Rodzina by Karen Cushman

Author:Karen Cushman
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

8. Wyoming Territory

WE SAT IN THE WAITING ROOM at the depot, kicking our feet against our suitcases while Miss Doctor and Mr. Szprot sent and received telegrams. Once in a while I scratched my knees. Nobody said anything. The unclaimed orphans—Sammy, Joe, Lacey, and I—were being sent back to Chicago, to a workhouse, where we would work for our keep. Mr. Szprot was grumbling about having to take us all the long way back to Chicago. Sammy, Joe, and Lacey weren't any too happy about it either. Me, I didn't think a workhouse sounded very good, but no worse than being sold to some farmer. Or married to Mr. Clench. I was feeling awfully low. Was there no place for me, safe and a bit cheery, with a family who wanted a daughter and had plenty to eat?

I wondered how the rest of us were, those orphans who had been taken by families. Were they merely servants washing dirty laundry and digging in the fields? Or were some of them happy with their new families? Did they have soft beds and porch swings and kisses good night? I hoped Nellie did. And Chester, Spud, and Mickey Dooley. I missed Mickey Dooley. I could have used a joke right about then.

We sat kicking our suitcases until Miss Doctor and the Szprot came over leading a big fellow, wide as a door, in overalls and leather boots the color of dried blood. "This gentleman," said Mr. Szprot, "has agreed to take our Sammy and give him a good home. Come forward, fortunate boy."

Sammy jumped up and tried to run, but the fellow grabbed him and smacked him on the head. Sammy skidded across the floor, right into the woodstove. We all jumped to our feet, but no one said a word. There was an awful silence, like the whole world was waiting to see what would happen next.

Mr. Szprot chewed on his cigar a time or two, then hauled off and punched the man so hard in the nose I thought his overalls would fly off. The big man hit the ground. "These kids is in my charge," Szprot said. "I smack them when they need smacking." Then he grabbed the leather boots and dragged the man outside, without disturbing his cigar one whit. He dusted off his hands, pointed to us, and said "Sit!" You can bet we sat.

Szprot and Miss Doctor went back into the telegraph office, where they shouted at each other, waving their arms around furiously as if shooing invisible pigeons away. Finally we saw him tip his hat to her and leave the depot.

We waited a long while. I got tired of kicking my suitcase and got up to read the notices posted on the walls:

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