“Who–who are you?” asked Lizzie Jane in a frightened voice.

“Oh, just a traveling partner,” the voice answered. “I ride the rails often. How about you? Are you a run-away?”

“No — no — I was just trying to get in out of the rain.” Lizzie Jane replied, still with a nervous voice.

“Rain? The sun is shining, hon.”

“Well, it was raining.”

The man smiled. Lizzie Jane adjusted her eyes to the light. The man had on tattered clothing, a short beard and two front teeth missing. “You must be from North Alabama. I understand that it was raining cats and dogs up there.”

“I am from Carter’s Bend”, replied Lizzie Jane.

“Yep, know right where it’s at”, answered the man. “You are in South Alabama — a fer piece from Carter’s Bend. My name is George.”

“I am Elizabeth Jane, but my friends call me Lizzie.”

“Well, can I be your friend — Lizzie?”

“Well — I guess so,” was the young girl’s reply.

 
The rains came — perhaps a little early for the first weeks of November, with torrential downpours causing streams to swell out of their banks, with strong, rushing currents, even in small streams, and flooding low-lying areas.

Uncle Jed transported Lizzie Jane and other children to school because of the inclement weather, getting there before the teacher. He left the children and made his way back home, slipping and sliding on the muddy road, water lapping almost to the top of some of the wooden bridges.

Sally, the teacher, arrived shortly after Jed left and made an instant decision for everyone to go back home. The water would be over the bridges before long and they would be stranded. So, since the rain had slacked somewhat, and being brave and ready to face the elements, the children began the walk home. Mud stuck to their feet with the boys laughing at the mud squeezing between their toes, The girls took off their Mary Jane shoes to keep them clean and joined in with the merriment. To the children, the walk was fun. There wasn’t any lightning or strong wind, just rain.

The water had not gotten over the bridges yet, so there did not seem to be anything to worry about. The planks on the wooden bridge were very slick and the children began to slide on them, as an ice skater would perform in winter. There were joy and laughter until Lizzie Jane got too close to the edge of one of the bridge, and could not control her balance. She tumbled in the water headfirst. Some of the boys grabbed at her. but were unable to prevent the disaster. The children watched in horror as the current swept her downstream.

Lizzie Jane was not a good swimmer, but was usually able to stay above water, so she grabbed at everything that came by, according to the proverbial saying, “grabbing at a straw.” She managed to grab hold of a partially sawed off limb of a log and held on for dear life. Luckily, as the log came to a bend in the stream, it lodged against the bank and Lizzie Jane was able to pull herself out of the water.

She had become weary fighting the currents — in fact, she was worn out. She was nervous, wet and beginning to chill, so she looked around for some kind of shelter. A few hundred feet and away from the stream, she spotted a boxcar on a railroad siding with the door open, so she thought that would be a good place to rest and temporarily get out of the rain.

Inside she found some burlap material and, being as tired as she was, she placed a couple of material on the floor for a mattress, covered herself with a couple more and soon began to feel warm and snug. She was so exhausted that she was soon sound asleep.

The train did not awaken her as it backed into the siding, hooked to the boxcar and pulled onto the main track. Neither was she awakened as the train traveled into South Alabama.

The citizens of Carter’s Bend spent day and night combing the woods along the banks of the stream for any sign of Lizzie Jane. There was some hope of finding her alive, but as the day wore on, those hopes got dimmer and dimmer as night began to fall.

Through the night they continued to search and, by sunrise, no sign or clue had been discovered. Not willing to give up, another group went out, hoping to find something that had been overlooked during the past 24 hours.

When the news reached Jed’s house about the failure of the search crews, Aunt Maudie went into shock. Doc Brown was called to check on her, but could not get any response. It was as if Maudie’s brain had just shut down. She just lay on the bed; her eyes wide open, staring straight ahead.

She loved her niece so much that she had considered Lizzie Jane as her own child. She and Jed firmly believed that God had sent Lizzie Jane their way because they were childless and had accepted the lack of their own child as God’s will.

Reverend Bob Walker, who knew the family and with the permission of the church pastor, presented a fitting tribute to a young lady that had stolen the hearts of the community, even though she was among them for a short time. Knowing that Jed and Maudie could not attend the service added sorrow to the service.

Reverend Walker’s last visit was to see Jed and Maudie. He discovered that Jed, who had not taken a drink for years, was drunk and had not been sober for over a week. Maudie was being prepared for transportation to the state mental hospital

Reverend Walker’s last act before he left to go into a field where he felt the call of God was to pray for the couple, that God would help them regain their strength and somehow heal their wounds.

After the prayer, he expressed his best wishes to everyone and drove away in his beat-up Chevrolet, hoping that it would make the trip where he felt led to go. He was going 150 miles away to help an organization that ministered to homeless and abandoned children.

It was still daylight when Lizzie Jane slowly opened her eyes. The first thing that she realized was that the late afternoon sunlight had been occasionally striking her eyelids. Where was the rain? The next thing she realized was — the boxcar was moving.

“Well, miss, I was wondering when you were going to wake up”. The voice came from the right corner of the boxcar.

“Who–who are you?” asked Lizzie Jane in a frightened voice.

“Oh, just a traveling partner,” the voice answered. “I ride the rails often. How about you? Are you a run-away?”

“No — no — I was just trying to get in out of the rain.” Lizzie Jane replied, still with a nervous voice.

“Rain? The sun is shining, hon.”

“Well, it was raining.”

The man smiled. Lizzie Jane adjusted her eyes to the light. The man had on tattered clothing, a short beard and two front teeth missing. “You must be from North Alabama. I understand that it was raining cats and dogs up there.”

“I am from Carter’s Bend”, replied Lizzie Jane.

“Yep, know right where it’s at”, answered the man. “You are in South Alabama — a fer piece from Carter’s Bend. My name is George.”

“I am Elizabeth Jane, but my friends call me Lizzie.”

“Well, can I be your friend — Lizzie?”

“Well — I guess so,” was the young girl’s reply.

As the conversation continued, Lizzie Jane discovered that the man was a hobo — once a successful businessman — divorced and having lost his business to his wife, he had decided to see the United States hitching free ride on a train. Sure, there were perils, but the excitement of the danger and thrill of adventure is what kept him going.

Lizzie Jane told him how she was swept away by the rapids, sought shelter in the boxcar, falling asleep, and waking up to find herself in her present situation.

“Nothing to worry about, lass,” George said in trying to comfort her. “Just find a train going north and hop on it.”

They sat silent for while, watching the scenery to by. Lizzie Jane had always lived in North Alabama, so she was intrigued by the lack of mountains. She had never traveled outside the world as she knew it, so it never occurred to her that the landscape could be so different.

The sound of the whistle and the chug-chug of the steam locomotive could be heard for miles on a clear day and considered by many to be peaceful. Lizzie Jane begin to see it as a vehicle that was taking her further and further from Uncle Jed and Aunt Lizzie, the two most precious people in her life.

A couple of hours later, George stated that the train was going to stop to take on water and asked her if she was hungry. She had not thought about it, but suddenly she felt the hunger pains that swelled up inside of her, so she nodded her head.

When the train stopped, George visibly checked to make sure they were not being seen and the couple quickly exited the boxcar. They made their way through some woods, coming to a small opening which revealed a big pot of stew, simmering over an open fire. Gathered around the area Lizzie Jane noticed a few other travelers with tin plates and cups who were enjoying the enticing goulash.

George pulled out a couple of onions and tossed them into the pot. “Everyone adds something,” he explained. Locating a couple of clean plates, he filled one for Lizzie Jane and filled a tin cup with water, thinking the coffee was too strong for her, boiling in a pan and referred to as ‘stump water’.

Lizzie tasted of her meal and a delightful smile crossed her face. “This is good,” she remarked —“really good!” Perhaps it was because she was so hungry, but she thought it to be the best food she had ever tasted.

Realizing the girl was hungry, George waited until she finished her plate before he began introductions to the group.

“This is Elizabeth, a young lady, nine years old, who thought a boxcar would make a good shelter against a rain storm and, the next thing she knew, she wound up down here. I think she is a very good traveling companion. I rode with her for miles before we decided to hop off here for a bite.”

After that brief introduction, he introduced Lizzie Jane to each member of the group. It seemed that they were like a large family and cared for each other. They were very polite and welcomed Lizzie Jane.

These were the homeless people of the late 40's and early 50’s, some had been successful in business, others had professional skills, and many of the women has been homemakers -- some had come home from World War II to find emptiness -- all had faced problems in life that robbed them of everything they owned. They all tried to re-enter the world as they knew it, but for one reason or another, they failed in that endeavor, but found peace in their current circumstances.

On clear summer and warm autumn nights, they slept in the open. In rainy or colder weather, they sought shelter in rugged built shacks from whatever material they could find. Often, some came together and constructed fairly comfortable quarters, and many shared the same facilities. When together, they looked out for each other.

This night, being a warm autumn night, they bedded in the open. Some of the ladies prepared Lizzie Jane a warm, comfortable pallet in which she slept soundly. Heads were bowed as Lizzie Jane said her nighttime prayers, thanking God for George and all the other nice people, after which could be heard quite a few ‘amens’.

As she had many times before, her mother came to her in a dream and whispered to her, “You know I will never leave you, but you are going to face many obstacles. God will send the appropriate people to help you along the way. Sleep in peace, my darling. Momma loves you.”

Before her mother’s death just a couple of months prior, there was closeness of mother and child -- and after death, mother’s love continued and Lizzie Jane knew it. That helped alleviate some fear and often brought comfort when Lizzie Jane was in trouble.

The next morning found Lizzie Jane trying to decide the best way to get back home. The homeless group that she met the night before gave her a gift — all the money they had -- $1.32, thinking that could buy a few RC colas and moon pies. A 12 oz. RC cola and moon pie still cost ten cents in most places and some people made that a meal, particularly when they were short of cash.

The suggestion made by George made the most sense — catch a train going north. So, Lizzie Jane waited for a northbound train to stop and take on some water for its steam locomotives. She did not have to wait long until one pulled in and stopped. She eased up to a boxcar with an open door, trying to keep anyone from seeing her, and climbed in.

She was there a few minutes when she heard a deep male voice say, “All right, young lady. Come out of there.”

Lizzie Jane slowly came to the door. A big, burley man grabbed her by the arm in a strong vice grip and asked, “A run-way, huh?”

“No — no sir”, stuttered Lizzie Jane. “I am just trying to get home and I don’t have any money.”

“Well, you need to come with me until we get this straighten out,” barked the man.

Lizzie Jane saw a badge on his shirt. He was a deputy sheriff and she thought she was going to jail. Instead, she was transported to the sheriff’s office where numerous questions were directed to her. She tried to explain what happened, but no one would believe her. Finally a woman came in.

“Hello, dear”, began the woman. “I am from the welfare department and you can come with me until we find your parents or someone who can take care of you.”

Again, Lizzie Jane was questioned — and again no one believed her story. The Department of Social Services did not want to put her in a jail cell, so someone called a judge. Finally, after careful consideration, the judge suggested a religious organization that could keep her for a few days, named “Child’s Refuge.” So, a call was made and she was accepted.

It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was operated by a group of churches and she was assigned a room with two other girls. At least, for the moment, she had a good place to sleep and something to eat. The home had a true Christian atmosphere and when Lizzie Jane went to bed that night, she gave thanks to God for the home and the workers.

Some of the staff heard the humble prayer of the little girl and had been impressed by her politeness. However, they could not understand why she was making up such a tale as she was telling — imagine being swept away by rapid water in a creek and going to sleep in a boxcar, not waking up until she had gone over a hundred miles. Maybe she was scared, they reasoned — could be a case of child abuse.

Three days went by and they were no closer to what they believed was the truth. On the fourth day, Lizzie Jane and the other two girls walked to the lunchroom. The meals were excellent and she enjoyed the good food. When she sat down at a table with her roommates, she heard a voice suddenly call out:

“Lizzie Jane! — is that you?
 
 
To Be Continued...

Copyright 2007 by Starla Anne Lowry
under the pen name: Billie Sue