Finally she ventured to Ellie’s room and took her by the hand; her heart wrenching as her daughter scooped her favorite rag doll up into her arms and lifted her tiny chin to ask her mother, “Where are we going, Mama? Where are you taking Dolly and me?”
Forcing a smile even as her tension wrought heart pounded in her ears, MariAnne pulled her daughter behind her as she made quick steps toward the door.
“That’s a good question sweetheart,” she told her daughter, adding as she clasped her little hand in hers and made fast tracks for the door, “All I know is that, wherever we’re going, it’s bound to be a good sight better than where we are.”
Chapter two
MariAnne reconsidered these words a half hour later, as she and her daughter shared a hard wooden bench at the center of a hot, dry and overly crowded train station.
After walking with her daughter down the long dirt road that separated her husband’s sprawling Austin ranch from the bustling downtown area, she had rushed with Ellie through the wooden double doors that accessed the train station; hoping against hope that they would avoid a confrontation with the heathen who, or so he had told her, played poker at a saloon just a mile away.
“I need passage for two to San Antonio on the next available train,” she told the dour, salt and pepper haired gentleman who worked at the ticket booth.
The man nodded, quoting her the rate for two tickets in a rote, mechanical tone.
Leafing through the wad of bills that she withdrew from the depths of her purse, she counted them slowly, one by one; performing this count a total of three times before letting loose with a frustrated sigh.
“I’m afraid I’m just a little short,” she said finally, adding as she pinned the now frowning ticket agent with imploring eyes, “Look Sir, my daughter and I simply must leave town on the next train available. And while I can’t reveal the specific reason as to why, I assure you that we are not about to embark on a pleasure trip. It is very important that we….”
“Next!”
Silencing her with a single loud word, the ticket agent waved her out of the way as he seared her with a cold eyed glare.
MariAnne shook her head.
“Please Sir, I have my 2-year-old daughter with me,” she plead, struggling to steady her voice as a loud, rough sob arose in her throat. “We need to leave here this evening, and I’m just a few dollars short. Please show us mercy…”
“Next!” the clerk repeated, this time reaching forth from the ticket booth to emphasize his words with a light shove that knocked MariAnne from the line.
Incensed at this show of blatant disrespect, the scowling woman struck a condemning finger stern in the clerk’s direction.
“How dare you, Sir! You are not a gentleman,” she accused the stone faced man, adding as she used her free arm to clutch her daughter tight to her side, “I will speak to your employer at this station. Now!”
Rolling his eyes in the face of her fury, the ticket agent made a vague gesture in the direction of the bench that formed a modest centerpiece for the stifling station.
“If you wish to continue to make a public spectacle of yourself, Madame, then please do so away from my ticket booth,” he demanded, adding as he turned away, “I have to see to my paying customers.”
It was at that point that an exhausted MariAnne collapsed with her daughter on the surface of the wooden bench that formed the center of the station; clutching a now crying Ellie close to her as they huddled together in a cocoon of pain.
“Oh baby girl,” MariAnne muttered, hugging a sobbing Ellie as she continued, “I am so sorry that I had to bring you into a world where people are so cruel to each other. Just know, though, that there are some really good folks out there—like your grandma and grandpa. As soon as we can, dear love, I am going to take you to meet them, as well as your aunts. We are going to a place where people laugh and love each other, where beautiful yellow roses grow and the sky is broad and blue. And I know without a doubt that little Miss Ellie will be the queen of the house.”
Lulled and comforted by these soft spoken words, Ellie smiled as she leaned her head against her mother’s chest and shut her eyes tight; finally drifting off into a comfy sleep as her mother held her close.
“Wish I could do the same thing,” she mused, adding as she rubbed her daughter’s back, “Truth be told, though, I have no idea as to where this little one and I are going to sleep this night.” She paused here, adding with a thoughtful frown, “I might have enough money for one night at the inn down the street—but then most of our funds would be depleted, and then where would we go? I can’t even ponder the notion of going back home; it may just be the last thing that Ellie and I ever did. Yet we wouldn’t last long out on the streets, either—not with all the thieves, rustlers and drunks in these parts. I do have a few friends here; but once that husband of mine finds out that I’m gone, the first place he’ll look is at the homes of our friends--and God help them if they make any effort to shield or protect me. He’ll go through us to get to Ellie and me, and then God help us all.”