Treasure of the World Tara Sullivan (inspirational books for women TXT) 📖

tired right now to get into the conversations those facts will lead to.

“My night wasn’t so bad,” I say, dodging the question. “The biggest problem was that I had to wait the extra day for the pharmacy to be open. I was worried about César the whole time.”

Mami nods slowly, her face drawn with concern.

After a pause, I ask, “Mami . . . is he very sick?”

“I just don’t know,” she says quietly. “I’m not a doctor, but I’ve spent a lot of time listening to coughs with your brother. I don’t like the sound of this one. He needs to rest, but I don’t know if he can take the time off work . . .” Her voice trails off.

The mention of work gets me thinking.

“Do you want me to sit with him so you can work, or do you want me to take your place as a palliri today?” I don’t really want to spend my day in a sickroom, but I give her the choice because she’s been locked up with him for a whole day already.

“Actually,” Mami says, shaking off her mood, “I need you to go find Don Carmelo, the head of the mining cooperative, and tell him that César’s sick and won’t be able to work for a few days. They’ll need to assign someone else to cover his shift.”

My legs ache when I stand, but all I say is, “Okay,” and I head out the door.

I haven’t been near El Rosario since I snuck in and got trapped, and I’m in no hurry to go there now. Since it’s a Saturday, I decide to check Don Carmelo’s house first to see if he’s home before I go looking for him at the mine.

When I knock on the door, he answers.

“What do you want?” he barks.

Don Carmelo is a thin, wiry man not much taller than me. I’ve never liked him. Once, when Daniel and I were about nine, we came around a corner of the Cerro quickly and surprised a condor that was eating something dead in the rocks. Before it took to the skies, flapping its enormous wings, each one bigger than we were, it looked at us. And even though I knew I had nothing to fear from the bird, it creeped me out. For weeks afterward I saw those eyes whenever I slept. Don Carmelo has those same eyes. I wonder to myself, briefly, if they’ll be in my dreams tonight.

“Don Carmelo,” I say politely, staring at his shoulder so I can avoid his condor eyes, “I came to tell you that my stepfather, César Jansasoy Herrera, is sick. My mother asked me to tell you so that you could make sure his shift is covered. Six to six, at El Rosario,” I add, trying to be helpful.

“I know what shift he works,” Don Carmelo snaps.

I close my mouth.

“How long will he be gone?”

“A few days, maybe. Not long.” I pray I’m right. César’s cough does not sound like it will be gone in a few days, but I don’t want to get him in trouble.

Don Carmelo humphs. “And I suppose this means that he would like an extension on his loan as well?” he growls.

“His loan . . . ?” I’m lost.

“Yes,” he grumbles. “The idiot took a giant advance on his wages to pay off the medical debts for that new cripple stepkid of his.” His gaze sharpens on me. “I guess that would be your brother, then. Well, I hope he’s worth it.”

My mouth has gone completely dry. I had no idea César had gone into debt to help Daniel. That would explain why there was so little money in the jar and why we don’t have soup for breakfast anymore.

“Yes,” I manage. “He would also like an extension on the loan.”

“Very well,” he says brusquely. Clearly he thinks we’re done.

My head swims. We don’t have more money at the house—I know because I took it to pay for the medicine. We still need to eat while César gets better. Plus, I need forty-eight bolivianos and fifteen centavos to give to Yenni. And now, apparently, we’re also in debt to this carrion-eater. If we default on a loan to the cooperative, César could lose his house. Our house.

Don Carmelo is turning away, closing the door, when I speak up.

“Don Carmelo!”

He pauses, his predator eyes considering me from the shadows of his house.

“What?”

“Is there”—I have to swallow a few times to work up the nerve—“is there any work I could do for the cooperative?” My mind flashes back to that day, all those mornings ago, when I stood with Papi in front of César and asked a similar question. “I know I can’t work in the mine,” I rush to add, not wanting to think about what it would be like to head into that hellhole when everyone blames me for the collapse and César’s not there to protect me, “but is there anything I can do around it? For it?”

Don Carmelo stares at me for a beat. He sucks on his teeth like he’s tasted something sour. “Yes,” he says, “I suppose there is something you could do for the cooperative.”

I wait while he considers.

Don Carmelo gives me an oily smile. “There is an opening for a guarda.”

I blink at him.

Of course they have an opening for a guarda and of course they still need one. I snuck into the mine just fine three weeks ago. Who knows who else has managed to sneak in? I shudder thinking of the mystery men. Yes, the mine needs a guard. But to actually be the one doing the work . . . ? Cold washes over me as I remember Mariángela. Being a guarda is a scary job, and you don’t get paid much to do it. But . . . if I can add to what Mami and Abuelita already make picking rock . . . maybe it will be enough to buy César the time he needs to get better. It will certainly give me enough that I can pay Yenni back. I can