Page 4 of Beauty and the Baker
His sister Cassie gave it to him on his birthday when he turned ten. She saved two cents of her salary, which was a week’s wages, so she could purchase the bit from one of the workers down the road. He had worn it every day since then.
Charlie fingered the forty cents in his pocket. It wasn’t enough to get back home to New York, but he could catch a ride on one of the trains headed north.
He stopped to ask a man where the freight yard was and then headed in that direction, his too large shoes slapping against the ground with every step he took.
The train was just pulling out of the station, when he saw one of the line tramps begin to close the door on one of the cars.
Charlie took off at a run and held his hand out to catch the tramp’s attention. The man saw him and pushed the door open a bit more before lying on his belly and reaching his arms out towards Charlie.
Charlie grabbed the hands and allowed himself to be pulled into the car.
“Thanks, friend,” Charlie said, pulling himself to his knees.
“Where you going to, son?” the tramp asked, before leaning up against the far wall. Charlie let his eyes grow accustomed to the dim interior. There were at least six men lined up against the wall or sitting on hay bales. Several of the men nodded to him.
“New York,” Charlie said. “For now,” he added as an afterthought.
The man nodded. “Some of these gents are going to Philadelphia. Others are headed to New York.” The man reached his hand out to Charlie. “Call me Sam.”
“Charlie,” he said, taking Sam’s hand. Sam appeared to be as old as Charlie’s father. He had kind eyes and a weathered face. His hand was wrinkled, but strong.
“We don’t ask too many questions here. Come on over and meet everyone.” Sam patted a hay bale next to him. “Boys, introduce yourselves.”
The men went around and gave their names. Charlie tried to put them to memory as they went around the car, but when they got to the end, the only one he remembered was Sam and a man named Duncan. Duncan was a large man with a Scottish accent. He had to be nearly seven feet tall. The man was memorable. No way would Charlie forget his name.
Once the introductions were complete, Charlie went and sat on the bale, leaning his back against the car. He looked around once more at the men around him.
Most were wearing clothes that were ragged or patched. He stood out in his new clothes from the church. He pulled his jacket closer around him and settled against the wall, searching for a position that didn’t hurt his back.
His skin was healed, he was just still tender. The sound of the wheels lulled him into a state of drowsiness. Soon it was coupled with the gentle sound of a guitar and a voice singing softly. He felt his eyes getting heavier. It must have done the same to the others because soon the car was filled with snores sounding in harmony.
Charlie didn’t know how long he was asleep. When he first woke up, he patted his pockets. The forty-cents was still there. Breathing a sigh of relief, he leaned back down.
He couldn’t close his eyes. He was able to make out Sam’s weathered face on the other side of the car. Behind Sam, Charlie could see the door that was slightly open to let a breeze blow through. The sun was beginning to set.
“Won’t be long now,” Sam said. He pulled a watch from his pocket and angled it at the light so he could read the numbers of the dial.
“Less than an hour.”
“How do you know that?” Charlie asked.
“When you’ve been riding these rails as long as I have, you learn the train schedules.” Sam shoved the watch back in his pocket.
“You going to see your sister, Sam?” one of the men asked. Sam nodded.
“Where does your sister live?” Charlie asked.
“East side.”
“I’m from east side,” Charlie said.
“Once we jump the train, we can head over there together.”
“Jump the train?” Charlie asked.
Duncan gave a laugh. “Yah. When we get close enough, we hop off. Tuck and roll, isn’t that right, Sam?”
“You mean you don’t wait until the train stops?”
