“Best I can do is book you a seat tomorrow morning.” His voice took an apologetic tone. “Rules is rules.”
Peter’s voice was a boom. “There she is! Katie!”
Joseph banged the window, but Katie didn’t turn around. Instead, she stood with her back to them at the door of the train.
“Mister, unlock this door now!” Peter yanked the handle so hard Rebekah feared it would come off in his hand. “That’s my Katie girl!”
The old man fumbled with a set of keys on an iron ring. “Bah, um, let me just...”
The whistle sounded again.
“Hurry up, mister!”
“Um,” he continued as he hurried around the desk, his old feet shuffling along at a pace he probably hadn’t kept in years. “Ack!”
The keys flew from his hand as his ancient shoe caught a snag on the floor and sent him sprawling to the ground.
Peter swore an oath.
Rebekah rushed to the old man’s side and helped him up. His spectacles, however, were crunched underfoot in the process.
“Hurry up, old man!” Peter’s voice bespoke urgency. But something else was there. A hint of heartbreak tinged his words.
Joseph fiddled with the locked door, yanking and banging to no avail. “Train’s too loud, she can’t hear us!”
“Katie!” Peter banged the wall and stared at his beloved’s back through the window. “Katie, turn around!”
Rebekah pressed the keys into the old man’s hand. He was no longer cranky and haughty, but was trying as hard as the three of them to catch Katie. “Please hurry,” she whispered.
“Old eyes don’t see as well as they used to,” he whispered back. His tone had gone from helpful to apologetic. “Give me just a moment to try and find the right one.”
“She’s hesitating!” Peter cried. “Katie, oh Katie, don’t do it! Turn around, Katie girl!”
“Here it is!” The old man held up the keys. “Take them girl, catch your friend.”
Rebekah grabbed the keys from his gnarled fingers. “Peter, here!”
She dashed toward her brother, keys outstretched.
Without taking his eyes off Katie’s back, Peter reached for the keys that would erase the barrier between them and Katie. Between the Amish and the English. Between those who were content: Rebekah, Joseph, and Peter...and Katie, the one who was discontented.
Peter’s fingers wrested the ring of keys from Rebekah, but did so too soon. Instead of flipping the keys into his hand, Peter sent them flying into a corner of the train depot. His face, moments before creased with determination, melted into one of defeat.
The train whistle shrieked, and before their very eyes, Katie shook her head and pulled herself into Nellie Bly’s train car.
The old man hung his head. “I’m sorry, kids.”
Joseph took off his black hat and ran his hands through his dark hair. His brows furrowed, Peter looked as though he would cry if he didn’t have an audience.
Crestfallen, Rebekah picked up the newspaper, scattered in all the excitement, that the ticket taker had shown them. Nellie Bly’s beaming face grinned back at her as she folded the thin pages carefully. The train wheels squealed as they lurched to life and started down the tracks, bound for New York.
The heavy silence was broken at once as Joseph and Peter began to argue, quietly at first then louder, as Rebekah tucked the newspaper into her rumpled quilting bag.
“Take the rig, Peter, are you listening to yourself?”
Peter’s eyes were wild with desperation. “We can beat the train, or at least keep up with it for a while...”
“In a one-horse wagon filled with three people?” Joseph shook his head and watched as train car after train car passed the window. “We still have to run to the livery and get the wagon from where we left it. Then follow the tracks, all while running the horse at full speed just to keep up?”
Peter hung his head, much like Thomas would do if he was caught whipping up mischief with an empty bowl and broken spoon.
“Think Peter. You’d run the horse to death, and then what?” Joseph’s voice grew more volatile, something Rebekah had never heard before. “Trains don’t have to stop for rest, water, or food. We do. How much are you willing to risk?”
“What do you reckon we do then?” Peter’s voice went from fiery to forlorn in a matter of syllables. “Just sit here on our thumbs while she rides the rails with God only knows who...”
Peter stopped talking and exhaled a long breath. “Wow. I cannot believe I said that. It’s like I’m letting go of everything I’ve learned. All the time spent living with the Wagler’s this past year, all they have tried to teach me. I’m throwing it away over this predicament.” He sank down on the nearest wooden bench and let his head fall in his hands. “Help me, Joseph. What do I do?”
The old man, who had moments before been fiddling with his broken spectacles from behind the counter, watched the three of them intently.
Joseph ran his hands through his hair again and slowly strode over and sat next to Peter. “We wait and go in the morning. She’s traveling with a woman that all the papers are following. If we follow their trail, we will find her.” He clapped Peter on the back. “Keep the faith, just as the Wagler’s have taught you. And as you’re learning to do.”
“And you’re doing it well, Brother,” Rebekah chimed in.
Joseph offered Rebekah a nod. “She’s right, Peter. We’re this close, we’ll find her.”
Peter sniffled and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.
Rebekah didn’t realize until that moment that her brother was crying.
