Chapter Five
Edith blinked, her eyes fluttering open as the soft light of morning filtered through the thin curtains.
For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was.
The small room, the unfamiliar smell of wood smoke, the gentle crackling of a fire—it all felt foreign.
Her heart quickened as panic surged through her chest, her mind scrambling to make sense of her surroundings.
Her father. The saloon. The man who had bought her.
She tried to sit up, but her body protested, weak and trembling from exhaustion.
The movement was enough for her to realize that her clothes had been changed, and her heart raced again.
Slowly, the events of the previous night returned in sharp, jarring flashes—her father auctioning her off like livestock, the strangers staring at her with cruel curiosity, the desperation that had consumed her.
And then... Daniel. The man who had paid for her freedom, if freedom was even the right word for it.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts as her head reeled, but the faint murmur of voices beyond the door kept pulling her back to the present. A man and a woman were talking in hushed tones, but she could hear enough to know they were talking about her.
“I don’t know what to do with her now,” the man said, his voice low, filled with uncertainty. “I can’t just leave her here.”
“We’ll figure it out,” the woman replied, her tone gentler, as though trying to calm his worries. “She just needs rest and time to recover. That poor girl has been through so much.”
Edith’s heart sank. She didn’t know these people, didn’t know what they wanted from her, but the way they spoke about her made her feel like a burden, like something broken that needed to be fixed.
Her fingers tightened around the blanket as fear began to creep up her spine.
What would they do with her now? What did the man expect from her, having paid for her?
She sat up slowly, fighting the dizziness that threatened to pull her back down. Her body felt like it had been through a storm, weak and unsteady, but she needed to know what was going on. She needed to understand her place here.
Her feet touched the cold floor, and she winced as the chill shot through her legs. They had not noticed her stirring and continued to talk.
“I don’t want to scare her,” the man said, his voice growing a little louder. “But she’s going to need to know that she’s safe. She needs to know we’re not going to hurt her.”
“We’ll take it slow,” the woman replied softly. “Poor thing must be terrified. No harm will come to her in this house, that’s for certain.”
Edith felt her throat tighten. Safe. The word sounded like a far-off dream, something she had longed for but never known. She wanted to believe them, but trust didn’t come easy anymore. Not after all she had been through.
Gathering her courage, she slowly stood.
The man and woman were in the small kitchen, their backs to her, deep in conversation.
The woman, who appeared to be in her middle years, was tending to something on the stove.
The man, taller and broader, stood with his arms crossed, staring at the floor.
She recognized the man as the stranger—Daniel. The woman she had never seen before.
Edith hesitated. Her fingers reached to grip the dresser near the bed to steady herself as her breath felt shallow and uneven. She wasn’t sure if she should interrupt, but staying hidden felt worse. They were talking about her, after all, and she needed to know what they planned.
The woman turned first, her eyes softening the moment she saw Edith standing there. She smiled warmly, setting the kettle down on the stove before stepping forward.
“Well, good morning,” the woman said, her voice kind and gentle. “You’re awake. I was beginning to worry you’d sleep through the day.”
“I’m sorry,” Edith tried to say, but her voice cracked from thirst.
Her gaze flickered to the man standing beside the stove. He was watching her, his expression hard to read. His dark eyes, shadowed by the early morning light, seemed to hold something that made Edith’s skin crawl. What did he want from her?
“No need to apologize, dear. My name is Mary Greene,” the woman said softly, her gentle voice pulling Edith’s attention away from the man. “And this here is Daniel. You’re safe, child. No one’s going to hurt you here.”
Edith swallowed hard. She wanted to believe her, but distrust made her stomach churn.
“Would you like something to eat?” Mary offered, stepping closer, her hand outstretched as if offering comfort. “I’ve made breakfast—eggs and bacon. Or if you’d prefer something lighter, I can fix you a cup of tea and a slice of bread.”
Edith shook her head quickly, her eyes flicking back to Daniel. He was still staring at her, his gaze intense and unreadable. What did he expect from her? The fear that had simmered in her chest all morning now surged through her veins, making her pulse race.
She felt Mary’s hand hover near her arm, but she couldn’t bear the thought of being touched right now. Everything felt too fragile, too uncertain.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Mary said gently, as if sensing Edith’s unease. “No harm will come to you in this home. You have my word.”
Edith’s breath hitched, and she nodded slightly.
“What’s your name, dear?” Mary asked softly, her voice patient.
“Edith,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Mary smiled again, her eyes warm with understanding. “It’s lovely to meet you, Edith. Do you want to come sit down?”
Edith glanced at Daniel and shook her head. “No, that’s all right.”
Mary glanced at Daniel hesitantly but kept her hand hovering near Edith’s arm. “Then perhaps just sit back down on the bed? You’re still quite weak.”
Despite Mary’s encouragement, Edith remained standing, looking between the two of them hesitantly.
“Can I get you some breakfast?” Mary asked. She looked over to Daniel. “Daniel, why don’t you slice off a piece of bread for Edith? Something to whet the appetite.”
“I don’t need to eat your food,” Edith protested.
With a knife in hand, Daniel hesitated over the loaf of bread, ready to cut a slice. He looked awkwardly at Mary, unsure what to do next.
“You gotta eat, dear,” Mary insisted, her tone motherly but firm. “Just a slice of bread. You must be starving.”
Edith still kept an eye on Daniel and Mary, her stomach rumbling despite her protests.
Daniel quickly sliced a piece of bread and slathered it with butter, then brought it over to her, holding it out at arm’s length as though she might bolt at any moment.
His movements were careful, almost too careful, as if he was afraid of scaring her off.
When Edith hesitated, Mary stepped in, taking the plate from Daniel and breaking off a piece of the bread. “Here, just a bite, love,” she said softly, handing it to Edith.
Edith took the small piece slowly, her hands trembling as she brought it to her mouth. The warm bread melted on her tongue, and though she didn’t want to admit it, nothing had ever tasted so good. She took another slow bite, her hunger growing with each chew.
As she ate, Mary sat down beside her, folding her hands in her lap. “You got anyone we could send for? Write to?” she asked, her voice gentle but inquisitive.
Edith shook her head, the familiar ache of loneliness settling in her chest. “No. Just my father,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with bitterness. She didn’t want to think about him—not now.
“You’ve been through so much,” she said gently, giving him a tender look. “But you’re safe now. And if you’ll let us, we’ll help you.”
Edith didn’t know how to respond. Here was this woman—this stranger—offering her safety. Her father had always said she couldn’t trust anyone, and yet, she wanted to trust her.
Mary watched her carefully, her eyes kind and patient. “We don’t want anything from you, Edith. No strings attached. You’re free to leave if you ever want to, but you don’t have to go anywhere yet. Just rest. Let yourself heal.”
Edith looked down at her hands, feeling a lump rise in her throat. Free? She had never been free. She didn’t even know what that meant. A part of her wanted to run, to escape this new uncertainty, but she had nowhere to go. The fear of the unknown loomed larger than her distrust of these people.
“You look pale, dear,” Mary said, concern creeping into her voice. “You should rest more. Your body’s been through a lot, and you need time to heal.”
Edith wanted to protest, to tell her that she didn’t need rest, that she needed to figure out what was happening, but her hands trembled, betraying her weakness, and she shivered from a sudden chill.
She felt guilty for these people waiting on her, pitying her for being ill.
Yet, she had always been this way and didn’t need them waiting on her.
“I’ll help you back to bed,” Daniel said suddenly, his voice low but firm.
Edith tensed at his words. She didn’t want him near her. She didn’t trust him. But she was too weak to argue, and she knew she might not make it back to the bed on her own.
She nodded reluctantly, allowing Daniel to step closer.
He moved slowly, cautiously, as if trying not to startle her.
His hand hovered near her arm, but he didn’t touch her, respecting the invisible boundary she had drawn between them.
Together, they walked back to the small bed, Edith’s steps shaky and uncertain.
Mary stayed close by, watching with a look of quiet concern. “There’s no rush, Edith,” she said, her voice soothing. “You’re safe here, and you can take as long as you need.”
Edith’s throat tightened, and she glanced at Mary, her lips parting as if to say something, but no words came. She had lived too long under the shadow of fear, too long believing that safety was something she could never have.
Together, they walked back to the small bed, Edith’s steps shaky and uncertain.
As they reached the bed, Edith sat down slowly, her body trembling with exhaustion and fear.
Daniel lingered for a moment as if he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come.
Instead, he nodded and turned to return to the kitchen, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he stepped away.
Edith sank into the mattress, pulling the covers up over herself as she stared up at the ceiling, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t stop her mind from racing, from replaying the events of the last day—the fear in the saloon, her father’s cold, merciless voice, the weight of the coins Daniel had tossed onto the table.
She rolled over, pulling the blanket tighter around herself as if it could shield her from the uncertainty of the future.
Her father was gone now, his cruel shadow no longer looming over her.
And yet, she felt no sense of relief. There was no freedom in her heart, no lightness in her soul.
Instead, she felt trapped, caught between two worlds—one of control and one of unknown intentions.
When her father dragged her out of their cabin, she had not thought she wouldn’t come back.
She had left only a few things behind, including a second dress and shift.
Most importantly, though, her Bible, the one thing that had brought her any comfort in that bleak place, was still there.
She had left it behind, under the pot still, and now it felt as if she had left a part of herself behind as well.
She wished she had it now, wished she could hold it in her hands, feel the worn pages beneath her fingertips. It had been her only solace, her only link to a world where kindness existed. Without it, she felt lost, adrift in a sea of fear and uncertainty.
The walls of the small room seemed to close in on her, the air thick with the unfamiliar scent of burning wood and the murmur of voices beyond.
Every detail reminded her that this was not her home, and that safety, if it existed, was still a distant concept.
For all the kindness Mary had shown, Edith couldn’t shake the feeling that it was too good to be true.
Nothing in her life had ever come without a price.