chapter 44 Mr. Barlow and Beyond

"Gene Wade," Gene shook the man's extended hand, but with out much emphasis. "Yes, it was some send off..."

"Where you off to? I thought you were older...looked older back at the station. I'd say you couldn't be much over twenty...so, where you off to?" he repeated himself.

"Well, I'm heading to Chicago..."

"I see. I get off before that. A little stop just over the river...I bet you're glad to be out on your own. Kick up your heels a little bit now that you're away from home..." he said with a wink.

"I guess you could say that," Gene wished he could turn this guy off. He had some thoughts running in his mind, but he could not think because this fellow was like a non-stop gusher.

The man pulled out a gold cigarette case, "You want a cigarette?" he flipped it open.

"No, thank you, I don't smoke."

"Well, who's to know...you sure? I've heard it's good for your health..."

"No, I'm sure," he held up a hand in protest as visions of his Aunt venting her opinion of 'those stinking, dirty things!' ran through his mind.

"You don't mind if I smoke, do you?" he chose a cigarette, and not waiting for a reply tapped it on his case, stuck it between his lips and lit it with the matching gold lighter. He took a drag on the cigarette, then exhaled the smoke. "We've got a couple of hours before I get off...you play poker?"

"No, I've never played cards."

"Never played cards! Say, I can teach you. Let's start with..." he reached into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out a deck of cards.

"That's alright. I don't want to learn."

"What? You know if you want to get on in the world you're going to need to..."

"Sir, would you please extinguish your cigarette...this is not a smoking car," the conductor punched Gene's ticket, and frowned as he waited for Mr. Barlow to squash out his cigarette. "Your ticket, please," he held out his hand for the ticket.

"It's right here!" Mr. Barlow handed it to him then stuck it back in his pocket when the conductor returned it. He glared after the man as he moved down the line of seats.

Gene winced at the curse words that came out of the man's mouth. "If you'll excuse me, I believe I'll change seats," he tried to appear genial. The sour look on Mr. Barlow's face spoke of ill will as Gene picked up his satchel and moved up two seats and across the aisle. Someone had left a newspaper on the seat...he picked it up and began to scan the columns.

Mr. Barlow's eyes roved over the few passengers then he moved up the aisle to sit beside a lone man. Soon the two were occupied in a game of cards. After a bit Mr. Barlow pulled out a flask and offered his new acquaintance a drink from it.

They were situated so that it was impossible for Gene to avoid overhearing the occasional outbursts. At first the single man seemed to be doing well in the game. With each nip at the flask he became over confident and rude. As his luck changed, his face grew flushed, and some of his words were angry...

With the continual motion of the train, and the fact that his aunt had tried to prepare every one of his favorite dishes for his send off celebration, he was feeling like a well-fed child being rocked to sleep. He folded the paper, and leaned his head against the window...clack, clack, clack, before he knew it he was napping.

Gene woke with a start. He looked at his pocket watch...he had slept soundly for a couple of hours. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, ran his hands through his hair, and stretched. Both of the card players were gone. The car was quiet. He reached for the newspaper beside him on the seat. He frowned as he picked up his ticket, and put it back in his inner coat pocket. He read for a time then headed for the latrine. With each stop along the way the train picked up more passengers.

"Is this seat taken?" An older man paused beside Gene.

"No, go right ahead..." Gene moved slightly in recognition.

"Thank you," the man lowered himself onto the seat.

Gene observed the man's well tailored, faded black suit. His quiet demeanor spoke of cultivated manners: he was the exact opposite of Mr. Barlow.

"Are you traveling far?" he asked.

"I'm heading to Chicago, then on to Richmond. How about yourself?"

"It's a small world! I also am going to Virginia," a smile tugged at his weathered face.

"Charles Armwel," he introduced himself. "I'm actually from Virginia, but was employed at Rock Island, Illinois. Now, I'm on my way back home..."

After they exchanged a few pleasantries, Gene went back to reading his newspaper and Mr. Armwel began reading on a pamphlet he retrieved from his inside pocket.

Gene yawned and pulled out his watch. "We still have six hours until we reach the La Salle Street exit...I think I'll finish my nap."

"Yes, the next few days will be long. I have a pullman reserved for the last evening, but not tonight. Too expensive after being out of work for a year."

"I had some money saved up, but not an unlimited amount...my Uncle told me, 'You're young...you can sleep on the train!' I'll be staying with a friend of mine while I work on getting my pilot's license, but I'm hoping to find a job and earn some money while I'm there...to defray the cost..."

"That should be lucrative employment. Flying is the wave of the future."

"You think so? I rather enjoy it anyway. Well, I'm going to catch a few winks at any rate..."

"I probably will as well in a bit...do you mind if I borrow your paper?" Mr. Armwel asked.

"You are quite welcome to it--it was here on the seat when I got here," Gene handed the paper to him.

"Thank you," Mr. Armwel opened the paper and began reading.

Gene rolled up his already folded coat to use as a pillow and leaned up against the window.

The sky was beginning to lighten outside his window when he next opened his eyes. His seat companion was nowhere to be seen in the car, but Mr. Armwel's belongings still remained in the seat.

Gene sat up and gazed out the window at the houses rushing by. He stood and began making his way toward the back of the car as Mr. Armel came out of the toilet room. "Good morning," they exchanged greetings. After using the restroom and briefly combing his hair he closed the door behind him and in spite of the lurching and swaying made his way back to the seat.

"We're almost to the station," Mr. Armwel smiled at him as they picked up their belongings. "I see you brought a satchel with you...good idea!"

"I didn't think I would ever say it again after the meal my aunt cooked before I left, but I'm hungry!" Gene laughed. Should be able to catch something for breakfast somewhere around the station..."

"We can get our luggage tagged, and moved, to the next train. Then we have about two hours till old number 10 comes in," Mr. Armwel smiled his warm smile.

"Looks like we'll have to wait for a porter..." Mr. Armwel said as they stood on the platform waiting as the handlers unloaded their belongings. "Doesn't look as if you've brought much with you."

"No, I don't need but one trunk, not like some people I've traveled with."

"Porter!" Mr. Armwel hailed a black man wearing a sharp red and gray uniform.

"Yes, sir! Where you off to?" he asked with a tip of his hat.

"We need these bags over to the B&O Chicago New York Express number ten heading for Washington, D.C."

"Sure nuff, sir...You need anything else just call on me," he finished stacking Mr. Armwel and Gene's luggage.

The uniformed man led the way to the correct platform pushing his cart at a fast clip through the terminal.

"You take care of these for us, now," Mr. Armwel dropped a tip in the man's hand. "Is there a good place to eat you can recommend?"

"Yes, sir! Thank you, and I certainly will!" the porter slipped the money into a pocket. "Most folks go to the Harvey House. Reasonable prices, good food, and lots of it!"

"Are you ready for breakfast now?" he turned to Gene.

"I sure am! My day is all out of kilter...I've overslept, now I'm underfed," he grinned. "Let's find that Harvey House so we can be ready when the next train arrives."

"Harvey Houses are known for their good service. There shouldn't be a problem, but we want to get our breakfast out of the way, just to be sure..."

"Ham and eggs for your sir...and sausage and eggs for you," the pretty young waitress, in her starched black uniform and white apron, wrote their order down and bustled off to the kitchen.

"Thank you, miss," Charles said as his cup of hot black coffee appeared. He spooned two teaspoons of sugar into his cup and poured cream in as well till the coffee was a warm brown color. "Cream? Sugar?" he offered to Gene.

"Thank you, don't mind if I do," Gene stirred about half as much sugar and cream into his coffee as Mr. Armwel had put into his. "Sure good coffee. Good to wake up to! My uncle makes coffee so strong you can chip the cup away and it will stand by itself..."

"You're pretty fond of your Aunt and Uncle aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, I sure am! I don't much care for traveling. I like the farm."

"Here comes our breakfast. I had heard they had good service!" he moved back as the waitress placed the plates of ham and eggs with hot buttered toast in front of him.

"And here is your sausage and eggs, sir," she placed Gene's in front of him.

"Miss, would you have a bit of jelly somewhere for this toast?" the older man's eyes twinkled up at the young woman.

"I will see what I can do, sir," she smiled back at him.

"That would be appreciated. Now, before we dig in, we need to remember our manners..." He bowed his head not waiting to see if Gene did as well, and began reciting, "Our Father in heaven, for what we are about to receive, we truly thank thee...In Jesus name, Amen."

They both lifted their heads as the waitress brought the jelly for their toast.

"Here you go!" she said placing it between them. "And are you ready for more coffee? More cream? I see you found the sugar," she said as she refilled the two cups.

"What sort of employment will you be looking for while in Richmond--while you try to obtain your pilot license?" Mr. Armwel leaned back slightly after the last of his food was finished. He brushed the few crumbs from his lapel, stirred the light brown coffee in his cup, and placed the spoon on his saucer.

"I have experience in several areas. I've worked for a number of businesses at home. Errand boy, bell boy at the hotel, I even helped at the newspaper office...but it will only be for a short spell...while I get my license. My aunt and uncle need me to help with the farm, and I'm not sure how I'll be able to work things out..."

"You look like an entrepreneur--an up and coming young man. Let me give you my name and address," he took a book of blank paper out of his vest pocket and began writing. "If you're really interested in work...I may be able to help."

"Thank you, sir," Gene spoke gratefully. He took the paper the man handed across to him and read over the name and address noticing the neat precise handwriting.

"So many young boys--well they believe themselves to be men..." Charles Armwel frowned in thought. "I digress, many young lads of today are mindless nincompoops! If you've half as much brain as you appear to have...I suppose it is time to be finishing up here," he pulled his wallet out of his inside suit coat pocket.

Gene also reached into his inside pocket for his traveling money. He pulled out his train ticket, but where was his money? Something in the back of his mind clicked as he remembered picking up his train ticket off the seat...