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“Yes.” Gaetano dismounted with Agostino, setting the boy down. “I’m Gaetano Catalano, in case you don’t remember me. Please notify Marshal Rosselli that I’m here with these boys.”
“What’s going on? Who are they?”
“They were kidnapped from families in Palermo and put to work in a sulfur mine outside Mussomeli.” Gaetano took the three boys fromthe first donkey and set them down, then the three from the second donkey and set them down.
“Are you serious? You found them?”
“Yes.” Gaetano took Agostino’s hand, and the boys lined up behind him. He headed for the entrance, and they followed like baby ducks.
“Good job, Gaetano!” one of the officers called out, then the othercarabinierijoined in, bursting into applause. “Bravo, Gaetano!” “Welcome home, boys!”
Gaetano smiled, reminding himself to be humble.
But it wasn’t easy.
After all, he wasn’t a saint.
“Marshal Rosselli, do you rememberme?”
“Of course.” Marshal Rosselli had grown older and crankier. “When did you get out of prison? And what’s going on here? This isn’t a nursery.”
“These boys have been victims of a heinous crime. They were kidnapped from Palermo by one Enrico Tonelli, taken to Don Bruno Maresca’s sulfur mine outside of Mussomeli, and forced to work as slaves. You should contact their parents and tell them the happy news of their sons coming home.”
Marshal Rosselli blinked. “Is this a joke?”
“They need to be examined by a doctor, fed properly, and given the love and care every one of God’s children deserves.”
“Where did you get them? How did you find them?”
“I’ll be happy to make a detailed statement later. First, I want you to notify the boys’ parents. Each boy knows his full name, so finding his parents shouldn’t be difficult.”Even for you, Gaetano thought but didn’t say.
“Hmph.” Marshal Rosselli folded his arms. “What do you want out of this, Gaetano? The reward?”
“No.”
“The credit, then.”
“No.”
“What’s your relationship to the boys? I don’t understand your involvement.”
“I’m their lawyer. Now please, set about finding their parents. The reunions must take place tonight, or else.”
“Or else what?”
“Or else I’ll tell the parentsIfound their sons, and you didn’t lift a finger.” Gaetano met his eye evenly. “I bet their parents are well-heeled and influential. You could lose a job you neither deserve nor perform.”
Marshal Rosselli had no reply.
Later, Gaetano watched from undera palm tree across from theQuestura. Well-dressed couples leapt from gleaming carriages and hustled inside the building, and their happy shouts were so loud that he could hear them outside. One reunion after the next took place, and each family left in joyful tears, hugging a son they loved and had missed.
The last boy leaving with his parents was little Agostino, who clung to his mother’s neck. The happiness on the boy’s face brought tears to Gaetano’s eyes, and he watched the carriage drive away, sending a prayer of thanks to Saint Paul.
Gratitude filled Gaetano’s heart, and peace calmed his soul. He had fought the good fight, he had kept the faith, and he had finished the race.
It was time to go home.
CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE
