They couldn’t borrow any books, but Ana was happy to browse the shelves, read aloud the titles on the books’ spines, and open those that sounded most promising. Before long she chose a book, found a seat near a sunny window, and began to read, quickly and thoroughly captivated, while Miguel dropped off to sleep in Rosa’s arms. An hour passed swiftly to Ana, lost in her book, and Rosa, content to watch her daughter’s small and precious form bent over it. She hated to pull Ana away, but in the quiet of the library she had mulled over the hospital visit and had pondered her next steps. Now she realized with unmistakable certainty what she must do next. “Ana,” she said softly, rising from her chair and shifting Miguel to her shoulder, “it’s time to go.”
Ana sighed wistfully as if she had known that the brief, delightful respite had been too bright and perfect to last. She returned the book to the shelf and slipped her hand into Rosa’s, and as they left the library, she eagerly narrated the chapters she had read, describing the characters and settings so vividly that Rosa almost felt as if she had read the book herself.
At Plaza Park, they found Marta and Lupita laughing and squealing with delight as Lars chased them in a wild game of tag, darting just out of reach of his fingertips, shrieking when he bellowed like a bear and jumped out at them from behind a tree or a bench. Rosa marveled with astonishment bordering on alarm that Lars would so recklessly draw attention to themselves—and even more so, that he would throw himself so entirely into their play—but as she watched, her worries soon gave way to amusement. The girls’ shouts woke Miguel, who rubbed his eyes sleepily and stared in utter bewilderment at Lars, who just then tripped and sprawled out upon the grass. The girls took the opportunity to tackle him, and as he watched, Miguel smiled bigger and bigger until he laughed aloud.
Lars looked up at the sweet, pure, happy sound, and his eyes met Rosa’s, and in that instant she glimpsed him as he had been more than twenty years ago when she had fallen in love with him—so handsome, so confident, carefree and daring, so terrifying and exhilarating all at once that she could not have helped being drawn to him. She had loved him so completely, and yet it had all gone so terribly wrong.
His smile faltered, and she knew he read the memory of heartache in her eyes. Suddenly she felt exposed and vulnerable, as if everyone in the park were watching her and knew who she was. “Let’s go,” she urged Lars, picking up Miguel and motioning to the girls to head for the car. She wanted desperately to be behind the locked door of their hotel room, safe and unobserved.
The girls made a few token protests, reluctant to spend such a beautiful day closed up in a small hotel room, but beneath that, Rosa sensed an undercurrent of fatigue and a longing for quiet and calm. Back at the Radcliffe Hotel, they slipped inside through the alley door, and to Rosa’s relief, Lars remained with them instead of going across the hall to his own room. His presence offered her a feeling of safety and security that even the locked door did not provide. Marta brought out her backgammon set, sat cross-legged on one of the beds, and invited Ana to play, while Miguel found his wooden train and began pushing it around the floor. Lupita looked at the pile of baskets and bags along the wall, and, watching her daughter’s face and awaiting the inevitable, Rosa knew the exact moment Lupita remembered losing her doll to the floodwaters. Her eyes filled with tears, but without a word of complaint, she sat down on the floor between the two beds and tugged disconsolately at the buckle of her shoe.
Lars rose, put on his hat, and spoke quietly in Rosa’s ear. “I’ll go out and find her a new doll. There must be a shop open somewhere, even on a Sunday.”
“Thank you. But wait,” said Rosa, grasping his sleeve as he turned to go. “Just a moment.” She opened one of the valises, counted out a few bills, and turned to find Lars staring at the valise in disbelief.
“How much do you have there?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to count it.”
“It must be thousands.”
Rosa hoped so. She had no idea how long she would have to rely upon it as her only source of income. “Here,” she said, placing the bills in his hand. “This should be enough.”
Lars tucked the bills into his wallet. “More than enough. Is there anything else you want while I’m out?”
“Ice cream,” Marta spoke up, moving a piece on the backgammon board.
“Yes, please,” chimed in Lupita. “Ice cream, ice cream. We were good at the hospital, and you promised.”
“Ana and Miguel can’t have ice cream,” said Rosa. “The doctor said so. It’s not fair to get a treat that only some of us can enjoy.”
“I don’t really want any,” said Marta quickly.
“I do,” said Lupita. “Please?”
“It’s okay, Mamá,” said Ana quietly. “I’m not hungry anyway.”
“I’m happy with oranges.” Marta frowned at Lupita, but Lupita was looking up at Rosa beseechingly, oblivious to her elder sister’s disapproval.
Rosa sighed, torn. “All right. If Mr. Jorgensen doesn’t mind stopping for it, you can have a cone.” To Lars she added, “Do you mind?”
“Of course not. Want anything for yourself?”
“Yes. A train schedule. We passed the station on our way into town last night, but I’m not sure how far away it is.”
“It’s only a few blocks down Fifth Street.” His brow furrowed, and she knew he wanted to ask why she needed a train schedule, but he refrained. “I’ll be back soon. Lock the door behind me—”
“And don’t open it to anyone.” She offered him a quick smile. “I know.”
He smiled back, but with a faint grimace of concern. He suspected she was planning something, something he would not like. He was right.
As soon as he left, Rosa took inventory of the children’s belongings, grateful that sensible Marta had packed so well. The children had plenty of clothes to suit them until Rosa could buy more, and she had even remembered socks and toothbrushes. Thus assured, Rosa set herself to counting the money she had taken from the hayloft. Intrigued, Lupita came over to help her while the other children looked on. If the bills had not been bundled into stacks the task might have taken Rosa all afternoon, but as it was, she finished counting and had repacked the cash in the valises by the time Lars returned an hour later.
Lupita brightened at the sight of the new doll and the ice cream cone, and she flung her arms around Lars’s legs, speechless with gratitude. Gifts in hand, she climbed upon the other bed and happily cuddled her doll and licked her vanilla ice cream. Miguel tried in vain to climb up beside her, and Marta and Ana studiously ignored her, their gazes fixed on the backgammon board.
Lars eyed the neatly rearranged baggage, took a folded piece of paper from his inside coat pocket, and handed it to Rosa. “Mind telling me why you need a train schedule?”
Steeling herself, Rosa nodded. “Let’s step outside.” She asked Marta to keep an eye on everyone for a moment and led Lars into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar. She took a deep breath as Lars bent closer expectantly, his arms folded over his chest. “I can’t wait until next week to start the children’s treatment,” she told him. “Ana and Miguel need help now. And what if after consulting with the other doctor, Dr. Russell realizes that he can’t offer the same procedure for some reason? We’ll have wasted seven days, and the children will be no closer to a cure.”
Lars ran a hand over the golden stubble on his jaw. “What do you intend to do about it?”
“How can I sit here and wait when I know there’s a doctor who’s successfully treated this illness in other children? I’ll wire Dr. Reynolds’s office at the hospital to let him know we’re on our way, and I’ll take Ana and Miguel to see him.” She indicated the train schedule. “There’s a nine-twenty-six train tonight that would have us in San Francisco by half past nine tomorrow morning. I can afford a private car, and room and board in San Francisco for however long the regimen lasts.” Or so she hoped. She had no idea how long the children would need to
be treated.
Lars inhaled deeply, thinking. “All right then. We’ll take the train. You and the children can wait here while I go out and buy whatever we’ll need for the trip. First I’ll wire Dr. Reynolds at the hospital so he’ll be expecting us—”
“Lars, I didn’t think—” Rosa pressed her hand to her side as a sharp pain stabbed her. “You don’t have to come with us. You shouldn’t come. I can’t ask you to leave your home, your family, the ranch—”
“You don’t need to ask. I’m offering.”
“But Lars,” she said, at a loss, “I don’t know when I’ll be coming back. It could be months, years, if ever.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “All the more reason for me to come with you now.”
“Lars—”
“No, Rosa.” He held her by the shoulders. “I’ve kept my distance, and I’ve let John be a father to my daughters even though he did a spit poor job of it, because that’s what you asked me to do. Now you’re telling me that I might never see them, or you, again, and you think I’m going to just put the five of you on a train and wave good-bye from the station?”
“I suppose I didn’t—” She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t know what to say.
“I’m coming along,” he said emphatically. “You’ll need my help, and there’s nothing to keep me in the Arboles Valley if you and the children leave.” He made a short, dry laugh. “Don’t forget, I reported John to the Prohibition bureau. Eventually some corrupt officer on the bootleggers’ payroll will tell them who tipped off the feds, and they’ll come looking for me.”
Rosa pressed a hand to her mouth, stunned. She had not considered the danger he had placed himself into for her sake, to free her from John. He could not go home again, not now, not anytime soon.
“I have to disappear anyway.” Lars managed a rueful smile. “I’d prefer to go with you and the children, so I could be useful, at least.”
“Of course,” said Rosa, in a voice barely above a whisper. She was suddenly profoundly glad that he would be coming with them. “Of course.”
Chapter Three
Rosa rejoined the children while Lars went out to wire Dr. Reynolds and to buy the supplies they would need for their journey. He returned an hour later with three secondhand suitcases, clothes and a razor for himself, a sleeve of paper cups, and a paper sack full of corn tortillas, stuffed peppers, white rice, and black beans, still hot. Rosa spread a blanket on the floor and filled cups with water from the bathroom tap. As she passed around the food, she announced that the meal was an indoor picnic to celebrate the exciting journey they would embark upon that night. The children brightened and chattered happily as they ate, querying Rosa and Lars about the towns they might pass through and what they might see along the way. Rosa answered their questions as best she could, keeping a watchful eye on Ana and Miguel and making sure only the corn tortillas and white rice passed their lips.
After supper, while Lars went to his own room to pack, Rosa transferred her and the children’s clothing to the suitcases and refilled a single basket with the remaining food. As she worked, she said a silent prayer of thanksgiving when Ana and Miguel both kept their suppers down. Miguel had only a mild bout of diarrhea, which, Rosa told herself, could very well be a lingering symptom from the previous day rather than the onset of a new attack.
Just as she finished packing, Lars knocked on the door and beckoned Rosa into the hallway. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the kids, but we made the front page.” He took a newspaper from his coat pocket, unfolded it, and gestured to a headline just below the Oxnard Press-Courier masthead.
“Oh, no,” Rosa murmured as she began to read.
ARBOLES VALLEY RANCH HAND SHOT
Local Postmaster Terrorizes Neighbors
Wife and Four Children Missing
ARBOLES VALLEY, CAL., Sept. 14—Local rye farmer and Arboles Valley postmaster John Barclay is being held in the Ventura County Prison on charges of attempted murder after shooting and critically wounding a ranch hand who tried to disarm him during an altercation at the Jorgensen Ranch yesterday afternoon.
According to police investigators, Barclay brandished a firearm in front of the Jorgensen residence and demanded that the family send out Lars Jorgensen, elder brother of ranch owner Oscar Jorgensen. Lars Jorgensen, who was away from the ranch at the time, could not respond to the gunman’s demands. Police would neither confirm nor deny rumors that Barclay accused Lars Jorgensen of having carnal knowledge of his wife.
The Jorgensen family phoned the police, but before officers reached the scene, Mrs. Henry Nelson, the wife of the shooting victim and a friend of Mrs. Barclay, arrived home. Barclay fired upon her car, but she put the automobile in reverse and drove out of range. Fearing for his wife’s safety, Henry Nelson left the house through the kitchen door and attempted to sneak up on Barclay, but Barclay spotted him approaching and fired, seriously wounding Nelson in the left shoulder near the heart.
Oscar Jorgensen and another worker subdued Barclay and restrained him until police arrived and took him into custody. While searching the Barclay farm for evidence, deputies discovered several large crates buried in straw in the hayloft. Inside was a stash of small arms, a valise full of cash, and more than fifty gallons of contraband liquor in bottles. According to a confidential source within the Prohibition Bureau, agents had received a tip that Barclay was involved with the illegal distribution of bootleg liquor, but they did not have enough evidence to obtain a warrant to search the property. The same source identified Lars Jorgensen as the informant, which offers another possible motive for Barclay’s assault on the Jorgensen ranch.
Jorgensen’s whereabouts are currently unknown. Also missing are Mrs. Barclay and the four young Barclay children. Investigators believe that Mrs. Barclay took the children to the Salto Canyon to hide from her husband, who beat her in a rage before departing to confront Jorgensen. Deputies found Barclay’s team and wagon on the mesa, but Mrs. Barclay and her children were nowhere to be found. Mrs. Barclay is wanted for questioning, but it is feared that she and her children perished in the flash flood that swept through the canyon within hours of the shooting.
County Sheriff Tom Jeffries stated that depending upon the outcome of the investigation, Barclay could face additional racketeering charges. If Nelson does not survive, the attempted murder charge will be elevated to second-degree murder.
As of press time, then, John was in police custody, which meant he wasn’t looking for them. The authorities suspected that Rosa and the children had drowned, so they were probably concentrating their search downriver from the canyon and might not investigate surrounding towns as thoroughly as they otherwise would have done.
Rosa was unsettled to read that she was wanted for questioning, but the report that she and the children were assumed dead gave her new reason to hope they could elude anyone searching for them, as long as they took every precaution to conceal their tracks. She folded the newspaper and returned it to Lars. “The police know you left home in your car, and they’ll be looking for it. You should sell it and use the money to purchase a ticket for the express to Los Angeles.”
His eyebrows rose. “I gather you want me to make sure I’m seen on the platform awaiting its departure too.”
Rosa nodded. “If you can board the train and slip out just before it leaves the station, that would be even better. In the meantime I’ll buy tickets to San Francisco for the six of us.”
“All right,” said Lars after thinking it over. “We’ll do it your way, except I can’t sell the car. It’s not mine to sell. I’ll take you and the children to the station, and then I’ll find some out-of-the-way place, park the car, and walk back to the station. Eventually someone will notice that it’s been abandoned and contact the police, and they’ll send word to Oscar to come fetch it.”
Rosa agreed. Lars’s plan would also save them precious time. “Before we go to the station, do you think it would be safe to return to St. John’s?”
>
“You want to get a second opinion from another doctor before we set out? I don’t think we have time.”
“No, that’s not it. I want to leave some money with the kind nurse who treated me yesterday, enough to pay for Henry’s treatment.”
“Oh, Rosa.” Lars sighed. “I admire your good intentions, but I hope I can talk you out of it.”
“I have nearly twelve thousand dollars in those valises, Lars.” The amount seemed to startle him, but she hurried on before he could interrupt. “That’s more than enough to pay our way for a long while. The Nelsons aren’t wealthy people, and I want to help them. I owe Elizabeth that much. When I was unhappy and desperate, everyone else abandoned me, even my own brother, but Elizabeth became my friend.”
“Not all of your friends abandoned you,” said Lars mildly. “Some of us were told to keep our distance. Rosa, think about it. You’re front-page news. How many people read the paper this morning and remembered seeing a distraught, injured woman with four children at the hospital yesterday? We can’t do anything else to draw attention to ourselves, and offering a substantial amount of cash to settle another patient’s bill is going to attract attention.”
Rosa felt herself wavering. “What if you go alone?” she persisted. “You could take the money to Sister Mary. I’m sure she’d be discreet.”
Lars shook his head. “Your heart’s in the right place, but paying someone else’s bills is going to stir up curiosity no matter who delivers the money. If anyone comes around later asking questions, we don’t want the hospital staff to be able to give them a good description of me, or you, or the children, for that matter.”
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