Page 5 - Crossing the Deadline

Crossing the Deadline

We walk to the livery, and I watch my uncle mount his horse.
“Give the man a dollar for taking care of the horses,” he says.
I take the same coin he gave me ten minutes earlier and

hand it over to the man at the livery. Uncle Clem grabs the
rein of my horse and heads toward Centerville without so
much as a look back or a good-bye.
I collect my linen duffel bag and bugle case and head to

the saloon. The cost of a soda water is a bargain in exchange
for a few hours of warmth until it’s time to sleep. There are a
few dollars in my pocket, enough to get a room for the night,
but I don’t want to spend it on that. I need to save every

penny I can to send home to Mother. Knowing I’m providing
a place for her to live so she won’t have to take charity from
the poorhouse brings a wide smile to my face.
I don’t want to take a chance on missing the morning

train for Indianapolis, so just after dark, I walk to the train
station. Few people are on the street at this time of evening,
and the depot’s empty. The trains have stopped running for
the night. There’s a place in the back, facing the tracks, where

two wide walls come together to form a right angle. I sit on
my blanket and lean against the wall.
I open my bag and eat a piece of salt pork, bread, and a
slice of apple pie that Mother baked last night. After I finish

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