Rory's Promise

by Michaela MacColl

  “I told them I knew my business and it was none of theirs.”

  “Did they accept that?” asked Sister Anna.

  “They weren't happy, I can tell you,” Swayne answered. “And Sister, they were armed.”

  “Armed?” Sister Anna asked faintly.

  “With guns?” Sister Eileen whispered.

  Rory shot her a look. What else would they be armed with in the Wild West? Nightsticks? Perhaps she should lend Sister Eileen her Wild West Weekly so she could recognize what was going on under her nose. But she felt as scared as Sister Eileen sounded. She had found a good family for Violet. And possibly for herself too. And nobody, least of all a greedy woman with fingers the size of sausages, could take that away from them. Not if Rory Fitzpatrick had anything to say about it.

  After consulting with Mr. Swayne and Father Mandin, Sister Anna decided it was too cold for the children to remain another night on the train. Everyone was to move to the Clifton Hotel. After Ramon's warnings, Rory was inclined to believe that waking with a cold nose was preferable to what the townspeople might do if they could get to the children. But Sister Anna wasn't listening. And Sister Eileen and the nurses wanted a hotel with baths and better beds.

  The Clifton Hotel was not far from the church. A large adobe building of three stories, it was the biggest place Rory had seen so far in Clifton. And the fanciest balconies on the second floor overlooked the hills beyond the town. When they entered the lobby, Rory saw not only the registration desk but also entrances to a saloon and a barbershop and a sign for a pool hall. It was as if a visitor would never have to leave the hotel.

  Mrs. Abraham waited for them in the lobby. Rory watched her with suspicion, remembering the night before. But today Mrs. Abraham wasn't shouting threats; she was playing innkeeper. She showed them to their rooms on the third floor.

  “You have four rooms,” Mrs. Abraham said. “And they all connect.” She handed Sister Anna the keys. “The bathroom and water closet are in the hall. I arranged for cots for the little ones. I can send up some food at six.”

  “Thank you,” Sister Anna said with chilly politeness. Rory saw that Sister Anna had not forgiven Mrs. Abraham for the scene in the church.

  Mrs. Abraham hesitated. “Sister, about last night …”

  “Yes?” Sister Anna said in that nun's voice that Rory knew only too well.

  “I only want what is best for the children,” Mrs. Abraham said.

  “As do I,” Sister Anna replied. “But I decide what is best. No one else.”

  “Of course.” Mrs. Abraham backed out of the room, her face cold and angry, her mouth set in a thin, flat line.

  Sister Anna had the children's cots placed in the middle rooms. The adults were given the rooms on the ends. Sister Anna bolted the doors in the children's rooms that connected to the hall so no one could come in without her knowledge.

  “Not that I believe the children are in any danger,” Sister Anna explained to Rory and Sister Eileen.

  “Of course not,” Sister Eileen said.

  “But we are in a strange town and an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” Sister Anna finished.

  But Rory couldn't forget the desperate women at the station. Rory knew that if Mrs. Gatti wanted a baby, ten deadbolts wouldn't keep her out.

  CHAPTER Twenty-Nine

  THE CHILDREN HAD BATHED AND WERE NAPPING. AN EXHAUSTED SISTER Anna dozed in a plush armchair while Rory got ready for the party. She put on her only other dress, her best. She combed and braided her hair as neatly as possible. She watched the clock. At ten minutes to four, she was ready to go. Then it was a quarter past. She rebraided her hair. Rory told herself there could be any number of reasons Ramon was late. By half past four, the large room felt like a jail cell. What if Ramon didn't come? She should have found a way to talk to Ramon at church. What if the Martinezes had decided that it would be easier for Vi to adjust to the family without Rory? What if …

  Tap, tap.

  Rory hurried to answer the door, a welcoming smile on her face. But instead of Ramon a small Chinese boy in hotel livery stood in the doorway. Her smile faded. With a small bow he handed her a note.

  Unfolding the paper, she read, “Cheng will bring you to me. Ramon.”

  Rory nodded and carefully shut the door so as not to wake Sister Anna. Cheng led her down the uncarpeted back stairs into the kitchen.

  “You're Chinese?” Rory asked.

  Cheng seemed surprised that she was talking to him but what he didn't know was that Rory was friendly with the Chinese boys who delivered the linens to the Foundling.

  “I'm American. My parents came here from China to build the railroad and I was born here,” he said, holding the door open. Sitting at a table in the corner of the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand, was Ramon.

  “Ramon!” Rory cried. He cocked an eyebrow at the relief in her voice. “I was worried you wouldn't come,” she explained.

  “I told you I would,” he said.

  “I was just being foolish, I guess.” Rory hung her head.

  “I understand,” Ramon said. “I know what is at stake for you. Nothing less than your sister's happiness.”

  Rory gulped and nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Ramon teased.

  “Why were you late?” Rory asked. Now that sounded more like her usual self.

  “The hotel wouldn't let me come into the lobby and collect you properly.”

  “Why not?” Rory was puzzled. “Who would stop you?” She glanced around the kitchen ready to take someone to task for making her worry.

  “No Mexicanos allowed,” he said simply. “This hotel is owned by the copper company. They built it for their own people, not us.”

  “But that's not fair,” Rory cried. “Ramon, I don't like this town.”

  “Neither do I,” he said with a cheerful grin. “But let them keep their hotel. They can't run their mines without us. Let's go.” He stood up and drained his coffee cup in one gulp. “Oh, I almost forgot. Elena wants me to give you this.” He held out a shapeless bundle wrapped in paper.

  Rory hesitated, feeling the soft heft of it.

  “Open it,” Ramon said.

  Rory carefully unwrapped the package. It was a dark green handmade shawl.

  “It's beautiful,” Rory said, stroking the wool.

  Ramon looked pleased. “I told Elena you were cold last night.”

  “It's the first new thing I've ever had,” Rory said. She held it to her cheek and used it to brush away a tear before Ramon could see. With his help, she wound the large shawl around her body and followed Ramon out to an alley that led to the street. The sky was dark with storm clouds and the streets were deserted.

  Rory glanced back at the Clifton Hotel. Rory, a penniless Irish orphan, was permitted to stay there but Ramon couldn't enter by the front door. There was something she had to know, even if she offended Ramon by asking. “Ramon, what will it be like for Vi to have Mexicano parents?”

  “Elena thinks love is enough, but I'm more realistic than she is. It won't be easy,” Ramon finally answered. “But we're going to be good parents to Vi and William. They won't want for anything.”

  Ramon looked to the sky. “We should hurry before it rains,” he said. “Our guests are already at the house to meet the children, and you of course. I wish the children's padrinos could be there, but it is impossible.”

  “Padrinos?”

  “Godparents,” he said. “We've chosen my brother and his wife, but they are still in Mexico.”

  Rory heard the longing in Ramon's voice. She considered everything she knew about Ramon: his problems with the company, his homesickness for Mexico and his family, and how hard it would be for a Mexican family to keep white children in Clifton. Her stomach tightly twisted like a knot, and she forced herself to ask, “Are you going to take Vi and William to Mexico?”

  Matter-of-factly, as though it didn't change absolutely everything,
Ramon nodded. “Since the strike, the company wants to get rid of me. We have no future in Clifton. We only stayed here this long because we were waiting for Violet and William.” He walked on, not noticing that Rory could barely breathe.

  Mexico! She had thought the Arizona Territory was far away from all they knew in New York, but Mexico was another country. What would it be like to always be a foreigner and have to talk in a language not your own? Would Violet even remember being American?

  Violet would never know New York the way Rory did. She'd never have a chance to see the fireworks over the river. Or the balloons in Central Park. Vi would never have the fun of jumping onto the back of an omnibus. Maybe the best thing was to bring Violet back to the Foundling and they could try again. Sister Anna had offered Rory a permanent place at the Foundling. Rory could bargain with Sister Anna to keep Violet close to her a while longer. After the mess Sister Anna had made of the adoptions in Clifton, she owed Rory that much.

  On the other hand, wasn't family the most important thing? Ever since Mama died, Rory had tried to be Violet's whole family, but now Elena and Ramon wanted to be Violet's parents. And they were good people.

  First things first. She hadn't yet had the chance to ask the most important question of all. Hurrying to catch up with him, she began,“Ramon, I know you asked for two children—”

  “Really only one—a boy. But Father Mandin is persuasive,” Ramon answered with a wry chuckle.

  She steeled her courage before she asked, “Ramon, would you consider taking a third? Would you take me?”

  He watched her, his face saying nothing.

  “I'm a hard worker and I'm an expert at taking care of children.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. “I can write, read, and even do multiplication!”

  Ramon ran his fingers through his thick hair. “Elena and I discussed this last night. Rory, we like you and it would be right to keep two sisters together …”

  Rory knew there was a but.

  “But we cannot afford three children,” he went on. “I'm sorry, Rory. But that is my answer. Two children are all we can take.”

  “If Sister Anna finds out that you plan to take the children to Mexico, you won't have any children,” Rory pointed out. “She'd never permit it.”

  “If she asks, I will tell her the truth,” Ramon said. “I can convince her if I have to. It will be a decent life in Mexico for William and Violet. We will love them as if they were our own blood. And don't forget, they'll be raised in the Church.”

  “But if Sister Anna doesn't ask?”

  He shrugged. “Then I don't feel l need to go out of my way to make trouble.” His eyes crinkled when he smiled, inviting her to smile back. But the stakes were still too high.

  “She would worry most about the children having no one American to look after them … but if I went too …” Rory let her voice trail off.

  Ramon laughed. “You are the clever one. Do you ever give up?”

  “No,” Rory assured him.

  He shook his head. Before he could say no again, Rory interrupted. “I'm old enough to work—what if I could pay my own way? Do people in Mexico want to learn English? I could teach them!”

  “They do want to learn—but you are so young.” He tugged gently on her braid. “You deserve to stay a child a little longer.”

  “Not if it means losing Violet.” Rory spoke simply and she could see from Ramon's face he understood.

  The rain began coming down in sheets and the wind picked up. “Quickly,” Ramon urged, taking her hand.

  “But we haven't decided anything!” Rory had to raise her voice to be heard against the rising wind.

  “We'll talk later,” he promised.

  As they ran, she consoled herself that he hadn't said no. When they reached Ramon's house, Rory could hear the muffled sounds of a party. But she wasn't prepared for the din when Ramon opened the door. There were so many people that Rory wondered how they fit in the room. The conversation stopped abruptly, then started up again when they saw Ramon. Greetings were called in Spanish, and Rory wondered how hard it would be to learn the language. If she didn't, she would never be able to speak to anyone if they went to Mexico.

  She noticed that almost everyone had the same dark skin as Ramon. Rory held out her hand and compared the difference between her skin and theirs. Even freshly scrubbed, the men still smelled of sulfur, from the mines. All the women wore white dresses with colorful embroidery on the bottoms of their skirts. Their shawls were a rainbow of bright colors. Some of them had paper flowers in their buns. Others had ribbons braided into their dark hair. Near the back door, an elderly man played a cheerful tune on his fiddle while a group of people sang and clapped. The tune was unfamiliar and she couldn't understand a word of the song. Feeling suddenly alone in the crowded room, Rory searched for Violet.

  Ramon took her new shawl and hung it on a hook on the door as he joked with his guests. Elena hurried across the crowded room to embrace Rory, who didn't flinch this time. She was getting used to Elena's hugs.

  “Rory, at last you are here!” Elena said. “Are you hungry?”

  “No, thank you,” Rory said. “Where's Violet?”

  “Where else but at the table with all the desserts.” Elena laughed.

  “May I go to her?”

  “Of course.” Elena hurried away to greet a new arrival.

  Rory saw William first. He had found a friend, a boy who was as dark as William was fair. The two of them were running around being petted by the women. She saw Violet across the room, sitting on the lap of an elderly woman, and headed for them. Violet was taking tiny bites from a piece of cake in her hand. She saw Rory and waved. When Rory came within speaking distance, Violet said to the elderly woman, “This is my sister, Rory.”

  The woman replied in Spanish, but her broad smile was welcoming. She set Violet on her feet and moved away to talk to another older woman watching the fiddler.

  There was a gust of rain against the window. Rory hugged herself, glad to be inside.

  Violet leaned her head against her sister. “Rory, I don't feel so good.”

  “No wonder,” Rory said with exasperation. “How many cakes have you eaten? Vi, these cakes aren't like the cakes back home. They might upset your tummy.”

  Violet started to count on her fingers. Suddenly she put her hands to her mouth, her throat convulsing.

  “No, Vi. You can't be sick in the middle of the party,” Rory said. She swept Violet up in her arms and headed for the back door. She tried to catch Elena's attention, but she was busy refreshing the cakes on the other end of the table.

  “Hold it just a little more,” Rory ordered. Outside the door, the day's light had gone, swallowed by the storm. Heedless of the drenching rain, Violet began throwing up what seemed like dozens of partially chewed cakes. Rory held her sister's hair away from her face until the retching was over. Then Violet held up her arms and Rory obediently picked her up.

  “I'm sleepy,” Violet said, her face pale, as she leaned her head on her sister's shoulder.

  “Let's take a little nap,” Rory said. She knew from past experience that a nap was the best thing to settle Vi's sensitive stomach.

  The two wet girls slipped back into the noisy room. Rory carried her limp sister into the children's sleeping alcove, and placed her on the neatly made bed. She arranged the colorful folded shawl around Violet so snugly that only the tip of her snub nose showed.

  “Now I lay me down to sleep,” Rory began. Violet dutifully recited the familiar prayer.

  Violet's eyes grew heavier until she fell fast asleep. Rory thought, no matter how vexing Violet might be awake, she looked like an angel when she slept.

  Rory waited a few moments to be sure her sister was truly napping before she rose from the small bed. Then she stood watching the party from the shelter of the curtains at the doorway to the children's room. They were all strangers to her, even Ramon and Elena. What did she really know about them? Their language, clothes, and
food were alien to her. What kind of sister would she be to send Violet away from everything she knew to a foreign country? How would Violet cope?

  Violet stirred in her sleep and Rory moved to her side and leaned over her. Vi's eyes, so much like Rory's own, half-opened and she whispered, “Buenas noches, Rory, that means good night.” With a little sigh, she rolled over and burrowed into the blankets. Rory bit her lip to keep from crying. She'd forgotten how strong Violet really was. Vi would be just fine.

  Rory returned to watching the party. Despite the joyful music and the festive clothes, Rory detected the same uneasiness she had seen at the church. The men were speaking quietly together in the corners and nervously glancing at the door. And the women tried to be cheerful for Elena's sake; Rory could see strain in their faces and hear tension in their voices. When the door opened—no one knocked, it seemed—all conversation stopped. As the partygoers recognized the new arrival, the noise level would rise—until the next time.

  A thundering knock on the door plunged the room into silence. Flung open, the door crashed against the wall. A gust of wind extinguished the candles on the table and tossed the lantern so shadows danced ominously. A single discordant twang from the musician's fiddle sounded loud in the sudden quiet.

  Two men strode out of the rain through the open door. Behind them, other men crowded into the opening. The leader had a badge and a sodden list. He read out loud, “Ramon and Elena Martinez.”

  “Sheriff Simpson, we're right here!” Ramon snapped.

  His hand on the gun at his hip, the sheriff said, “We're here for the children.”

  CHAPTER Thirty

  ALL EYES TURNED TO ELENA. HER FACE WHITE AGAINST HER DARK hair, Elena stepped in front of William. Her eyes met Rory's. Rory jerked her head behind her to let Elena know Violet was in bed. Who was Simpson and who said he could take the children? No one would steal Violet away if Rory could prevent it.

  “My children are not for you to take,” Ramon said. His voice was quiet but its anger chilled Rory. Couldn't the sheriff see how mad Ramon was?