“Hey, kid. What are you doing here all by yourself?” Robert focused his eyes on a man who could’ve been his dad’s age. The man wasn’t as scroungy looking as the rest of the people in the freight car, definitely not as grimy looking as he was after so many days on the road. The night before he’d ripped his trousers at the knee on a nail when he slipped into a barn to sleep. A code carved on a fence post by others traveling through signaled it was supposed to be a safe place to use as a shelter. He borrowed some of the horse’s water from a trough to wash up but knew he probably still smelled like the horses in the barn.

 

“So, what’s your story, kid? I didn’t see anyone hop on with you. You could get in lots of trouble traveling alone. You on the run or something?”

 

Robert couldn’t think of what to say. His small frame made him seem even younger than he was, so he figured that’s why people had been staring at him on the trip from St. Louis to Georgia and now back.

 

“I’m not in any trouble. I’m just going home, that’s all.”

 

Someone in the car slammed one of the freight doors shut, giving him the opportunity to turn away. The man seemed out of place on the freight train, his light-brown hair trimmed, clothes clean, boots barely scuffed, leaving Robert to wonder if he was with the law or something.

 

Most of the people on the freights stayed to themselves and didn’t talk much except if the guys started playing cards. Then sometimes there was shouting. Two families in the corner of the boxcar had small children, one with a baby. Families tended to look down and not around, as though they were scared or maybe ashamed.

 

The man’s stare felt piercing, so he tried not to focus his eyes directly at him.

 

“Where you headed?”

 

“Illinois.”

 

“I’m headed up north, too. By the way, my name is Al. What’s your name, son?”

 

Holding back from answering his question for fear it might lead to him pressing for more information, he leaned forward, wrapped his arms around his knees, and then took the risk.

 

“Robert.”

 

The man didn’t say much after that. Robert glanced out the side of the other freight car door, trying to remember the route he took to Georgia, not sure about all the stops or what route he and Johnny had taken to St. Louis.

​

The train started slowing, then jerked to a stop. In an instant, the freight car door slammed back open. Someone in the car bellowed “Raid!”