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

Belén grins and throws her skinny arms around my waist.

“Thank you, Ana!” she squeals.

“Mmm-hmmm.” I quirk an eyebrow at her. “But when we go home in the morning, you’re going to be in soooooo much trouble. Don’t expect me to bail you out.”

“You bet!” she chirps, all smiles now that she’s gotten her way.

I roll my eyes and point her to where I set up my stuff. Belén pulls her schoolbag off her back. In it, she’s packed extra blankets and her own bottle of water. I spread all the blankets in one thick layer. Her body is small and will lose heat quickly; we’ll need to huddle.

When I glance up, I see that my new sister is examining the little sticks of dynamite that I made with Mami, rolling them around in her hands. There’s enough explosive there to kill her if something goes wrong.

“Careful!” I say, and she puts them down gently where I had them before.

“Will we really use those if someone comes?” she asks.

The pile is tiny: the ten mini-sticks of dynamite are grungy and no thicker than my two thumbs together, wrapped in peeling paper. They look like a bunch of nothing, and yet they have the power to move mountains. The power to kill.

“Only if we absolutely have to,” I say, and get back to setting up our nest for the night.

For the first half of the night, Belén and I chew coca and talk and weave pretty pictures of a fairy-tale life down in the city, but as the dark hours creep by, exhaustion and the cold slowly silence us.

We’ve been sitting quietly, Belén dozing off and on, when a noise makes me tense. In an instant, Belén is alert beside me.

“Did you hear that?” she whispers, a note of panic in her voice.

I hold up a hand for her to be quiet and listen.

She chews her lip while she waits for my answer, and I briefly wonder whether it’s something she’s always done, or whether it’s something she copied from me.

There’s no masking it: those are footsteps. The mountain and the mine echo the sound oddly, but I’m pretty sure they’re coming from over the hill, not along the road leading up to the entrance.

There is no good reason for anyone to avoid the road. I make a snap decision.

“You stay here,” I whisper, handing her a mini-stick of dynamite and taking three for myself. I light the helmet and leave it with Belén and take the lighter in my other hand. I leave the other six sticks with the rest of our stuff.

“What are you going to do?” Belén is shaking.

“I’m going to climb over the hill and surprise them,” I say. “They may not know this mine is guarded again. If I can make some noise, I bet I can scare them off.” I point at the dynamite in her hand and the helmet. “Stay near this so they know you can light those in a hurry if you need to, but don’t actually. Run away if you have to, but don’t use those. Dynamite can kill you as easily as it can kill anyone else.”

“Okay,” she says, and even though she absolutely should not be here facing any of this, I feel a deep pride welling up in my chest for this brave little sister of mine.

I give her arm a quick squeeze and then climb the incline to the right of the mine entrance, keeping my body low to the ground. I crest the ridge and keep going. I want to be above them when I attack, not below. Gravity will always pull dynamite downhill, and I won’t have the luxury of fussing over the timing of my fuses.

Finally, I find a small crevice that is perfect for what I want. It’s higher than the hint of a trail that leads over the hill, and it’s tucked out of sight. The only thing I don’t like about it is that, having turned the corner, I can no longer see Belén or the area in front of the mine. I perch on the rock like a predator and wait for my unsuspecting prey.

After an excruciating few minutes, a shadowy form passes below me.

The tiny wheel of the lighter makes the faintest of rasping sounds as I drag on it with my thumb and light one of my three sticks of dynamite.

I say loudly, “This mine is guarded. Now get out of here.” As the man spins on his heel in surprise, I hurl the dynamite at his feet.

And then from around the corner I hear Belén scream.

In an instant I’m scrambling over the mountain. I can’t go the quickest route because I just threw dynamite there. If the robber has any sense of what’s good for him, he’s running too.

“Help!” I hear Belén’s voice below me.

I’m almost there.

My dynamite goes off behind me. The sound echoes around the small space and the ground shivers under my feet. I hear rocks dislodging and sliding, but I can’t check the damage I’ve caused. I’ve got to get to Belén.

I imagine a dozen terrible things that could have happened.

I hear the sound of more dynamite exploding. Belén has used her little stick too, even though I told her to run.

I burst around the corner. Belén’s dynamite must not have worked well enough because, even in the low light of the stars, I can see her grappling with someone. Belén is kicking and fighting.

It makes me pause. Though I have no problem at all hurling dynamite at would-be robbers, I don’t want to hurt Belén. But just then the man I surprised over the hill catches up to them and, using his larger body, shoves Belén against the rock. I hear a sickening crack as her head hits the stone and she crumples at his feet.

Bellowing in fury, I light my last two sticks of dynamite and race toward them.

“Let go of her, you beasts!” I