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THE DENVER STATION was a mix of old and new, civilized and untamed, order and chaos. Six railroads converged on Union Station; Joy, Breona, and Marit would need to leave the Union Pacific and find the Denver & Rio Grande Western, the narrow-gauge train that climbed out of Denver into the Rocky Mountains to the west of the city.
Omaha had been a hub of agriculture and transportation and a gateway to the west for decades and had grown into a large city over those many years. Denver, the jumping off point into the wilderness, had scrambled up with less aplomb, growing on the frenzy of gold and silver mining. Not all, but many, came to the city, not to settle a community, but to strip riches from her near mountains as swiftly as they could manage. They came not to bring industry, enterprise, and civilization but to find quick wealth.
Some succeeded, but more did not. Their frustrations often fueled other “needs,” needs that vile opportunists quickly comprehended and moved to satisfy. The city itself was a contradiction—stately homes, gardens, and parks with gleaming monuments standing in stark contrast to shacks, shanties, poverty, filth, saloons, prostitution, and gambling.
Uli had written Joy that while Denver’s size was now near that of Omaha’s, Denver had the “distinction” of falling only slightly short of the crime and depravity found in San Francisco's Barbary Coast district and the red-light quarter of New Orleans’ Storyville.
Not all of Denver’s citizenry ignored the poverty and depraved state of many of Denver’s populace. Their concerns had given birth to what was being called a “social” gospel movement. Uli wrote regarding it.
We do not claim the same methods and opinions of this movement, although we certainly share similar goals and aims. We believe the Bible teaches that sin cannot be cured on a global level, only one contrite heart at a time.
Some sister churches, on the other hand, while passionate to follow our Lord’s commands to feed the needy, feel that the ills of society can be remedied through education and government programs and by discerning between the deserving and undeserving poor.
If a Christian understands the Bible, he knows that the terrible conditions of this life are the result of generations of sin in the world. Sin is the root of poverty, and is why Jesus told us, “The poor you will have with you always.” Sadly, no program can fix the ills of society—only the message of redemption and transformation can change a man’s or woman’s heart and life.
Minister Uzzel and others like him do much good work but, to our great disappointment, seem to have forgotten that Gospel means “Good News” and that men must be saved from their sins before they can be truly saved from their circumstances. They seek to reform society without the Blood of Jesus also reforming hearts.
So, we work in a fashion different from this great social gospel movement. We have determined not to fall into this imbalance but to seek every day to balance the Great Commission with the second greatest commandment, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” One without the other serves not God’s purposes.
Joy, Breona, and Marit stepped from the train. A dark-haired gentleman handed them down the steps of their car. He said nothing but touched the brim of his derby hat politely and set off with a quick step across the platform.
Breona and Marit, as Joy had drilled them, kept hold of each other’s hands and stayed close behind Joy. Their eyes darted around the crowded platform, and Marit had Breona’s hand in a fierce grip.
“Marit,” Breona hissed. “Have a care! I mus’ be usin’ me fingers later t’day.”
First, they needed to arrange for Joy’s trunk to be taken off the train and placed on the train to Corinth. Breona and Marit had their belongings with them. Joy waved to a conductor and handed him her claim check, giving him directions to transfer the trunk to the Corinth train.
Joy scanned signs in the station looking for the ticket counters and directions to D&RGW departures. She signaled Breona and Marit, and they set off at a brisk pace. Joy was hopeful that a casual observer would see only three young women traveling together, confident of their destination—and that those waiting for Breona and Marit would not recognize either of them as a single, vulnerable girl looking about for someone to meet her.
Close behind her, Joy heard a startled “eep!” from Breona. Joy looked back. Near a corner of the platform, she spied a large man holding a sheet of paper with the word “BYRNE” written on it in large letters. Byrne was Breona’s last name! The man scanned each passenger stepping off the train.
She glanced back at Breona and Marit. They had averted their eyes, had turned their faces away from the man with sign. Joy slipped her hand into her pocket, reassured by its contents.
Maintaining their close little knot, the three women pushed through the jostling crowds moving toward stairs leading up to the ticket offices. Across the seemingly endless station floor, Joy spotted the ticket counters.
As they arrived, she chanced a look back and glimpsed another man, also holding a sign. This one read, “DAHLIN.” He had a disagreeable expression on his face and kept scanning the crowded station floor. As his gaze shifted their way, Joy glanced to the balcony above them and made a show of waving cheerfully to someone. An elderly gentleman, seeing her enthusiasm, looked about himself before dubiously lifting his hand back to her.
“Look! There is Uncle Arthur!” Joy gushed in a loud voice. She kept the girls moving toward the ticket counter.
Behind them, but never close enough to be noticed in the crowd, the man in the derby hat followed them. His manner was casual as he pushed his way through the throngs.
Joy skimmed through the departure notices. “Three for Corinth on the 3:45.” She paid out the money, grasped the tickets, and asked, “Which way to the platform, please?”
Finding that they needed to go down the stairs again and quite some distance along the track, Joy gave each girl her ticket and reminded them, “Remember. Stay close behind me. Do not, under any circumstances, let go of each other’s hands. If we are separated for any reason, stand where you are—we will find you. And if someone grabs you, scream for all you are worth.”
Knowing she would not feel safe until they were on the train under the watchful eye of a conductor, she set a brisk pace.
“Miss Joy!”
Joy turned and saw Breona and Marit several yards back. Blocking their path was a hulk of a man. Joy sped back toward them and thrust herself between the girls and the stranger.
He was dressed well. His clothing was clean and of good quality, but . . . something was not right in Joy’s estimation. His collar was too tight, the shoulders of his great coat cut too small, and he was perspiring in discomfort. Even the top of his balding head gleamed with perspiration. In a meaty hand he grasped the lettered sign that read DAHLIN.
Joy arched her brows and asked, “May I help you?”
“Who are you?” the man demanded.
“Who am I? Sir, you accosted us, not the other way around. Who are you, and what is your business with these young ladies?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Name’s Darrow. Here to escort Miss Dahlin to her new, ah, employer. Now who are you?”
“I am guardian to these young ladies,” Joy replied.
“Guardian? Yeah, right.” Darrow snickered and shrugged in disdain. “I am here for Miss Dahlin. I have my instructions.”
“I see. For whom do you work, Mr. Darrow? And where is his residence?” For a second time in two days, Joy blessed the Lord who gave her the height of her father’s side of the family. Even so, Darrow towered over her. She stared at him with outward calm while quivering on the inside.
“Lady, thet’s none o’ your business. Miss Dahlin writ a letter and we giv her a train ticket to come and work here.”
“That may be, Mr. Darrow, yet I will not release one of my charges without ensuring that the arrangement she has made with your employer is, shall we say, legitimate, and to her advantage.” Joy lingered on the word ‘legitimate’. “I have asked for your employer’s name and place of residence. I am waiting, Mr. Darrow.”
The man pushed close to Joy’s face. She could smell him, the stink of his breath, his body odor, and his greasy hair. His clothes may have been relatively clean, but he was not.
He reached behind Joy and grasped Marit’s arm. “From the description you writ us, you are Marit Dahlin. I was sent to take you to your new employer, and time’s a-wastin’.”
Marit dropped her bag and, holding fast to Breona, who held fast to her, refused to be moved.
“Unhand that young lady, Mr. Darrow.” Joy again thrust herself between Marit and Darrow.
“Lady, you are puttin’ yer nose in where it is not wanted,” Darrow warned. With a rough shove of his powerful arms, he separated the two girls. Breona had held so tightly to Marit that their separation caused her to sit down hard on the station floor.
Darrow’s grasp on Marit’s arm tightened, and Joy could see that he was hurting her. He grabbed Marit’s bag from the floor and began to drag her away. Before he could go far, Joy pulled the device from her pocket and put it to her lips. Close beside Darrow’s head she blew with all her might.
Joy was prepared for the ear-splitting whistle, but Darrow was not. He slapped one ham-sized fist to his ear and yelped in pain and surprise. Joy danced around him and, near his other ear, blew the whistle again. And again.
Darrow bellowed a curse word and swiped an arm at her, but Joy had dodged away. Marit and Breona, linked up again, were standing several yards away, staring—as were all eyes in the station. Joy ran to the two girls and turned to face Darrow.
Still holding his ears and blinking in pain, Darrow took stock of the situation.
“I say,” a portly gentleman called from the crowd. “You, there! Leave these young ladies be, or we will call the officers!” Murmurs of assent rose from others watching.
“May I be of some assistance, ladies?”
A voice on their right interrupted the confrontation between Darrow and Joy. While continuing to shelter Breona and Marit closely behind her, she chanced a look. A dark-haired man in a derby hat waited for her response. He looked familiar and Joy frowned, trying to place him.
“If I may be allowed to assist, I should be pleased to escort your party to your train,” he offered again. While not nearly the size of Darrow, the man’s confidence was comforting.
Joy made a quick decision. “Thank you, sir. We accept your assistance. Would you be so kind as to escort us to our platform?”
Darrow scowled at both of them and made a move toward Marit. Tiny Breona, still holding Marit’s hand, stepped out in front of her and scowled back at Darrow. Joy grinned at her spunk.
“Ladies, shall we go?” The man in the hat, keeping one eye on Darrow, gestured them in the right direction.
They made their way to their departure platform. Breona and Marit scrambled up the steps of a passenger car. Joy turned to their benefactor.
“Thank you, sir. We owe you our gratitude.” She extended her hand.
“It was a service I was happy to offer.” He shook her hand. “Edmund O’Dell. If I can ever be of assistance again, Miss . . . ?”
He tried not to stare at her, but could not help himself.
She is lovely.
Joy nodded her thanks again and, without giving her name, mounted the steps to the train.
As if we are likely to meet again, she thought. She found the girls and settled her things.
Back on the platform, the man took off his hat and ran his hand through his dark hair. He stared after the departing train.
Perfectly lovely. It was all he could think.
~~**~~
