Page 55 of A New World for the Irish Daughter

Maggie held her instinctively, cradling her against her as she looked over at her mother’s bed and realized, with a lurch of despair and dread, that the woman lying there was dead.

CHAPTER 29

“I’ll take it.”

Maggie surveyed the log cabin on the edge of town, no more than two rooms, its scrubby land leading out to empty meadow, with satisfaction. For just six dollars a month, she could rent the whole place, complete with bedframes and mattresses, a table and chairs, and the all-important cookstove. The linens, dishes, pots and pans, and other necessities she would have to pay for, but it was still a better bargain than Mrs. Compton’s boarding house, and necessary besides.

She only hoped Danny and her da thought so, too.

“One month in advance,” the landlord, who ran a tobacco shop on Front Street, told her. “And no…goings-on,” he added meaningfully.

Maggie chose not to ask him for clarification on what he consideredgoings-on. A white woman living with a native child might come under that description, and she had no intention of letting him know that that would be the case.

“And I can move in today?” she asked, and the man nodded.

“As long as you pay.”

It was the day after the poor, nameless Tlingit woman had died, and Maggie had had no choice but to take her daughter into her care.

The poor girl had clung to her, her screams turning to pitiful whimpers, as Sister Mary Bon Secours had explained that the woman had died just a few minutes ago, and the daughter had turned utterly and understandably distraught.

“The wretched woman was just too weak,” she’d said sadly. “Poor woman. And, oh, poor child.”

“I wish I knew her name,” Maggie had murmured as she’d hugged the girl to her. “And this one’s name, too.”

“I think the woman called her Sheetka,” Sister Mary Bon Secours had volunteered. “Or something like that. She’d been muttering it in her sleep. But most of the natives take on a Christian name, as well, so I suppose we could call her something else, when we baptize her.”

“Sheetka,” Maggie had repeated, and the little girl had looked up at her expectantly, the traces of her tears still visible on her cheeks. “Sheetka it is,” she’d decided. She would worry about an English name and a potential baptism later.

“You can’t mean to keep her?” Sister Mary Zeno had exclaimed when Maggie had spoken to the senior nun and nurse about just that. “Nurse O’Halloran, you’re a young woman all on your own! And the Indians have their own ways?—”

“But Sheetka has never lived in the Indian village,” Maggie had pointed out patiently. “She doesn’t know their ways. And if I sent her back there, she’d be treated like a beggar, because no one would want her or care for her like their own?—”

“And you would?” Sister Mary Zeno had asked, her tone gentling as she eyed Maggie in sympathy. “It seems you’ve formed an attachment with the child.”

“I have,” Maggie had admitted. “And I believe she trusts me. I can’t just abandon her, not when her own mother has just died.”

“Very well.” Sister Mary Zeno had nodded in resignation. “But it is a difficult path you’ve chosen, and I sincerely hope you don’t live to regret it!”

“I won’t,” Maggie had replied firmly. She felt certain about caring for Sheetka in a way that went right down to her bones. This wasn’t just the right thing to do, it was what shewantedto do.

But Maggie knew if she took care of the girl herself, she could no longer stay at Mrs. Compton’s. The landlady had made that abundantly clear when Maggie had brought her back for a second night.

“I told you, I wanted her gone by morning,” Mrs. Compton had declared, looking decidedly annoyed. “I’m not without pity, but I can’t lose half my boarders over some dirty little Indian child.”

“She’s not dirty,” Maggie had replied with dignity, “and I promise you, we’llbothbe gone in the morning. I’ll pay extra for her, as well.”

Grumbling, but with another dollar in her pocket, Mrs. Compton had agreed.

Now all she had to do was convince Danny and Da to move with her to their new lodgings.

Maggie walked slowly back to the hospital, her mind whirling with potential plans. Did she have enough money to buy all the necessary supplies they’d need to outfit the cabin? With help from her father and brother, she would. And what about her position at the hospital? The sisters might have agreed to her taking care of Sheetka, but would they let the little girl accompany her to the hospital? Maggie believed Sheetka could sit quietly while she worked, and she had no other options, but she didn’t know if Sister Mary Zeno and the others realized that.

With a sigh, she decided to tackle that problem when and if it came. As the Good Book said, each day had enough trouble of its own. She’d certainly found that to be true, anyway.

Later that evening, back at the boarding house, Maggie packed up her few belongings as Sheetka sat on the bed, watching her with her big, dark eyes but not saying a word. Besides her terrified screeching, Maggie had not heard her speak since she’d met her.

“Aw, Maggie, what’s going on?” Danny asked as he came into the room from work, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Mrs. Compton’s said you’re moving out?”