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  WHISPERS

  ALONG the RAILS

  Books by Judith Miller

  FROM BETHANY HOUSE PUBLISHERS

  _________________________________

  BELLS OF LOWELL*

  Daughter of the Loom

  A Fragile Design

  These Tangled Threads

  LIGHTS OF LOWELL*

  A Tapestry of Hope

  A Love Woven True

  The Pattern of Her Heart

  FREEDOM’S PATH

  First Dawn

  Morning Sky

  Daylight Comes

  POSTCARDS FROM PULLMAN

  In the Company of Secrets

  Whispers Along the Rails

  POSTCARDS from PULLMAN * 2

  WHISPERS

  ALONG the RAILS

  _________________

  JUDITH MILLER

  Whispers Along the Rails

  Copyright © 2007

  Judith Miller

  Cover design by Dan Thornberg, Koechel Peterson & Associates

  Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Paperback: ISBN-13: 978-0-7642-0277-3 ISBN-10: 0-7642-0277-4

  Hardcover: ISBN-13: 978-0-7642-0441-8 ISBN-10: 0-7642-0441-6

  * * *

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Miller, Judith, 1944-

  Whispers along the rails / Judith Miller.

  p. cm. — (Postcards from Pullman ; 2)

  ISBN 978-0-7642-0441-8 (alk. paper) — ISBN 978-0-7642-0277-3 (pbk.)

  1. British—United States—Fiction. 2. Young women—Fiction.

  3. Railroads—Employees—Fiction. 4. Industrial relations—Fiction.

  5. Depressions—1893—Fiction. 6. Pullman (Chicago, Ill.)—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3613.C3858W49 2007

  813’.54—dc22 2007023745

  * * *

  In memory of my mother

  GLADYS E. MCCOY

  (JUNE 16, 1914–FEBRUARY 8, 2003)

  With a grateful heart for

  the memories she created,

  the laughter she shared,

  the faith she lived,

  and the love freely given.

  JUDITH MILLER is an award-winning author whose avid research and love for history are reflected in her novels, many of which have appeared on the CBA bestseller lists. Judy and her husband make their home in Topeka, Kansas.

  He that speaketh truth sheweth forth righteousness:

  but a false witness deceit.

  —Proverbs 12:17

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  Pullman, Illinois

  March 2, 1893

  In the hush of Olivia Mott’s third-floor bedroom, the click of the metal latches on her Gladstone traveling bag echoed in the early morning silence. She tugged on the handle and lifted the pebbled leather bag from atop her bed. The travel case, with its double-stitched leather handle and linen lining, had been costly, but if her work for the Pullman Palace Car Company was going to require riding the rails, one good piece of baggage was a necessity. Her heart fluttered at a rapid pace, and she clasped her palm to her chest. Fear? Excitement? Gloom? A mixture of all three, she decided.

  With a jab of her moonstone hatpin, Olivia secured her narrow-brimmed felt hat into place. She hoped it would prove substantial enough to hold her coffee-colored curls in place.

  Greeting Olivia with a cheery good morning, Mrs. Barnes pointed her toward the kitchen. ‘‘I’ve prepared a breakfast fit for a queen. You don’t want to begin your new position on an empty stomach.’’ The older woman waved Olivia onward.

  The smell of hearty fried food wafted across the kitchen, and her stomach roiled. ‘‘I believe a cup of tea and one slice of your nicely browned toast would be the most that I dare eat this morning, Mrs. Barnes.’’ She lightly tapped her fingers on her stomach. ‘‘I’m a bit nervous, and I fear a heavy meal won’t sit well.’’

  Mrs. Barnes pushed a wayward strand of graying hair behind one ear. ‘‘You may be sorry once you depart Pullman and your stomach growls in protest.’’ Her eyes shone with disapproval. ‘‘You’re too thin, dear. No one would ever guess that you’re an assistant chef in a fine hotel.’’

  The landlady’s reminder that Olivia would soon leave the familiarity of her newfound home in Pullman was enough to send Olivia’s spirits plummeting. She’d been living in Illinois for only a year now, and though she’d had a bumpy beginning, her life had recently settled into a satisfying routine.

  When Chef René, her kind mentor and the executive chef of the Hotel Florence, had suffered a serious heart attack last November, he had adamantly insisted Olivia replace him as executive chef until his health would permit a return to his duties. And though the chef ’s unexpected affliction had caused Olivia great sorrow and concern, it had also given her four additional months in Pullman before beginning her new work assignment on the rails.

  She and Fred DeVault had used that added time to work toward rebuilding their friendship. They still remained on tentative footing but had made slow, steady improvement. Four months ago, they’d exchanged no more than terse greetings. Now they enjoyed talking to each other and even shared an occasional hope or dream. They discussed most everything nowadays—everything except their future together. For the last month, Fred had made a point of sitting beside her in church, and he’d even invited her ice-skating on two different occasions.

  Olivia could only hope that her upcoming absences from Pullman wouldn’t destroy the progress they’d made. She feared a sense of estrangement would divide them each time she returned, and they might never move beyond this point. If only she didn’t have to go out on the rails—if only.

  But Chef René had now returned to the kitchen, so her reprieve had come to an end. Today she would depart on her first journey riding the rails with Mr. Thornberg, the supervisor who had been assigned to instruct and prepare her for the evaluator position. She prayed Mr. Thornberg would be a patient man. She would feel more comfortable if the company agent, Mr. Howard, had arranged for her to meet Mr. Thornberg prior to their departure. Beginning this new position was frightening enough, but seeking out a s
tranger in the Chicago train station might be impossible. Though Mr. Howard had given her a sketchy description of him, Olivia thought there would be more than one man with thinning gray hair, a mustache, and a navy blue suit. When she mentioned that fact, Mr. Howard assured her Mr. Thornberg would be waiting by the third ticket counter along the west wall of the station. She doubted it would be so simple.

  Downing the last sip of her tea, Olivia pushed away from the table and hoped Mrs. Barnes wouldn’t notice she’d eaten only a few bites of the toast. ‘‘I’m not certain when I’ll return, Mrs. Barnes, but I have my key to the house.’’

  The older woman glanced at the plate. ‘‘You’ve not finished your toast. There’s plenty of time before the train arrives. Do sit down.’’

  ‘‘I must be on my way, Mrs. Barnes. I promised Mrs. De-Vault I’d stop for a brief visit to bid her and Fred good-bye. I don’t want to disappoint her.’’

  Mrs. Barnes seemed to momentarily weigh Olivia’s response. ‘‘Well, in that case I won’t detain you. I’m certain she, too, will miss you while you’re away.’’

  Olivia detected a hint of jealousy in Mrs. Barnes’s remark, but she didn’t respond. With a fleeting kiss to the older woman’s cheek, she strode down the hallway, picked up her bag, and departed, thankful Mrs. Barnes hadn’t followed. The woman suffered frequent attacks of melancholy since her daughter’s marriage and subsequent departure, and Olivia couldn’t bear a tearful good-bye. Mr. Barnes had likely hoped Olivia’s presence in their home would prove a cure for his wife’s bouts of loneliness, but that hadn’t occurred, for much of Olivia’s time was consumed at work or visiting with Martha, as well as with Fred and Mrs. DeVault.

  Olivia shifted the heavy bag into her right hand and crossed the street. In all probability, she’d packed far more than she would need. Mr. Howard had been unable or unwilling—she remained uncertain which—to tell her exactly how long she’d be traveling with Mr. Thornberg on this first journey. She swallowed the lump of fear that was rising in her throat. This will be a good experience with an array of new and exciting events. She repeated the phrase aloud, but it didn’t help. Instead, the lump increased in size, and she wondered if she would be able to keep down the toast she’d eaten only a few minutes earlier.

  It was difficult to believe her life had changed so dramatically in only a year. From a scullery maid in London’s Lanshire Hall to assistant chef at the Hotel Florence in Pullman, Illinois, she’d made quite a leap for a young woman of twenty-two years. And now this new endeavor had been forced upon her. Unlike her position in the hotel kitchen, she hadn’t asked for this latest job. She didn’t want to leave her duties in the hotel for even short periods of time. The mere thought of spending days on the rails, sleeping and dining in the Pullman railroad cars and evaluating services for possible improvement, boggled Olivia’s mind. She was completely unqualified for such work, yet she’d had no say in the matter. Mr. Howard and Mr. Pullman had selected her for this job, so she couldn’t refuse—not if she wanted to remain employed in Pullman—and she did. Fred lived in Pullman. And where else would she, a woman with only one year of training, be hired to work as an assistant chef?

  ‘‘This will be a good experience, and Mr. Thornberg will be nice.’’ The warble in her voice confirmed the fact that she’d not yet overcome her fear. Not in the least. She climbed the front steps and knocked on the DeVaults’ front door. Surely Mrs. DeVault would have some words of wisdom that would assuage her fear.

  Olivia took a backward step as the door swung open and Fred greeted her. She didn’t fail to note the sadness that shone in his eyes. He took the valise from her hand and sat it near the door. Grasping her hand in his own, he led her down the hallway toward the kitchen. ‘‘Mother was beginning to worry. She expected you a little earlier. I think she was hoping for more time to visit.’’

  ‘‘Mrs. Barnes insisted I eat something before leaving the house.’’

  ‘‘You’re rather pale,’’ he said. ‘‘You shouldn’t travel if you’re sick.’’

  Mrs. DeVault immediately scurried across the room and placed her palm on Olivia’s forehead. ‘‘Oh, my dear, you’re as white as winter’s first snow. Are you ill?’’

  ‘‘I believe it’s fear more than anything physical.’’ Olivia sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and rested her chin in her palm. ‘‘I know I shouldn’t be frightened, but if I don’t excel at this new position, I’ll likely find myself unemployed.’’

  Mrs. DeVault poured a cup of tea and set it in front of Olivia. ‘‘Drink your tea, dear.’’ The older woman took a chair beside her. ‘‘I don’t mean to make light of your fears, but you must trust God. Worry serves no purpose, and if you permit it, your fears will consume you. Just place your trust in God, my dear.’’ She grasped Olivia’s hand in her own. ‘‘He is with you everywhere, Olivia. Talk to Him.’’

  Olivia’s hand trembled as she lifted the teacup to her lips. She took a sip and returned the cup to its saucer. ‘‘I know you’re right, Mrs. DeVault, but I often forget. I’ll do my best.’’

  Fred quietly finished his breakfast while his mother continued to offer sage words of advice. Though he said nothing, Olivia didn’t fail to notice his gaze flitting back and forth while his mother spoke to her.

  Olivia glanced in his direction. ‘‘Do you ever forget about trusting God, or is it just me?’’

  He wiped his mouth with a worn cloth napkin. ‘‘Sometimes I forget, too.’’

  Mrs. DeVault laughed. ‘‘Fred forgets because he thinks God is too busy to take care of matters without an assist from him. Isn’t that right, Fred?’’

  Fred grinned and shook his head. ‘‘No. I believe God can take care of things, and I do trust Him, but most of the time I’m in a hurry to make things happen.’’

  His mother laughed. ‘‘Right. God doesn’t adhere to Fred DeVault’s time schedule.’’ She patted Olivia’s hand. ‘‘You’re going to do just fine out there on the railroad. I hope you get to see lots of new and interesting places that you can tell me about when you return.’’

  Olivia forced a smile and agreed to give Mrs. DeVault a full report upon her arrival back in Pullman. When a train whistle sounded in the distance, Olivia pushed away from the table. ‘‘I had best be on my way. I wouldn’t want to miss the train. That would certainly be a poor beginning to my new position.’’ She did her best to sound brave.

  Mrs. DeVault grasped her hands and offered a prayer for safe travel and a speedy return, then motioned for Fred to hurry and finish his coffee. The two women walked down the hallway, Fred soon following after them.

  ‘‘You wait right here for a minute, Olivia. I have something for you to take along with you.’’ Mrs. DeVault hurried upstairs while Fred donned his cap.

  He glanced toward the clock in the parlor, and Olivia felt a twinge of guilt. ‘‘You’re going to be late, aren’t you?’’ She knew he was expected at the training center in Kensington, where he’d begun helping some of the jobless and unskilled workers develop a trade.

  ‘‘The fellows will get by without me for a few minutes. There are others who can keep things moving along until I get there. Besides, seeing you off is more important.’’

  Her heart skipped a beat at the kindness of his words and the gentleness in his voice, but before she could respond, Mrs. DeVault returned with a small Bible in her hand. ‘‘I know you have your mother’s Bible, but I thought it would be too large to carry around with you.’’ She handed the Bible to Olivia. ‘‘So tuck this one into your suitcase. Now, the two of you had best be off to the train station.’’

  Fred retrieved the Gladstone bag while Olivia embraced his mother. The older woman wrapped her in a hearty squeeze. ‘‘Take good care, my dear. Remember, I’ll be praying for you.’’

  Olivia whispered her thanks for the Bible as well as the promised prayers; she knew she would need them both. After one final good-bye, Mrs. DeVault sent them on their way.

  Olivia tucked her hand in
the crook of Fred’s arm and looked up at him. How she wished she had a picture of him to carry along with her. For now she’d have to memorize his features: his dark wavy hair, the sparkling blue of his eyes, and the angular shape of his chin. She tightened her hold on his arm and enjoyed the feel of his muscles flexing beneath her fingers.

  ‘‘I’m going to miss you, Olivia.’’

  ‘‘And I will miss you, too. I only hope Mr. Thornberg will be a kind man and train me quickly so I may return.’’ Her voice cracked with emotion. She must change the topic, or she would surely cry. ‘‘How are the young men progressing at the center?’’

  ‘‘Some of them are doing exceedingly well. I’m very proud of the progress they’re making.’’

  ‘‘Have you had any success in locating positions for them within the Pullman Car Works?’’

  He shook his head. ‘‘Sad to say, we’re not. However, I’ve formed a small group of men who have begun to seek positions for some of the fellows we’re training. If we can’t locate jobs for them here in Pullman, then we’re going to search out other possibilities.’’ He grinned. ‘‘Some will need quite a bit of help preparing for interviews and the like, but I think they have more hope now that they know we’re going to help in that regard, too.’’

  ‘‘That’s a wonderful idea. When did all this begin? You haven’t said a word about any of this to me.’’

  ‘‘I wanted to be certain the idea would go over well with the others before saying too much. John Holderman was excited by the plan, and he’s already made two trips into Chicago to survey possibilities. We even hope to help relocate the men who lose their jobs here in Pullman.’’