1875, New Dawns Spring, Oregon

“What the hell do you want?” Her father’s slurred words made Emma Davis take a step backward. She was hungry and the only way to the kitchen was to walk past where he sat.

“I’m going to get something to eat. I’m very hungry.” She walked toward the kitchen only to stop when he grabbed her left wrist.

“Yer turnin’ out to be a pretty good lookin’ woman,” he sneered. “Too bad yer so stupid.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d alluded to noticing her physically and her stomach tightened. Emma stole a look to where her mother was, but the woman didn’t bother to look up.

Pain shot up her arm when her father tightened his hold. “Aren’t you goin’ to say thank you?” The chuckle made him cough and release her wrist.

Emma hurried to the kitchen only to find an empty pot and two dirty plates.

Her mother sat on a tattered chair next to the fireplace. “There’s nothing left. You’ll have to cook some beans if you want to eat.”

Earlier, she’d smelled food. Whatever had been cooked, they’d obviously eaten all of it. Beans would take forever to cook, but she had little choice. It was almost better to not eat than be in the same room with them. With a small pot in hand, she headed out to the well to get water for the beans.

Across the dirt patch surrounding the shack where she lived was a barn and several corrals with animals. Her father had arranged some sort of deal with Mr. Banks, the owner of the property and they were allowed to live there in exchange for doing chores.

Emma tended after the chickens and helped with the garden, as she was sure her father rarely did enough work to earn their keep. Truth be told, it was mostly due to the Banks’ kindness that they were not evicted.

A young woman on horseback waved at her, Amelia Banks was barely sixteen, but already knew more about life than Emma ever would. Unlike Emma, Amelia went to town regularly with her parents to attend church service and other times to collect sundries from the mercantile. Whenever Emma could steal away, she’d spend time with Amelia. The girl would entertain her with stories about people in town, who married whom and other interesting tidbits.

Emma rarely went to town. The times she’d gone, it had been embarrassing when people noticed her ill-fitting clothes and lack of proper shoes. Not to mention her father’s likeliness of drinking too much and having to be practically dragged back to the wagon.

“How are you today?” Amelia rode closer.

“Well, thank you,” Emma lied.

Her friend’s warm gaze took her in. “I have some things for you.” Amelia looked past her to the shack where Emma lived. “When can you get them?” Amelia was aware that if her parents found the new items, they’d either sell them or her mother would keep them for herself.

“Thank you so much. Please leave them in the barn. I’ll find a way to get them in the house without them seeing,” Emma replied. “I’ll fetch the things when I check on the chickens later this evening.”

“I’ll put a bundle up on the shelf next to the cot.” Amelia looked up at the sky. “I heard Papa say the animals need to be penned up. It’s going to storm.”

“I will inform my father.”

A few hours later, clouds gathered overhead and the sky darkened ominously as Emma went to fetch the feed for the chickens to lure them into the henhouse.

She smiled in amusement at the birds following her with noisy clucks as she carried the bucket of feed to the small enclosure where they’d be safe for the night. Thunder in the distance made her look up at the sky. She hated storms. Not only because of the loud sounds, but also because the roof in her bedroom leaked horribly.

When she returned to the barn to replace the bucket, she gathered the bundle of clothes Amelia had left and rushed home.

Her father, who’d returned earlier from penning the livestock, now continued drinking at the small kitchen table. Thankfully, he ignored her when she hurried past him to her bedroom. The room was barely big enough to house her narrow bed and a wooden table where she kept a lantern. At the foot of the bed was a cheap pine chest she used as her wardrobe.

She unfolded the bundle carefully and smiled at Amelia’s generosity. A shawl and a newly-made chemise had been wrapped in one of her used frocks. Excited to wear something new, Emma removed her clothing to try on the chemise.

“What are you doin’?” Her father stood in the doorway. Emma yanked the dress she’d just taken off to cover her body.

“I’m preparing for bed.”

He looked to the clothes on the bed. “Where’d you get that dress?”

“I’m mending it for Amelia. She’s going to pay me.” She’d already practiced what to say in case he caught her before she had a chance to come up with a way to explain her newly-acquired clothes.

He walked closer and Emma cringed. “Why you actin’ scared?”

It was no use to tell him it was because he would often backhand her for no obvious reason. It would only infuriate him.

When his fingers dug into her jaw, Emma whimpered. She braced for the blow that would come. Instead, he didn’t hit her. What he did was worse than any strike.

His other hand cupped her breast and squeezed it until she gasped. “No.”

Emma took a step backward and he relinquished his hold on her breast, only to yank her forward.

His breathing became labored as Emma called out. “Mama!”

This time, he did slap her. “Shut up.”

She fell across the bed and scurried to sit with her back against the wall and her legs pulled up against her chest. “Leave me be. Pl-please.”

His chuckle sent chills up her spine. “No. I think it’s time you and I get to know each other better. I’ve waited long enough.”

He leaned forward with his index finger out. He trailed it from her jawline down the center of her chest until her legs kept him from going further. “Soon. Very soon,” he whispered.

Emma’s eyes were squeezed shut as tears streamed down her face. When she finally dared to open them, he was gone.

She couldn’t stand it any longer. This living hell had to end.

From the wooden chest at the foot of her bed, she pulled out a flour sack and shoved her only other dress and the one Amelia had given her into it. A brush and new chemise followed. She’d left her shoes by the back door. That fact was unfortunate, since she had to climb out the bedroom window to leave.

Nothing would stop her, not any more. If she had to run barefoot, so be it.

Thunder sounded overhead propelling Emma to run faster. The rain pelted down like small stones against her face and arms as she ran across the open fields near her home of New Dawn Springs, Oregon. A bolt of lightning crisscrossed overhead and she screamed when thunder sounded once again, the loud boom much closer than the last.

Her bare feet sunk into muddy puddles as she weaved through the neighboring Langleys’ field. She cried out when something sharp pierced her left foot.

Although she hobbled for a bit, the pain did not stop her. It was too dangerous. If her father caught her, he would beat her or worse. After the last time he’d done so, she wasn’t sure she’d survive.

Just once, she wished her mother would stand up for her and not sit idly by as he did whatever he wished to her.

No, instead she would ignore what happened, her face pinched without saying a word in Emma’s defense.

A building came into view. It was the barn. She hurried closer, only to stop and drop to crawl behind it. Through the rain in the distance her father came into view.

How had he figured out she’d left so soon? Obviously, he’d gone to her room to continue what he’d begun earlier.

“Where are you? Emma!” His gruff voice held an ominous tone. “Git out here now or I swear, ‘imma beat the tar out of you.”

“There’s no one here but me, Mr. Davis.” Emma wasn’t sure who spoke to her father. The man had to yell to be heard over the storm. “You should get out of the rain. Do you want to come in the barn to dry off?”

Shivering from the cold and fear, Emma’s teeth rattled so hard she couldn’t hear her father’s response. Unable to stop from shaking, she curled into a ball with her back against the wooden rear wall of the barn.

The heavy raindrops continued to pelt her already tender skin as she was unable to avoid the falling rain. However, the barn did provide some shelter from the wind at least.

It was quiet. If the men continued talking, she couldn’t hear it. Time seemed to stretch on forever. The cold temperature penetrated her worn dress until she wanted to cry.

For a long while, there was only the storm. She wondered if, perhaps, her father had gone inside either the barn or the Langleys’ home. Emma doubted the latter, as her parents had never been particularly friendly with the Irish family.

“You still there?” A man neared. “Emma, that’s you, right?”

She peeked around the side of the barn to find the red-haired man with a pitchfork in his hand. “Come on now, let’s get you inside. You’ll get sick out here.”

It was too dark to see his features clearly. But it could only be Patrick Langley, the only son of the couple who lived there.

Having to push the sodden hair out of her face, Emma stood and hobbled toward him. “You knew I was here the entire time?”

“Yep.” His gaze swept over her before meeting hers. “Saw you running up.”

Trembling, she attempted to keep her teeth from chattering. It was embarrassing enough to be seen like this without adding the look of being pitifully cold and hungry.

Sure she looked as horrible as she felt, Emma squared her shoulders. “I will come in for a bit. Then I’ll be on my way.”

After waiting for her, he opened the barn door and guided Emma to the right corner where there was a cot, a table and a small stove. “You can undress there after I start a fire in the stove and go fetch you something to wear from the house.”

Emma began to protest, but her bundle was soaked through. Everything in it was as wet as she was.

He grabbed a couple of small logs and placed them into the stove along with kindling and lit it. Soon, heat emanated from the stove and Emma moved closer, holding her shaky hands out. She shook her head. “I don’t need to go undressing. Just give me time to warm up some. Got any coffee?”

“Suit yourself.” He hesitated. “I’m Patrick by the way. I’ll see about your coffee.”

People weren’t about helping unless they got something in return. The one truth her father had ingrained in her. The fella there probably wanted to take advantage of her; thought her an easy target being she was alone out in the rain and all.

Emma hunched over the stove hoping the heat would dry some of the wetness. She had no idea where she’d go now. Her plan had been to hide there in the barn for a couple days and then figure out a way to get to town. From there, she’d use the money she’d earned from the Banks’ to get as far away as possible.

Perhaps, she could find a way to convince Patrick to let her stay there and not tell anyone. After all, he’d kept her being there a secret from her father. Emma shivered and crossed her arms. If only she’d been wearing shoes.

The door creaked open and Patrick returned with a cup and a plate. “There’s some stew and coffee.”

She’d seen him before in town and from the edge of the fields surrounding the land where her father worked. Skinny as a rail, with a mop of unruly, red curls, he had been quite homely when they were younger. However, over the years, he’d filled out. His hair had darkened to auburn. And now, Patrick was a tall, muscular handsome man.

His green gaze met hers for a moment and then he placed the items on the small table. From over his shoulder, he took some clothes and tossed them on the cot.

“Hope these fit,” he grumbled and put a pair of scuffed up shoes on the ground. “See that you’re gone by morning.”

Without waiting for her to say anything, he turned and left. Emma looked around the barn. Soon, it would be night and there wasn’t a lantern for her to use to see. There was, however, a pile of wood, which she’d use to get warm and get a bit of light from the fire.

She undressed quickly and pulled on the loose-fitting flannel sleeping gown he’d brought. It was thick and warm and she couldn’t stop running her hands over the fabric. After hanging her clothes near the stove to dry, she sat on the cot. Having taken strips of fabric from a cloth hanging on a hook, she bandaged her feet.

Come morning, she’d be gone. Hopefully, by end of the week, she’d be far away.

Patrick stood on the porch and shook the rain from his coat before entering the house. He looked to the barn and wondered what the Davis girl had done. Soaking wet and needing help did not improve her disposition any. But he needn’t worry about it. From what he’d heard, the entire family was crazy. The father was a mean drunk who’d been run out of town several times and the mother was rarely seen.

His mother and father were at the table. Both of them looked up as he entered.

“Did she even say thank you?” Maureen Langley, his mother, asked.

Patrick shook his head. “Nope.”

“Told you to leave her be. She would’ve made her way back home.”

“He did the right thing. You can’t leave a woman out in a storm,” his father, Finn, said, not seeming to catch his wife’s look of bewilderment.

Before they continued, Patrick spoke up. “I told her to be gone by morning. I’ll check on her later to make sure she doesn’t start the barn on fire or something.”

“Oh goodness, I didn’t think about that. Perhaps we should tell her to come sleep inside the house.” His mother rushed to the window to peer out.

His father gave him a “now you’ve done it” look. “Relax, dear. The girl won’t burn down the barn. Let’s just have dinner. I’ll make sure we keep an eye out.”

“And you can stop a fire by keeping an eye out then?”

His mother’s quip made Patrick laugh. “Don’t worry, Ma. I’ll go talk to her. You can come with me.”

“No. I’ll go see about her. You two stay here.”

“Maureen Langley, you are not going out in this weather. Let the boy go.”

At twenty-five, he’d grown tired of being called a boy. But he didn’t grumble much. As long as he lived with his parents, they would see him as their young son. Thankfully, the new, larger house was completed. He would be helping his parents finish moving in the next couple days and he’d stay in the current cabin. He’d finally be on his own.

After supper, Patrick took a lantern and put his still damp coat on. The full moon was high in the sky as the heavy rain persisted. At least there wasn’t thunder and lightning now. The livestock, especially the horses, would calm down.

He hesitated at the door, wondering if he should knock. Feeling silly, he pulled the door open and walked inside.

“Miss?”

There wasn’t a sound. Had the girl up and left? Patrick walked to the corner where the small stove and cot were. She sat on the cot with her arms wrapped around her legs, her head lulled to the side atop of her arms. From her shallow breathing, she’d fallen asleep.

“Of all the things,” Patrick muttered and went to the stove to shove another log into it.

He then turned to find her watching him in silence. “You should lie down. The blankets will keep you warm.”

“What do you want?”

“Ma asked me to come and check on you. She’s afraid you’ll set the barn on fire.”

Her eyes rounded, but she soon regained her bored expression. “Why the heck would I do that?”

“Don’t know.” He studied her in the glow of his lantern. She wasn’t beautiful. He’d describe her more as pretty. She possessed wide-set eyes and an average nose. Her lips, however, took his attention. They were plump and pink. Her brown hair, a disheveled mess, was dark and wavy. She watched him with the wary expression of someone expecting to be attacked.

“Tell your ma I won’t set the barn on fire. I like animals more than people and I wouldn’t want them in danger. I’ll be gone in the morning.”

He wanted to ask where she’d head, but decided against it. “I’ll bid you goodnight then.” Something about her made him want to reassure that she’d be safe. But it would be a lie. He had no idea what would happen to the woman. Her father would most likely catch up with her. Other than a beating, he didn’t figure much else was sure in her future.

“The logs I just put in should last a few hours.”

She glanced to the stove, but didn’t reply.

“Let us know if you needed anything.”

After she nodded, he walked back out. Although he didn’t know her and there was no way to know if she lied about setting a fire, he believed her.

Hopefully, it was enough to settle his mother’s mind.

In the morning, she’d be gone and he would probably not see her for a long while.

The full moon shined through Patrick’s window and across his bed. He considered getting up and closing the curtains, but something about how the light shined was too nice not to enjoy.

Not prone to being a dreamer, it struck Patrick as strange that, as of late, he’d been spending a lot of time thinking about what to do in the next few years.

He and his parents had plenty of land and their herd of cattle had multiplied that spring. However, there was more that could be done. They could farm or bring in another type of livestock.

Then there was the problem of finding a wife and settling down. He’d gone to town every Sunday and other than the wives of men in town, women of marrying age were quite scarce in the area.

A couple of new families had arrived to New Dawn Springs and his mother had roped him in to help host a dinner at the church hall, which didn’t appeal to Patrick. All the single men would be there as it was rumored each family had daughters of marrying age.

If it was true, Patrick doubted the women would find any of the single men in town, including him, desirable in the least.

At least he’d get good food and dessert out of it. Whenever there was an event, the women always seemed to compete to see who cooked the best of everything, which meant a bonanza of good eating.

He stood and looked toward the barn. The Davis’ wouldn’t be in attendance. They never participated in any social events. It was certainly a strange family the woman in the barn belonged to.

She would be gone in the morning.