Golden Paradise (Vincente 1) by Constance O'Banyon

here so when your father returns he will know where to find us."
    "A hundred dollars a month! That's outrageous!" Valentina declared. "I will find somewhere far better than this. You can't get well here."
    Evonne took her daughter's hand. "You don't know, dear. There are people sleeping on the streets for want of a roof over their heads. We are very fortunate to have this place. The money is all gone. . . ." her voice trailed off.
    Valentina noticed Salamar had already begun to stack the dirty dishes that littered the crude table. The woman cast her a resigned glance before picking up a pail and walking outside to find the well. Valentina noticed that the cabin consisted of two rooms. The only furniture was the cot her mother lay upon and a rickety table with two chairs. There was an open hearth, but no fire burned in it to ward off the dampness of the cabin.
    "We will stay here for awhile, Mother, but only until we can find something better. I am going to talk to Mr. Lawton about a doctor."
    Glancing down, Valentina noticed her mother had already drifted off into a restless sleep. Now that her mother could not see, Valentina's tears flowed freely. In the days to come, she would have to call on all her strength because she was the head of the family now. Everything rested on her shoulders. To add to her troubles, it did not appear that her mother had much money, and Valentina had very little. It didn't matter, she thought. She would find some way to take care of her mother.
    Standing up, she glared in the direction of the Lawton house. She did not intend to allow Mr. Lawton and his sister near her mother again. They had shamefully neglected her mother's care. How dare they treat her gentle, sweet mother in such a shabby manner.
    Valentina had promised her mother she would find her father. That was one promise she intended to keep. Whatever it took, she would do; wherever she had to go, she would go. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she squared her jaw and rolled up her sleeves. The first order of the day was to clean this filthy cabin.
    Watching her mother's eyes slowly flutter open and then close again, Valentina knew she had drifted off to sleep. She placed a soft kiss on Evonne's fevered cheek, then moved to the door to see Salamar returning with the wooden bucket full of water.
    "What are we to do, Salamar?" she asked, looking into her sympathetic dark eyes.
    "You will do what you must," came the assured answer. "You always have."
    Valentina's shoulders drooped; she felt a sob building deep inside. "My father, he can't be . . . dead."
    Salamar's eyes moved over the dank and dingy room with a look of disgust. "I do not know about that, but for now we must look after your mother's needs. This place isn't fit for a pigsty."
    Valentina raised her head, knowing she must push her grief aside for the moment. She would not cry for her father, because that would be admitting he was dead. Salamar was right; she would take care of her mother first, then she would try to find her father.

 
     
    4
     
    Salamar was' a wonder at accomplishing the impossible. In no time at all she had removed the crates that had cluttered the cabin and had stacked them outside the door with orders for Mr. Lawton to store them elsewhere. The cabin was clean, delicious aromas were coming from the caldron that bubbled over the open hearth, and Valentina's mother had been moved into the other room, away from the cooking noises, so she could rest undisturbed. Evonne Barrett now wore a fresh, clean nightgown and was reclining against snow-white bed linens.
    Valentina placed another log on the fire. Lifting the lid on the iron pot, she sliced onions into the stew and smiled as the wonderful aroma drifted through the house. She had not been idle either. She had scrubbed the floors until they shone, cleaned the windows until the reflection of the sun sparkled on each pane.
    Now that Valentina was sure everything had been done to make her mother rest more