He adored her now, but soon, when he turned eighteen, he’d be married off by his rabbi. Orthodox Jews, concerned about their youngsters’ sexual urges, married them off in a hurry. Efram would turn his back on the prostitute who had made him a man.

Efram dipped his pen in the inkwell. “This resettlement program needs more explaining,” he said to her. As eager as he was to conclude this part of their exchange so they could retreat to his bedroom, he also seemed to want to do well by her. Such a sweet boy. She trailed her fingers on the back of his neck and felt him shiver in response. He went on speaking while writing. “The Baron de Hirsch from France, may he be blessed with a long and healthy life, envisions farming in Argentina to end Jewish blood flowing in the streets of Eastern Europe.”

“That’s very good.” Batya smiled, wondering how much of her plans Efram had guessed. Her father had often said, “A Jew shouldn’t trust even his own dog.”

“I like your face when you think hard,” Efram said, and closed the small distance between their heads. He kissed her on the lips. “Let’s finish this letter,” he whispered, his breathing heavy.

“Yes, we must.” She licked his ear. “Please add to the letter, You and my dear beloved sisters, Keyla and Surale, whom I miss terribly, will be safe here.”

Was it right to convince Keyla to join them here, now that Fishke had died in the gulag? Her father had written that Keyla and her children were starving three times a day. With the money Batya would be sending, her sister must find a way to make the dangerous way west with two toddlers. Keyla had been breaking her back in the fields as a hired hand for years and could work just as hard in the new Argentine settlement. But a widow would be a target for pimps.

She’d leave it to God, Batya decided. The proof that He’d already determined the outcome for His people was that He’d sent this second Moses.

“You will all be transported to a newly built village,” Efram went on, “where you’ll start a new life free of discrimination and strife. My nephews will attend yeshivas and bring us all honor.”

Batya waited while Efram dabbed the blotter on the first written page and set it aside to dry. As soon as she mailed the letter, she’d find a way to speak to Señor Farbstein. She took a deep breath as she began to dictate the second page. “Papa, you know your way with both horses and cows. You will be of great help to your fellow Jews. They will look up to you.” If nothing else, her father cared about being respected. This might be the incentive he needed.