The train finally arrived. Stipe and his people were still angrily snatching women around so he could look into their faces, but he gave the nuns and their poorly dressed escorts only a cursory glance.
The conductor gave the boarding call. This being South Carolina, everyone knew the passengers would be segregated, so the Blacks went to the back and the Whites moved to the front.
The conductor stopped their small party. “Sisters, you’re welcome to take seats in the regular car, but you’ll have to sit in the last row. Your men will have to ride with the rest of your kind, however.”
Hazel said, “Bless you for being so considerate, but we’ll ride with our people.”
“You sure? I don’t want to send women of God to the gambling car.”
“We’ll be fine. Our faith will take care of us.”
He appeared unconvinced but moved on.
On their way to the gambling car, Raven spied Stipe astride a brown horse near the track watching the procession. His face was twisted with anger, his eyes flared with hate. This was the first train of the day and others would be departing for various destinations until dark. She wondered if he planned on searching the passengers boarding each. He only had until noon, however, before the cock crowed at his own personal Gethsemane.
The advantage of the train’s early departure meant the gambling car was fairly clean, and the air wasn’t fouled as yet by the smoke of pipes and cigars. Seating was limited, however. The gamblers were already crowded around the tables and on the stools ringing the bar. People with families and young children had claimed most of the other tables, but there was a smallunoccupied one with two empty chairs available. Brax and Raven let their parents have it. With no place else to sit, they took up a spot in a corner not too far away and sat on the floor.
“We made it,” Raven said with relief. The wimple was hot and she was sweating beneath it, but it would have to be endured, at least until they changed trains.
“Stipe didn’t look happy,” Brax said.
“No. He needs to be worried about what’s going to happen at his house when that man shows up at noon to take possession instead of bullying people at the train station.”
“I agree.”
Stipe aside, Raven was enjoying being with Brax again. She’d missed him last night. She glanced over at her mother and Harrison. They were conversing and seemed content. She had no way of knowing how much private time the two had been able to carve out for themselves while staying with Maisie, but they’d have a lot over the next few days on the long train ride north.
He asked, “Do you want to check onAlicewhile we ride?”
She smiled. “Yes. That will help pass the time. I still don’t know what the rabbit is late for and who the queen is so mad at.”
He dug into his bag for the book and turned to chapter two. He showed her the illustration.
“Poor Alice,” Raven said. “Her neck doeslook like a telescope. Drinking that potion and eating that cake, she doesn’t know if she’s coming or going.”
He agreed. “The title for this chapter is?” He waited for her to respond.
She looked at the words. “The Pool of Tears?” she asked.
“Correct.”
“Oh dear, now what?”
He began, and Raven listened to him describe how Alice kept growing so tall her head hit the ceiling and she could no longer see her feet. After wondering who would put on her shoes and whether her feet would still obey her, she began crying. Her tears flooded the space she was in. She found a fan and shrunk back down to normal size again, Raven glanced up to see a little boy standing in front of them. She touched Brax’s arm lightly. He stopped and appeared surprised, too.
“Hello,” Raven said.
“Hello. Excuse me. May I listen to the story?”
Raven was even more surprised. She hadn’t realized Brax’s voice had carried to wherever the boy had been sitting. He looked to be a bit younger than Dorrie. His clothes were old but clean, and like most of the South’s poorer children, both Black and White, he was very thin. “Are you with your mama?”
He nodded.
“Go and ask her if it’s okay for you to do so.If she says yes, you’re more than welcome to listen.”
His small brown face lit up and he speed walked over to a woman seated on the floor a short distance away. Raven smiled at his swift departure. He was using the walk of a little one who’d been told not to run in confined places like church, or in this instance, railroad cars.
He returned with his mother. Her hair was tied up and her clothes had seen better days but there was a smile in her eyes. “Hello, Sister,” she said to Raven. “Sir,” she said to Braxton. “I’m sorry if he’s bothering you.”