Rory's Promise (17 page)

“R
AMON, PUT TH
A
T
A
W
A
Y,”
E
LENA S
A
ID. “
Y
OU
A
RE SC
A
RING
R
ORY.”

“I'm not scared,” Rory said. “But I've never seen a gun before.”

“And with the protection of Father Mandin and the Sisters you never will again,” Elena said. “Let's not speak of unpleasant things. Rory, you are our guest and a child. I don't want you to worry about anything.”

“But … ,” Rory began.

A clock high on a shelf chimed the hour. “Ramon, you must bring Rory back to the church.” Elena handed him his coat. “And ask the head Sister …”

“Sister Anna,” Rory prompted.

“Ask her if Rory can come back tomorrow to meet our friends. She should be here.”

“I'd love to come.” Not only should she be here, Rory meant to stay. She only had to convince Violet to like it here.
And Ramon and Elena to ask her to be part of their family. And then persuade Sister Anna to agree. How difficult could it be?

Elena kissed Rory's cheek as Ramon held the door.

“I can find my own way back,” Rory said, although the street was so dark she was happy to have Ramon's company. “It's not safe here at night,” Ramon said, leading the way down the street. “Not like my hometown in Mexico. There, everyone knows everybody else. And the streets are safe.” He took Rory's arm to guide her around a hole in the wooden sidewalk.

“Is your family still there?” Rory asked.

“My brother and three sisters. And too many nieces and nephews to count.”

“Violet and I have just each other,” Rory said, managing to keep longing out of her voice. With all those children in his family, she thought, there must be room for one more. She saw the church looming in front of them; she had to ask now. “Ramon …” she began to say when a voice called out of the darkness.

“Rory! Is that you?”

Rory closed her eyes and sighed. “Yes, Sister Eileen, it's me.” She'd have to talk to Ramon tomorrow.

“Thank the Lord,” Sister Eileen said. “I've been worried about you.” She stopped talking abruptly when she caught sight of Ramon. The golden light of the lantern in his hand cast eerie, elongated shadows across his face.

“Sister Eileen, this is Ramon Martinez.” Rory hastened to introduce them. “He and his wife took Violet and William.”

Sister Eileen nodded. “It was kind of you to walk Rory back.” Frowning at Rory, she said, “We didn't realize she had left until just a few minutes ago.”

“It was my pleasure,” Ramon said. “But I also want to invite Rory to a party tomorrow.”

“We'll have to ask Sister Anna,” Sister Eileen said, leading the way inside. The scene hadn't changed much since Rory had left an hour earlier. Two dozen children were sleeping on the pews. The would-be mothers were waiting, slumped against the wall.

Rory whispered to Sister Eileen, “Why are they all still here?”

Sister Eileen pressed her lips together and shook her head.

Sister Anna was arguing with Mrs. Chacon. “No, Mrs. Chacon, it is
not
the same if Gwen goes to the Gonzalez family or the Lopez family. The assignments were carefully made in New York.”

Mrs. Chacon spoke respectfully, but Rory could hear the irritation in her voice. “The Lopez family doesn't live here anymore. They moved away last month. The Gonzalez family is just as good. Father Mandin has said so.”

Sister Eileen murmured close to Rory's ear, “It's been like this all night. Sister Anna's careful records are ruined and Mrs. Chacon doesn't understand why it matters. We've only done thirteen children so far!”

Sister Anna hit the table with the palms of her hands, startling Mrs. Chacon into silence. “That is enough,” Sister Anna said. “We're finished for tonight.”

“But the mothers! They have been waiting for hours,” Mrs. Chacon protested.

“I am exhausted,” Sister Anna said firmly. “I won't deliver any more children until I'm sure the first are well placed!”

Her face pinched, Mrs. Chacon went to speak with the remaining mothers. Rory seized her chance to introduce Ramon.

“Mr. Martinez, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Sister Anna said, hiding a yawn behind her hand.

“And I you,” he said. “Violet and William are lovely children, a credit to you and the other Sisters.”

“Thank you,” Sister Anna said. She looked at Rory expectantly, as if waiting for her report. Rory hesitated, glancing at Mrs. Chacon and the dozing priest. She leaned over Sister Anna's desk and whispered, “Sister, Ramon can answer your questions. He knows what's what in town.”

“Is he trustworthy?” Sister Anna asked quietly.

“I think so,” Rory answered. “Judge for yourself.”

Sister Anna gestured for Ramon to sit. “May I ask you a question, Mr. Martinez?”

“I am at your service,” he said.

“Usually placing orphans in a new family is a joyful event for the whole town,” Sister Anna said slowly. “But today an angry mob met us at the station. Women threatened us here at the church. I don't understand what's happening.”

“Clifton is not an easy place to bear children,” Ramon explained. “All the women in town—the Anglo and the Mexicano women—they all have trouble having babies. And
you roll in on your fancy train with forty! You might as well have brought a trainload of apples to the Garden of Eden.”

Sister Anna, tired as she was, had to smile at his comparison. “But then why are they so angry?” she asked. “Father Mandin offered everyone a baby, didn't he?”

“He asked his congregation only,” Ramon said. “And the Anglo women don't attend Father Mandin's church.”

“Ah.” Sister Anna's exhalation was full of her understanding. “So that is what Mrs. Gatti was upset about. Only the Mexican women got to ask for children.”

Ramon nodded. “And the Anglos do not care for the Mexicanos.”

“Why not?”

“How do the rich and powerful in New York City see the Irish?” He held out his hands and let her make her own connection between the Irish and the Mexicans.

“I see.” Sister Anna sighed. “But the faith of the families is the most important thing. Father Mandin did exactly as we asked. We cannot let the babies go to Protestants!”

Ramon made a steeple of his hands and peered over his fingertips. “How many are still with you?”

“Twenty-seven,” Sister Anna said. “Although my records are ruined now.” She cast a baleful look at Mrs. Chacon. “It may be twenty-six or twenty-eight. I need to carefully review all the paperwork.”

“Sister, you must keep a close watch on the children you have left.” His gaze traveled over to the children asleep on the pews.

Rory interrupted, ignoring Sister Anna's quelling look. “Ramon, do you think they're in danger?”

“The women would never hurt them.” He paused. “But try to take them, yes,” he said.

“It's like that, is it?” Sister Anna shuffled through papers in front of her, taking her time to square them together. “Mr. Martinez, thank you for your insight.”

Ramon smiled slightly. “Now I'd like to ask a favor from you.” He explained about the party, and Sister Anna agreed to let Rory go the next day at four o'clock. “Good night, Rory, Sister.”

After he had left, Sister Anna turned to Rory. “I like Mr. Martinez. But I hope he's wrong about the situation here.”

“What if he isn't?” Rory asked, but Sister Anna did not have an answer.

On the ride back to the station, Rory didn't try to memorize the route as she had intended. Ramon's warning echoed too loudly in her ears. It was clear that Father Mandin would be of no help to them. That left Sister Anna. If she refused to see the danger, then it was up to Rory to find a way to keep everyone safe. Unfortunately, she thought, she had no idea how to do it.

T
he children and adults were all exhausted by the time they returned to the station. The engine that had pulled their train car into Clifton was gone. Rory thought about her wellthumbed copy of
Wild West Weekly
. There had been a drawing
of a secluded fort, closed up tight, surrounded by attacking Indians. In her mind she could clearly hear Ramon's warnings. Whenever Sister Anna wasn't looking, Rory cupped her hands around her eyes and pressed her nose to the window, trying to see if there were marauders in the darkness.

Once the lights were turned down, the car was silent except for the snuffling of small children and the occasional snore.
How nice to sleep alone for once
, she thought.
No Violet to kick me in the stomach or wake me every time she needs to pee.
Rory stretched in every direction, enjoying the luxury of an empty bed.

The lie lasted only a few minutes. What if Violet woke up at Elena's house, calling for Rory? Would she be afraid? Would she be able to use the old-fashioned privy? A sob escaped Rory's throat. She stuffed her fist in her mouth to keep from waking the others. She didn't need anyone's pity. Tomorrow Rory would convince Elena and Ramon to adopt her too. She and Violet would have a home together.

She pounded her pillow with her fist and curled up in the cold spot where Violet should be. It was the loneliest place in the world.

T
HE NUNS ROUSED THE RE
MA
INING CHILDREN E
A
RLY THE NEXT morning. The temperature had dropped in the night and everyone woke cold and stiff. Rory helped the others dress the children in their Sunday best, again. Then off by wagon to the service at the mud church.

“Rory!” Violet came running up to her, dragging Ramon behind her. “I missed you so much!”

“Don't be silly,” Rory said, chucking Violet's chin. “You knew you'd see me today.” She flashed a tentative smile at Ramon. “Where's Elena?”

“She's in the back, preparing the food for after the service,” Ramon said. “She'll be here in a minute. Can you believe she trusted me with the children?”

“Ramon,” Rory began, taking her courage in both hands, “do you think that maybe …”

Father Mandin emerged from the vestry and stepped up to the pulpit. Everyone not already seated scurried for a pew.

“Ramon,” Rory tried again.

“We'll talk afterwards,” Ramon said.

Rory felt that everything and everyone in this town was conspiring to keep her from asking the only question that mattered. Ramon took a seat with Violet and William while Rory went to sit with the Sisters. She saw Elena hurrying to her seat just as Mass started.

The Mass was long, and without any stained glass or gilded statues there wasn't much to look at. Father Mandin spoke in Latin—that at least was familiar. Rory distracted herself by watching the worshippers. It was obvious to Rory that the Mexican women were only interested in the children. But the husbands exchanged serious glances over their wives' heads. On the surface, everything seemed fine, but to Rory the air felt charged the way it did before a summer storm. Anything might happen. Only Father Mandin seemed unaware of the electricity in the room.

After the service, Elena and the other women served fruit drinks and small cakes. The Foundling children ate greedily—no one more so than Violet. Rory tried to pull her away from her fourth cake.

“Let her eat,” Ramon said, slipping Vi the cake. “This is a day to celebrate.” He passed a cake to William.

“She'll get sick,” Rory protested.

“Ramon!” Elena scolded. “And I was afraid you would be too strict with them.”

Sister Anna and Father Mandin approached the table. Mrs. Chacon, as always, was translating.

“I'll have the families stay after church,” Father Mandin said. “We'll distribute the children immediately.”

Sister Anna bristled. “I told you I want to wait and see how the first group settles into their new homes.”

Mr. Swayne, who had reappeared much cleaner and closeshaved after a night in a hotel, offered his opinion. “Sister Anna is right, Father. We should go slowly. This morning I had some unwelcome visitors.”

“Who?” Father Mandin asked.

“A man named Mills and a Sheriff Simpson. They got me out of my bath to tell me how to do my job.”

“Mills represents the copper company,” Ramon explained quietly to Rory. “The most powerful man in town.”

“What did they want?” Sister Anna asked.

“They want us to take back the children,” Swayne said.

Elena gathered William and Violet into her arms. Rory flipped her braid over her shoulder and cast a wary eye toward the door as if an attack might come any minute.

“For what reason?” asked Sister Anna indignantly.

“They had crazy stories about the new parents being drunks and prostitutes.” Mr. Swayne tipped his hat to Mrs. Chacon and Elena. “Begging your pardon, ladies.”

“That is a lie!” spat Mrs. Chacon.

Elena was calmer. “The Anglos do not know us or our ways.”

“They have no right to say such things,” Ramon said with an ugly edge to his tone.

Sister Anna held up her hand to call for quiet. “Mr. Swayne, what did you say to these men?”

“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.

A
fter 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.