy pointed to the paper-wrapped bundle under her arm.
Glancing at the package, Breona’s reaction was involuntary: She swallowed and licked her lips.
Joy gestured toward Marit. “Breona, may I present Marit Dahlin? She is also going to Denver. May I also suggest that we turn this seat in front of you around to accommodate the three of us and our very overdue lunch? Then I will explain my delay.”
As the bench in front of Breona had no passenger, they flipped it over so that it faced Breona’s seat. Soon the three of them were sitting and Joy was sharing out the lunch. Breona placed a dilapidated case across their knees. It was held together with twine, but it worked admirably as a table.
Joy’s mama had packed two large roast beef sandwiches (somewhat squished but edible), two apples, pickles wrapped in paraffin paper, a small cake of gingerbread, an apricot tart folded up in a napkin, a paring knife, and a jar of apple juice. Joy divided the food, placing Marit and Breona’s parts onto the napkin, leaving her portion on the brown paper wrapping.
She bowed her head. “Father God, today is a good day—a great day. We are fed by your bounty and give you honor. We are in your hands and thank you for every good and perfect gift in our lives. Amen.”
They tucked into the meal and left no crumb remaining. Joy handed round the jar of juice and they took turns sipping until it, too, was empty. Then they cleared the suitcase and stowed it again under Breona’s seat.
Joy sighed. “I needed that. Did you have enough, Breona?”
Breona’s dark eyes looked brighter. “Twas bein’ th’ most I’ve eaten since leavin’ Boston, Miss. I thank ye kindly.”
Marit nodded, “Ja, Miss Joy. I denk you, too.” She looked embarrassed. “I brought some food but ate the last yester eve. I had not eaten yet today. I have a little money . . . ”
“Nei, child,” Joy replied—and then laughed because Marit had the knack of bringing out Joy’s roots—or at least her father’s mannerisms. She smiled, thinking of her papa. “No, that will not be necessary.”
Then she sobered. “Breona, we must talk.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned forward. The car had many ears that could be listening.
An hour later, Marit and Breona, now sitting across from Joy, were grasping each other’s hands. Breona had gone still and quiet, but Marit was shaking.
“Marit?” Joy asked, broaching a difficult subject. The girl’s haunted eyes turned to her. “You are in a family way, are you not?”
Fresh tears streamed down her face. “Oh, Miss Joy, vat am I to do? I cannot go back home—they do not know, and my far—my fat’er—vill not understand.” She began to sob and Breona pulled the younger girl’s face into her shoulder, stroking her hair with a gentle hand.
As Marit calmed, Joy asked her a few more questions. “What about the father of your baby, Marit? Does he know? Will he not do right by you?”
Breona waited with Joy for a response, but Marit only stared down in shame and said nothing.
“I am sorry, dear one. I should not pry.”
Marit shook her head. “I-I can tell you. It is just that . . .” She gulped and said, “The man . . . the vun who did this to me is-is already married.”
Breona’s eyes went wide as saucers and, indeed, Joy was taken aback. To err with a sweetheart was serious enough, but to dally with a man who was married! Then Joy recalled the exact words Marit had used.
“Marit, you said, the man, the one who did this to me.” Joy paused, at a loss as how to ask it delicately. “Did this man . . . force you?”
Marit began trembling again and Breona’s arm tightened around her. “There, there, lass,” she crooned.
Joy persisted. “He did. He forced you, is that it?” Joy thought she would burst with anger.
Marit nodded.
“And you did not think you could tell your mama and papa?”
Marit sobbed. “Mor died two vinters past. Since den, Far is terrible angry most times. I cannot . . . he does not see me or hear me . . . I know he vould not haf believed me anyvay. He respects that man so much . . . and ve are beholden to him.” She wiped her face and shuddered. “I vorked in the dairy, you see, that man’s dairy. Ve sorely needed the money and he vould always send me off by myself for some reason . . . and then he vould be there . . .vaiting for me.”
She sobbed. “I could not get shut of him! I could not!”
“Aye, lass. Shoosh, now. I’m knowin’ of what yer sayin’.” Breona’s eyes, reflecting a soul older than it should be, turned to Joy. “I was workin’ fer a fam’ly of quality. Th’ elder son vexed me life in th’ same manner.
“’Tis why I answered th’ post in th’ paper. T’ be getting’ shut of his advances. And now air ye tellin’ us th’t we’ve left th’ fryin’ pan fer th’ fire?”
Breona’s face crumpled. “What air we t’ be doin’, Miss Joy? Th’ folks as sent me fare will be waitin’ for me. Th’ letter said plain that I had t’ pay the fare back if I dinna stay.”
Yes, Joy pondered. That would be one of the ploys they used to snare their victims. A penniless girl, alone and without friends? How could she pay back the fare? Where would she go, once she had arrived, if she did not go with those waiting for her?
This was indeed the dilemma, and Joy wrestled with their meager options. Could she arrange for them to leave the train before Denver? If so, where? And where would they go from there? Could she send them to Omaha, asking Arnie and Anna to take them in and help them? Should she take them to Omaha herself? But Uli and David were expecting her, needed her.
Uli and David. They would know what to do. They had friends, part of the underground to which they belonged, to whom she could entrust Breona and Marit.
But first, how would they escape the “employers” who would be waiting for these girls? Joy’s face warmed in angry impotence. She clenched her teeth as her indignation built. Then she felt something else rising in her chest again, that holy determination and unyielding firmness so like her papa.
Joy’s anger gave way to cool resolve. For the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God, she reminded herself.
“This is what we shall do.”
Both girls looked up with hopeful expectation.
Joy and Marit returned to their seats, gathered their things, and moved them to where Breona sat. The three of them kept their heads close together over the next several hours as Joy gave them instructions and fleshed out her plan. She issued three rules: Breona and Marit were never to go anywhere on the train without each other; when they all disembarked the train, Breona and Marit were to keep hold of each other and stay close in Joy’s wake; if anyone attempted to grab either of them, they were to both scream and not let go of each other.
At the next major stop, they stepped off the train and Joy searched for a novelty shop. At the end of a frustrating hour, she found what she was looking for, purchased it, and tucked it into her pocket where it would remain within easy reach. After buying a few additional food items, they returned to the train with more than an hour to spare before departure. The girls had stuck to her like glue but were looking worn, as was Joy.
They passed a small storefront restaurant near the depot and caught whiffs of savory cooking. Joy’s grumbling stomach could take no more. She turned into the café and the girls followed her. They sat at a small table while Joy perused the menu.
“What do you ladies like to eat?” she inquired. Breona and Marit both shook their heads.
“Miss, I’m havin’ all of ten cents,” Breona confessed. “I mus’ be savin’ it fer a real need. I’ve been hungered afore.”
Marit nodded in agreement, but Joy noted the whiteness of her face.
Joy determined to be frank. “Look. I have some money. Let us have a hot meal, shall we? We need to keep our strength up and our wits about us.”
She ordered soup first followed by baked chicken, seasoned boiled potatoes, and peas. They tore into the food with a will, but Joy saw Breona tuck her dinner roll and several crackers into a pocket.
Their departure was delayed for a further hour so that when the train pulled out, it was dusk. By unspoken agreement they began to settle in for the night. Joy could scarcely believe she had left RiverBend only that morning and had not known these young women before then. The sense of protectiveness she felt for them was peculiar.
As she tucked up her feet along the hard seat she prayed, Lord, by your grace, we shall make it safely to Corinth, and I will help these girls into hands capable of keeping them hidden from those who seek to do them harm.
Then sleep found her.
~~**~~
