Chapter Thirteen
Edith sat in silence as the cart jostled down the uneven path back to Daniel’s cabin.
The rhythmic clop of the horse’s hooves did little to soothe the storm raging in her mind.
She could barely feel the cool air biting at her skin or the rough wood of the cart beneath her.
All she could think about was the Bible—her Bible—now lost to her forever.
She replayed the scene with her father over and over in her head. The way he had sneered at her, the way he had snatched the Bible from her hands and hurled it against the wall as though it meant nothing.
Her heart ached. That Bible had been her lifeline, the only thing that had comforted her in the darkest moments of her life, even though she couldn’t read.
She had clung to its pages when the nights were cold, and her father’s rage had echoed through the small cabin.
And now it was gone, left behind in the place she had hoped never to return to.
Beside her, she could sense Daniel’s eyes on her. His gaze was steady, watching, but she didn’t turn to meet it. She didn’t know what she’d see there—pity, maybe, or concern—but she wasn’t sure she could handle either. Not right now. The shame and sadness were already too heavy.
She kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead, but it was blurry through the unshed tears she refused to let fall. Edith hadn’t cried in front of anyone in years, and she wasn’t about to start now. Not even in front of Daniel. She forced herself to remain still, to keep it all in.
Her father’s cruel laugh rang in her ears, the way he’d called her worthless, the way he’d looked at her like she was nothing. And then there was Daniel, standing between them, firm and unyielding. He had defended her, stood up to her father in a way no one ever had.
A part of her had hoped that her father might change, that somehow he would let her leave without malice. That maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t always be the monster she had known. But she had been wrong. So wrong.
As the cart rolled along, Edith remained lost in her thoughts, so preoccupied with the scene that had unfolded with her father that she hardly noticed their surroundings changing. The road grew smoother, the trees thinning as they approached the edges of town.
She turned to Daniel, her voice hesitant. “Why are we going into town?”
Daniel kept his eyes forward, his expression unreadable. “You’ll see,” was all he said, his voice steady, giving nothing away.
Edith frowned, her confusion growing, but she didn’t press him. It wasn’t long before they arrived at the saloon, the building standing out among the others with its worn sign swinging gently in the breeze.
Daniel pulled the cart to a stop and, after jumping down himself, reached up to help Edith, his hand steady and sure as he guided her onto the street.
Together, they made their way to the side of the saloon and up the narrow staircase that led to the small quarters above.
As they reached the top of the stairs, Daniel knocked on the door.
It creaked open a moment later, and Mary appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw them standing there.
“Well, I’ll be,” she said, her voice filled with warmth but also a hint of confusion. “Didn’t expect to see the two of you so soon.”
Daniel offered her a small smile. “Mary, we need your help.”
Mary’s brows furrowed, her gaze shifting between Daniel and Edith, who stood slightly behind him. “Come in, come in,” she said, stepping aside to let them enter. “What’s goin’ on?”
As they stepped into the small living space, Edith felt the warmth of the room immediately, a stark contrast to the cold weight of the past few hours. She glanced at Daniel, still unsure of what he had planned but trusting him nonetheless.
“We’ve had a rough morning,” Daniel explained as they stood in the small room. He turned slightly toward Edith, his eyes softening. “We could use some help getting a few things sorted.”
Mary’s expression shifted to concern as she looked more closely at Edith, noting the strain on her face and the tension in her body. “Oh, my dear, sit down. You look like you’ve been through the wringer.” She motioned toward a chair, her voice kind but firm.
Edith hesitated for a moment but then nodded, her legs suddenly feeling heavy beneath her as she sank into the chair. She had been running on pure fear and adrenaline for hours, and now that they were here, safe and away from her father, the exhaustion caught up with her all at once.
Mary sat down beside Edith, her gaze gentle and full of understanding. “Whatever it is, you’re safe here now,” she said softly. “We’ll get it figured out.”
“We need to get her some things—clothes, mostly. I was hoping you might know where we could find some in town. And…” He paused, glancing at Edith before continuing. “There’s more. We’ll need to talk.”
Mary’s eyes flickered with curiosity, but she didn’t press for details. Instead, she nodded, her hands resting gently on Edith’s arm. Edith looked between them, wondering what their secrecy meant or if it involved her.
“Of course. We’ll sort it all out,” Mary said, her voice full of calm assurance. “We’ll get ya taken care of.”
“Just have it put on my account,” Daniel instructed, then looked around awkwardly. “I’m gonna take care of a few errands myself and see what Sam’s up to.”
Edith’s throat tightened, and she blinked back the tears that threatened to spill.
She wasn’t used to this—people caring, people offering help without expecting something in return.
She glanced at Daniel, her heart filled with an unfamiliar sense of gratitude. Daniel shifted and looked away quickly.
Mary stood up, brushing off her apron. “Well then, let’s get you something decent to wear,” she said, a warm smile spreading across her face. “We’ll head down to the general store. They’ve got some fabric and ready-made dresses that’ll fit you proper.”
Edith blinked in surprise, her hands still gripping the worn seams of her dress.
“I... I don’t know if that’s necessary. I can make do,” she mumbled, her gaze dropping to the floor.
“The only clothes I ever had were hand-me-downs Mrs. Taylor stuffed in with the groceries I got... nothing new. I’m used to it. ”
Mary’s expression softened as she took a step closer, lifting Edith’s chin gently with her fingers so their eyes met.
“No need to get used to scraps anymore, child,” she said kindly.
“You deserve something that’s yours. Besides, Daniel wouldn’t have brought you all this way just to keep you in those rags, now would he? ”
Edith cast a glance toward the door where Daniel had stepped out to give them space. She could feel the warmth of Mary’s kindness, but years of accepting the bare minimum made her hesitant. “I don’t want to be a burden...” she began, but Mary shook her head before Edith could finish.
“Burden?” Mary chuckled softly, reaching for her shawl. “You’re no burden, and don’t let me hear you say that again. The Lord provides, Edith, and today, He’s using us to help you. Come on now.”
With a soft sigh, Edith nodded, gathering her resolve as Mary led her down the stairs and out of the saloon. Edith drew in a steady breath as they turned into the general store, the weight of her past beginning to ease, if only slightly.
“Sometimes,” Mary began as they approached the store, “faith is trusting that better things are on the way, even when you can’t see them yet. And I have a feeling things are about to change for you, Edith.”
The general store smelled of cured tobacco and fresh bread, with shelves lined with essentials—flour, coffee, and jars of preserves.
In the corner, bolts of fabric sat neatly stacked, mostly plain cotton and wool, the kind folks in town used to make their clothes last. Edith’s eyes drifted over the goods, the familiarity of the place both comforting and unsettling.
She had been here many times before, but never for herself. Never for something new.
Mrs. Taylor, the grocer’s wife, bustled over from behind the counter, her sharp eyes softening when they landed on Edith. “Well now, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Edith,” she said warmly, holding up a tape measure.
Edith nodded, offering a small, polite smile. She knew Mrs. Taylor well enough. Edith had long suspected that beyond the hand-me-down clothes, Mrs. Taylor had charged Edith far less than she should have for the food she gave her.
“Come on, let’s get you fitted,” Mrs. Taylor said, her tone practical as she motioned Edith toward the back of the store.
Wrapping the tape around Edith’s waist, she frowned slightly.
“You’re still as thin as a rail, aren’t you?
” Mrs. Taylor clicked her tongue softly, measuring with quick, practiced hands.
“You need some decent meals in you, dear.”
Edith flushed, the heat rising to her cheeks as she stood stiffly under Mrs. Taylor’s scrutiny. She wasn’t used to being looked at like this, not up close. She knew she was small—years of hunger had left their mark—but hearing it aloud was still a bitter sting.
Before Edith could get too lost in her discomfort, Mary stepped forward, her voice steady and reassuring. “She’s strong,” Mary said, her tone kind but firm. “More than she looks.”
Mrs. Taylor paused, her expression softening as she glanced between Edith and Mary. “Of course,” she murmured, loosening the tape measure. “I’ll make sure the dresses fit snug but with room to grow. We’ll have you looking right.”
Edith shifted slightly, the tightness in her chest easing just a little.
She glanced at Mary, grateful for her presence and for the way she stepped in, no questions asked.
As Mrs. Taylor continued her work, Edith ran her fingers over the fabric samples on the table.
Plain, simple cotton and wool. Nothing fancy, but new.
The feeling of having something that hadn’t been worn down by someone else felt foreign, but good.
“I’ll stitch these up quick,” Mrs. Taylor said, rolling the tape back into her pocket. “But you’ll still have to come back in a couple of days. It’s high time you had some new clothes, Edith. These’ll do you well.”
“You got anything pre-made Edith could walk out with now?” Mary asked.
Mrs. Taylor tapped on her chin, looking back into the storeroom. “I might have something that’s been around for a while. Might not be the best fashion or the best fit, but it could do.”
After Mrs. Taylor brought out the dress, she shifted through her supplies and gave Edith a new shift and a few pairs of stockings.
Realizing how much clothing stacked up on the counter at the end, Edith shook her head. “I don’t have any money to pay you back.”
Mary looked confused. “Didn’t we talk ‘bout this already? Daniel is getting these things for you. If you’re so troubled ‘bout it, consider it a part of your wages for helping him out.”
Edith blushed again, feeling awkward at their understanding and generosity. Mrs. Taylor wrapped everything in brown paper with a string and handed it to Edith.
“Go on home, now, child,” Mrs. Taylor said, smiling kindly. “Get you some rest and good food. I’m so glad you got away from that blasted man.”
“Me too,” Edith whispered, and followed Mary out.