But she cared about her family, more than she cared about herself. That felt familiar, not like the Anglos, who struck him as cold, distant. She was religious. That felt familiar too. At her suggestion, with Alejandro’s permission, he went with her to worship the next Sunday. Mass was held under a large ramada erected at the edge of the barrio. They sat in back, on a crate that had once held watermelon, out of view of the others. They could barely hear the padre as he spoke from the pulpit. When others knelt on a board placed on the dirt, Karak remained seated. When Rosa went for communion, Karak did not rise. Esperanza and Alejandro had sat in front and Esperanza turned around and caught her sister’s eye. Esperanza smiled—they could see her pleasure that they were there, together. Karak and Rosa left first, so that people would not see them and gossip, but they came back afterward and Rosa showed him all the saints displayed in a wooden cabinet that stood in the front, under the shelter of the ramada. She explained who they were. She was eager for him to know and Karak listened patiently, recalling the figures that he had seen in the churches in the Philippines, on the sides of the roads, and in the buggies. Rosa explained that three older women took care of them when the padre was not here during the week. To Karak, they did not seem too different from the Hindu deities he knew. Even to a Sikh, there was comfort in that.

Later that afternoon, they drove the buckboard into El Centro. The commercial district was near empty and few people noticed them together, and they walked through the streets, Rosa holding a parasol against the sun. They were in the elite part of town where the Hotel Barbara Worth stood, but even the sheriff’s deputies seemed to be home with their families after church. Karak and Rosa were not bothered; there were no teenage boys to follow them, no wealthy ladies to stare. He saw Rosa’s eyes widen and her exclamation when they stood in front of the jewelry store; she had a taste for gold and diamonds. This too reminded him of home. In the window of the piano store, they saw instruments for sale: guitars, accordions, and a trumpet were propped up in a separate display in the corner of the window. She told him that her mother used to sing beautifully and worked at a hotel restaurant in El Paso, entertaining guests with live music. That was long after her father died, after they crossed the border, ten years ago. Her grandmother had lived with them. But by the time Rosa was fifteen, both her grandmother and mother had died too. Esperanza had wed and decided to move west to Fredonia because Alejandro had told her there was opportunity in the Imperial Valley. Rosa, of course, came with them.