UNLIKELY ALLIANCES

By Judy Lennington

Rebecca stood scratching her head as she looked up at the high walls of the fort. Her hair was beginning to grow back. She could not removed her bonnet. No one must see her bald head, for they would surely make the connection to the woman who escaped the mental sanitarium. She took a deep breath to prepare herself for her meeting with the Genera

• Language: English
• Publisher: TOPLINK PUBLISHING, LLC
• Release date: Feb 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781948556729

Judy Lennington

Deb’s Alienation is the 19th novel written by Judy Lennington, a retired factory worker of thirty-eight years. Growing up in a family of storytellers, she continues the family tradition. Only now, she hopes to tell her stories to the world.

Book preview

Chapter One

It was a cloudy day. The ferry pulled up to the river bank and stopped. Rebecca stepped off and turned to look back at the ferryman. He took a bite of the apple he held in his hand. It had been her apple. He took it as payment for her crossing the river. It was the only thing she had to eat, and she had so far to go. She began to walk the dirt road toward the mountain range that was visible through the mist, in the distance. She held her skirt high as the road was laden with puddles from the rain that fell during the previous night. Her stomach rumbled, but she swallowed hard and pressed on. She must keep g oing.

It was a cool, fall day, yet humid. She tried to avoid stepping in the water puddles. She did not want to get her feet wet, for she had no extra stockings. In fact, the stockings she wore were full of holes. She tried to darn them as best she could before she left the sanitarium, but found it hopeless. Besides, everything happened so quickly that she did not have the time to prepare. She placed her hand over the pocket of her skirt. The letter was still there. She must keep it close and not lose it. It was a letter from her sister, Mary. Mary was her older sister and closest friend. Mary had married a much older man named Bartholomew Davis and moved away. Rebecca had nowhere else to go. She must find her sister and seek her help. She knew the address on the envelope was a small town near the bottom of the mountain region. Mary’s husband worked for a wealthy land owner who lived in the mountains.

Rebecca looked upward. The dark clouds were beginning to cluster together. It was going to rain again. She must find shelter, for if she became drenched she would be chilled to the bone when darkness settled. She looked around her. A cluster of pines grew to her right. The branches hung low onto the ground. It was the only cover she saw, so she made her way in that direction. Droplets of rain began to fall just as she crawled under the low hanging limbs.

Under a cluster of limbs was a dug-out area in the dirt. Some sort of animal had taken shelter here, perhaps sleeping through the night, or maybe sheltered from the rain that fell the night before. It didn’t matter, for it was dry here, and she could wait out the rain before continuing her journey to the mountain range.

Rebecca drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them, as she listened to the falling rain. She removed her bonnet and scratched her scalp with both hands. She closed her eyes and remembered a time when she sat before a mirror and braided her long brown hair before bed. The first thing they did to her at the sanitarium was scrub her with a rough brush and cut her hair right to the scalp. Every year, she and others were marched into a room and their hair was cut again, keeping it barely visible. She rubbed her head. The hair was fine and prickly as it was beginning to grow. She swore she would never cut her hair again, nor would she allow anyone else to cut it.

She put her bonnet back on her head and tied it firmly under her chin. The bonnet was one of the matron’s bonnets that Rebecca stole before leaving the sanitarium. The matron had worked for the sanitarium many years and died one morning in her bed. She was stripped of all her belongings and placed in a wooden box with only a sheet wrapped around her naked body before the lid was nailed shut. Then she was buried in an unmarked grave behind the sanitarium. Only the wealthiest family members and high up officials had markings on their graves. Rebecca’s stomach rumbled, and she rubbed it hard. There was nothing but dirt and dried pine needles around her. She knew pine needles were toxic. She remembered her grandfather telling her time and time again when she was young. She picked up a handful of dry dirt and put it in her mouth. She closed her eyes and gagged as she tried to force it down. She could not bring herself to eat a second handful. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

The rain continued to fall. Rebecca closed her eyes again and remembered the night, long ago, when it rained hard. She stood on her balcony that looked down over the grounds of her father’s mansion. The hounds barked as her father approached in his carriage. He hurried inside while Darius, his coachman, drove the carriage toward the stables. Rebecca hurried inside and down the wide winding stairway that led to the grand entrance hall. Her father was hanging his cape on a hook.

Father, what news have you from the city? she called out, as she hurried to greet her father.

Becky, my child, the river is flooding. The water has washed out the bridge and I had to go by way of the Old Town Road and covered bridge to get home. If this rain continues, the water will likely reach us by morning. I fear for our crops, her father said.

What are we to do, Father? Rebecca asked.

We are to pray that the rain stops, and the flood water subside, her father explained.

I will pray, Father. I will pray harder than I’ve ever prayed before, Rebecca said.

Where is your mother? he asked.

She has taken to her bed early, Father, Rebecca said.

Morris Palmer brushed past his daughter and took the stairs two at a time. Rebecca gathered her skirt in her hands and followed behind. As they reached the top of the stairs, her father entered the bedroom he shared with his wife, Ester. Rebecca hurried to her own room. She knelt next to her bed and prayed.

Rebecca was the last of six children living on the plantation. All her siblings had married well and relocated. Rebecca was soon to become engaged to Carrigan Larsen. Although they had not officially announced the engagement, Rebecca and Carrigan had spent several hours walking the boxwood maze while being chaperoned by one of the servants. It was well understood that they would one day become engaged and marry. Carrigan Larsen came from a very well-to-do family on a neighboring plantation, miles down the road. He was currently off fighting in a war against the English.

Rebecca closed her eyes and listened to the rain falling steadily. There was nothing to do or any place to go, so she slept. If the rain stopped, she would walk through the night if need be.

Rebecca recalled how one by one her siblings married and left the plantation. Her oldest brother, Orville, married a girl he met in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and he lives and works there. Wilma Jean married, and moved to Georgia where her husband runs a mercantile. Damian married his childhood sweetheart and now lives in Pennsylvania somewhere. George joined the military, and no one has heard from him in a long time. Rebecca feared he may be dead. Then there was Mary. Mary was the only one who took the time to write home. She kept them up to date on her life with her husband, Bartholomew Davis and her two sons, Mortimer and Gerald. Her husband works for a very well-to-do family that lives at the base of a mountain that was named after them. Apparently, they own the whole mountain. Rebecca never heard of a mountain being owned by one family before. She was very impressed and very happy for her sister for Mary wrote that she lived in a fine house with a garden and pasture for their livestock.

Rebecca carried the last letter Mary had written her. She was very apologetic when she heard that Rebecca had been forced into the sanitarium and promised to do her best to help. Rebecca had hoped that the help would come soon, but it did not. She had lost track of the years she had been locked up. The war with the French was over, and now another war was raging. This time, it was with the British. Over time, Mary’s letters came less often. She did not know where to find any of her other siblings. Mary’s address was all she had to go by.

Rebecca sat up and rubbed her face. A small stream of water was running under the pines and had found its way to her lair. She jumped to her feet, brushing the dirt and pine needles from her clothing. The rain had stopped. Dark clouds obliterated the stars and moon, leaving the night very dark. There were no sounds with the exception to running water. Rebecca scraped her tongue with her broken fingernails, as bits of the dirt she had eaten earlier still clung to her tongue and grit covered her teeth. She stumbled her way back to the road.

Rebecca carefully followed the muddy road in the dark. She could not see the mountain range in the distance; however, she knew the road would lead her there, eventually. She must press on.

Rebecca’s skirt was growing heavy from dragging through the muddy puddles. Her feet were now wet, and all hope of saving her stockings was gone. She carried no baggage. She could not afford a bag and if she had one, there was nothing to put inside it. She heard an owl screeching off in the distance. She looked left to right as she continued to move along. She hadn’t thought of the dangers lurking in the night before. What kind of animal would make a lair big enough for her to lie in? A wolf perhaps? Now her senses were on high alert. Still she continued to put one foot in front of the other, as she walked on.

She remembered walking the boxwood maze with Carrigan Larsen. They would look at one another and smile. At times their hands would brush one another, but never did they hold hands. It was not permitted. There was always someone watching them. Sometimes, Mother would walk with them. When they sat on benches and stared at the swans swimming on the lake, Mother would knit. Sometimes it was one of two servants. Grace was a young Negro servant. She was not a slave. The Palmers were devout Christians and did not own slaves. Their servants lived on the plantation in well attended, but small, houses and paid for their keep by working for the Palmers. Not all their neighbors agreed with freeing the Negroes. In fact, most of their neighbors, and church members alike, owned slaves to work their large plantations.

Not all their servants were Negroes, either. Along Old Town Road was an area known as Shanty Town. It was where the not so well-to-do families lived. Some of the women in Shanty Town would work for the elite families to help put food on their tables. It was rare to find such a person one could trust, but occasionally, such a person came along. The Palmers had two such women working for them. Loretta Pines and Priscilla Merriweather were both from Shanty Town. They had worked for the Palmers for many years.

Rebecca could see the first signs of the sun rising to her right as she continued moving along. The puddles glistened in the early morning light. The dark clouds had begun to break up and in the distance Rebecca could see a wooden fence. Somewhere nearby was civilization. She smiled and continued to move along the road.

Rebecca smiled as she remembered the many charity balls. They were held to raise money for the war effort. Many young men who attended the balls would be recruited for the cause. The English had to be stopped at all cost. It was at one such ball that Carrigan enlisted to go off to war and fight the Britt’s. He told Rebecca not to worry, that he would come back. But Carrigan did not come back. Rebecca swallowed the lump in her throat as she marched onward. She tried to sing a song to take her mind off the day she went riding and came home to find a letter her mother was holding for her. It was a letter from Carrigan’s mother, informing her that Carrigan had fallen in battle, fighting bravely for the cause he believed in. The damn English! Rebecca said, aloud, as she walked on. She looked up toward the sky and shook her head. I know it is wrong of me to swear. I’m sorry for swearing, Lord. I am not sorry for the way I feel about the English, she said. A bird chirped in a tree nearby and she shrugged her shoulders. It was morning. She scraped her tongue again.

She walked until her eye lids grew heavy. She was exhausted to the point of collapsing. Still the mountain range was far in the distance. It seemed she had come so far and had not gained any distance at all. Perhaps she would make better time if she rested for only a little while. She saw a large stone jutting out of the ground. There were no trees near this part of the road, so she went to sit with her back against the stone. She stretched her legs out and closed her eyes as she listened to the birds chirping in the morning air.

Rebecca heard a horse snorting. She opened her eyes to find a black horse with a white spot between its eyes, staring her right in the eye. She drew her face back as she blinked to assure herself that she was not dreaming.

I see you are not dead as I expected, a man sitting upon the horse said.

Rebecca quickly stood to her feet and smoothed her skirt. No, I am not dead, sir. I was resting from a long walk and I must have dozed off. I had no reason to suspect that I would be interrupted by a strange man on a horse, she said, patting at her bonnet.

Well, forgive me, my dear, but I had no way of knowing you were dozing. You’re so pale, you could very well pass for a deceased traveler who may have fallen along the side of the road. Perhaps one that may have struck their head on a rock such as this one, the man said, nodding toward the large rock. And you have dirt around your mouth. He studied her closely. You are not from these parts, are you? he asked.

I am not, Rebecca replied, as she wiped at her mouth. I am also not inclined to pass the time with a strange man I know nothing about on a deserted road.

Where are you bound for? he asked.

I say, sir, you ask a lot of questions, Rebecca said. I am not going to indulge your curiosity any longer. If you will excuse me, I will be on my way. She turned and began walking toward the mountains. She listened as she moved away. She heard the horse moving off in the other direction. She looked over her shoulder as she continued to move along. The rider was disappearing. She tilted her head upward and let the air out of her burning lungs. She rubbed her grumbling belly as she walked faster toward her goal.

After some time, she turned to look behind her again. There was no one on the road ahead of her, and no one behind her. She went to the side of the road and pulled a handful of tall grass as she continued walking. She chewed the grass and swallowed it down, hoping it would settle her stomach. She watched for signs of berry bushes or Elderberry trees that often grew along the side of the road. To her dismay, there were none. She felt disappointment as she walked on.

She came upon a small stream that crossed the road. It was barely deep enough to cover the tops of her shoes, but the water was cold and refreshing. She scooped several handfuls to drink, splashed it upon her face and neck. She gargled with the water and spit it out, only to take another mouthful. Finally, the grit that clung to her tongue and teeth was gone. As she crossed the creek she looked down at her shoes. She had taken them from a wooden box in the water closet for the office staff at the sanitarium. She could not find a matched pair. The shoe on her left foot was a laced-top that went to the ankle. The right foot was a laced-top that went above the ankle. She had been lucky to find two shoes with the same size heel. She knew she would not get far walking with one heel higher than the other. The left shoe was a little bigger, so she laced it tighter. However, her foot did slip in it once it got wet, and she was getting a blister. Her stockings were already wet. She looked around, and once she was satisfied that she was alone, she lifted her skirt and rolled her stockings down to the top of her shoes. She unlaced her shoes and removed her holey stockings. She carried them as she continued to walk bare footed along the dirt road.

Rebecca remembered another time she went bare footed back at her father’s plantation. She would wade in the fishing pond on sweltering summer days. They were happy times when all was right with the world. It was a time when she had a family and hopes of one day becoming Mrs. Carrigan Larson. Her grumbling stomach shook her from her day dream. She grabbed another handful of grass and began to chew it as she walked.

Rebecca saw a place in the road where trees grew close on both sides. Perhaps there would be some elderberry trees here. She was also careful to watch for creatures that may be hiding behind the trees, waiting to sneak up behind her and over take her. She quickened her pace.

She was pleased to find a grove of elderberry trees just as she had suspected. She quickly pulled several bunches from the tree and ate them as she moved along. Still the mountain range seemed so far ahead. She feared she may not make it there before dark. She would go to the village at the bottom of the mountain and ask for her brother-in-law, Bartholomew Davis. She was confident that her sister would be delighted to see her and would take her in. Mary hadn’t written in nearly a year. Perhaps she did not know that Rebecca was still alive. There had to be a good reason why Mary did not come for her, rescuing her from that dreadful place. Rebecca prayed that Mary still lived at the address on the envelope.

The sun was hanging low in the sky now. She had been traveling all day, and with the exception to the rude gentleman on the black horse, she had seen no one. The mountain range was still far in the distance, but closer than earlier that day. She could see that she was making progress, but feared she may have to spend the night in the forest again tonight. She looked up at the sky. At least it wasn’t raining or threatening to rain. By morning her stockings and shoes should be dry enough to wear once again.

Rebecca took shelter under a large oak tree just beyond sight of the road. She feared going deep into the forest, although she was certain to find a soft mossy ground cover there to bed down upon. She feared what else may be lingering deep in the forest. She also feared she may become disoriented, and lose sight of the road. She felt safer near the road, near her goal. She pulled her mud caked skirt up around her shoulders and tucked her dirty cotton under skirt around her legs. She adjusted her bonnet and wiggled until she was comfortable. She closed her eyes and allowed sleep to overtake her. She did not dream tonight. She was too exhausted. She woke aching from the damp ground and her cheek stung from being scratched by the bark of the oak tree.

Rebecca stood up and stretched. She rubbed her stinging cheek and noticed a little blood from the scratches. Rebecca removed her bonnet and scratched her scalp, before replacing the bonnet and walking on toward the mountain range.

The morning fog hung over the mountain tops. The mountains themselves had a blue tint to them. They were a beautiful sight as the morning sunshine was burning off the billowing white fog. Rebecca’s stomach made a rumbling sound as she kept moving. Once again, she pulled a handful of tall grass and began to chew it as she kept going. She could not stop to eat. It was pointless anyway, as she had nothing to eat. The elderberries were gone. She watched the sides of the road for signs of more trees. She said a silent prayer as she moved on. Perhaps she would reach her destination by the end of the day.

Rebecca had been walking for hours. She carried her shoes as her feet were bloody from broken blisters. She heard something coming from behind her and quickly darted into the underbrush along the side of the road for cover. She watched as a wagon passed her. The wagon was loaded with several Negroes, dressed in rags. Two young boys, rode near the back of the wagon, with their legs dangling over the back. They had shackles around their ankles. Rebecca covered her mouth and noticed that the boy on the left was looking right at her. He did not look away, nor did he speak. He watched her until the wagon had moved out of sight. Rebecca remained where she was until she could no longer hear the horse hooves upon the dirt road. Now she crawled out from under the thick foliage.

She walked along the grassy edge of the road. She continued to scan the road ahead for fear the wagon may come back this way. Her heart ached for the young boys in the back of the wagon. They were so young. How she hated slavery. Her whole family hated slavery. They knew many folks, some neighbors and friends of the family, who owned slaves. However, Morris Palmer swore to God in Heaven that he would never own another human being, black or any other color. He had purchased several slaves and quickly gave them papers stating they were free.

Rebecca had heard tales of oriental slaves that worked for the wealthy in the west. She had never seen an oriental person before. But she had seen many Negroes before. Some of them worked for her father, as free men. Morris Palmer trusted all the workers he had on his plantation. They were treated with respect and dignity that every human deserved. Rebecca kept a close watch for the wagon. If she were to be discovered, she would likely be returned to the sanitarium.

Rebecca trudged on as her mind went back to the day she escaped the sanitarium. She had been given an order to clean the water closet nearest the office. Mrs. Trestle stood in the hall watching her closely. Rebecca noticed the box of discarded clothing that had been removed from the deceased before they were buried in unmarked graves. Mr. Holland was in the office with the door open. He called out to Mrs. Trestle and she stepped close to the door. The key ring Mrs. Trestle usually carried was lying on a bench in the hall. Rebecca quickly went through the box until she had a pair of shoes and a bonnet. Now she made her move. She quickly grabbed the key ring and hurried down the tiled stairway. She continued past the two lower levels until she was in the basement. She knew they would be looking for her to go out the doors on the ground level. Here she made her way to the stone stairs in the basement. She tried one key after another until she found the right one. She opened the door and ran across the lawn toward the wooded area. She knew they would search the woods with dogs. She must make her way to the river bank and follow it until she found an area shallow enough to cross. She still clutched the heavy key ring in her hand.

Rebecca followed the river toward the north. She heard the dogs barking in the distance and knew they would be upon her within the hour. She slid into the water, trying to hold onto the shoes and bonnet, while still clutching the key ring tightly. Finally, she let go of the key ring, watching it drift to the murky bottom of the muddy river. She saw the ferry ahead. She put the shoes on the bank and tied the bonnet on her head. She held the shoes in her hand as she waded along the bank, toward the ferry.

The ferryman looked at her strangely. He looked toward the sounds of the barking hounds and frowned as he inspected her appearance. Two cents to cross, he said.

Rebecca felt her lips trembling as she shook her head. I don’t have two cents, she replied.

Got anythin’ to eat? he asked looking her over.

Rebecca felt inside her pockets. The right pocket contained her last letter from Mary. Rebecca carried it with her always. The left pocket contained an apple that she had stolen from the kitchen earlier. She held the apple out for him to see. This is all I have, she explained.

That’ll do, the ferryman said, nodding his head. Rebecca climbed upon the ferry and he began to pull on a rope that had been stretched across the river. He did not say anything, but continued to look her over as they crossed. Rebecca felt very uncomfortable. It was as if he was undressing her with his eyes. What would she do if he tried something. She looked over her shoulders as the sounds coming from the hounds grew closer.

Finally, they had reached the other side. The ferryman smiled at her as he bit into her apple. Thank you, Rebecca said, as she jumped to the shore. She hurried away from the river bank as quickly as possible. She did not want to be seen from the other side. She had to move quickly for the ferryman may tell them about her when he reached the other side. She assumed she had the time it would take the ferryman to reach the other side and bring the men and dogs back across to put as much distance between her and them as possible.

Rebecca sighed, at the recollection. She would not feel safe until she was with Mary. She saw smoke coming from chimneys ahead. She was so close. She looked upward. The sun was hanging low in the sky behind the mountains. She quickened her pace.

She walked up to a man loading wood into a wagon. Excuse me sir, do you know where I may find Bartholomew Davis? she asked.

Bart? What you want with Bart, little lady? You are a lady under that bonnet, aren’t you? he laughed.

Yes, sir. I’m looking for where Bartholomew Davis lives, please, Rebecca said, nervously.

Well, follow this road that a way, he said, pointing toward the mountain. It’s the last house after the fence on the right.

Thank you, sir, Rebecca said, turning to walk away.

You won’t find him home, the man called out to her. He’s not there!

That’s alright, I’m looking for his wife, Rebecca called back, as she continued along her way.

Rebecca followed the split rail fence. She noticed a wagon ahead. It was the wagon that had passed on the road earlier with the slaves in the back. The men and women stood in a row, still chained together by shackles on their ankles and around their necks. Two white men inspected them closely. As Rebecca neared she could hear their voices. Mr. Montgomery went to Richmond on business. He is not here to approve the transaction. I believe he was not expecting you until next week, the taller, white man was saying.

Yes sir, I know this, the driver said. I was told to deliver them now, and I do as I’m told. That is all I know. I’m not authorized to take any money for them, anyway.

Well, the tall man said, as long as you ain’t expecting any payment. Mr. Montgomery can settle up with you when he gets back.

Oh, he won’t be paying me. I don’t take the money. He will have to settle up with Mr. Vantassle, the driver said. I’m supposed to deliver these here darkies and get the wagon back. That’s all I know.

Rebecca kept her eyes ahead as she walked past them. Both men turned to look at her as she passed. She noticed the same Negro boy watching her. She nodded her head only slightly as she continued her way. She dared not look behind her. What if there was a flyer with her picture on it posted somewhere? She had to hurry. She had to make it to Mary’s, for then, and only then, would she feel safe.

Well then, you deliver them on up to the mansion. There will be someone up there to take them off your hands, she heard the tall man saying.

She heard sounds of the slaves being loaded into the wagon as she moved further away. She quickened her pace as she continued to follow the fence line. The sun would be down soon.

Rebecca saw the end of the fence. There was smoke coming from a chimney, but it couldn’t be Mary’s house. This house was a small house of possibly two rooms on the ground level and possibly a narrow loft above. Rebecca came to a stop outside the front door, looking up at the house. Mary’s husband worked for a wealthy man, who owned nearly a whole, entire mountain. This couldn’t possibly be the right house. The man giving her directions must have misunderstood her. She looked around her. It was getting darker.

Rebecca took a deep breath and stepped onto the large sandstone step and knocked on the rough wooden door. It instantly flew open and a young man peered down at her.

Pardon me, Rebecca began. She looked up at the young man closely and noticed something familiar in his eyes. Mortimer Davis? she asked.

Chapter Two

Pardon me, Rebecca began. Are you Mortimer Davis?

No, he’s my brother, the young man said.

At that moment, a stout woman came up behind the young man, wiping her hands upon her apron. Who is it? she asked.

Rebecca studied the woman closely. It was without a doubt, her sister, Mary. However, life had not been kind to Mary. Her face was swollen and bruised. Her left eye was blackened, and a cut parted her left eyebrow. It appeared to have been recently cut. Rebecca smiled up at her sister. Mary, don’t you recognize me? she asked.

Mary turned her head slightly and narrowed her eyes as she studied Rebecca closely. Rebecca, is it you under that bonnet? she asked.

Rebecca nodded her head and smiled. It is.

Mary looked around the yard. Do come in, she said, reaching out to grab the front of Rebecca’s dress. Don’t dally out there in the night.

Rebecca stepped up into the house. The kitchen had a fire in the fireplace. It was small and dingy inside. There was a ladder leaning against the far wall that was used to climb up to a loft above. Rebecca assumed that the boys slept up there. She smiled at the young man and said, So, you must be Gerald. The boy did not respond verbally. He merely nodded his head and looked over at his mother.

The last I heard, you were in the sanitarium, Mary said, sliding onto a chair. Please, sit down. She pointed to a chair across the table from her.

Rebecca looked around the room. I thought I had the wrong house, she explained.

No, this is it, Mary confirmed. She squirmed, nervously.

It wasn’t exactly what I expected, from your letters, Rebecca said, looking around.

And I thought you were still in the sanitarium, Mary repeated, somewhat rigidly.

Oh, I am sorry, Mary. I did not mean to insult you. It’s been so long since I’ve had a normal conversation with anyone. I’m afraid I have forgotten my manners, Rebecca said, squirming in her seat.

So, how is it you are here? Mary asked.

Yours is the only address I have, Rebecca explained. I’m afraid I have nowhere else to go, and I need a safe place to stay. I may have misunderstood, but I got the impression that you lived in a big house and possibly would have room for me.

Well, I don’t, as you can see. I may have embellished somewhat in my letters. I probably shouldn’t have done that. However, I wanted you to feel secure in the thought that I was safe and happy, Mary said.

What happened to your face? Rebecca asked.

Mary looked over at her son and asked, Gerald, would you go fetch some water for the night? She waited until the boy had left the room and said, I fell. I tripped on my skirt coming inside. That is a high step there at the door. I’m usually more careful, but I was trying to hurry, Mary lied. Rebecca knew it was a lie, but decided not to comment. Mary placed her hands upon the table and asked, Rebecca, how is it you are here?

Rebecca leaned close. Mary, I escaped from the sanitarium. I saw an opportunity, and I took it.

You escaped? Are they searching for you? Mary asked, lowering her voice to a whisper.

Yes, they are, and I need a place to hide. Please, Mary, you are my only hope, Rebecca begged.

Mary shook her head. I can’t help you, Becky. As you can see, we are short on room. When Bart gets home he is going to be furious. If he finds out you escaped, I don’t know what he will do. You are not safe here. Besides, this is likely the first place they will come looking, Mary explained.

But, I have nowhere to go. It has been so long since I have eaten. Please, can’t you think of something? Rebecca asked.

We don’t have much to eat, ourselves, Mary said, placing her hands upon the table and folding them. Rebecca noticed Mary’s knuckled were white.

But I thought Bartholomew worked for a wealthy man who owns a whole mountain, Rebecca whined.

He does, sometimes, but not regular. Usually he hangs out at the Inn and drinks up everything he makes. Occasionally he will bring home a chicken or something someone has given him. Gerald does odd jobs to put food on the table, Mary said.

Where is Mortimer? Rebecca asked.

"He is off fighting this dreadful war. I have not heard from him in a very long time. He did write me once shortly after his enlistment. He said he was preparing for his first battle. I have received no further news and fear the worst for my