Longing for Home by Sarah M. Eden Page A

the night. The smell of animals would almost certainly linger with her in the morning. The darker corners and piles of hay likely hid rats and mice. She’d spent most of the two weeks’ journey across the Atlantic worrying over the vermin that made their homes alongside the poorest passengers, like herself, who endured that voyage in steerage class.
    “Meaning,” she told herself firmly, “you’re perfectly capable of enduring this. ’Tis nothing you haven’t borne before.”
    Endure it she could. But how long could she hide out there? She’d need to eat eventually. She’d need a job. ’Twas always the same. Work and money. She seemed to forever be chasing down both.
    “It’s not a selfish thing I’m wanting. I’m not looking to challenge the queen herself for riches. I only want to go home.”
    Home. Speaking that word hadn’t broken her voice in years, yet, sitting there in the dark of a stranger’s barn, she couldn’t push the word out whole. She shook her head at herself, shook it again and again. There would be no tears, she silently insisted. None.
    “Enough now,” she whispered. “You made this bed eighteen years ago, and you’ll lie in it until you’ve earned the right to get out.”
    Katie rubbed her chilled arms. What was she to do now? If she couldn’t find work elsewhere in town, she was in a pinch, to be sure. ’Twas more than two days’ wagon ride back to the train station, and she hadn’t so much as a pony or a mule to her name.
    “A fine fix, this,” she muttered. “A fine, fine fix.”
    A burst of fierce wind sounded through the cracks and gaps of the barn. The door flew open, slamming against the wall not far from where Katie sat. She leaped to her feet and pushed hard against the door, grateful when the wind died down enough to allow her to close it again.
    Her pulse continued racing some moments after calm returned to the barn. The door had come too close to pinning her against the barn wall. The animals were noisy after the disruption to their peace. Katie moved slowly back to where she’d been. ’Twas a very good thing she’d been inside during that gust. It would’ve knocked her off her feet.
    Just as she made to sit once more, Katie heard a sound that unnerved her more than the continued wind: approaching footsteps.
    She froze, listening and frantically thinking. Katie knew herself in the wrong, trespassing on another’s land. She might try hiding but hadn’t the slightest idea where nor the time to look about. Huddling further in the corner wouldn’t help much, for there was nothing to slip behind. She’d be seen for certain.
    She heard the door creak open.
    Oh, help.
    Katie stepped back, away from the doorway, as far into the corner as she could quickly and quietly get. She couldn’t hide, precisely, but perhaps whoever stepped through wouldn’t look in her direction. She lowered herself to the ground, tucked into the corner, just as the door opened fully.
    ’Twas a man, largely built. Katie froze, her heart pounding through every inch of her. He held a lantern up, moving it from one side to the other as he stepped further inside. If only he would turn back and go. The man was searching and no doubt about it. He must have seen the wind blow the door open, then watched as it closed seemingly on its own. He’d have known someone was inside. He’d know it as surely as a cloud knows the sky.
    Help me!
    He had already passed her when he turned toward the side of the barn where she hid. Even through the slats of the stall near her, she could see he’d come with more than his lantern. The man held a shotgun, held it like he knew just how to use it.
    Katie pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of her breathing. Saints, if the man found her there she was good as dead. Cold and fear set her shaking. Katie only hoped she didn’t make enough noise to draw his attention.
    Please walk on past. Walk past.
    He stopped a bit beyond halfway and held the lantern