Sarah curled back up under her blanket on the couch and set the journal beside her. She flipped the TV on to her Sunday ritual---the Steelers game. Her hometown boys trudged on through another season of mediocrity, and today hosted the Oilers.
“Oh, come on!” she shouted at the screen. “A blind carpenter could have caught that ball.”
After a dismal half of play leading to a 20-3 deficit, Sarah left her team to fend for themselves. She stuffed her body under the blanket and buried her face in the leather journal.
June 14, 1932
My name is November Wetzel Greene, and I’m sixteen years old. That’s right. Just like the month. My mom says it’s ‘cause the fall is one of her favorite times of the year. Most everybody calls me Noah. I got this diary for my birthday from mom and dad last year. They said that they knew how much I wanted to be like Stevenson, so now I could start my own story. I honestly didn’t know what to write about until now. Me and my brothers and sisters are on the verge of being split up soon. Pa said it’s ‘cause they can’t afford to care for all of us kids like they used to before the Depression. I’m supposed to catch a train tomorrow out of town. I guess this is as good a time as any to start keepin’ track of my own adventures around the country…
A silent meeting of the older Greene children convened on April’s bed after their parents had gone down for the evening.
“All right.” Noah looked around at his younger sister and twin brothers. “Here’s the plan.”
The nine-year-old twins Max and Morty looked to one another wearing faces of despair.
“Pa’s sendin’ you two to the poor farm for a while, right?” Noah’s blue gaze bounced from April, not quite yet a teen, to Max, the eldest of the twins.
April nodded. Her long blonde locks fell around her neck framing her sallow face. “That’s what he said.”
“You can’t go, Max!” Morty inched closer to his mirror image.
Noah scratched the rust-colored curls atop his head. “Hush up. Nobody wants it, Mort, but it’s the hand we’ve been dealt.”
April slid forward on the hand-made quilt on her bed. “You could always go stay with Ina Jane at George’s place for a while.”
Noah shook the idea out of existence. “She’s about to have a baby of her own. I’ll be fine.”
“Then, what’s your plan?” Max couldn’t lift his eyes from the quilt.
Noah bent his slender frame in closer. “I’m gonna go get work wherever I can out there. Then I’m comin’ back for you.” He placed his hands on those of his sister and Max. “I’ll set us up a place of our own where we can bring the whole family back together again.”
April sniffed back her sorrow and reciprocated Noah’s action. “You can’t do it all on your own.”
“Can’t I?” He wagged his finger as he made his defense. “I’m old enough to make it out there. I don’t need grownups lookin’ over my shoulder anymore.”
“I know, but---” April lowered her head when her voice got trampled.
“I know how to do a lot of different things,” Noah said. “I’ll be rakin’ in money hand over fist. You watch.”
“You mean it?” Max wiped away his tears.
Noah clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder. “Of course, I do. I’ll come back for you. I promise.”
“Where will you go?” April’s tone stiffened. “What will you do?”
Noah lowered his eyes to the bed with a shrug. “The train outa this area runs to Ohio. I s’pose I’ll start out there.”
His sister rocked back against the wall and concealed her face with her hands. “This is all happening so fast.” Her voice trembled. “None of it makes sense.”
The padding of familiar footsteps down below silenced all of them.
“April?” her mom called. “You still awake?”
The pre-teen’s mouth hung agape. “Yeah, momma.”
“You’d better get some sleep.” Her mom’s feet plodded off back toward the far end of the main floor. “You have a big day tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am.” April shooed Noah and his little brothers out of her room and shut her door.
The boys crept down the stairs and settled into their beds. Beams of pale moonlight gave their room the aura of a graveyard.
“A part of me is dead inside.” Morty snuggled up under his covers.
“It’s not a permanent thing, Mort.” Noah rolled on his side to face his junior siblings. “You’ve gotta hold things together here at home until we get back. Pa’s gonna need your help.”
The younger twin blinked at Noah in silence. What else are you supposed to say to a nine-year-old kid?
“All right.” Noah tugged his covers around his chin. “Get your sleep. Tomorrow’s a long day.”
Both twins shut their eyes and prayed. November remained wide awake long after Max and Morty had cried themselves into exhaustion.
“Rise and shine, boys.” Their mother always beat the sun out of bed. Her voice was cheerful despite the foreboding tasks at hand. Eleanor never stopped looking on the bright side.
Noah eased his weary legs out onto the cold planks. Not even a wink last night. Refreshing summer winds filled their room carrying with them the morning lark’s song. The twins lurched out of their beds and pulled their clothes from the chest of drawers.
“Breakfast is on the table, April,” his mom shouted up the staircase.
Noah walked out to the large dinner table and took his usual spot flanking the head of the household. “Where’s pa?”
His mother slid in beside him and filled Noah’s cup with milk. “He’s been out in the barn all morning.”
Eleanor’s eyes shuddered and Noah sensed his mom’s concern.
“Probably just making sure the wagon’s ready for the trip.” Noah glanced at April coming down the stairs.
Eleanor gave a nervous nod and scuttled to the kitchen. “I’ll set the food on the table for you kids.” Her voice cracked as she exited the dining room.
His last home-cooked meal went with little pomp and circumstance. Noah and his siblings nibbled at their bacon and eggs in silence, only exchanging an apprehensive glance when their mother came in for the last time.
“I’ll go ahead and clear the table while you three pack your things,” Eleanor said with a quivering jaw.
“I’ll give you a hand, momma.” April slid out from the large oval table.
Their mother wafted the offer from existence. “It’s only for a short while anyways.” Eleanor straightened her posture and her apron. “This will all be a distant memory soon.”
Noah herded Max and April to their rooms to gather their belongings while Morty ran out the front door in tears. Max pulled his coveralls and undershirts from the drawers and stumbled on the bedpost as he turned. Noah set a calm hand on his brother’s tense forearm.
“It’ll be all right.” He folded Max’s things on the floor.
His brother turned his moistened gaze into Noah’s. “Momma’s right. This will probably only be for a short while.”
Noah took a small pillow case off his bed, stuffed his journal and a few changes of clothes into it, and slung the sack over his right shoulder. April plodded down the staircase carrying the travel case that Ina Jane had handed down to her before moving out. Max picked his tiny wicker suitcase off the floor and led the trio out the door to their awaiting wagon.
“Come on, then.” Eleanor rocked their youngest sister, Patti.
Max and April tossed their belongings into the back of the buckboard wagon and climbed inside. Noah sat next to Morty staring at the white two-story home. The sun’s rays peeked over the hills behind the house and filtered through the rustling oak leaves to either side. A big monarch butterfly chased his smaller yellow companion across the trimmed grass in the front lawn on a summer breeze.
Noah closed his eyes tight and attempted to burn the last image of home into his mind. That’s how I want to remember it.
His pa slapped the reins down onto the back of their painted mare; the wagon ambled down the worn ruts across the meadow toward the other side of town.
“Why is this happening?” Morty sniffled and curled his legs closer.
Noah wrapped an arm around him and pulled Morty’s face into his chest. “I wish I knew.”
The ride across town passed without a word among them. Another beautiful day lay ahead of him, but Noah had no idea where he’d be laying his head later that night. His father led their wagon down a small embankment and over an old wooden bridge. A long foreboding structure loomed beyond a cluster of trees. April and Max looked to Noah wearing fearful faces.
“It’s just a place that’s new to you.” He rested a hand on Max’s shoulder. “Once you settle into it, it won’t be that scary.”
A heavy-set man sporting soiled denim coveralls held up a meaty palm. The wagon slowed to a stop beside the dingy gent.
“Afternoon.” The man brushed his hand on his pant leg and extended it toward Noah’s father.
“Mr. Reger,” his father said. “I’m William Greene. I talked to you about takin’ in a couple of my children for a spell.”
Reger nodded his thumb of a head wiping the beads of perspiration off with his handkerchief. “That you did, Mr. Greene.”
“Do you still have room?” William tossed his thumb over his shoulder toward the wagon’s bed. “It would just be the girl and one of the boys.”
Reger cocked his head to one side. “Times have been gettin’ worse, but I reckon I still have some room.” He glanced back at Noah’s brother and sister. “So long as they can pull their own weight around here.”
“Yes, sir,” William said. “They’re both hard workers and very helpful around our home.”
Reger waved his dirty rag toward the front entrance to the large Victorian home. “Go ahead and pull on around up there, and we’ll get ‘em settled in for the night before supper.”
Noah watched his dad tip the brim of his hat toward Reger and snap the reins. The wagon lulled along the gravel road passing a small pond and several small sheep en route to the poorhouse. A lady bearing visible stripes of white in her black mane descended the front stairs flanked by two girls to meet them.
Pa tipped his brim to her. “Afternoon, ma’am.”
“Afternoon.” She looked over them with a stern eye.
“Ms. Reger?”
She nodded and motioned the girls toward the back of the wagon.
“Your husband said you have some room for my daughter and son.”
“That we do, Mr. Greene.” A warm smile shattered her cold façade. “I’d like to say that their accommodations are wonderful, but with the recent hard times---”
“I understand, ma’am.” Noah’s dad beckoned April and Max out of the back with a flick of his fingers. “We appreciate whatever it is you can spare.”
Ms. Reger motioned the children up onto the porch with her pudgy right hand. “We’ll take good care of ‘em until things settle down for you folks.”
“Mommy,” young Emma said from between ma and pa in the front bench, “where’s April and Maxie going?”
Eleanor brushed her two-year-old’s bangs out of her face. “They’re just staying here with some friends for a bit, baby.”
“Can I go, too?” Emma’s little round face scrunched in curiosity.
Their mother swallowed her pain and wiped away her tears. “No, honey. I need you to help me with those stubborn little chickens.”
Emma broke into a fit of laughter. “I like those chickens, mommy. They’re silly.”
“Yes, they are.” Eleanor stroked the bridge of Emma’s nose with her index finger. “Besides, Patti needs her big sister.”
Eleanor turned her attention to April and Max. “Come here and give me a hug, you two.”
They took turns leaning over their mother’s back and receiving a smothering from her lips. “April,” she sat a hand on her shoulder, “look after Max and make sure he eats his beans.”
“Yes, momma.”
Eleanor drew Max to her bosom over his sleeping baby sister. “You mind your sister and protect her. You hear?”
Max nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” Eleanor ruffled his red curls. “Mind your manners and we’ll see you real soon.”
Max picked up his suitcase and tailed April up the stairs onto the wraparound porch. Morty locked eyes with his twin. He opened his mouth to say something, but a quick shake of Max’s head stopped him cold.
Noah huddled his brother close. “It’ll be all right, Morty. Just remember what we talked about last night.” The warmth of his brother’s tears matted his white shirt to his body.
With a slap of the reins, the wagon trudged onward in the direction of the Lost Creek train depot. November forced his eyes to remain fixed on his younger siblings through the stinging tears. April and Max sank into minuscule silhouettes as the Greene family wagon turned northward and the poorhouse rolled out of sight.
The sun had settled in behind the hills when Noah opened his eyes. Morty still lay fast asleep next to him on the floor of the wagon. Noah didn’t move for a long time, deciding instead to from a memory of his little brother in this peaceful state. Their wagon rolled to a gentle halt next to the general store in downtown Lost Creek. Towering emerald hills cradled the small town in their protective embrace. Its main thoroughfare bustled with the casual activities of local farmers and businessmen. A long line of downtrodden people snaked out of the bank across the street.
This place is probably getting hit pretty hard by all of this. Noah sat up as quietly as the sun-baked boards would allow and slid out of the wagon. His father walked around to the back placing his hand on the small of Noah’s back.
“I’ll walk you over, son.”
Noah studied his father’s eyes as they made their way to the steps of the general store.
“Noah,” his father said, “I’ve seen a lot of things in my life. A good many memories from my time in the French trenches haunt me to this day.” Noah took up a seat on the bench next to his dad. “None of that pain and horror could have ever prepared me for a moment like this, son.”
Noah spun his small sack in the air between his legs. “I know it’s not your fault, pa.”
His father straightened his muscular torso upright on the narrow bench. “I really don’t want to do this, Noah.” He rose from his seat and extended his calloused hand. “G-Go see the world, son.”
Noah eased off the bench taking his father’s hand in his. The corners of his dad’s brown eyes welled up. “I’ll do what I can.”
His father turned toward the driver’s seat with a sniffle.
“Wait.”
Noah gripped his dad’s big chest in a bear hug. “I love you, dad.”
His father’s warm hands fell across the nape of his neck pulling Noah closer. “I love you, too, Noah.” His dad took him by the arms and stepped back. “You be careful out there, son. The world is a tough place.”
“Yessir, I will.”
The distant trill of the train’s whistle called for all wayward travelers to clear the rails. The massive B&O steamer hissed as she slowed her advance.
“That looks like your ride.” His dad nodded down the tracks. “You’d better get on down the line a ways. Local law will probably shoot you if they see you loafin’ around.”
Noah tipped his head and heaved his small sack over his right shoulder. He jogged down ahead of the engine and ducked behind a honeysuckle bush. The train crawled past the small depot station puffing out jets of white steam from its underbelly. The engineer exchanged cursory waves with the depot boss as the engine puttered past. A couple of heads poked out from cars farther back down the line examining their new surroundings.
It’s rollin’ slow, but I’ve still gotta time this right. Noah inched out around the fragrant bush and prepared for his rendezvous. One of the men in the railcar knelt down at the edge of the door. He beckoned Noah onward with a curl of his arm. Here goes nothing.
He leaped up and dart out alongside the slow-rolling rail snake. The wind kissed the back of his ears and filled his nostrils with the aroma of oil and adventure.
“C’mon!” the young man in the train car waved him onward.
Noah sped up to the open car and tossed his small sack inside.
“Grab onto the hand grips first!” The guy in the car didn’t look any older than he did.
Noah raced under the kneeling teen and thrust his right hand into the iron hold next to the boy’s knee.
“Whoa!” Noah’s left foot snagged a wooden tie causing him to stumble.
“You’ve gotta stay up.” He felt the boy in the car grab his wrist. “It’ll drag you to your death if you don’t.”
Noah sped up his pace regaining control of his lower extremities.
“Good,” the boy instructed. “Now, given me your other hand!”
Noah slapped his left hand into that of the other boy and tossed his right foot into the foothold under the train car. Another unseen hand grabbed him by the back of his coveralls and hurled Noah into the shadows of the slatted wooden car.
“You nearly bit it, boy,” a haggard old voice said. “Another stumble and you would have been mashed flat.”
Noah rolled over onto his back to find an old hunching form bobbing up and down in the shadows of the opposite corner.
“You are new at zees, no?” the other boy said in a thick foreign accent. His straight brown hair glistened in the fading daylight.
“I suppose so.” Noah inched back on his hands.
The crooked figure hobbled from the sanctuary of its darkness. “In that case, we’d better take care of you.”
Sunlight danced on a curved surface in the man’s arthritic hand.
A knife! Noah scurried back into his corner like a trapped filed mouse. The old-timer clenched the object close to his torso and dragged a gimp right leg behind him.
“That, we should.” The foreign boy sat his newsboy hat back on his head.
He hadn’t been on the rails any longer than a minute and already his life hung in limbo.