Rory squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. It was time. She helped the nuns shepherd fifty-seven children, the youngest only three years old and the eldest just six. Outside a line of horse-drawn taxicabs waited for the children. The nuns kept the smallest children from wandering under the hooves of the horses. Older boys from the school hoisted the trunks high onto the roofs of the taxicabs. The trunks were full of the children's suitcases, as well as ample supplies of foodstuffs, medicines, and linens for the journey. Rory kept Violet close by her side. At first Violet tried to pull away but the moment she saw the hubbub, she pressed herself into Rory's skirt. Sister Anna seemed to be everywhere: overseeing the luggage, directing the drivers, counting the children. The other nuns who cared for the babies on a daily basis watched from the top step, like a line of stone-faced bowling pins. If they were affected by so many of their charges departing for the Wild West, Rory could not tell from their faces.
