Rory's Promise (9 page)

R
ORY'S H
A
NDS CAUGHT HOLD OF
B
RIGID'S.
H
ER KNEES AND feet banged hard against the side of the train. The clicking of the wheels against the rails sped up and the passing air pushed against her body, blowing her skirt up over her head. Luckily there was no one to notice. Rory saw the train had cleared the platform. If she fell now she'd drop to sharp stones.

“Pull yourself up,” Brigid ordered.

“I'm trying,” Rory gasped. “Don't let go!”

Rory struggled to climb up, the toes of her worn boots sliding against the side of the train. Rory could see the top of the window was cutting into Brigid's arms, but the girl's grip didn't loosen. Rory kicked at the side but her feet couldn't find any purchase.

“Hurry!” Rory cried.

With a huge yank, Brigid hauled Rory up. Rory let go with her right hand and took hold of the window sash. Brigid
grabbed Rory's shoulders and Rory tumbled through the window to the wooden bench beneath.

“Thanks,” Rory managed to say, panting for air.

Brigid collapsed in the corner between the bench and the window. “I couldn't believe it when I saw you there on the platform,” she wheezed. “I wasn't sure until I saw that hair, then I knew.”

“My hair?” Rory patted at her head but her kerchief was gone.

“What are you doing here?” Brigid asked. “I thought your nuns would never let you get shipped out.”

Rory sighed. “They shipped my baby sister instead. They took her from me and are sending her to a family in Arizona.”

“Ah, Red, that's rough,” Brigid said. Her voice was husky and she seemed to have trouble catching her breath. Rory remembered Brigid had had a bad cough in jail too.

“I'm stowing away so we don't get separated,” Rory said.

Brigid grinned appreciatively. “Red, I didn't know you had it in you.”

With a shrug, Rory said, “I'm just doing what I have to. What about you?”

“I told you I was doomed to head west,” said Brigid. “The Society put me on the first train.”

“You were right,” Rory agreed. “Where are you heading?”

“St. Louis, I think. So where are your precious nuns and sister?” Brigid asked.

“They have a private car at the end of the train.”

“A private car? Ooh-la-la.” Brigid whistled. “It has to be a lot nicer than this.”

Rory examined her surroundings. There were wooden benches, the seats covered with a thin fabric. Every bench had three or four kids her age or older crammed into it like sardines in a tin. At the end of the car, there was a partition with a curtained door. That must be where the toilet was. There was nothing else in the car.

“I'd just about given up when you called to me,” Rory confessed. “I'd still be on that platform without your quick thinking.” It was a miracle, she thought but didn't say. “I owe you.”

“They called me Fast Fingers Brigid on the street,” she said ruefully. “I'm glad I could be useful for something other than thieving.”

“Of course you are!” Rory exclaimed. “Sister Anna always says we're on this earth for a purpose. We might not know what it is, but God has a plan for everyone.”

“That's nice to hear,” Brigid said. “Usually people just tell me I'm worthless. When I got this cough my uncle threw me out. He didn't want to get sick too.”

Rory gazed at her for a long time. Brigid's tough exterior showed some signs of cracking. She reached over and touched Brigid's hand. “At the Foundling, the nuns say no one is worthless.” Rory spoke from her heart. “And they take care of anyone who asks for help.”

“They sound nice,” Brigid said.

“Yeah, they were. But I won't be going back,” Rory said.
She felt a spasm in her chest. This wasn't a game she was playing. If she were separated from Violet, if she lost track of the nuns, if she got stuck on this train … so many ifs. And no backup plan at all.

“I hope it works out for you,” Brigid said.

The girls were silent. At the front of the carriage, the curtain moved aside. A tall boy about Rory's age swaggered out and headed for Rory and Brigid. He had black hair and his face was disfigured by pockmarks. His large hands had cuts across the knuckles. She recognized the type from her days in Hell's Kitchen. He might be a kid like them, but he was in charge and he'd beat up anyone who disagreed. He stared at Rory, taking in every detail, from her sweaty face to her torn dress.

“Brigid, who's this?” he asked.

“This is Red,” Brigid answered, not meeting his eyes.

“She's in my seat.”

Rory stood up and stumbled at the unfamiliar movement of the train. “I'll change seats.” Brigid had helped her out; Rory didn't want to get her into any trouble.

“Jack, there's room. She's one of us,” Brigid said, pulling Rory back to the seat.

“Then why didn't she come with Miss Worthington?” he accused. “She ain't on the list.”

“Half the names on the list are wrong,” Brigid shot back with more courage than Rory would have had. But then Rory's life at the Foundling had been so occupied with small children, she didn't have much experience with older kids.

“Worthington said there's just enough food to get us to St. Louis. We can't be feeding strays. How'd she even get in here anyway?”

“I came through the window,” Rory said.

He glanced at her, then back to Brigid. “How do you know her?”

“We met in jail.”

His ugly face lightened with a smile. “I met some of my best friends when I was enjoying the hospitality of the New York cops.”

Rory moved to make room for him. “I won't be here long,” she said. “And I promise not to eat anything.”

“Why are you here? No one wants to go out west.”

“I do.” She explained the situation with Violet. “The Sisters won't take older kids, so they left me behind.”

“Nuns stole your sister? That's bad news.”

Rory felt she had to explain why the nuns were good people. “The Sisters aren't like your Children's Aid Society. They're kind and they want to do the right thing by Violet. They've got a nice family all lined up for her. For every one of the orphans.”

“And you believe that?” Jack sneered. “All grown-ups lie.”

“Not Sister Anna.” Rory's certainty stopped Jack in his tracks.

Picking at one of the scabs on his knuckle, he asked, “So what are you going to do? Take her off the train?”

Rory shook her head. “Nah, a good family is worth a
look. If I like what I see, I'm going to try and convince them to take me too.”

“What if they won't?” Brigid asked.

“Then I'll take her away. We'll make our own life in the Wild West.” Rory wished this part of her scheme was better planned. She could see the doubts in her companions' faces. “It don't matter,” Jack said. “The nuns'll send you back as soon as they find you.”

“Not if I time it just right,” Rory argued. “There are fifty-seven kids in that train car with only seven grown-ups.”

“So?” Jack asked. “We've got fifty with only three minders.”

With a grin Rory said, “The oldest is six. Most are three and four years old.”

Brigid burst out laughing. “By the time you show your mug, they'll be desperate.”

“I don't get it,” Jack said with a scowl. “What's so funny?”

“You've never taken care of little kids, have you?” Brigid asked, still chuckling. “They're a lot of work. And as soon as you get one to sleep, another one wakes up.”

“Exactly!” Rory said. “Plus at the Foundling I took care of lots of kids anyway, not just my sister. They'll be so happy to see me, they'll forget about sending me home.”

With the wiliness learned on the street, Jack put his finger on the weakness in her plan. “But the nuns will be coming back to New York. They'll just bring you with them.”

Rory caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I'll climb
that mountain when I get there. But for now, I need to hide for a day or so.”

“You can stay with us,” Brigid offered.

The train began to go slower. After a moment, Rory heard the brakes stopping the train.

“What's happening?” she cried, pressing her face against the window, trying to see why the train wasn't moving. “Do you think they know I'm here?”

Jack's voice from behind her made fun of her fears. “You think they'd stop the train just for you? With all the rich people who'll cut up something fierce if their trip is delayed? We're just letting some other train go by.”

“Are you sure?” Rory asked.

“Course I'm sure,” he said. “Girls don't know anything about trains.”

Brigid shoved him. “Like you know anything about trains. You're just guessing.”

“Stands to reason,” he muttered. He got up and crossed the aisle to join the other boys peering out the window.

Rory leaned back against the bench and let out a long breath. Brigid was staring behind Rory as though she'd seen a ghost or, worse, a conductor. Rory sensed movement from the other kids behind them. “Brigid, what's wrong?”

“Quick, get down, Red!” Brigid whispered. “It's Miss Worthington.”

As Rory ducked down onto the floor underneath the bench, she caught a glimpse of a tall woman wearing a shabby
traveling dress. She was moving along the corridor counting off the kids. She came closer, close enough that Rory could see her boots were as worn as Rory's. She added Brigid to the tally and moved on.

The lady stopped at the front of the carriage and raised her voice so she could be heard. “There are sandwiches here. One for each child. And there's a bucket of drinking water and a cup. Take turns and don't spill anything. There's nothing else until dinner.” With that she moved to the next car.

Rory stayed hidden, watching the feet of the kids scramble to line up for their sandwiches. The kids had clothes that looked new. Some of them even had new shoes. She wished she did.

After a time, Brigid came back. “Come out, Red, it's safe.”

Rory rolled out from under the bench and tried to dust off the dirt on the creases of her skirt.

“Don't worry about it,” Brigid said. “You're still cleaner than most of us. They gave us new clothes but the only baths we've had were ice cold.” She had a thick sandwich between her hands. She pulled it into two pieces and handed one of them to Rory.

Rory realized she was starving. Breakfast at the Foundling was a long time ago. “Thanks!” She took a large bite. “Ugh!” she said, grimacing. “It's mustard.” She chewed gingerly and forced herself to swallow it. She looked between the slices. Sure enough, it was mustard and mustard only. No cheese. No meat. She had seen Sister Anna supervising the food for
the journey. Not only were the Foundling kids going to get fresh bread, meat, and cheese; there was fruit for dessert.

Brigid was bolting it down as though she had not eaten in days.

“Here,” said Rory, handing the mustard sandwich back to Brigid. If she thought this was good, she must be far hungrier than Rory.

Brigid shrugged. “Are you sure?”

“I am.”

Brigid devoured Rory's half sandwich in two bites.

Rory had thought to wait a day or two before finding Sister Anna and Violet. Her stomach rumbled. If she didn't want to starve, she might have to make her move sooner than she had planned.

A
S THE TR
A
IN M
A
DE ITS W
A
Y
A
CROSS
A
ND DOWN
N
EW
J
ERSEY, Rory stared out the window watching the backside of buildings. The train whistled every time they came to a road. She had never traveled so quickly, changing from open countryside to small town and back again. No sooner had she noticed they were passing through a town than they were speeding out of it. How could she get her bearings when the train never stopped moving? After hours of traveling, Rory faced the facts. The world was much bigger than she had thought. Who would care about a twelve-year-old girl and her baby sister? Rory sighed. She knew who. The farther west the train went just hastened the moment when Rory would have to face Sister Anna.

Brigid came back from the curtained toilet. “Red, you have to try it.”

Rory raised her eyebrows. “Why?”

“When you pee it goes straight onto the tracks—you can see the ground from the toilet.”

“Later, maybe.” Rory smiled. “Are you sure that no one will ask any questions about me?”

“Miss Worthington counted us once already—and I don't think she's the type to do any more work than she has to.”

Rory gave a sharp nod. “Then that's all right.”

“When are you going to tell the nuns you're here?” Brigid asked. “Then you won't need to worry anymore.”

“The first stop is Philadelphia, right?” Rory asked. “I'll wait until after then. The last thing I want is for the nuns to find some Good Samaritan who'll escort me back to New York.”

“I saw the Foundling car being loaded with lots of trunks,” Brigid said. “What's in all those trunks anyway?”

Rory had seen Brigid's small bundle of a few mended clean clothes. “Just some clothes,” she said, making it seem like each child didn't have a new outfit. “And food for the trip. Medicines. And Sister Anna's paperwork.”

“Oh.” Brigid wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “And what about you? You don't have any clothes but the ones on your back—and you made a right mess of those.”

Rory glanced down at the rip in her skirt and the streaks of tar and dirt. “I hid some clothes with Violet's things.”

Brigid's green eyes were admiring. “You thought of everything.”

“Not everything, or else I wouldn't have needed your help.” Rory grabbed Brigid's hand. “When I go back I can't ever tell Sister Anna how I got on the train. She'd kill me.”

“You ran away. How can you be so sure of your welcome?” Brigid asked, her head tilted toward Rory.

A dozen images of Sister Anna flashed through Rory's mind. Some stern and angry and others stern but kind. “She'll be mad. But she won't be surprised. She knows I'd never leave Violet.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It's my secret weapon, really. I think she likes how I stick to Violet, no matter what.” She nodded sharply, convincing herself. “She'll let me stay.”

Brigid looked down at her feet, not meeting Rory's eyes. “I wouldn't mind having a sister like you.”

“Really?” Rory felt a warmth start in her chest and radiate through her whole body. “Thanks, Brigid. You'd be a good sister. I love Violet, but she'll never be as quick-witted as you. She's never had to survive by herself like you and me.” Rory chewed on a torn fingernail. “I wish you could meet her though. We could all be friends.”

“We won't get the chance, will we?” Brigid said with a curled lip. “In a few days, some stranger'll pick me off the auction block to do who knows what.”

“They don't actually sell you, do they?” Rory felt faint. Brigid couldn't be sold like a piece of meat. Slavery was a thing of the past.

“Naw,” Brigid said. “But it feels like it. Miss Worthington said we have to clean up. As if we could with a bucket of cold water and no soap. And mind our manners something sharp. She said the sooner we're picked, the sooner she can go home.”

Rory squeezed Brigid's hand without saying a word. How awful, she thought. No matter how angry she was with Sister Anna, no matter what terrible accusations Rory had hurled at her, she knew that Sister Anna would do her best for the children. And Rory had no doubt that Sister Anna would act out of love. Not just because it was her job.