Archive of Our Own

Rey crossed the Atlantic with her parents when she was six. Soon after their arrival in America, both passed. She still remembered the yellow flag fluttering in the wind, affixed to the masthead. Land was near, but her mother wept. Now older, Rey understood why.

Her memories of her parents were fragmented, surfacing most often in her dreams. She couldn’t be sure of their voices, but still she recognized them whenever she slept. She recalled her mother’s skirt, her small hand clutching it - no taller than mama’s knee then. She’d be swept up into the air by her father’s warm arms, the loose ends of his necktie dangling like her stuffed rabbit’s ears. Rey knew them incompletely, but she missed them.

New England felt different from the England of her parentage. It was vast, with more land than people knew how to use. Religion was similar, though the local fervor far surpassed that of her Protestant Aunt’s. Shipping was similar, and she imagined her father would’ve been pleased to have set up his fishing business there, had he been given the chance. By some cruel irony, people here seemed healthier than in London.

Yet Rey was left alone in this foreign land, with no legal standing and even less hope. Her parents’ savings too small to grant her passage back home to the care of a relative, it was donated to an orphanage - and Rey along with it. It was there that she grew up, a harsh upbringing among dozens of other parentless children.

Sometimes she worked, other times she saw to the care of the orphanage. It was a mundane childhood, but she was fortunate in that she was taught to read and write. A Protestant business man, the orphanage’s main patron, insisted on a Puritanical approach to literacy and faith. In all other areas, her circumstances were equally bleak as the others.

Some years later, having failed to be placed in a home (favor given to American children over herself - her accent never did fade), Rey was given a choice. Stay in Boston and find work at one of the many textile mills, or try her luck elsewhere. She lacked any papers that gave her the protection of an American citizen, with no legal claim to create a business of her own or buy land. She likely never would until someone took her in, and she knew she wouldn’t find that in a factory. So she opted for the train.

Orphan trains were a new idea, offering children work and a place with families out West. Despite its official-sounding name, the Children’s Aid Society didn’t offer much information on its success. Rey knew orphans weren’t given any special consideration in Boston, so she wondered if the same treatment awaited the children aboard. Where did they go? Were they treated well? Were they at risk as farmhands, like the factory children here? She wouldn’t know until she, too, boarded a train bound for Michigan just one month later.

Wrapped in a calico dress that had been left behind by an older girl, since married to the foreman of her mill, Rey adjusted her scarf. Clutching the small satchel which lay in her lap, Rey considered its contents. Filled with her only belongings - a bible, a small notebook, $15, and a pair of gloves - she tightened her grip and peered idly out the window of her coach.

She shared the small room with two other girls, each of them sleeping one per bench, and Rey on the floor. She supposed it was better than the other cars, some were ten to a room, and those poor children didn’t know where they’d be getting off. Most waited to be selected when they stopped, inspected by families at each town with a station. Rey couldn’t imagine how it must feel to make it to the final stop of the line, left unchosen. She prayed for the sake of every child onboard that none would know that fate.

Unlike them, however, Rey’s future had already been arranged. She’d be joining a foster family who had taken in two young girls already. Why they needed a third Rey couldn’t be sure, but she’d been relieved to escape Boston as quickly as she had. Factory work paid better than farm work, but it provided her no legal security. A family name, however, could. Enough to build a future.

Once she had that, Rey felt certain she could put her parents’ dreams into action, starting a business of her own, and carrying on the legacy of her family name. America was the land of opportunity, and so long as she remained there, Rey would do what she had to in order to make her family’s mark. Her parents' deaths would not be in vain, so long as she could help it.

When they pulled into Detroit, Rey disembarked and was quickly singled out. Her orphanage’s pastor had sent word of her description to the family, and her age set her apart from many of the other children.

“Miss Rey?” A man called, dressed in a three piece suit and a long coat. He reminded her of the pastor. Only, he was better dressed. And fatter.

Following closely behind the man was a wisp of a blonde girl no older than seven, and another girl who she presumed was the older sister - slightly taller but equally blonde.

“Mr. Plutt.” She gave a slight curtsy, “You must be Lisbeth, and Mary. Hello.” She smiled to her two new sisters. They were hesitant to return the gesture.

They must be shy, she reasoned. Sure time would open their hearts to her.

“I see you made it in one piece. Follow me,” the man said.

He led them to a carriage, and Rey realized he must be a wealthy sort of man to take in so many orphans. She’d never ridden in a carriage with lining, or worn such fine clothes as the two girls. Their bonnets were a prettier color than her own plain one, and their ribbons were silk. Rey dared to hope that joining their family might mean she, too, would soon wear such luxuries.

The house was as impressive as the carriage, and the dinner failed to disappoint. Rey slept well that night, her belly full and soul grateful for the unexpected fortune that had brought her there.

But that comfort was short-lived, one night of sound sleep all she would be afforded.

“I’ve sold you,” Mr. Plutt announced over breakfast, chewing as he spoke. “The lot of you.”

Raising their heads in unison, the three girls stared at the man in confusion.

“Your guide, Mr. Gerhardt, will be along to fetch you shortly. I suggest you pack your things this evening.” He gestured to the blonde girls, dismissing their shock before looking to Rey. “You’ve barely unpacked, so I suspect it should be less a chore for you. Not that you have many items in your possession in the first place.”

She felt it a cruel point to make.

“What do you mean you’ve sold us?” A defiant Mary asked of their guardian. She couldn’t have been more than twelve, Rey thought.

“Out west, there are families in need. It’s what I do, you know. Hadn’t anyone told you?” He looked to them, fork holding up a skewered piece of sausage.

“Apparently not.” He harrumphed, taking another bite.

“I am not a charitable man in the habit of fostering orphans.” He looked between the two older girls. “I am, however, an intermediary. I work with orphanages or families left with the burden of their deceased relative’s children. Then I find those who actually wish to take in wayward younglings. It pays rather handsomely.” He waved a hand in gesture to the room where they took their breakfast.

“And they take care of the cost of your journey as well, to make the transition… easier on you.”

“What kind of journey?” Rey asked, finding her voice now the older blonde’s lip had begun to wiggle in distress.

“Gold has been found in Montana, now farming is taking root alongside the prospecting. I’m likely to sell off quite a few children to till the fields of your future master, but that’s not what you three will be doing. Where there’s gold, there’s newly rich men. And where there’s newly rich men, there’s need for maids. I place advertisements in every major newspaper between here and California. A gentleman out in Bitterroot just so happens to require two maids.” He nodded to the sisters.

“And a wife.” He locked eyes with Rey.

“Mr. Gerhardt is an experienced driver with a comfortable wagon the three of you will ride in until you reach your destination. Assuming you reach it.” He chortled.

“Either way I get my share, and Gerhardt his once you arrive. Make no mistake, it’s wild country out that way, and your very survival depends on how well you listen to Mr. Gerhardt. So for your sake, I suggest you travel obediently. Do as he says, and keep inside the wagon at all times. Otherwise…”

Lisbeth let out a startled wail at the implication, tales of disaster, disease, and violence on the trails headed west no foreign matter to any person or child.

“Now you may think me unkind, but I did keep my promise to keep you two together, per your uncle’s wishes.” He lectured the table, then turned his sights on Rey.

“And your Pastor assured me you’re educated, if only a few years shy of the typical marrying age. Really, it could be worse. Some girls marry as young as nine out in those parts.” He lifted his eyebrows, a poorly veiled threat directed toward what Rey pieced could mean either of the sisters.

“So I feel eighteen years behind you, as a young lady able to read and write, makes you proper fit to marry a rich man. He’s likely a different kind of rich, rough around the edges. You’ve got to be if you’re looking to build an empire out in otherwise unclaimed territory. But as I see it, I’m doing you a favor. I’d venture to say this is better than anything Boston would have to offer… well, someone of your circumstances.”

Marriage wasn’t exactly what Rey had in mind when it came to finding her place in this country. Not yet.

“You assured my pastor you'd take me in.” Rey seethed. “How dare you go back on your word? What if I refuse this man’s offer, and write to the good Pastor to tell him of your deception?” She threatened, unsure what she meant to get out of it.

“You may do just as you like, same as I may. The paperwork I signed gives me legal right to you, Miss. Rey, to do as I please. I bought you, I sold you, and if you decided to make things difficult for me, I could just as easily throw you away. To me, and to this country, you’re no different than cattle. So be grateful for the bountiful pasture I’m placing before you, less you prefer to graze on the snow choked plains of starvation. Detroit isn’t like Boston, little miss. We don’t have as many factories looking to employ women out this way, which I do believe would put your chance of survival at close to zero without my help.”

Rey knew he was right. She had a little money, but couldn’t be sure how long it would last her without reliable work, or how much would be left if she made the journey back to Boston. Would the orphanage even take her back in? If they did, she’d be right back where she started.

Perhaps marriage would be the quickest way to cement her claim to a life in America, after all. It was the sacrifice all women must make, as far as her Pastor told her. It would happen to her eventually. What were the odds she’d ever marry someone with a margin of success back in Boston? Let alone someone with titles to land rich in gold. Might be the best she could ever hope for. It was the best most women could hope for, really - if it were true. As for the girls, Mary and Lisbeth, well. Rey hadn’t gotten to know them yet, but maybe it was fate which brought them together. They’d be under her employ, and she could see to it that they were well taken care of. Better than other orphans were, better than herself.

“When do we leave?”