Broken Promises

“Sparrow, you’ve got to act more friendly,” Clara said to her on their way to deliver the second invitation. The women rolled and bobbed on a rough sea in the launch that ferried them to the second ship.

“Friendly? Don’t you understand the Americans, the French, and my papa are planning a trap for Governor Alvarado?” Sparrow gulped in air and prayed to not get seasick.

“The way you talk tells me what an ungrateful girl you are. I’ll think twice about sharing my best dress with you again.” Apparently, Clara had used up all her friendly manners on the captain. “This will be our last stop. Try to be polite.”

As they approached the second ship, Sparrow looked up toward the top of the gangplank. The sunlight reflected on the hair of two redheaded sailors staring over the railing—the other two men who had met with Papa about the revolt. Her stomach churned.

“Whose ship is this?” Sparrow asked. The vessel was just as large as the first but not nearly as orderly.

“It’s French, you stupid girl,” Clara said. Sparrow glanced up and saw a limp flag hanging from the ship’s mast. It was faded blue and pale yellow.

“Ahoy there.” Sparrow was certain she recognized Papa’s voice calling from the main deck. She wrapped her arms around her waist and fell back onto the wooden bench in the small boat. Clara was already moving toward the ramp, waving upward to the sailors overhead. She’d never met Papa Johnson since he’d been banned from Rancho Duran before she came to live there.

“I can’t go up there,” Sparrow panted, bending down to put her head between her knees. She was horrified that she might have to confront her papa. Not only was she aware of his plans to rebel against the governor, but she now had second thoughts about him seeing her dressed up like a grown lady.