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Chapter Text

It was Maybelle’s suggestion to swing through Whistle Stop on an end-of-season trip south to visit her and Jo. In her letter, she’d said they would find Idgie to be “a hoot,” but she’d neglected to mention how tongue-tied the visiting preacher’s daughter, Ruth, could make any butch in her presence. 

 Immediately when Idgie met them at the train station, with overalls, wide-brimmed cap and a string of freshly caught fish, they felt the warmth of affinity. The affection only grew throughout the following days of rousing poker games at the river club, melt-in-your-mouth barbecue that Lupe allowed might even be better than Texan, nighttime boxcar rides and daytime honey theft. Jess could clearly see that Ruth – who always joined their adventures gamely without neglecting her church duties – was far tougher than she might appear in her ethereal white dresses. The question of her feelings for Idgie, however, was concealed by a combination of Southern manners and ladylike reserve. On Idgie’s side, though, there could be no doubt: she was far gone, and Jess could only hope first heartbreak wouldn’t hit her like a fastball. 

 Mrs. Threadgoode marveled over and over that she’d never expected to meet anyone quite like Idgie – let alone two – and gave them the spare room full of white linen and a floral counterpane. Eva graciously lent them a cabin on the wilder nights they felt they couldn’t ruffle the room’s propriety.

 All in all, they ended up staying a fair bit longer than planned, especially when the irrepressible Idgie raised the idea of a joint birthday party for Ruth and Lupe – a surprise for the former, with help from the latter. 

 Jess drew up their gift for Ruth – two personalized comp tickets for the next season, even though the Peaches hadn’t yet been officially called back. For Lupe, she walked downtown to find an elegant brass cigarette case and have it engraved with her initials, ‘Rockford Peaches’ and the year. She also spent some time stumbling around in the early evening in soft river mud to collect thirty fireflies in a jar, well-ventilated with mesh for later release. Lupe had been marveling over the fact that so many in one place would provide enough light to read by, and Jess wanted nothing more than to see their glow light up her face.

 When Idgie ushered a stunned Ruth into the decorated river club to an explosion of cheers, the joy of first love on both their faces nearly hurt to look at. With the help of whiskey and rum flowing freely, the guest of honor became far less concerned with propriety, bringing a gloriously unhinged energy to the field as a pickup baseball game launched.

 The occasion was the one and only time Lupe deigned to pitch to hit, and when Ruth’s makeshift bat met the ball with a solid crack, she whooped and hollered and seized Jess – the closest figure to hand – with celebratory affection, until Eva yelled from the doorway, “Don’t kiss everybody, run!” 

 Eventually the evening wound down to various states of bliss, undress, and pleasant exhaustion, till it was just the four of them sitting on the creek bank in their underwear with hands of poker they paid less and less attention to.

 Ruth seemed to be working her way up to making an important declaration.

 At last, she settled on “This is the best birthday I ever had,” voice brimming with emotion, before pressing a kiss to Idgie’s – cheek – and swimming off into the warm creek water. 

 “Should we tell her?” Lupe asked, as Idgie’s all-too-familiar stricken look tugged at both their heartstrings.

 “Everyone’s got to figure it out for themselves, Lu,” Jess replied around the toothpick in her teeth, and as she caressed Lupe’s soft curls before trailing fingertips down the back of her neck, she felt the pitcher shiver and melt with the intimacy they’d hard-won. It was time to let their new friends be, gather hats and vests and boots and their firefly lantern and make their way to the waiting cabin. 

 Idgie and Ruth would find their way. 

Chapter Text

 Well into the second season, Lupe causes Maybelle’s eyebrows to nearly hit the ceiling when she requests her services chaperoning a date that night. 

 Bev has outsourced most of her dating-accompaniment duties by this point, and their easygoing center fielder is always in demand. She’s rock solid at keeping secrets, her advice is always on point whether regarding fashion or the tangled web of a desperate crush, and she keeps meticulous track of just how far they can push curfew. 

 This, however, is a first. “Who – who’s it with?” Maybelle inquires, silver needles paused midair as she works on a light blue cardigan this time. 

 “You’ll find out,” the pitcher smirks. 

 Accordingly, they go to get ready. Esti has excitedly gone for a sleepover with the teenage Spanish-speaking girls she befriended at a game, a much-longed-for privilege Lupe argued for on her behalf, albeit with an ulterior motive. 

 Returning to the entryway, Lupe is gratified that Maybelle honored this rare occasion with one of her most elegant outfits: purple floral dress and solid matching beret, pearl drop earrings. Lupe is no slouch either in her forest green and gray plaid shirt with woolen newsboy cap. They’re each grabbing a jacket when Jess clatters downstairs, too, in pinstripes and a shirt the sky-blue color Lupe can and does get lost in. 

 “Where are you going, Jess?” asks Maybelle, bewildered, and the shortstop grins and replies laconically, “Third wheeling.”

 Maybelle shakes her head with a laugh. “Poor fella. He’s about to get ambushed.” 

 They make their way down the lively, early-evening Rockford streets in companionable quiet, continuing past the usual haunts – pizza place, movies, ice-cream parlor – to arrive at a back staircase leading to a nondescript gray building. 

 “Friends of Dorothy,” Jess greets the affable tax attorney as if they haven’t seen him most nights across two seasons, now.

 It doesn’t take Maybelle much longer than eight seconds to realize what kind of establishment she’s in – she’s far savvier than the average fan might expect, but careful too. Taking in The Office in all its glory, her expression is a mix of astonishment, admiration, joy – and when turned back on the two of them, a sentimentality that makes Lupe feel quite abashed. 

 Vi welcomes their guest graciously, offering her drink – a Manhattan – on the house. Perched safely on bar stools, Maybelle teases Lupe in a whisper, “So who’s the lucky girl? It is a girl, isn’t it?”

 “You’ll see,” echoes Jess this time. 

 Meanwhile they turn to other pursuits: a spirited game of darts where Maybelle respectably holds her own on a team with Jess against Lupe and Flo. She watches the queen’s performance raptly, and accepts a spin or two as the dance floor fills.

 By late in the night, they’re laughing and tipsy and lipstick-smudged and a little sticky when Lupe ushers them all into the back alley. Out of her coat pocket, she takes a velvety black jewelry box and opens it to display two plain gold bands. 

 It’s clear the rings are not a surprise to Jess. It’s clear, too, there is no other girl on this date. Maybelle presses her hand to her mouth, overcome.

 “We haven’t decided who gets to propose,” Lupe says matter-of-factly. 

 “Yeah, it’s going to be determined by arm wrestle,” Jess chimes in.

 Maybelle exhales slowly, shiny-eyed. “You two,” she says, as if she’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. Instead, she envelops them one at a time in a bone-crushing hug, the strength of it belying her tiny frame. 

 “Come on, we’ve still got time before last call!” Lupe exclaims, and their friend trails inside at their heels as a tabletop is cleared and fans gather around to raucously cheer the show of fierce competition, the clasping of hand in hand. 

 Jess wins, though Lupe maintains she let her. They’ll save the proposal itself for a quiet moment at home, the stakes unknown to anyone but the three of them. 

 Without even being asked, Maybelle assures secrecy. And she tells Lupe, in whom vulnerability is still only blossoming in new and delicate tendrils, that Esti will understand, too. 

Chapter Text

Chicago, 1923

 Lupe wasn’t supposed to go on the orphan train, except for the fact that one of the other girls got sick. So, Greta with her porcelain skin and beautiful auburn curls stayed in Chicago, and Lupe was pulled out of the breakfast line even though her complexion was instantly objectionable to Ms. Vivienne Hughes, the Children’s Aid Society chaperone who would accompany them west. 

 She never did get breakfast, but she didn’t complain. This, likely, was another reason she’d been picked. Adept at outwardly evading notice while inwardly taking note of everything, Lupe was used to blending in, and concealing her own wishes deep down. From increasingly rare visits, she knew some of her own relatives were still in Chicago, and being twelve, only four years were left before “leaving age” when she might be able to track them down. Underneath, though, she quelled that yearning with the thought there was no guarantee they’d want or have room for her. Maybe heading west, where she could have a grown-up place as a maid or seamstress (she hoped not a farm hand – the clomping of the dairy wagon horses when she had to carry in the milk cans was terrifying), really would be for the best. 

 Hurrying upstairs with the cardboard suitcase she’d been given, she gathered her few belongings. Before packing her sewing kit, she used the seam ripper to open the spot in her mattress where she’d concealed her golden medallion of Our Lady of Graces. Supposedly it had been left with her by her mother, and she’d been allowed to keep it – since it was a religious item – but not wear it – since it was “ostentatious.” In a small gesture of defiance, she put it on now, hiding it safely beneath her collar. She also packed her copy of Anne of Green Gables, which she’d disappointed the kindly visiting librarian by pretending to lose. But once she'd read it, having the story close by had been a need, and who knew when it might cross her path again?

 There were about thirty children on the crowded platform as the locomotive puffed. A conductor ushered the group to their own car at the very end of the passenger section, and Lupe slid into a window seat, hoping not to have to talk to any strangers. Swiftly, though, a little kid was plunked down beside her – a girl about two or three, with big brown eyes and tangled hair, who also spoke Spanish. Only Spanish. Vivienne didn’t express much hope at her prospects either, and told Lupe to keep her quiet. 

 The girl – Esti – alternated chattering to Lupe with chasing up and down the aisle, evading recapture. She refused to eat their lunch of stale sandwiches and apples, throwing a tantrum, and Lupe felt a little scared by how loudly and openly she expressed her fury. Heart pounding lest someone shout at them, she nibbled her sandwich into the shape of a puppy and danced it around, enchanting Esti with the distraction till she finally ate a little of her own food.

 She was gratified when Esti was chosen at one of their very first stops – Rockford, Illinois. And she liked to think she’d had something to do with it. When Vivienne handed out clean clothes and accessories from a hamper for them to wear to meet the townsfolk, she’d combed and fixed Esti’s hair in pigtails and tied her own pink ribbons onto them. Waving as the kid was carried away by an obviously doting young couple, Lupe quashed her worry that none of the prospective families or employers had spoken to her. 

 Back on the train, she stretched out in her newly doubled seat – the space of her own unfamiliar and pleasant – and let the rhythm rock her to sleep.
 
……………………………

 She woke to a disconcerting amount of open sky, and a mysterious newcomer across the aisle. 

 Jess had been put on the train during the night by some distant relatives, without even a shirt on under her overalls, which had scandalized Ms. Hughes to no end. She’d accepted a boy’s shirt from the hamper, but refused a dress with enough ferocity that no one pressed the issue. Except for a baseball mitt cradled in the crook of her arm, she had no luggage either.

 Lupe wasn’t sure she really trusted anyone from outside the city, let alone a kid so sharp and wild, but the ride was tedious, and she found herself slowly scooting closer from her window-seat haven before daring to introduce herself.

 Wryly and without describing anything at length, Jess said she’d worked on six different farms, for anyone who had room for her. She could take care of chickens, horses and cattle, and knew the workings of crops from corn to wheat to soybeans. On her arm was a wicked scar from the blades of a thresher. Lupe was impressed by her fearlessness, and when Jess described how she could also catch fish and gather berries if she had to leave somewhere in a hurry, felt a flicker of sympathy. The orphanage food might not have been plentiful or exciting, but it was there. 

 Jess also had full pockets, which had evaded notice in the dark, but now one was beginning to wiggle. It contained a kitten still smelling of the barn, which was eagerly granted milk from their breakfast cartons and cuddled across various laps. The other pocket held a deck of cards, with which she started teaching Lupe to play poker before they were confiscated with a scolding about loose morals. 

 Their official stops over the next several days, passing through Iowa, followed a rhythm. With their arrival previously advertised by circular, they’d get out, at Bellevue or Lenox or Griswold, and be hosted for tea and cake at a town hall or church. There’d be words from a town official, sometimes they would sing a tuneless hymn or two, and then prospective families would circulate through before signing adoption papers with Vivienne and a witness. Technically, references were required, but they were usually in a hurry to reboard and there were few objections toward anyone wanting to take in an orphan. 

 Predictably, the youngest and sweetest adoptees, as well as the strongest workers, were chosen first. Lupe did her best to talk up her housekeeping skills when approached, but her voice went high-pitched as it always did when she felt nervous, and the women would usually head on with a polite smile. Most people gave Jess and her scowl a wide berth. Ms. Hughes hadn’t been quite sure what to do with her – standing her with the girls until the time she’d turned to spit visibly over a porch railing, then lumping her in alongside the boys till swearing and shoving broke out. Finally, she let Jess skulk off and hide if it pleased her, which it usually did. 

 It was on the second afternoon that real trouble struck. Waning numbers – the original group had now shrunk to about fifteen kids, with the most presentable already chosen – led to burgeoning hostilities. After a sponsor handed out sugar cookies, Dove, a bully she knew well from Chicago, snatched away a couple of the younger kids’, and Jess tackled him. A few punches were thrown and choice words used before a railway hand stomped down the aisle to yank them apart. As punishment Vivienne denied both of them dinner, relegating them to separate seats at the far back of the car. 

 Under her hawk eyes, Lupe hardly dared to slip Jess a crumb. But once their chaperone was busy composing a telegram to update the Aid Society on their progress, she made her way down the car with half a biscuit to check on her. 

 Dove, one of the oldest at fourteen, was talking, despite Jess crossing her arms and determinedly ignoring him. Taking in his words, Lupe was chagrined to realize that, while clearly attempting to rile them, his point was genuinely troubling. 

 “Look, anyone wanting a daughter is going to want someone little and cute. If they want a farm hand, they’ll go for a boy bigger and stronger than you. If they want a maid, they’ll want someone with manners. Who do you think’s going to take in a freak?”

 “Shut up,” Lupe blurted out uncharacteristically, but assured of both their attention, he persisted.

 “Only the worst kind of people,” he sneered at Jess. “The ones who’ll work you to the bone for no money and whip you and starve you. You better figure out how to be a real girl before it’s too late.”

 The fact that Jess had no retort for that worried Lupe more than anything yet. 

Soon they stopped for refueling, and as a warning whistle sounded near departure, Jess suddenly stood up and quickly disappeared through the door connecting their car with the one behind. Lupe flew to follow her, only to find her halfway down the next car by the time she could wrench the sliding door open herself. 

 “Jess, please wait,” she begged, but there was no stopping the swift, determined figure. They were now in the part of the train with mail and parcels, making their way down toward freight, with no chaperone or other passengers in sight. Lupe stalked her down the train, breathing faster with the chase and her fear, until they both found themselves on a little outdoor platform of narrow footrests and steel cable.

 “You’re a good friend, Lupe,” Jess said, reaching a hand out to steady her. “Get back inside before you fall. Soon as we start to pull away and they can’t follow me, I’m striking out on my own.”

 “You can’t,” Lupe protested, feeling the train begin to rumble urgently around them. “You’re not old enough and…and…” Racking her brain for any objection to sway her, she settled on “You’ll break your ankle.” 

 But the blonde girl only shook her head ruefully. “I know how to set an ankle,” she assured. “My dumbass cousin fell out of a hayloft and I watched the doctor. I sure wouldn’t have screamed as much as he did. Anyway, goodbye, Lu. I know you’ll find a good place.” 

 The train lurched, and the ground started to blur through the slats beneath them and the open space to either side. Lupe hung on so hard her knuckles turned white, knowing she couldn’t stop her but unable to tear herself away.

 As Jess began to duck beneath the safety railing, a uniformed man from the platform shouted, “What the hell are you doing?”

 “Just let it happen, sir,” Jess yelled back over the noise of the engine, and she leapt off into the open air. 
……………………………………………

 They had to stop the train, with a long screeching of brakes and many cries of alarm from the genteel passengers. Lupe was quickly hustled back to their car while a handful of railway men converged on Jess, who lay stunned only for a moment before attempting to struggle to her feet. 

 Grim possibilities notwithstanding, Jess had not broken her ankle – she sprained it. The conductor threatened not to carry any more orphans. The orphans in question were silent with awe. The station manager was impressed with Dove, who’d hurried over to help (undoubtedly hoping to gawk at the damage) and decided to keep him on. At least one problem was out of their hair. 

 Finally they were on their way again, and Jess was set down across from Lupe, wrapped in a blanket against shock. 

 With the captive safely in a seat, her ankle stiffly wrapped, dejected, Vivienne ranted and paced as much as she could with the floor swaying underfoot. Though Lupe tuned out her words, she recognized the tone as that of an exasperated adult allowing overflow of things they didn’t really mean – but with an undercurrent of cruelty she nearly pitied Jess for calling down. Pity, however, was not quite a sensation she could feel toward the proud, aloof girl. Instead, she felt a strange magnetic pull toward her, even though Jess’ impending fate made her shudder.  

 Her attention was called back by their straitlaced chaperone’s final words – “You are leaving our company in the next town, and I don’t care who takes you.” Jess didn’t look at her, but when the woman made her way back to her own seat at the front of the car, she shot a steely look at Lupe.

 “Sorry if I scared you,” she muttered.

 “I wasn’t scared,” Lupe said, though her throat felt tight.

 Then the train regained its regular, soothing rhythm. Once it was nearly full dark, Jess scooted to the edge of her seat and reached her hand across the aisle for Lupe’s. Lupe took it – surprisingly cold and trembling – and squeezed it warmly like a secret. 

……………………………………………………….

 Fairfield, Nebraska was the next stop, full of picturesque blue skies, schools and churches and whitewashed fences. Around them, vast corn and wheat fields extended in all directions. Lupe didn’t trust anywhere with so many things growing. But it gave her hope for Jess who, albeit injured, was wiry and strong and perhaps experienced enough to snag work as a farmhand – if she’d cooperate with the prairie crowd.

 As Vivienne made the older boys help Jess down out of the train, and one of them purposely jostled her ankle – though she only gave the smallest flicker of a wince – Lupe decided her mission this time would be to find a place for her. She’d seen Esti safely off. If she tried her hardest, she was almost sure she could find a position for herself at another stop. Even if not, being back in Chicago and the orderly world of the orphanage wouldn’t be the worst.

 No, this morning was for her fierce and wild new friend, for the momentary flash of panic she’d seen in her eyes as she fell to the blur of ground.

 Though Lupe knew better than to offer ribbons, she finger-combed Jess’ hair as they waited on the platform and redid her braid. 

 When they were escorted a few blocks down to the church, Lupe was one of the girls chosen to help carry in baked goods and serve them to the line of prospective families before the opening speech. From her spot at the table, she carefully looked over each person for one of two qualities: either someone who seemed patient and warm enough to gain Jess’ trust, or someone who was also subtly different in the way she couldn’t quite put a finger on.

 Halfway through the line, she was drawn to a middle-aged lady approaching in some sort of uniform. Though just behind a couple of farmers – the gray-haired man in a brimmed cap and suspenders, his curly-haired wife in a floral dress – she was clearly independent, and her face held sternness but also laugh lines. 

 One of the cakes slivered away much faster than the others – an elegant, golden-brown layer cake powdered with white sugar, with inner layers of raspberry and cream. If Lupe allowed herself to want things, she would have craved a piece of the impossibly elegant dessert the reverend’s wife called a “Victoria Sponge.” 

 Now here in front of her was the farmer, and as she served the requested slice of rhubarb pie, Lupe was surprised to realize this was also a woman, her hair cut short and wavy. Taking her plate, she touched her brim and politely thanked Lupe and the younger girl pouring coffee.

 With her knack of noticing small details, she caught the subtle flicker of disappointment on the uniformed woman’s face as the last slice of the Victoria Sponge left its pretty glass platter. 

 “If you meet me on the porch,” Lupe whispered urgently, “I’ll bring you a piece.” 

 The neatly-suited woman’s eyebrow raised, but her brown eyes were friendly as they took Lupe in, and she lifted her chin in a nearly imperceptible nod. 

 As soon as the line reached its end, Lupe took off for the kitchen in a mad dash, her heart fluttering with a wild hope. This was her perhaps her only opening to make Jess’ case. She managed to pull the set-aside cake from the icebox and cut a piece with trembling hands before anyone arrived to object. Quickly she deposited it onto a saucer and flew for the door. 

 Skidding onto the porch in her too-tight shoes, however, she tripped on a knot in the floorboards and the perfect slice of cake went airborne before smashing into frostinged crumbs at her prospective ally’s feet. 

 It had been a desperate effort, and Lupe couldn’t help a few tears spilling down her face.

 “There’s no need for that,” the uniformed woman said, a little brusquely, but she patted at Lupe’s shoulder and, after an awkward moment, offered her handkerchief. “If you must know, I wasn’t very hungry.” 

The reverend’s wife appeared in the doorway. “You little thief –” she began to Lupe, but the other woman cleared her throat to halt the tirade.

 “I asked if any of the sponge cake had been held back, and Miss...”

 “García,” Lupe filled in, after a momentary shock at being so addressed.

 “Kindly offered to bring me a piece.” 

 Tight annoyance settled over her adversary’s face, but after a moment of silence she merely ground out, “Well, you’d better get inside then, Beverly. It’s about to start.” Her skirt whirled around her ankles in an angry cloud as she stalked back inside. 

 “Well.” Beverly watched the door swing shut, and there was a hint of a smile in her voice as she continued. “What were you so determined to talk with me about?”

 Lupe’s cheeks flushed at knowing she’d seen through her cake ruse, but there was no time to be timid. “I wanted to know if you could help my friend.”

 “Yes? Is your friend in danger?” There was a note of wry amusement in the stranger’s voice, but not in a way that was making fun of Lupe.

 It was hard being the subject of such focused attention. Lupe’s skin prickled, her dress collar itched, and she pressed her hands into her apron pockets to stop them from anxiously twisting. “Her name is Jess, and she’s very stubborn. Our chaperone won’t let her come any further because she tried to jump off the train.”

 “She tried to…?”

 “Well, she did jump off it,” Lupe amended. Oh no, this was not a good beginning. “But only because – well, she’s not quite like other girls. She’s very proud and a little fierce, and usually she can take care of herself. But she tried to strike out on her own because she’s worried…that only someone bad would want her.”

 “Ah.” The woman’s voice was gravely serious now. “I understand.” 

“Maybe you could take her,” Lupe continued, hopeful. “She knows all about farms. She can work hard.” 
 
 “That would make perfect sense, but I’m not a farmer,” Bev said. “I’m a postmistress.”

 “Oh,” Lupe said. She didn’t know exactly what a postmistress did, but obviously her friend’s six farms’ worth of experience would not be helpful regarding the mail, and she felt her shoulders slump in disappointment. “I know she’d work hard at anything though, if you’re fair. If you give her a chance.” 

 “I will ask around,” Beverly promised, and from her, it didn’t seem like a dismissal. It felt like her words were worth something.

 Like a whirlwind, then, Ms. Hughes arrived to fetch her. She was annoyed at first, but noticing Lupe in conversation, used the opportunity to advertise her housekeeping skills and the orphanage training in cooking, cleaning and sewing. Rather charitably, she even mentioned Lupe’s skill with children, and suddenly Lupe desperately missed Esti even though she’d only known her for a day. Nothing seemed to spark the postmistress’ interest, but she listened politely and smiled. “Good luck, young lady,” she wished Lupe as a bell summoned them all inside.

 Taking her place on the risers, Lupe held onto her wish for something more solid than chance. 
………………………………………………………..

 After the opening remarks, as the crowd began to mingle and a shared sense of hope rose in the air, Bev consulted with Edie and Vi. 

 “Who is it you talked to?” Vi asked, craning to see around the men who, just typically, were blocking their view. 

 “She was a girl with a dress,” replied Bev, scanning the busy room for where the curly-haired kid had gone. 

 “And I suppose it’s the girl with overalls you want us to think about.” Now they could see Jess, looking particularly like a ragamuffin in her soot-stained clothes, being tugged around the side of the stage by the orphan girl who’d put the runaway’s placement ahead of her own. 

 “Well, are you completely wedded to the idea of a boy?” she pressed Vi. “She may be young, but she seems very resilient. And anyone who can jump from a train and live to tell the tale has a streak of courage I know you can relate to.” 

 “I’m not sure,” the rancher replied slowly. “We really do need someone strong to fill in when my back decides to act up. Of course I want her to find a home, but I’m just not sure what good she’d be to us.” 

 Edie squeezed her hand. “We might be some good to her.” 

 Bev smiled. Her weathered friend might value practicality above nearly everything, but her rough exterior belied a soft heart, and she knew Edie’s words would seal the matter. 

 “All right, we’ll talk to her,” Vi agreed, and began to amiably push their way through the crowd.

 “What about you?” Edie turned to ask Bev, and the postmistress’ eyebrows rose nearly to her peaked cap. 

 “Oh, I just came for the dessert.”
…………………………………………………

 “Will you come out and talk with them and give them a chance?” Lupe pleaded. Jess sat on the steps concealing them from most of the room’s notice, arms hugging her knees, wounded ankle sticking out. 

 “You didn’t have to go talking me up to strangers,” came the gruff reply. “Worry about yourself.” 

 “Do you really want to get back on the train with the witch lady?” This made a little grin quirk around the edge of Jess’ mouth. “Maybe we can both stay. Don’t you want to go to school with me?” 

 “Never been,” Jess said with the beginning of a scowl. “I like to play baseball. They’ve got a diamond here. Saw it from the train.” Looking up, her deep blue gaze seemed abruptly soft and open. “Would you play with me?”

 “Never tried,” Lupe answered, but the fact that something had caught her interest about this strange place seemed a good sign. “But if you choose me for your team, I will.” 

 Jess nodded. Then, half hopefully, she asked, “So they run a horse ranch? That’s a new one.” 

Tugging her to her feet, Lupe ordered, “Come on before they pick someone else.” 

Out front, she helped support Jess’ weight while Vi introduced herself and the other rancher, Edie. Tactfully, they didn’t ask her age, and Edie kindly refused when Jess offered to unwrap her ankle to prove it wasn’t permanently damaged. Vi spoke as she would to another adult, man to man, about their ranch and the various chores, the gable room Jess would have for her own, wages – most to be placed in a savings account for Jess, but with a record book she’d hold – and time for school. 

It wasn’t quite clear from Lupe’s vantage whom exactly Edie was to Vi – of course she couldn’t be a wife, as she’d originally assumed – but her sweetness was melting through Jess’ defenses in a way she could physically feel as her friend’s guarded posture finally relaxed a little.

“And I can promise,” Vi offered at last, seriously, “that if you’re unhappy with us, we won’t hold you to it. If you feel the need, we will help you find another place.”

“All right,” Jess said at last, and extended her hand to shake Vi’s and then Edie’s. Her eyes were shining and her words seemed caught in her throat as she turned to look at Lupe.

Then Beverly said, “Just a moment, please, Miss García,” so Vi helped steady Jess as they moved to seek out Vivienne to sign the adoption papers. 

Lupe waited, her heart in her throat, because the crowd was beginning to thin out and she didn’t have much hope of staying in the same town as Jess after all.

“What I said before is true,” the postmistress continued. “I don’t have much need for cooking or cleaning besides what I can do myself, and I have no children or animals to take care of. What clothes I need, I order from the catalogue. But I suppose if you wished, you could help me sort the mail.” 

It took a moment for Lupe to realize that this was Beverly’s stilted way of offering her a place, and then the warmth in the woman’s eyes echoed the excitement in her own.

“Oh, yes,” she said, her entire body suddenly trembling with relief. The uniformed woman reached out to squeeze her hand before she could either float off the floor or faint onto it, and they took their place in the line of the lucky ones who’d found a home.