I am on the way to the Laredo School for Young Ladies. Imagine that: I am now a young lady. I am excited to travel and enroll with the finest girls from the best familias in all the northern territories.
Mama and Papa insisted on coming. I apologize for taking them from you. They were in such a hurry to see m e off to school. I cannot imagine why. Clara, you can take over my sleeping loft. Alicia, someday you will understand why older girls need privacy. Nina, take good care of my sisters.
I said my goodbyes to dear Captain Harris—my sailor with the ocean blue eyes. Someday soon I will be Mrs. Harris. Also, I gave my confession to Padre Romo to prepare for this journey. Write to me when your spelling improves. I may be too busy to respond but will remember you in my prayers.
Your sister, Dolores
Alicia tossed the letter aside and continued her search of the loft.
“Why are we looking for more rags?”
“Girl make blood—use rags. No rags—girl make baby,” Nina mumbled as she searched under the bed and in the clothes hamper.
“But you said Dolores didn’t dirty rags for two months. Two moons, I remember.” Alicia thrashed through the bedsheets. “What’s that mean?”
“Dolores make captain’s baby,” Nina said. Alicia’s face grew hot with the revelation.
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