Sonoma Rose: An Elm Creek Quilts Novel Read Online Free Page B

Ana.
    “That’s my good girl. If you get tired, stop and rest.”
    “Where are we going?” Lupita demanded tearfully.
    Rosa paused in the doorway and forced calm into her voice. “To the mesa, to
Abuela’s
favorite place. You like it there, don’t you?” Without waiting for a reply, Rosa fled to her own room. Her heart in her throat, her ears straining for the sound of the roadster racing back to the adobe, she dug an old satchel from the back of her wardrobe and began filling it with her warmest, sturdiest clothes. When it was nearly full, she opened the top drawer of her bureau and retrieved the narrow wooden case that contained her few valuables—her mother’s gold wedding ring, a pair of small diamond earrings John had given her for their first anniversary, and ten Indian Head Half Eagle gold coins her father had given her when she graduated from high school. “How are you doing, girls?” she called as she lay the case carefully on top of her clothing, closed the satchel, and fastened the clasps.
    “Fine,” Ana shouted from the children’s room. “We’re almost ready.”
    “Lupita wants to bring her doll,” called Marta, “but I heard Mrs. Nelson say to take only what we need.”
    “I
need
Linda,” Lupita argued.
    Rosa lugged the satchel down the hall and dropped it in the front room. “You may each bring one toy,” she called back. They would need something to occupy themselves while they waited for John’s fury to abate. How long would it be, she wondered, before it would be safe for them to come home? Days? Weeks?
    “What about a book?” asked Ana.
    “One toy or one book.” Rosa hurried into the kitchen and hastily packed food into a basket—tortillas, oranges, cheese, dried apricots—enough for a day, perhaps two. She lugged thebasket into the front room and left it next to her satchel, and as she straightened, her gaze fell upon Elizabeth’s tan cloche beneath the armchair. It must have fallen off when John knocked her to the ground.
    “Hurry, children,” she called as she tucked Elizabeth’s cloche into her satchel for safekeeping. Her right eye was steadily swelling shut and blood trickled from her split lip. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and ran down the hall to the children’s room. Marta had Miguel out of his crib and warmly dressed, and four neat piles of clothes sat on the floor. Lupita clutched her doll, gnawing on the inside of her lip as she fought back tears. Ana sat on her bed, her favorite book of fairy tales on her lap. Marta carried Miguel, and Miguel held his wooden train. By Marta’s feet sat her backgammon set, the one covered in brown corduroy fabric that folded shut like a tiny suitcase.
    Rosa murmured praise to her children, studying the piles and fighting to catch her breath, to calm the pounding of her heart. How would they carry it all? “If only we had another suitcase,” she said, thinking aloud.
    Lupita’s lower lip trembled. “I know where there’s suitcases.”
    Distracted, Rosa swept her long black hair out of her eyes, her fingers touching a gash in her scalp and the damp, matted hair around it. “
Mija
, we don’t have any others.”
    “Papa does.”
    “No, he doesn’t, honey.” She needed bags—but she had feed sacks. She had washed and dried several empty cotton feed sacks and had put them in her sewing basket to make into undergarments for the girls. They would do.
    “Yes, he does,” Lupita insisted. “He put them in the barn. I saw him.”
    Her words sank in, and for a moment Rosa hesitated, studying her youngest daughter. “Marta and Ana, would you carry the clothing piles to the front room, please?” When they nodded, she turned back to Lupita. “Show me.”
    Lupita seized her hand and led her from the adobe and across the yard to the barn. A few drops of rain pelted the dry earth around them as they ran. Inside the barn, Lupita dashed to the ladder and scrambled up to the hayloft. Rosa climbed gingerly after