"Rusty McCoy, why are you still awake?" asked the lady engine from the door, switching on the light as she did.
The small engine solemnly turned from the window where he had been gazing at the stars. "I can't sleep."
His guardian gave him a compassionate look. "You got school tomorrow, son. Just try."
She came into the room, and Rusty quickly moved from the window to climb into bed. He really didn't want the lady steamer to make a fuss about him, even if she took care of him now.
He had met the she-steamer last month at his parents' funeral service, right after the grim-faced switchers had carried his mother and father to the scrapyard. The older she-engine had taken his hand and said he would be living with her since he had no other relatives. "Everyone calls me Mama McCoy. I reckon you should too," she had said. "Your poppa and I were great friends back in the day. We used to race together all the time."
Rusty had never heard his father mention a lady engine as a relative or even racing against one, but Mama knew a lot of the stories Poppa had told him, and she had the same green paint design that he had worn in life. In any case, Mama McCoy had a shed that was nicer than the overcrowded roundhouse that served as the yard's orphanage.
However, as Rusty now pulled the covers over him, he grimaced as Mama sat on the chair beside his bed, giving him a look like she wanted to hug him. It made him miss his own mother, who had been a sleeping car and would have sang him to sleep if she were with him.
"You say your prayers?" asked Mama McCoy.
Rusty pulled the blanket to his chin. "I don't believe in that stuff," he mumbled.
"Your parents did," said Mama.
Rusty looked away. "Didn't stop them from dying."
The chair creaked, and he flinched as Mama laid her hand over his. "Have I told you that I really like your name, Rusty McCoy?"
Rusty shrugged.
"McCoy is a very good name," continued Mama. "Why, one engine named McCoy became friends with the Starlight Express herself! It's a lucky name."
Rusty turned his head. "I didn't know that."
"Not too many trains do," smiled Mama, tucking the blankets around him. "Lie back and let Mama tell you that tale, honey."
Rusty wished she wouldn't call him "honey," but he settled against his pillow as Mama began her story.
The great Galaxy Flyer had many children, and among them were a pair of twin engines: a son called the Nebula Special and a daughter called the Starlight Express. The twins were inseparable in their youth, racing all across the universe. The Starlight Express loved racing so much that she made a vow that she would never marry, wanting only to spend her immortality speeding from one star to the next. The Nebula Special supported his sister's decision, even against their father's initial disapproval.
The Starlight became so quick and so cunning in trials that among the pantheon of celestial trains only the Nebula had any hope of beating her - but where is the fun of racing if you win all the time without trying? To challenge herself, the Starlight Express decided one day to come down to earth in the form of a mortal steam train, and she moved from country to country, competing against the local engines.
The Galaxy Flyer allowed his daughter to amuse herself among the earthly trains, and he gave her two golden pistons and a stretch of land of her own to practice and compete, but he set down conditions. If she befriended any vehicle, and if that vehicle proved untrustworthy and revealed her identity to anyone else, then the Starlight would be forced to return to the stars until that machine's death, and all mortals would lose memory of her time on earth.
The Starlight enjoyed her corporeal form, practicing on her private rails and racing against those who were up to the challenge. Occasionally she returned to the stars to race against the Nebula Special, but soon enough the Starlight preferred her earthly competitions.
One day, a steam locomotive named McCoy wandered from his home tracks of the Kansas City Central and found his way into the Starlight's domain. He saw the lady engine practicing, running up and down the rails at breakneck speeds. From her golden pistons, he guessed that she was not an ordinary train. The Starlight soon caught sight of him, and he gave her proper reverence.
Impressed by his greeting and keen mind, the Starlight invited him to race against her on her rails. McCoy proved to be a worthy opponent, and from then on they trained together. McCoy invited the Starlight to the races on the Kansas City Central, and they participated in each trial, finding cars to pull where they could. In time McCoy became the Starlight's most trusted friend, and they might have had many happy years together if it weren't for what happened next.
As the Starlight and McCoy grew closer, the Nebula Special became jealous as he watched his twin sister spend her days with a mortal engine instead of him. So, he devised a plan to separate the companions forever.
Now, McCoy was a kindhearted man, and one day as he headed to sign up for the latest competition, he spotted a wagon man lamenting beside the track. McCoy stopped to ask the truck what troubled him.
"My wife was in an accident and might die, but I can't pay for a mechanic," wept the wagon. "If I could only compete in the race, I could win the prize money, but no engine will race with me unless they get half of the prize or more. Without the full sum, my wife will die."
McCoy's heart swelled for such a righteous cause. "I'll race for you. I'll do it for free, and you can save your wife."
He told the wagon to meet him at the starting line, and he then went to the Starlight and asked her to loan him her golden pistons. The Starlight had stopped wearing them to even the playing field further, but on a mere mortal, the golden pistons would grant amazing speed, and McCoy would be sure to win and save the truck's wife. The Starlight agreed, making him promise to return her pistons as soon as the race was finished.
With the wagon on his couplers, McCoy competed against the best of the Kansas City Central, but with the golden pistons McCoy blew them all away. With a smile he handed the prize to his partner and started to leave, intending to return his friend's property, but the truck stopped him.
"Please, I'm a simple wagon and can't guard myself if some engines decide to rob me as I roll home," pleaded the wagon.
In compassion, McCoy decided to take the wagon home first before returning the golden pistons. "The Starlight will understand," he told himself, and he pulled the smaller man to his shed, which stood in a secluded part of the yard.
At the door of his home, the wagon invited McCoy inside. "Take the money in and give it to my wife yourself," urged the car. "I shall go to the repair shop and make an appointment."
The trusting McCoy obeyed and went into the shed, delivering the bag of money to the wagon's wife who sat in bed, covered in dents. However, the wife looked at the glistening gold on McCoy's arms and asked, "Where did you get those pistons? I can tell they are not yours."
"A friend loaned them to me for the race," said McCoy. "Take the money and get fixed."
"What friend would loan something that valuable for a race?" accused the wife. "I can't accept dishonest money."
McCoy urged her to take the prize, but again and again the wife would not budge on her moral stance. "I would rather die than accept money from a thief," said the wife. "Unless I know who those belong to, I will sit here and rust away."
Moved with a frustration born of compassion and worry, McCoy at last declared, "The Starlight Express herself gave them to me."
"How can I know that is true?" sneered the wife.
"You can ask her yourself. She is the she-engine who races in the yard," said McCoy, and all at once his memories of the Starlight left his mind. In that moment he found himself in an empty shed without a clue as to how he got there.
As for the Starlight, she was immediately whisked back to the starry sky where she could only look down upon the earth. The friends she had made through racing had forgotten her. Enraged, she asked her father to bring McCoy before her along with the wagon and his wife, but when the married pair could not be found, both the Starlight and the Galaxy Flyer grew suspicious. They soon learned of the Nebula's trickery, and the Starlight pleaded with her father to let her return, but the Galaxy Flyer would not go back on his ruling. McCoy had revealed her secret, and she would not be able to return to earth until his death.
The Starlight watched her former friend from the heavens, and she never again raced with her brother, rejecting the Nebula's fellowship.
As for McCoy, life went on, but he stopped racing. When asked, he would reply, "It's not fun no more. I can't tell why." In time the age of steamers was replaced by the day of diesels, and McCoy was forced to find a lower paying job in a yard far away from the Kansas City Central. He married a sleeping car, and the two built a little steam engine for a son.
Unfortunately, both McCoy and his sleeper died one day, leaving their son with no family. At McCoy's death, the Starlight was at last free to return to earth, but now she came with the purpose of raising her old friend's son. She gave up her celestial form for a mortal one and took the orphaned boy to her shed. She would raise him until he was a man and would someday pass her title of the Starlight Express to him and take him to live with her among the stars.
"So, the Starlight became the boy's guardian, and they lived happily together from then on," Mama finished.
"That was nice of her," murmured Rusty, glancing toward the window. With the bedroom light on, the stars were not visible. "Wish she coulda helped my parents though."
Mama took his hand, and her brown eyes had a sad affection within them. "Me too," she said quietly. She squeezed his fingers, and for a long moment neither spoke.
Finally, Mama patted his arm. "Look, sweetie, I ain't gonna try to replace your ma and pa in your heart, but I can give you a home and make sure you don't go through this life alone. Just like the Starlight took care of her friend's son, I'm gonna take care of you, Rusty McCoy. As long as you want me to, that is."
For the first time since his parents' deaths, Rusty allowed a small smile for the lady engine. "Thanks, Mama McCoy."
The she-steamer leaned over and kissed his forehead, and though his heart longed for his real mother, Rusty decided that Mama McCoy would not be too bad to have in his life.
THE END
Xxxx
I had originally wanted to write a story that followed a magical-bride myth and have Mama as Rusty's biological mother, but most stories available didn't really fit with what I wanted. Then I had the idea of doing a loose retelling of (one version of) the Orion and Artemis myth and mixing in the plot point of the magical-bride stories where the human husband loses his wife through breaking a promise. The way Poppa and Mama meet is based on Lauren Peters' version on YouTube.