Page 79 of Vaquero
Chapter Thirty-One
Meg sought refuge in the tight, cramped quarters where Marta and Craig had arranged a giant slumber party the night before. Not that every night since they’d boarded the carrier hadn’t been a similar party. Meg had yet to hear from Captain Dooley as to Julio and Hotrod’s current location, their final destination, or if they were already on their way back. Her nerves were strung tight. She’d always hated waiting. It wasn’t in her nature. She was a woman of action, not sitting around worrying. Hearth fires, bah!
Just after Hotrod and Julio left, Corpsman Giacomo had stopped by with a paper plate full of Rice Krispie treats he’d made for the kids. That was sweet. Corpsman Shaw came with him, with a bag of simple toys for the kids. While all those things were more than generous, they also filled these tight quarters and created more chaos than Meg could deal with. She’d lived in tents the past year, in the wide-open remote Highlands of Minas Gerais, where a person could breathe. She had cabin fever now. Yet ditching responsibility wasn’t an option.
Dom was still in sickbay, but even without Pepe, Meg still had Maria, Joachim, Phillipe, Pedro, and the littlest ones, Trino, Mikel, and Frederick, all boys. Seven children were not much trouble. Not since Marta and Craig had taken on the majority of childcare. But Meg missed the Alcaldo brothers. Fernando and Joseph had always been so quiet. She wondered what they were doing. Maybe starting another orphanage? The Highlands of Minas Gerais could surely use one. Especially since Julio had freed all the enslaved villagers. Surely some adults had died in Oz’s mines. Had they left children behind? Who would take care of those parentless kids now?
Meg licked her lips. Life shouldn’t have to be so hard. But it was. Trevor once told her this life was only a test, and that death was like birth, just another doorway to further enlightenment. She didn’t know how he’d gotten so wise, but she hoped he was right.
Because if he was, then Dom had passed through one heck of a doorway. After his brush with death, he seemed to enjoy being the center of attention now. Some kind person had turned three plastic hangars and a handful of inflated rubber gloves into a mobile of funny-faced animals that hung over his railed bed. Someone else, had to have been a female sailor, gifted Dom with a plush homemade, Minky, dimple-dotted quilt. Fringed with soft suede, it consisted of golden squares full of cartoon monkeys, bears, and lions.
Dom loved it. It had become what American boys and girls calledhis blankie. He whined if it wasn’t nearby, and Meg loved the sound of that little boy’s whine! He was finally acting like a normal kid. She couldn’t wait until he pitched a genuine temper tantrum and shrieked his guts out. That’d be spectacular!
The little guy also had a collection of three Navy ballcaps and one round, white, cloth sailor cap, all presents from doting sailors. He still slept most of the day, but his cheeks were actually filling out a little and his color had improved. Not by much, but Meg could tell he felt better. His eyes were brighter, and if she had anything to say about it, he would live a long, happy life.
If only she knew where Julio was and what he was up to, everything would be perfect.
“Time for a walk about,” Craig declared all of a sudden in boisterous Portuguese. He slapped both hands to his chest. “Come on, kiddies. Let’s see what else there is to see on this big, old boat.”
A delighted squeal burst out of Maria. “It’s a ship, Mr. Brunner! Captain says boats are little and ships are” —she stretched hers arms as far apart as she could— “really big.”
Craig tapped his forehead with his fingers and rolled his eyes as if he’d forgotten. “By golly, I did it again, didn’t I?”
“You did!” several children squealed along with Maria. “You did! You did! You forget. You always call a ship a boat!”
Meg smiled at the gentle way Craig had spun them up while he slid into his jacket. He was one of a kind, always willing to shepherd this little flock while the women cooked, cleaned up, or cleared out the clutter.
“Good idea,” practical Marta said, now on her feet and hurrying to get everyone dressed for the windy weather currently lashing the deck. “Hurry now, children. Dress warm and don’t forget your jackets!” As if they would ever forget the Navy jackets and silver lapel pins Captain Dooley himself had personally gifted each child. “Be sure to keep your heads down once you are up top, and don’t forget to hold tightly onto each other. We wouldn’t want anyone to blow away, would we? Maria, you hold Trino’s hand. Joachim, take Michel. No? Okay then, Pedro, take Michel’s hand, and Joachim, you hang onto Phillipe and Freddie.”
“I not Fweddie,” sweet little Frederick whined. “Me is Fwedwick.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed even as one eyebrow arched with a titch of impatience. “I’ll be sure to remember next time, okay, Frederick?”
He beamed up at her, his eyes bright. It looked like Marta had an admirer. A two-foot-tall admirer, but a fan nonetheless.
“The wind’s not that bad, Mother,” Craig reminded her. “Just a brisk breeze and a little rain. These kids are strong. Don’t worry so much. We’ll be fine.”
“But the runway might be slippery, and they’re so small,” she blustered.
The kids squealed. “It’s not a runway. It’s a deck!”
Now Marta rolled her eyes. “Never mind. These children don’t need to catch colds. Mind them well, husband.”
He shot her a toothy grin. “Always, my dear wife. Now, for the love of God and all that is holy, get out of our way and let us go for our walk on the…” He paused, cupped a hand to his ear, and…
“Deck!” his seven miniature charges squealed, even little Frederick who had a good grip on Joachim.
Meg had slipped into her jacket by then and was diligently shepherding the children into the hall. At the next bulkhead, Captain Dooley intercepted them.
“May I speak with you in private, ma’am?” he asked her.
She looked over her shoulder to Craig.
“Ah, go on,” he said as he waved her away. “Me and the little ones’ll be fine. We’re going to have fun, aren’t we, darlings?”
“And I’m helping!” eight-year-old Maria piped up, her cheeks flushed with excitement and her eyes bright as she pulled toddler Trino along as fast as his short legs could go.
“That you are,” Craig replied. “Everyone! Hold hands now. Follow me, my little blue ducklings. We are off on an adventure!”
