That night after Mina had gone to bed, she heard the grownups talking in the big room. She strained to hear what they were saying.
"I love this village, it is my home," Papa said. "But I have no future here, no land, no hope for anything better...."
There was a moment of silence, and then Opa's voice. "Ja, my son, it is hard for the second-born. But I have some money put away-enough for you to go to Texas."
Uncle Christian spoke up. "If you give all that money to Ernst, we will have nothing to buy a new wagon."
"You speak of a new wagon, but we speak of a new life, Christian." It was Opal "Ernst is my son, too. We cannot all live on this farmstead. It is good that he go and seek his fortune elsewhere."
Uncle Christian said something Mina could not hear.
A chair scraped the floor, and Papa shouted. "You will see, Christian, someday you will see."
"Now Ernst, please, sit down." No one spoke for a moment. Then Mama's voice again. "Ernst, we could use your father's money to buy land here."
"No, Minchen, we could not buy enough land with that money anywhere but in Texas where land is still plentiful and cheap. Texas is a Godsend for us-the answer to my prayers."
"Well, my children, you do not have to decide tonight. Let us sleep on it. You have a week to make up your minds."
Mina lay in bed next to Christine thinking about Texas.
"Christine, are you asleep?"
There was no answer except the slow, even breathing of sleep.
Mina wanted to talk to someone. She did not like it when Papa and Uncle Christian argued. She turned her thoughts to Texas. What a fine house they would have. It would be made of stone-three stories high-with a slate roof. And they would have a carriage like the rich people in Bad Salzdetfurth. In the garden there would be orange and banana trees.
In the next days, all the talk was about going to Texas. The more they talked, the more possible it seemed. Mina could hardly sit still in school for thinking about crossing the ocean in a tall sailing ship to live in a paradise.
So when Papa asked one evening, "Do you want to go to Texas, Mina?", she replied without hesitating, "Oh, ja, Papa, I do!"
Then Papa's face became very serious-in harmony with his sad eyes. "Do you realize, Mina, that we will never return here?"
Mina had not thought about that. The word "never" was so final that she could not understand it. Still, she said, "Ja, Papa, but other people we know are going too. "
Papa nodded his head. Everyone in the room was silent. Papa looked over at Mama. "What do you say, Minchen?"
Mama smiled at him. "I say, let us go, if that is what you want, Ernst."
Suddenly Papa jumped up. "Then . . . we will go!"
Mama ran to Papa, and he wrapped his arms around both Mama and Mina. "We will go," he repeated. They rocked back and forth locked in Papa's arms.
Summer came, and there was much to be done before leaving for Texas. Boxes had to be made for packing, clothes had to be sewn, dishes carefully packed in straw-a thousand jobs.
On the day before departure Opa presented Papa the little wooden wall clock with Edelweiss painted around its face. Mina's great-grandfather had brought it from the Black Forest many years ago. She loved its delicate chiming, and wondered where-in what room-it would resume its ticking and chiming.
At last everything was packed into wooden boxes and loaded onto the Leiterwagen, ready for Opa to drive them to Linden where they would board a riverboat for Bremerhaven.
When morning came Mina realized that this was the last time to awaken in the small cozy room she shared with Christine. She looked up at the wooden canopy over the bed. Never again would she open her eyes and look at the cluster of flowers that Opa had carved there.
"Mina, I am sorry you are leaving." Christine turned in the soft feather bed to face her. "This room will seem so quiet without you."
Mina wished Christine had not said that. Now she was not so sure she wanted to leave.
"I know, Christine," Tears started in Mina's eyes. She threw back the covers, and put her feet on the cold wooden floor.
Her doll, Johanna, was lying on top of a trunk in the corner of the room, staring at the ceiling. Her white china face wore the same smile as always. Mina picked her up. Johanna looked happy to be going to Texas today. Mina smiled back at Johanna, sat her on the trunk, and went downstairs to breakfast. She ran to Opa, sitting at the table, threw her arms around his neck and held tightly. His grizzled beard was rough on her cheek.
"Well, how is my Texas girl?" Opa asked.
Mina could not say anything, smiled at Opa, and tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it would not go away. She did not want to leave Opa and his big warm house that smelled of baking bread and coffee. The early morning sun shone through casement windows onto the dark wooden floor. Schnurri, the cat, lay curled in a square of warm sunshine, her long fur glistening. Mina kneeled down to smooth her fur. Schnurri raised her head to look at Mina, and then began to purr.
"Come, Mina, I will braid your hair." Mama combed out Mina's bangs and long blond hair. Then she parted it down the middle, made two braids, and tied each with a blue ribbon. "There now."
Aunt Sophie called Christine to come to breakfast, and when the whole family was gathered, Opa blessed the food. It was the last time to hear Opa's blessing and eat at this big family table, Mina thought. On the table were thick slices of dark rye bread, an oval mold of yellow butter, steaming mugs of coffee, and a pitcher of warm milk. But Mina was
not hungry. It was as though her throat closed up whenever she took a bite.
"Mina, eat your breakfast now. We have a long journey ahead." Mama adjusted one of the bows on her braids.
"I cannot, Mama. " She left the table, and went through the hall into the barn where the animals stood in their stalls. In the center of the barn the Leiterwagen was waiting. Mina went to the stall where Liesel, the spotted milk cow, watched her with big sad eyes.
"Farewell, Liesel." Mina ran her hand down from the white spot between Liesel's ears along her silky black face, over and over again.
Opa and Papa came in to hitch the horses to the wagon.
"Mina, go and get your things, and do not forget Johanna." Papa climbed in the wagon with Opa, and they drove out into the street to the front of the house.
As Mina came out the front door, she saw that family and friends had gathered to bid them farewell. She ran to Auntie Fischer.
"Auf Wiedersehen, Mina." Auntie Fischer wrapped her arms around Mina.
Someone touched Mina's shoulder gently. "Goodbye, Mina." It was Christine. They embraced one another. "How I shall miss you."
"Oh, Christine, you have been like a sister. We shall see each other again someday." But Mina knew in her heart that day would never
be.
Papa shook hands with Uncle Christian, kissed Aunt Sophie and then Christine.
"Lebe wohl, Uncle Ernst," Christine said, "I will write to you."
Papa, Mama, and Mina climbed into the wagon with Opa, and he clucked at the team of horses. The wagon lurched forward, and that seemed to loosen the sobs Mina had been holding back. She buried her face on Papa's shoulder as she heard, "Auf Wiedersehen. God be with you."
Mina looked back through blurry eyes. The group of people, all waving, was growing smaller. Cousin Hans ran after the wagon for a way, then stopped, and he too was left behind. The tears streamed down Mina's cheeks as the wagon rolled out of Wehrstedt, and Papa's arm tightened around her shoulders.
At last the sobs were finished. Mina straightened up and looked back.
"Farewell, Wehrstedt," she called, waving at the sight of the neat village nestled in the valley just below the Ziegenberg. Only the church spire rose above the tree tops. She thought of Hans standing helpless in the middle of the road-helpless to catch them and hold them back.
The road followed a stream, out through a gap in the hills.
"Papa, I hope our new home will be in the hills like these."
"I hope so too, Mina." Papa looked straight ahead.
Opa was silent as he drove the wagon, and there were tears running down Mama's pale cheeks. Mina took a last look at the wooded hills. Then she turned around, flipped her braid over her shoulder, and never looked back again.