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

I say loud enough for Mami, Doña Elena, and all the other women and their worthless rocks to hear me. “Tonight, I’m going to work as a guarda for the mine.” I stare at the anemic blue sky and let out a shaky breath, trying to let go of my anger with it. “I’m going to go home and sleep now. It’ll be fine.”

And with that, I turn and walk away.

I really hate the word fine.

Even though I’m tired, I can’t fall asleep. First of all, I’m not used to sleeping in the middle of the day. It feels wasteful. Also, even though I manage to still my body, I can’t get my mind to stop whirling around and around. Tonight will not find me safely behind a latched door with my family, nestled under blankets. Tonight will find me walking around the mine, guarding it from who knows what. I know I’ll need my wits about me. I will myself to sleep, but I don’t manage it. Plus, guilt over how nasty I was to Mami eats at me.

For over an hour I stare at the ceiling, listening to César cough, wasting my precious rest time. But then I must have dozed off, because suddenly I hear Mami calling from outside.

“Ana? Ana! Get up! It’s time for you to go.”

I force myself to get out of my blankets. The evening air cuts like a knife through my clothes. I can tell tonight is going to be the type of end-of-summer night that feels more like the start of winter.

“I’m awake,” I call, surprised to hear her. It’s still light out. She should still be working with the palliris.

I walk outside and find her laying things on a flat rock. I see a bag of coca leaves, two blankets, Papi’s old helmet with its attached acetylene lamp, and seven sticks of dynamite. Three of them are full length, like the ones that the miners use for blasting, but the other four look like they’ve been sawed in half.

I hug her, burying my face in her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Mami,” I mumble into the scratchy fabric. “I’m so sorry for what I said earlier about you and Papi.”

Mami turns me in her arms and hugs me.

“It was never that much of a secret, I suppose,” she says.

“Still. You don’t deserve to have me throwing it around like that. Please forgive me?”

“There’ s nothing to forgive,” she whispers. “We all say ugly things when we’re upset. I’m sorry that I yelled at you for trying to help.”

“I found out about the debt,” I say, looking up at her.

Mami’s face is lined with exhaustion when she looks down at me.

“I wondered,” she says. “You’re so smart. And too curious by half.”

“You can tell me things,” I say. “I’m old enough to help.”

Mami sighs. “I wish you didn’t have to. I’m worried about you, mi hija.”

I’m worried about me too, so I don’t answer that. Instead, I look over the things she’s assembled.

“What’s all this?” I ask.

“Watch,” she commands, letting me go. She takes one of the three big sticks of dynamite and pulls out the fuse. She then cuts both the stick of explosives and the fuse in half with a knife and reassembles them into two mini-sticks. “You don’t want to detonate so much dynamite that you can’t outrun the blast,” she says. “But if a group of men comes after you like they did poor Mariángela, you light these, and throw them at them, and run. Promise me.”

I imagine myself hurling dynamite at shadows and bringing the whole mountain down on top of myself. Then I imagine being caught alone and unarmed by a group of men. I remember Mariángela’s smiling face.

“I promise,” I hear myself say.

“Well,” she says, her voice gruff, “there you go, then, that’s all you need. Keep your eyes open and be safe. You can’t fall asleep when you’re a guarda. You’ll have to stay up all night, eyes sharp! And don’t dawdle coming home. I won’t breathe easy until I see your face tomorrow morning.”

She puts everything onto the manta and ties it into a pack that she slings around my shoulders. Tying the two ends into a knot over my collarbone, she rests her hands gently on my shoulders for a second. In the quiet between us I hear her regret, her sadness.

“Thank you, Mami,” I manage, my voice thick with tears. I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Giving my shoulder a quick squeeze, she walks away from me without another word, back to the slag heap and the never-ending task of sorting good rock from worthless. I square my shoulders and face the other way, toward El Rosario and my new job.

20

I get to El Rosario just as the last light of day is purpling the sky. Small circles of light bob toward me and I realize that they’re the headlamps of the miners coming out of the tunnels. I step out of the way as the men walk past me, all dirt-streaked faces, grime-encrusted suits, and sweaty bodies. Remembering the last time I was in this entry lot, I duck my head and try not to get noticed. Luckily, this time none of them pay me any attention, and soon they’ve left and I’m facing the mouth of the mine in the gathering gloom.

In some ways, not knowing if I’m alone yet is creepier than actually being alone.

A few minutes later, I see another glow from deep within the tunnel. It seems to take forever for it to get to me. At last, Don Carmelo steps out of the mine. He takes his time locking up the toolshed, then walks over to where I’m standing.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he says.

“Here I am,” I say, trying to sound brave.

“Do you need anything before I leave?”

A ferocious pack of guard dogs to