Bull Tucker’s horrible nightmare was just about to end. But with his arms flailing and his legs kicking, he couldn’t help waking his wife, Martha, who had fooled herself into thinking he was free of them at last. Bull finally stopped thrashing about and he fell back into deep sleep. But Martha was wide awake. She climbed out of bed and went into the kitchen where she made a pot of coffee, hoping that she wouldn’t wake Bull until he was ready to get up.

It was the 1st of May – May Day – and they were expected at the local fairgrounds where this year Bull was to kick off the festivities as Master of Ceremonies.

Martha quietly took her coffee into the dining room to look out the bay window. It was an odd spring morning in Tucker, Ohio. Bull’s ancestors had founded the small town, but Martha had never much liked living here because of all the strange happenings. Still, she had always loved spring with its hope of reward after the harsh winter.

Bull had worked on the same railroad that had once rumbled through this part of Ohio. His railroad retirement had given them complete financial freedom. That fact, however, worried Martha greatly. Bull had told her that he had been a brakeman on the train before he had taken early retirement and married her. Beyond that, he never talked about his job with the line. And he never explained why he’d been given such a generous pension.

She’d been troubled when she’d heard how some of the railroad men had brutally murdered hundreds of train-hopping freeloaders. But Bull had never been violent to her, so she didn’t dwell on it. Yet she had seen his face change as people talked about the old days when the train had come through town…

Without warning, Martha heard a heart-stopping scream from the bedroom. She ran into the room. Bull was sitting up in bed, crying like a baby.

"Bull! What is it? Are you hurt?"

The tears streamed down Bull’s craggy face. "Didn’t you hear it, Martha?"

"Hear what, Bull?" He broke down again, so Martha fetched a box of tissues.

Bull pulled out a handful of tissues, wiped his eyes and blew his nose. He sighed deeply. "I guess I’d better quit this foolishness and get ready." His voice was unusually somber.

"Are you sure you’re up to it, Bull? I’ve never heard you scream like that before. I’ve never seen you cry, either. Shall I ask someone to speak for you at the celebration today?"

Bull stared at her for a long time. Finally he said in a hushed voice, "No. That won’t be necessary."

Bull crawled out of the bed. "I’d better get dressed." He walked over to his bureau and picked out some underclothes. Then he went to his closet, grabbed a dark suit and shirt, and headed into the shower.

Martha was confused. She walked to the bathroom door where she heard the running water. She knocked on the door a couple of times. "Bull? Can you hear me?"

She heard the water shut off.

"Yes." Bull’s voice was flat, as if all the life had gone out of him.

"I saw that you picked out a suit for May Day. Should I dress up, too?"

"It doesn’t matter," Bull answered.

Martha heard the shower start up again. She couldn’t understand what Bull was thinking. She had attended many celebrations with him and they never dressed up before. Martha frowned and went back into the kitchen to prepare Bull’s breakfast.

Before Martha had finished frying the eggs and bacon, Bull came up behind her and gently turned her around. He was nicely dressed in his best suit. He said softly, "Dear, I just want to thank you for being my wife." There was a strange look in his eyes. He kissed her on her cheek, then walked out of the room.

Martha was speechless. Bull was never one to show his affection. When she found her voice, she called after him, "Bull, don’t you want your breakfast?

There was no reply.

Martha turned off the stove and put the frying pan on the back burner. She took off her apron and put it away. Then she ran down the hall to the bedroom so she could get dressed. She passed Bull’s den and saw him sitting in the dark. He had closed the blinds and drawn the curtains.

"Bull," she said with considerable anguish, "what is it? What’s the matter?" She walked over to him and sat down on the floor by his feet, pleading. "Please tell me what’s wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. It’s May Day…that’s all." He didn’t look at her.

"Yes," Martha said softly. "But what has that got to do with—"

Suddenly Martha heard what sounded like a faint train whistle and the rumblings of a locomotive not so far away. She stood up abruptly.

"What in heaven’s name is that! A train? Here?" She ran to the window and tried to see what was making the noise. But she couldn’t see a thing. "Maybe you’d better go take a look, Bull! Whatever it is, it sounds like it’s heading in our direction!"

This time, Bull looked at her. On his face was a forlorn smile. "Yes, it’s heading in our direction. I’ll take care of it. You’d better go and get dressed now, Martha." Just as before, he looked away, staring at nothing.

"Oh, alright. If you think I should. But that noise! What do you think it is?"

"You’d better go."

Martha hesitated, and then walked to her bedroom to shower and dress. When she finished, she hurried back into Bull’s den to see about him.

But Bull was gone.

Martha thought she heard the train whistle again, off in the distance. This time it was a melancholy wail as the train and its passengers headed away to some unknown destination.