but often they were hard to track because Usoa changed her mind or “found” a new direction and they would leave without warning. For a long time now they had not slept in the same place two nights in a row. Still, nothing about this worried Mowsel until he found out they had suddenly left Europe for New York.
Arrosa stopped her tale and looked at me. “And that is why I was contacted and sent to you, senor. Mowsel thinks you should be the one to be warned.”
“Me?”
“Yes. His words were, ‘Tell Zianno first. Go as swift as the train will take you!’”
I glanced in the eyes of Geaxi, Nova, and Opari. They gave nothing away. “Warn me of what?” I asked.
“Unai and Usoa search in vain for their child. It is fact that he died. They are helpless and pitiful and someone is using them and their unbearable grief. They were sent a letter from New York City, the New York Foundling Hospital, informing them that a young child, a boy, had been left at their doorstep and the baby could be Usoa’s ‘missing son.’ The letter also mentioned the child had one green eye and one brown. Mowsel said there are less than five people who know this fact. Unai and Usoa left within days of receiving the letter and have not been sighted since.”
“Is this unusual?” I asked. “Haven’t they been duped before? Anyone that delusional and fragile in spirit will be vulnerable to almost anything.”
“Yes, they have. But Mowsel sent me to talk with Reverend Bookbinder, the one who sent the letter. The child was left with a note pinned to his clothing, stating Unai’s full name and the only address in Spain where he can still be reached, a small town called Barakaldo, not far from Bilbao.”
“How would anyone know that?”
“There is more, senor. Mowsel said to tell you the Reverend caught a glimpse of the one who left the child. He said it was impossible to say whether the person was male or female, but the person was young, had green eyes, and wore red ruby earrings. Mowsel said this was necessary for you to know as soon as possible.”
My heart jumped and in my mind I could see his smile, his white teeth, hear his bitter laugh. I glanced at Nova and there was fear and concern in her eyes. Geaxi groaned and cursed. Opari placed her hand on top of mine. The Fleur-du-Mal, it had to be him.
Arrosa sensed our unease with the news. “Mowsel wants me to return to New York, either with you or without you, senor. He said you should follow your heart and choose carefully. But either way, I am to find this child and thereby find Unai and Usoa.”
“Of course,” I said, thinking not only of Unai and Usoa, but Carolina, Star, and the baby Caine most of all.
“Is there a danger for them, senor—Unai and Usoa?”
She waited for me to respond. Finally, I glanced up at her. I didn’t realize I had been staring down at the River des Peres. It looked polluted and puny, more like an open sewer than a creek.
“Yes,” I said in an even voice. “There is a danger.”
“Young Zezen,” Geaxi said suddenly in a firm voice. “There is no choice for you. You must stay here. I shall go with Arrosa. I know the danger well enough.”
Before I could even respond, Nova said, “I am going along. I need to go with Arrosa.”
I looked at Nova and she was staring hard at me, with no intention of letting me say no. Opari squeezed my hand and said, “Geaxi is right, my love. You cannot leave St. Louis now. You know this one better than anyone. You know his nature, his
I turned and Opari gasped slightly. She must have seen an old companion of mine returning behind my eyes, because I could feel it there, cold and clear. She must have seen the hate.
“Nobody knows him,” I said. “Nobody.”
Except for Jack’s birthday on the twenty-sixth, I found little joy during the rest of April. Arrosa, Geaxi, and Nova left for New York two days after our Sunday in Forest Park. Arrosa thanked Carolina for her hospitality and kindness and promised to return in the future. Nova told Owen Bramley she was going along just to see New York, and Geaxi gave no explanation at all for her leaving. I had already decided in Forest Park not to tell Carolina the real reason for their hasty departure. I wanted to help Unai and Usoa, but it could be a ploy the Fleur-du-Mal was using to lower our guard. I still felt the guilt inside for the Meq changing her world and her life forever. Geaxi advised me that the Meq should ignore guilt when it comes to relations with the Giza. I told her this was not just the Giza, this was Carolina and her family. Geaxi understood, though she disagreed, and let the subject drop.
After the three of them were gone, I retreated into a cocoon of constant worry. Opari was worried also, but not about the byzantine and deadly Fleur-du-Mal. She was concerned for me and reminded me that I would be no help to Carolina or Star or Jack or anyone else if I was only seeing my own thoughts and fears.
It wasn’t until the first of May that we finally heard something from New York. Arrosa sent a telegram saying the Reverend Bookbinder had mysteriously disappeared and no one else on the staff at New York Foundling Hospital seemed to have any knowledge of the child. She said she was “SEEKING OTHER SOURCES.” Then on the fourth, my birthday, I got another telegram with news I never expected. Unai and Usoa were on board the “ORPHAN TRAIN” and headed for the Midwest. Arrosa’s message ended simply with the words: “HAVE OBTAINED RELIABLE INFORMATION FROM FORMER NURSE—TWO-YEAR-OLD CHILD IS WITH THEM—WILL PASS THROUGH ST. LOUIS MAY 12.”
For the next week I went over a thousand scenarios in my mind, trying to imagine what to expect and what to do about it. Without being obvious, I tried to keep a close eye on Star and the baby Caine. I told her not to go anywhere without taking Opari or me along. I said it one too many times, however, because she finally said, “Okay, okay, Z, I heard you the first time.” Then she looked me squarely in the eye and asked, “Is there something wrong? Should I know something you’re not telling me?”
“No, no,” I lied. “Nothing is wrong, just stay close, that’s all.” She agreed, but I don’t think she ever believed me.
I also asked Owen Bramley if he had any knowledge of an “Orphan Train.” He had no idea what I was talking about, but Carolina did. She told me the Orphan Trains were exactly what their name implied and had been around since the 1850s. Foundlings, homeless children, and others abandoned by parents too poor to care for them were gathered from the streets and orphanages of New York and other eastern cities, then put aboard trains to be “placed out” to homes and families out west. If no one chose them by the end of the rail line, they were shipped back east to try again. The program had sounded good in theory, she said, but in practice was often another matter.
“Do you…know someone on the Orphan Train?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “I mean, I might. I just wanted to know what it was, how it works.”
Carolina gave me a strange look. Thankfully, she did not pursue it further.
On the morning of the eleventh, a day before the train was due to arrive, I was pacing the floor of our bedroom and mumbling under my breath, though I was unaware of it. Opari told me to relax, settle down. “Go to a baseball game,” she said. I argued that it wouldn’t change anything, but it was a beautiful day and I followed her advice. Carolina, Jack, and I took a taxi to Sportsman’s Park that afternoon to watch the Cardinals play the Cincinnati Reds. The crowd was sparse and there was little to cheer about. Hod Eller of the Reds pitched a no- hitter, striking out eight men and walking only three. The Reds won 6–0 and played errorless baseball.
To our surprise, Mitch was waiting for us outside the ballpark in one of the big gray and brown Packards. “Get in!” he shouted through the open window. “Hurry—I’m double-parked.”
We climbed inside and I told him about the no-hitter. “That ain’t really a shock,” he said. “Branch Rickey’s got a long way to go before that club is any good.” He asked who was pitching for the Cardinals and I answered, “Frank ‘Jakie’ May.”
“Man, that cat’s only got two pitches,” Mitch said, then went silent.
“Well,” I asked finally, “what are they?”
He turned in his seat and grinned. “Hope and pray,” he said. I smiled to myself and had to agree.
I had found only one notice mentioning the Orphan Train coming through St. Louis, a piece in the
