CRY OF THE GOSHAWK
A Casey Jones Adventure
Copyright © 2006 Roy Bush
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My thanks to Ann Saling, for her encouragement through the Pacific Northwest Writers Association,
and to Inga Wiehl for her patient editorial assistance.
To Dorothy, my wife and inspiration.
MY TRAIN WRECK
I I’ll always remember the summer of 1920. My dad died, and I still re-live the dark days when my mom and I struggled to get our lives back on track. I couldn’t help to support us. . . no job anywhere for a boy of sixteen that would pay enough. So now I’m on my way out west to live with my aunt. In a few hours, this train will roll into Seattle.
At first, thoughts of Mom and my friends back in Brooklyn crowded out everything else. But when I changed trains in Chicago, I sat next to this nice-looking guy. I watched him put his tan, tattered suitcase under the seat. I thought talking to him might get my mind off myself.
“Hi, I’m Casey Jones,” I began.
“Hello, I’m Benny from the Bronx.” He smiled and added, “Any relation to the famous railroader?”
Because I have the same name as an Illinois Central engineer who died trying to avoid a train wreck, I always get this question.
“No, Jones is a common name.”
Benny continued eagerly, “I’m goin’ to Seattle . . . gotta job on a fishing boat . . . might even make it up to Alaska.”