Rory's Promise (12 page)

R
ORY
A
ND
S
ISTER
E
ILEEN W
A
LKED QUICKLY TO C
A
TCH UP, swinging Brendan by his arms so his feet barely touched the ground. He laughed with delight. They slipped through the doors and stopped, staring at the enormous space with a high domed ceiling made of brick and a glittering chandelier lit with thousands of electric lights. Mr. Swayne was talking with a priest next to a door marked stationmaster. Behind the priest were women, staring hopefully at the little ones. The door to the office opened and Rory caught a glimpse of Sister Anna sitting at the desk, her files spread out in front of her. One of the hopeful mothers came out with little Frances, a quiet girl Rory didn't know very well. The mother was beaming and Frances clutched a new doll under her arm.

Sister Anna called to Mr. Swayne and another mother was led in with a child. Rory knew Sister Anna was making her final judgment: was this woman worthy of taking one of Sister Anna's foundlings? Brendan was next.

Rory smoothed his hair and kissed his cheek. “It will be all right,” she said. “I promise. Just be a good boy and your new mother can't help but love you.”

His solemn eyes stared at her. “Bye, Rory.”

“Goodbye, sweet pea.”

Rory watched the adoption closely. Brendan's new mother couldn't take her eyes off him. At first Brendan was shy, but she soon won him over with a carved wooden toy shaped like a locomotive. He was going to be all right. The other meetings were the same. A few tears, but on the whole the excitement of the new mothers seemed to reassure the children. Rory was reassured too.

Satisfied that the children were in good hands, Rory took the opportunity to step into the main depot and look around. Underneath the chandelier, a large crowd had gathered in the center of the room. At first Rory thought they were waiting for a train. But then the main door to the trains opened and Miss Worthington appeared, leading the Children's Aid Society kids in a ragged line. The crowd stirred and began to murmur. They were waiting for them, Rory realized. Brigid was near the front of the line. She looked freshly scrubbed and Rory could tell she was standing up very straight. Rory drifted closer to watch. If only Brigid could be adopted by a kind family too!

Miss Worthington spoke with a man in a black suit straining to contain his wide belly. She called him Mr. Singer. He had a neatly trimmed beard and a pince-nez perched on
his nose. He reminded Rory of the worthy donors of the Foundling. They gave their money generously and expected to be treated like kings when they came to inspect how their money was being spent.

Mr. Singer said, “I hope you don't mind if we do the placing out here. Normally, we go to the union hall down the street, but every space has been taken by the World's Fair.”

Miss Worthington looked flustered, but she tried to be polite. “I'm sure it will be fine, but how unfortunate that the fair is taking place right now.”

“Nonsense, good lady! The fair is quite marvelous. I hope you will take the opportunity to see it while you are here. Of course, you could be our guest. My wife would gladly have you stay with us.”

Miss Worthington shrugged. “It will depend. If we get rid of all the children here, then I can stay a few days to make sure they are settled.”

Rory bristled. Miss Worthington made the orphans sound like extra kittens, a burden to be gotten rid of.

Miss Worthington went on: “If we can't place all the children, I'll have to get on the train and find homes for them in the next town.” She glanced at the waiting crowd. “You've made inquiries about everyone?”

Mr. Singer nodded hard, setting his stomach to jiggling. “I know all these fine folks, or else they've been vouched for by someone I do know.”

“Very well, shall we get started?”

Mr. Singer spoke loudly to attract the attention of the waiting crowd. “On behalf of the St. Louis Children's Committee, I'd like to thank you for what you are about to do. These poor children have never known a good home. Your kindness will be repaid a hundredfold!”

Rory was standing behind a well-dressed couple. The lady's face was just shy of beautiful and she wore a purple hat that set off her pale blond hair. She turned to her husband, her eyes shining. She said, “Darling, I knew we were right to come. We can do so much good here!”

Mr. Singer went on, “The Children's Aid Society appreciates the sacrifice you are making to offer these poor children a home. Let's begin!” He gestured to the first boy that Rory now recognized as Jack.

Jack swaggered to the empty space between the line of orphans and the would-be parents. Mr. Singer said, “What's your name, son?”

“Jack,” he muttered.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Jack. He's a fine-looking boy. Who wants him?”

A short man dressed in plain clothing—he looked like Rory's idea of a farmer—stepped forward. “I might take him. But he looks too thin. Can he work?” Without so much as a by-your-leave, he took hold of Jack's arm and squeezed it. Jack pulled away.

Mr. Singer laughed. Rory frowned; his laughter had a sinister sound to it. “He's stronger than he looks. And you
can see that he's got spirit. He'll be able to earn his keep. Do you want him?”

“Does he have any experience on a farm?” the farmer asked.

“These are all city kids. But that doesn't mean he can't learn!” Mr. Singer said.

“I suppose he'll do as well as any of them,” the farmer said. “Do I have to send him to school?”

“Until he's fourteen,” Mr. Singer said with a glance at Miss Worthington. “But the Society understands that schooling might have to take a back seat when your crops need tending.”

“Come, boy,” the farmer said.

Jack glared at him, his eyebrows drawn together like a thick caterpillar across his forehead. It broke Rory's heart to see how hurt he looked. Couldn't these grown-ups see how being treated rudely made Jack rude in return?

Miss Worthington stepped forward. “I'll need your name and address, of course. The CAS will visit once a year to make sure the boy is healthy and attending school.”

The man scowled. Miss Worthington hastened to add, “Depending on the harvest, of course.”

Jack was led away without even the chance to say goodbye to the others. Now it was Brigid's turn.

“Take a look at this one. A bright young thing, and pretty too.” Mr. Singer turned to Brigid and asked her name. “Her name is Brigid, ladies and gentlemen. She'd be a fine parlormaid or minder for your children.”

Rory overheard the well-dressed woman talking to her husband. “She might do, dear. I like the look of her. She could help me with my charity work.”

The husband replied, “Are you sure? She looks a little sickly.”

“I don't think so. She looks like she's missed a mother's care. We could give her that.”

The man still wasn't sure. “With that dark hair, she looks a bit wild.”

Rory stepped forward. The couple looked kind enough and rich enough to take care of Brigid. “Excuse me,” she said, tugging at the woman's sleeve. “But I know the young lady and I can attest to her good character.”

The couple exchanged amused glances. “That's very sweet, my dear,” began the woman. “But you're a child yourself.”

“Sister Eileen of the New York Foundling can speak for her, too!” Rory pointed over to where the nuns stood with Mr. Swayne. Sister Anna was there too. Rory didn't feel it necessary to mention that Sister Eileen was the young novice standing behind them. If they assumed she was indicating Sister Anna, always an impressive figure, so much the better for Brigid.

“Really?” The husband seemed inclined to be impressed. “We aren't Catholic …”

“Neither is Brigid,” Rory assured them, not caring for the moment if it was true. Right now a good home was more important than religion. “But Brigid's fine qualities were apparent to the Sisters on the train journey.”

“Hurry, dear, before someone else claims her!” The lady
grasped her husband's arm.

The husband nodded and spoke loudly enough to be heard. “We'll take her!”

Brigid looked up and searched the crowd to see who had spoken. Her eyes lit on Rory, who pointed to the couple and gestured with her thumb up. Brigid nodded to show she understood Rory's message.

The man led his wife over to Miss Worthington to sign some papers. Brigid rushed over to Rory.

“What did you do?” she asked wonderingly. “Why did they choose me?”

“Why wouldn't they choose you? You're going to be the best daughter ever.” Rory leaned in and whispered, “But you might not want to mention your old nickname.”

“You said something to make them want me,” Brigid said, smiling. “I know you did.”

Rory confided, “I didn't have to say much. They're good people. I wouldn't be surprised if they take you to the World's Fair.”

Sister Eileen waved at Rory, gesturing for her to return to the group.

“I have to go, Brigid,” she said. “Be well.”

Brigid gave Rory a warm kiss on the cheek. “You kept your promise. I hope you and Violet are as lucky as me.”

T
hat night Rory snuggled with Violet in their bed, listening to the sound of the train hurtling through the night. She
stroked Vi's hair, wondering where Brigid was now. Was her new mother tucking her in? “Good luck, Brigid,” she whispered.

As she closed her eyes, she felt that just possibly she had repaid Brigid for her kindness.

A
FTER
S
T.
L
OUIS, THE
F
OUNDLING CAR W
A
S DISCONNECTED FRO
M
the Pennsylvania Railroad train. They waited on a sidetrack for a few hours and then the car was attached to a new, slightly shorter train that headed south. They rode for hours through forests and over rivers. The little towns by the railroad looked raw and unfinished. The distances between stops grew wider and the land more desolate. The only sign that anyone had ever been on this land before them was the reliable twin ribbons of railroad track stretching for miles. There were no animals, no houses or roads, only tall trees and swamps. The only colors out here were straw, brown, and the faint tinge of blue green in the distance under an expanse of vast blue sky. The journey began to seem like a never-ending dream.

The next stop was Little Rock. Seven children were made irresistible to their new parents. After the stop, the train was strangely quiet—not just because there were fewer children,
but because the abrupt departures frightened the ones who remained. The children fell asleep easily enough, lulled by the evening prayers of the Sisters, but each night Rory was wakened more than once by a child sobbing in his or her Pullman bed.

After she settled the child, Rory would lay awake staring at the ornate ceiling with its bronze light fixtures. She'd roll over and put her arms around Vi, who would kick Rory in her sleep and throw off the blankets. “Am I doing the right thing?” she would whisper. Soon the train ride would end for Vi and Rory and they would have to go out into the world. Rory had nothing except Violet. But the more happy families she saw, the more she wondered if Vi had a future that might not include Rory. If Vi had a chance for parents and a home, could Rory stand in the way of that? But when morning came, Rory would put her doubts aside. The only thing that mattered was staying together.

As they pulled out of El Paso and chugged through New Mexico, forty children remained. Violet ribbons were sewn in their collars, indicating they were destined for Clifton in Arizona Territory. Rory was glad that so many of the kids would be in the same town. No matter what happened, they would have one another. And if Rory had her way, they would still have her. Surely with so many parents wanting children, room could be found for just one more.

Tempers were short in the stuffy car that never stopped moving. The air outside was stifling, hot and dusty. And inside the car was worse. The nuns and nurses never removed
their heavy habits or uniforms. At least the children wore playclothes. With no way to wash their clothes or thoroughly cleanse their bodies, all the children were beginning to smell. Rory longed above all to be clean. She dreamed of the
drip drip
of the cistern back at the Foundling Hospital, filling an enormous tub. After a long bath, she imagined, she would slip into a clean set of clothes, smelling of starch. She still wore her too-small dress, now torn and stained. Her only nice dress was hidden away with Violet's things. Like the little ones, she would save her finery to impress a new family.

Soon, Rory thought, the journey will end.
We'll wake up from this dream and be in our new home.
She walked to the front of the car where there were two barrels of fresh water. One was for washing, the other for drinking. At every stop, Sister Eileen arranged for the barrels to be refilled, just like the locomotive getting fresh water for its steam engine. Rory dipped a tin cup in the drinking water and drank it gratefully.

She felt the back of her neck prickle. Someone was watching her. Slowly she turned around. The children were too dazed by the heat to be bothered with her. The steady rocking of the train and the monotonous click of the wheels on the track had the nuns and nurses dozing too. Swayne was in the first-class passenger car. That left only Sister Anna awake and staring at Rory.

Their eyes met. For the first time since New Jersey, Sister Anna didn't look away. Dipping the cup in the water, Rory carefully brought it to Sister Anna. Another peace offering. This time, Sister Anna accepted. She took the cup and drank
deeply, draining it in a few moments. She glanced up at Rory and a faint smile appeared on her lips. “Thank you, Rory.”

“You are very welcome, Sister,” Rory said with emphasis.

“This has been a difficult journey,” Sister Anna said. “I've accompanied the children before but never farther than Louisiana. I didn't know how hard it would be to care for so many.”

“They're good kids,” Rory said. “It's just tough for them to be stuck in a small space for so long.”

“Rory, I always knew you were good with the children— but you've outdone yourself on this trip.”

“I'm trying to make amends,” Rory said simply.

Sister Anna tilted her head and waited.

Rory took a deep breath. “I lied to you. I disobeyed you. I ran away from the only home I had. I had a good reason, but …”

“A reason is not an excuse for deceit,” Sister Anna said. “You should have trusted me.”

Rory thought for a moment, then fired a question at Sister Anna: “How many orphans have you placed in new families?”

Sister Anna looked surprised. “I don't know. Several hundred at least, perhaps a thousand.”

“See, there are so many, Sister Anna, you dare not love them all. If you did, your heart would be split a thousand ways when they left. But I only have the one sister.”

Sister Anna stared out into the desert beyond the window. “You're wrong about that,” she said quietly.

“I have another sister?” Rory asked mischievously.

A tiny bark of laughter escaped Sister Anna's mouth, lightening her mood. “No, I love each and every child. God placed them all in my care. I hate leaving them with strangers. But I have no choice.”

Thinking of Brigid and the Children's Aid Society, Rory said, “At least you try to find them good homes.”

“I do. And Rory, I promise you, if Violet's family isn't suitable in every way, I won't leave her there.”

“I know, Sister.”

Sister Anna patted the seat beside her. “Sit down, my dear. I've been thinking about your future.”

Warily, Rory slid into the seat.

“You are resourceful and intelligent. And you are good with the children. What if you became my assistant?”

Rory's jaw dropped. “Your assistant?”

“Well, not right away. You'll have to finish school. But you could help me place the children and accompany me on these trips. Who better to look out for all the children of the Foundling than you? And I know that you'd never let a foster family take advantage of the Foundling or the children.”

Rory rubbed the back of her neck without meeting Sister Anna's eyes. In a way, Rory had been training for this job for the past three years. But … “What about Violet?” she said.

Sister Anna let a small smile appear on her lips. “We inspect the foster homes at least once a year. You could see her for yourself.”

Sister Anna was always so convincing that Rory had
to close her eyes to think clearly. Once a year wasn't good enough. But it was a pretty good offer. “Sister,” she began, “may I think about it?”

“Of course.” Sister Anna looked at the watch pendant she wore pinned to her habit. “After lunch, we'll be heading into the mountains to Clifton. We'll have to get the children ready. All of them.”

“Clifton must be a big town to take so many children.”

She pursed her lips, considering. “I'm not certain it is. It's a mining town, I know that much. Father Mandin's letter insisted that the parents are devout Catholics and are eager to take the children.” Sister Anna's voice was as confident as usual but Rory detected a shadow of doubt in her eyes.

“You're worried about something!” Rory said accusingly. Sister Anna glanced around the car to ensure that their conversation was private. “Not worried exactly. It's just that Father Mandin didn't write his own letters. A woman in his parish did.”

“Maybe he was busy?” Rory offered.

Sister Anna rubbed the bridge of her nose, which just made the crinkle on her forehead worse. “Probably. Usually Mr. Swayne would have inspected the homes in advance. But Arizona was so far we didn't do it this time.”

Rory felt the same turmoil in her stomach she had when that matron had tossed her in a cell. Still, that had worked out because Sister Anna had appeared at just the right moment. Sister Anna, a force to be reckoned with, was equal to any problems in Clifton.

A
fter they passed through a dusty little town called Las Cruces, the train began to climb. Everyone welcomed the cooler temperatures and some of the children began to revive and look curiously out the windows. The vegetation was still sparse but not so scarce as it had been in Texas. In the distance, they could see tall, blue mountains. Rory liked the look of them. Maybe Arizona wouldn't be so bad.

In Lordsville, New Mexico Territory, their car was transferred to the smallest train Rory had yet seen. There were only three pieces to their train—the engine, the coal car, and the Foundling car. Rory thought she should feel a weight lifted with the loss of the other cars, but instead their car seemed lonely and defenseless.

Sister Eileen stood with Rory under a wooden awning watching as their car was connected to the new engine.

“What kind of place are we going to?” Rory asked quietly. “Did you know that it was so far into the mountains?”

“Sister Anna knows what she's doing,” Sister Eileen said reprovingly. But Rory could hear an anxious tremor in her voice.

As they slowly climbed out of Lordsville into the blue mountains, Rory was disappointed to see that up close the mountains were a dullish gray-brown in color. She noticed few houses and not one person. Rory couldn't blame the missing people; who would want to live here?

At about six p.m. they entered a narrow valley with the tracks squeezed in between a small river and steep cliffs. Rory remembered her
Wild West Weekly
reading. This was a perfect spot for an ambush. Maybe the Indians were waiting to kidnap the orphans. Although why the Indians would want forty New York City orphans was beyond her imagination. The children were here because no one wanted them back home.

She didn't see any Indians, but she soon saw something worse. The train passed an enormous building that was belching smoke, darker and more dense than the smoke from the train's engine. Behind and beside the building were heaps of what looked like coal. One hill was glowing red. Rory looked closer and realized that there was molten rock oozing down the hill. Everything stunk of sulfur. Violet started to cough and Rory put her handkerchief over her sister's mouth. “Just breathe through this, Vi,” she said.

“Hellish,” Mr. Swayne said to Sister Anna. She raised an eyebrow and didn't answer.

Sister Eileen crossed herself. “Virgin Mary, preserve us from the devil who must live in this land.”

Rory was too distracted to pray since she was busy keeping her charges from ruining their new clothes. It was six thirty by Sister Anna's watch when the train pulled into the smallest station they had stopped at yet. It looked brand new with clean brick and a clay roof that hadn't been stained by the smoke.

A crowd of people was waiting on the platform. This wasn't unusual. In most of the towns they had visited, people
had heard about the baby train and come to stare. Suddenly, a face was pressed against the glass. Then every window was full of flattened faces with bulging eyes, tapping on the windows, calling for the children to answer them. Rory realized they were all women. She stood on a seat to see over their heads. Behind the women who were trying to rush onto the train was a group of dark-skinned women who hung back because of better manners or fear.

Sister Eileen shrank from the window. “Who are these people?” she whispered.

“Perhaps these are the mothers, eager to claim their children,” Sister Anna said. “Close the blinds.”