The Station
by Layne Richards
Part 2
The boy looked very much as though he wanted to answer, but couldn't allow himself to do that. He seemed to draw himself up straighter on the hard, wooden bench, almost as though he'd like to sink away into it's high back. Incredibly, Ben Wade found himself sympathizing.
Crossing in front of the child, Wade took a seat several feet away on the same bench. The kid altered his gaze, avoiding looking at the somewhat-menacing-looking man who'd sat down beside him. Seeing the slight movement, Ben smiled a little sadly.
Wade had never had much trouble getting people to talk to him, though. He tried again. Leaning forward and resting his arms casually on his knees, he asked, "Bet your mama told you not to talk to strangers, didn't she?"
Again, the kid looked almost pained--wanting to answer, but not letting himself. Straightening, Ben proffered his hand to the boy. "How about let's not be strangers then? Name's Ben Wade. What's yours, kid?"
The boy wavered, finally overcame the small voice telling him not to do this. "Luke," he answered, his faint voice becoming stronger with his next two words. "Lucas Patterson, sir."
Ben smiled, still holding out his hand. "Good to meet you, Luke!" he answered heartily "Feel like bein' a man and shakin' my hand?"
Hesitantly, the boy put his small, slender hand out to be engulfed in Wade's much larger one. "My- My ma did tell me I shouldn't speak to strangers," he declared, his voice wavering. Wade could tell that voice was filled with longing. The kid was dying to talk to someone.
"An' that's real good advice too, Luke." Wade's own voice had become low and serious. "You never know what kinda people you're gonna meet these days." Ben grinned inwardly but, at the same time, thought about his own experiences after that fateful three days he'd spent in a train station.
"That's what she said." Slowly, the boy raised his solemn brown eyes to meet Wade's own blue ones. He smiled, crookedly and rather doubtfully.
Ben returned that childlike smile with the friendliest, most open smile of his own that he could muster. "Smart lady, your mama. My mama used to tell me the same thing." Just the mention of his own mama brought a twinge of anger and bitterness and--something else. Pain?
"Boys should always listen to their mamas," he told Luke seriously. "But I'll tell you what, Luke. I don't intend to be a stranger. We'll prob'ly be on the train together, so we'll see a lot of each other."
Wade wondered why the hell he was lying to this kid. Why he was even talking to him. He ought to be well on the way toward meeting the gang by now, but there was something about this boy-
Leaning back casually, he smiled at Luke again. "Yep, we'll see each other. Me and you, and your ma, and you pa?" The last was spoken as a question.
Finally beginning to relax a little, Luke Patterson leaned back against the bench too. His speech became more relaxed as well. "Oh," he replied chattily. "It's just me and my pa. My ma died-"
Here Luke's voice became choked, his eyes filling with tears, some of which spilled over onto his cheeks. He ducked his head, wiping at them, looking embarrassed. "-last week." He finally finished his sentence.
"I'm sorry, Luke." Ben Wade's voice was calm, but his insides were churning in a way they hadn't since he'd been a kid himself. He remembered sitting on that bench in that other train station a long time ago.
Little Benjamin Wade had finally finished reading the Bible his mama had told him to read. Three days it had taken him, and he'd read the final page at least five or six times. He didn't want to finish. Didn't want to close the cover, because something had told him that, once he closed it and finished, the fantasy of his mama coming back for him would be over.
Following the sixth reading of the page, Little Ben had squeezed his eyes tight shut. A few large, round tears had rolled out from under his dark, sweeping eyelashes. Then, his slight, round face had taken on a determined look, a hardness. The cover of the black Bible had snapped shut beneath his fingers, and eight-year-old Ben Wade had opened his eyes a man. A man already resolved that the world would never hurt him again.
That picture wavered from Ben's mind and he saw Luke Patterson still crying, and trying hard not to show it. Pulling out a handkerchief, Wade handed it to the boy.
"So, where's your pa?" he asked casually, pretending not to notice as Luke wiped his eyes and blew his nose.
"He- He went to the store." Luke hiccupped a little, handing Ben his handkerchief back, with a smile. A very nervous smile, Wade noticed.
"Gone to get you some candy, has he?" Ben's voice was hearty. "How long he been gone?"
Luke's face fell and he lowered his eyes again. Wade saw him struggle mightily to control himself, and he answered in a mostly normal, though somewhat strained voice. "Not long."
Ben's eyes hardened and his face took on a set look that made it seem hardened into stone. He'd hoped he was wrong about this boy. Had hoped that feeling he had that here was another kid who'd been deserted and thrown away was just brought on by this being a train station and bringing up such harsh memories.
This kid's face, though, told him differently. This face was telling him that 'not long' meant at least a day or two. It was a face full of fear, of quiet desperation--the same feelings Ben himself had right before he closed that Bible.
Searching his mind for something to say, Wade noticed the ticket agent come out from behind his desk and start toward them. This could be trouble. This man, or someone else, might have recognized him. Ben's hand moved toward his gun casually, even as he put a smile on his face as the man approached them.
"Excuse me, sir," the man spoke politely to him, his eyes darting back and forth between Ben and the kid, Luke. "Could I speak to you for a moment?"
"Sure, friend." Ben grinned at Luke and rose to follow the ticket agent back toward the desk, his hand still resting near his gun, wondering what the hell was going on here.
Stopping in front of the desk and still glancing at the kid, the man asked, "Are you some sort of family to him?"
"His uncle." The words left Wade's mouth before he could even think. Before he could stop to wonder what the hell would make him say such a thing.
The man looked relieved. "This kid's been here since yesterday afternoon," he told Ben. "His Pa brought him in. He bought two tickets and, a little while later, came up and asked if I'd keep an eye on the boy while he went to the store. Said they were just passing through and didn't know anyone else around here. Told me he'd only be gone a little while."
The ticket agent's face took on a bitter smile. "Well, I just got word from down at the saloon that the man's dead. Name was Marsh Patterson. Apparently, he got himself shot in a fight over a bottle of whiskey late last night. I should've known he wasn't just going to the store."
Then he looked guiltily over at Ben. "Was he your brother? I didn't mean no disrespect-"
"No." Ben said shortly, his anger evident. "My brother-in-law." The lie fell easily from his lips. Lies always had, but he still didn't know why the hell he was getting himself involved in this whole situation.
"He was married to my sister, but she died a week ago." At least, that was what the kid had told him. "The two of 'em were comin' to stay with me." Looking over at the boy, Luke, Ben gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
"Funny he didn't mention you." The ticket agent was looking at him doubtfully now. "He told me they didn't know anyone else in town."
"I'm from Contention." Wade gave the man the name of the first town to come to his mind. "My brother-in-law didn't know I was comin' in to meet him and the boy. Wanted to save 'em the train fare, 'cause I knew they didn't have much money." Ben was making this up as he went along, but he'd always been good at that.
The ticket agent sighed with some relief. "Guess I can leave the boy in your hands then." He bustled back behind his desk, all business again now that the bad news hand been delivered and someone was here to take the kid off his hands.
"I can refund you the money for their tickets. Your brother-in-law had paid for them and left them here at the desk. The body's over at the sheriff's office. You can take care of things over there."
Ben took the money he offered, thanked the man for his help, then turned and looked across the room at Luke Patterson. The boy smiled at him, his small face full of trust and hope.
Back at the bench, Wade sat down and looked at the kid. Didn't know what to say or how to say it. Finally, he was direct. Just the way he'd always been.
"Luke. The ticket agent just told me your pa's dead. Got hisself killed in the saloon down the street." Ben looked the kid straight in the eye. He was curious to see how the boy would take it.
Luke looked down at his hands, which he had clasped together tightly. Ben noticed the knuckles tightening, becoming white for a few minutes. Then, they relaxed a little. The boy looked up at him with a face which was harder, more determined than before. "I always thought he would at some point. Liked his liquor too much."
Wade knew the look in the kid's eyes. Knew the tone of voice-casual and trying to be tough, but there was hurt underneath. He recognized the struggle the boy was going through, and saw him heading in the same direction Little Ben had gone all those years ago. Wasn't sure what to make of it.
"The man says you can stay with me." Ben kept his own voice deliberately casual as well. "You said your ma was dead. Got any other family? Anybody we can get in touch with to look out for you?"
"No." Luke's tone was short, but hopeful. He was looking at Wade now as though he were a savior, had a grateful look in his eyes.
"Well, then-" Ben rose and spoke casually. "Guess it's just you and me. This the only bag you got?" He indicated the carpetbag, which had been sitting next to the kid all this time.
"Yes, sir!" Despite the tears still lingering in his eyes, Lucas Patterson looked up at Ben Wade with a little grin. He'd been wondering what he would do, but now there was an adult here to look out for him. A man he had already begun to like would take care of him now.
"Let's go then." Ben let the kid carry his own bag. Figured it would make him feel more grown-up, more responsible. "We need to go over to the livery and get my horse. See if we can get one for you too."
The boy marched proudly along at Ben's side as they left the station and crossed the street toward the stables. His back was straight and he carried himself with pride, imitating the man beside him and grinning up at him occasionally.
Still questioning why he'd allowed himself to become involved in all this, Ben grinned back. He wondered what Charlie and the rest of the boys would think of their newest recruit.