Chapter Nine
Edith sat up slowly in bed, trying to push through the weakness that had settled deep in her bones.
It wasn’t just the fever that clung to her like a fog or the gnawing ache in her stomach that left her feeling hollow.
She was used to the hunger and exhaustion.
However, being dragged from her home to be sold off by her own father like cattle had shaken her to the core.
The shock of it all had made her feel smaller and more fragile than ever before.
Wiping her eyes, she tried to rub away the sleep. She couldn’t afford to stay this way. She couldn’t let herself be weak, not now. If she couldn’t pull her weight—if she couldn’t cook or clean—what reason would Daniel have to keep her around? And if he didn’t, then what? Where would she go?
The thought terrified her. The rush of panic woke her instantly.
She had never known anything except her father’s shambled cabin.
She couldn’t read or write and had no skills beyond what little she had learned to maintain her father’s cabin.
The likelihood of her finding a job or even surviving on her own seemed impossible.
No, she couldn’t let that happen. She needed to make this situation work.
Edith pushed back the blankets and stood. Daniel had gone out trapping again, leaving her alone in the cabin. She now had another chance to get the place in order, to prove she could be useful. She could rest later, once she had shown him she was capable.
She started with the small kitchen. The shelves were covered in dust, jars of supplies scattered haphazardly, and pots that hadn’t been properly scrubbed in ages. Everywhere she looked, she saw something else to do. One task at a time, she told herself.
With a rag in hand, Edith began wiping down the shelves, clearing away the dust that had settled into every nook and cranny.
As the hours passed, the work began to soothe her.
There was a strange peace in it, a quiet freedom she hadn’t felt in years.
For the first time in as long as she could remember, she wasn’t afraid of her father coming home.
She wasn’t watching the door with dread, waiting for him to stumble in, drunk and angry.
She imagined what Daniel would say when he returned, pleased with her results.
Realizing that she looked forward to seeing him, hoping to make him smile, motivated her.
She wanted to impress him. Taking up a broom, she moved to the floor, sweeping away the dirt that had gathered in the corners and under the table.
After many hours, Edith straightened up, surveying the cabin. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. The shelves were clean, the floors swept, and the kitchen looked more orderly than it had when she first arrived.
She sank into one of the wooden chairs, breathing heavily as she wiped a hand across her forehead. She had done it. She had pushed through despite how weak she still felt.
Edith sat in the chair, letting the quiet of the cabin settle over her.
Her muscles ached from the effort she’d put into cleaning.
She had been so focused on the tasks that she hadn’t stopped to think about her next move.
She hadn’t even eaten, though that was not unusual for her.
Now, with the cabin in order, her gaze drifted toward the small shelf where jars of food and supplies were stored.
Standing slowly, Edith walked over and began inspecting the jars—dried beans, flour, salt, and a small collection of vegetables.
A sack of potatoes sat in the corner, along with a few strips of dried meat hanging near the stove.
For the first time, she realized that she didn’t have to wait for someone else to tell her what to eat or when.
Her throat tightened, and she blinked back the sudden sting of tears.
It was such a small thing, really—having enough food, the basic necessities of life—but it was more than she had allowed herself to hope for.
How many times had she gone to bed hungry, listening to her father rage or drink away whatever money he had made trading or gambling?
The idea that she had control over something as simple as what she could eat made her feel both overwhelmed and deeply grateful.
Wishing she had thought of food earlier, she looked about for what to eat now and what to prepare for supper.
She set a pot of beans to soak, then made up some corn pone for lunch, along with some fried potatoes.
As she sat down at the table to eat, she looked out the window, the sun streaming through the trees beckoning her.
After eating, Edith stepped out onto the small porch to sweep away the dirt and leaves that had gathered there.
The wind tugged gently at her hair, and the distant sounds of the wilderness—birds, the rustling of leaves—felt like a strange kind of lullaby.
She couldn’t help but feel a strange peace, as if the weight of constantly worrying about her father had finally begun to lift.
She swept slowly, letting her mind wander.
It was still strange to think that she didn’t have to look over her shoulder, didn’t have to brace for the sound of her father stumbling home drunk, cursing under his breath.
This cabin, far from the world she’d known, gave her something she hadn’t realized she was missing: space.
Space to breathe, space to think, space to heal.
As she moved to sweep along the edge of the porch, her skirt caught on a jagged nail sticking up from one of the planks. She heard the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing, and her heart sank. She looked down and saw the jagged rip running along the hem of her skirt.
“Not now…” she whispered to herself, bending down to inspect the tear.
She ran her fingers over the rough edges of the fabric, frustration welling up inside her. This was one of the only pieces of clothing she had, and now it was ruined. She didn’t have anything else. Her other clothes, what few she had, were still back at her father’s cabin.
She straightened up, staring at the tear, the disappointment and exhaustion washing over her in waves. Without her things, without even a spare set of clothes, she felt exposed and vulnerable again. The fragile sense of control she had started to build crumbled just a little.
She didn’t want to ask Daniel for anything, didn’t want to feel indebted to him more than she already did.
But what other choice did she have? She would need to ask him to go back, to fetch what little she owned from her father’s cabin.
The thought of going back there, even for a moment, sent a shiver down her spine.
Edith sighed and brushed the dirt from her hands.
When Daniel returned, she would ask him.
She didn’t know if he would agree, but she had to try.
For now, she would mend the fabric the best she could, assuming Daniel had the supplies.
She went back into the cabin to rummage through Daniel’s supplies, hoping for a needle and thread.
Despite the cluttered cabin, Edith easily found Daniel’s mending supplies and set to work stitching up the rip.
After mending her skirt, Edith felt the pull of the open air calling to her.
The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden light over the woods, and the breeze was crisp but not biting.
She wrapped a coat Daniel had left behind around her shoulders and stepped off the porch, making her way into the forest that stretched endlessly behind the cabin.
The quiet of the woods was calming, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the soft earth beneath her.
She wandered deeper, her mind drifting, enjoying the simple pleasure of not having to look over her shoulder for her father’s return.
Here, in the stillness, it was as though she could almost forget the nightmare she had escaped. Almost.
As she rounded a bend in the trail, the sound of a twig snapping broke the silence.
Edith froze, her heart skipping a beat. She peered ahead and spotted a man moving through the trees, his rifle slung over his shoulder.
At first, she thought nothing of it. He must have been out hunting, like many of the men around here.
But then, as the figure drew closer, the pit in her stomach grew.
He looked familiar—too familiar.
Her breath caught in her throat as recognition hit her.
It was one of the gamblers from the saloon.
One of the men who had leered at her, who had eyed her like a prize when her father had offered her up.
He hadn’t been the one to bid on her, but she remembered him laughing, his eyes gleaming with interest as the whole sordid event unfolded.
Panic surged through her chest, and her feet felt glued to the spot.
The man stopped when he saw her, his eyes narrowing in recognition. A slow grin spread across his unshaven face as he lowered the rifle slightly, his gaze drifting over her.
“Well, well, look who it is,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “Didn’t think I’d run into you out here, little miss.”
Edith swallowed hard, her heart racing. She took a step back, trying to calm the rising fear in her chest.
“I... I was just heading back. Daniel’s inside,” she stammered, hoping to put an end to the conversation and escape.
But the man’s grin only widened, and he shook his head. “Daniel, huh? That trapper sure got a deal that night. I was wishin’ I had enough to outbid him.”
Her blood ran cold at his words. He knew Daniel wasn’t here. He knew she was alone.
Edith’s mind raced, trying to come up with something—anything—that would get her out of this situation. She forced herself to stand a little straighter, her voice trembling but steady enough. “Daniel’ll be back any minute. You don’t want to be here when he gets back.”
The man took a step closer, his rifle still slung over his shoulder, but his gaze predatory.
He laughed, the sound low and unsettling, echoing in the quiet woods.
“Oh, I know he ain’t here,” he said, his voice soft and menacing.
He took another step closer, his boots crushing the fallen leaves beneath him with a slow, deliberate crunch.
“Otherwise, you wouldn’t be wanderin’ out here all alone, would ya? ”
Edith’s throat tightened as she took a step back, her heart pounding in her ears.
Her body tensed, her mind scrambling for a way out.
Could she run? No—he’d catch her before she could make it halfway back to the cabin.
Fight? She wasn’t strong enough, not against someone like him.
She had no weapon, no plan, no way to defend herself. She was helpless.
The man moved closer still, his grin twisting into something darker.
His hand rested lazily on the rifle slung over his shoulder as if reminding her that he had all the power here.
The air around them seemed to grow colder, and Edith’s breathing grew more ragged as the reality of the situation sank in.
“Daniel can’t protect you forever, girl,” he sneered, his voice dropping to a whisper that made her stomach churn. “You’ll always be out here alone at some point. Ain’t no man gonna watch over you all the time. Best get used to it.”
Fear clutched at her, paralyzing her limbs as the man took another step forward. She wanted to scream, but her voice caught in her throat. The woods, once peaceful and inviting, now felt like a dark and sinister trap, closing in on her with every passing second.
Just as Edith’s vision began to blur with terror, a sound broke through the chaos in her mind—the unmistakable crunch of footsteps approaching from behind. Her heart leaped into her throat as she turned, praying it wasn’t too late.