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Alberto hugged her tightly. “I will always be here for you, Maria.” But his gaze had traveled further up the deck, seeing a cluster of men taking their usual positions next to the ship's round, soot-covered smokestack. The storm had sent them fleeing for whatever protective covering they could find, but now they had returned, squatting, playing their same card games and smoking long, thick cigars.
Maria had heard a different tone in Alberto's voice and she had sensed his body grow tense. She pulled from him, searching his face, then turned to follow his gaze. Yes, it was the same men. Alberto had been almost mesmerized by the silly card games they were playing since the ship's moving out into the open sea. “Alberto?” she whispered, tugging on his sleeve. “Alberto!” she persisted, when he ignored her. She looked toward the men again, then downward at the money being shoved back and forth between them. She understood that this thing they were doing held a fascination for Alberto mainly due to the stacks of green bills being exchanged from one hand to another.
Maria reached up to touch Alberto's cheek, suddenly afraid, seeing a strangeness in his eyes … a look of need … a look almost the same as lust as he licked his lips feverishly. “Alberto, come and sit with me,” she pleaded.
“I've got to see how they play that game,” Alberto said, jerking away from her, then gazed at her with his wide, dark eyes. “Now you sit down on your bunk and I'll only be a minute.”
Maria clutched at his arm. “You don't want to even get near those men,” she whispered harshly. Her own dark eyes widened, pleading. “Can't you see they are evil men?” She shuddered visibly, seeing the thick black whiskers of most of them, and the filthiness of their shabby clothes. “And they're so dirty. Even dirtier than the clothes we have had to wear.”
“They might be all those things,” Alberto said. “But don't you see the money in their possession? God. They must be rich.”
Maria scoffed. “Rich? How could they be and dress n such a way? Bank robbers would probably be a more ippropriate way to describe them. Please, Alberto, stay away from them.”
“It looks too exciting, Maria. You know how boring life has been up to now for both of us.”
“But I'm afraid to be left alone.”
“I will only be footsteps away. Didn't I promise to always be here to look after you?”
“And I'm hungry, Alberto,” she whined, gathe
ring the bottom of her shirt in her fingers to twist it.
“The women folk will soon be cooking. You'll see.”
“If I could show that I'm a woman, I could help with the cooking,” she further pouted. “I've noticed that the ones who do the cooking sneak extra food beneath their skirts. I could even do that for us, Alberto.”
Alberto frowned, busying himself, removing from his inner pockets most of his money and already purchased train tickets for the long trip from New York to Illinois, then quickly thrust this into Maria's hands. “Here. Hide this,” he said. “Maybe the men are wicked as you say. No need in taking a chance of getting our money and tickets taken from me.”
Maria looked downward, mentally calculating how much he had given her. She wasn't skilled with numbers, but she did know enough to realize Alberto hadn't given her all the money they possessed. She circled her fingers around what she did hold and eyed him questioningly. “Where is the rest, Alberto?” she whispered.
His face flushed crimson as he looked quickly away from her. “A man apparently doesn't go sit to watch that card game without money of his own,” he mumbled, awkwardly thrusting his hands in his rear trousers pockets.
“Alberto!” Maria scolded. “You cannot do this thing. I know harm will come from it.”
Alberto's eyes grew wider when he watched one of the men thrust a huge wad of bills inside a wallet, laughing, then moving away from the men, to go and wrap his arms around a young, beautiful woman. He further watched as they disappeared below deck. He had heard whisperings about these women with the painted faces and low-cut dresses, and what the men paid them to do. His heart pounded against his chest… wondering how it would feel to reach up inside the skirts of a woman. He had seen enough of his sister Maria to stir his insides to an almost burning inferno. .. .
“Alberto?” Maria whispered.
He leaned down into her face. “Hide the money and tickets,” he said quietly.
“But where?”
“Inside the violin case. No one will ever have a chance to take it from you. I know how you watch it like a hawk.”
“Then you still insist on going to sit with those men?”
He held her face in his hands. “For a little while, Maria,” he said thickly. “Please understand. I'm a man. A man needs more than to sit idly by watching every-one else have fun.”
Maria batted her lashes nervously. “All right, Alberto,” she said. “But please. Not for long. I do want to be able to stand in line with you when the meal is completed and ready for serving.”
“I'm just as hungry as you, Maria,” he said, laughing softly. “My stomach is aching just as badly. Don't you know that?”
“Then please hurry back.”
“I shall.”
Maria stood trembling as she watched Alberto move slowly toward the men, and then tensed as all eyes turned to study him before inviting him to join them. Fear and dread surged through Maria, wondering if Alberto truly understood the dangers of doing so. But he was a man . . . and men had to know how to protect themselves. Surely Alberto could also.
