Esperanza Rising by Pam Muñoz Ryan Read Free Book Online Page A

hands.
    Mama reached in her bag and pulled out a ball of blanket yarn. “Esperanza, hold out your hands for me.” She raised her eyebrows and nodded toward the girl. Esperanza knew exactly what Mama intended to do. They had done it many times before.
    Mama wrapped the yarn around Esperanza’s outstretched hands about fifty times until they were almost covered. Then she slipped a string of yarn through the middle of the loops and tied a tight knot before Esperanza removed her hands. A few inches below the knot, Mama tied another snug knot around all the yarn, forming a head. Then she cut the bottom loops, separated the strands into sections, and braided each section into what looked like arms and legs. She held the yarn doll up, offering it to the little girl. She ran to Mama, smiling, took the doll, and ran back to her own mother’s side.
    The mother whispered into the girl’s ear.
    Shyly, she said, “
Gracias
. Thank you.”
    â€œ
De nada
. You’re welcome,” said Mama.
    The woman and the children got off the train at the next stop. Esperanza watched the little girl stop in front of their window, wave to Mama, and smile again. Before she walked away, she made the yarn doll wave good-bye, too.
    Esperanza was glad the girl got off the train and took the silly yarn doll with her. Otherwise, she would have been reminded of her own selfishness and Mama’s disapproval for miles to come.

    Clicketta, clicketta, clicketta
. The song of the locomotive was monotonous as they traveled north, and the hours seemed like Mama’s never-ending ball of thread unwinding in front of them. Each morning the sun peeked over one spur of the Sierra Madre, sometimes shining through pine trees. In the evening, it set on the left, sinking behind another peak and leaving pink clouds and purple mountains against the darkening sky. When people got on and off, Esperanza and the others changed their seats. When the car filled up, they sometimes stood. When the car was less crowded, they put their valises under their heads and tried to sleep on the benches.
    At every stop, Miguel and Alfonso hurried off the train with a package. From the window, Esperanza watched them go to a water trough, unwrap an oilcloth, and dampen the bundle inside. Then they would wrap it in the oilcloth again, board the train, and put it carefully back into Alfonso’s bag.
    â€œWhat is in there?” Esperanza finally asked Alfonso, as the train pulled away from yet another station.
    â€œYou will see when we get there.” He smiled and a knowing look passed between him and Miguel.
    Esperanza was annoyed with Alfonso for taking the package on and off the train without telling her what was inside. She was tired of Hortensia’s humming and weary of watching Mama crochet, as if nothing unusual were happening to them. But most of all she was bored with Miguel’s constant talk about trains. He chatted with the conductors. He got off at every stop and watched the engineers. He studied the train schedule and wanted to report it all to Esperanza. He seemed as happy as Esperanza was irritable.
    â€œWhen I get to California, I am going to work for the railroad,” said Miguel, looking anxiously toward the horizon. They had spread pieces of brown paper in their laps and were eating
pepinos,
cucumbers sprinkled with salt and ground
chiles
.
    â€œI’m thirsty. Are they selling juice in the other car?” asked Esperanza.
    â€œI would have worked at the railroad in Mexico,” continued Miguel, as if Esperanza had not tried to change the subject. “But it is not easy to get a job in Mexico. You need
una palanca,
a lever, to get a job at the railroads. I had no connections but your father did. Since I was a small boy, he gave me his word that he would help me. And he would have kept his promise. He … he always kept his promises to me.”
    At the mention of Papa, Esperanza felt that sinking feeling again. She