tied up in heavy ropes, a dark ooze covering one side of her face. The sight of blood conquered his fear and he ran up to the girl and attempted to free her.
Rebecca fought him, confident that he meant her more harm.
“Easy there,” the boy tried to calm her. She looked like a terrified colt and Mark had handled injured animals many times in the past.
Rebecca was not assured and demanded to know who he was.
“Like I said. Mark,” he replied leaning back onto one knee. “What happened to you?”
“She brought me here and tied me up,” Rebecca poured out. “And she left me to die. Please don’t hurt me!”
“I’m going help you if you will lay still.”
“Please,” Rebecca pleaded, looking into the youth’s eyes for a promise of safety. He was much better-spoken than the people she had met on the train, and she found comfort in his voice.
Mark tugged at the heavy ropes, and, after resorting to his pocketknife to free the girl, he helped her to her feet.
Rebecca lost her legs underneath her and fell to the cot. Then, in an awkward attempt to leap from the bed for fear of the rat, fell squarely into the boy.
“Relax!” The lad stood up and dusted himself off. This girl was certainly pitiful, but kind of silly he thought.
“There’s a giant rat living under there, this big!” Rebecca held up her hands in illustration of the beast’s size.
“A rat? I’ve never seen a rat that big! Out here?”
Rebecca wanted to be free of the shack, concerned that the woman might return, and in no mood to argue with the boy, she tried again to get to her feet.
Mark steadied her and led her into the sunlight.
“I have to get away from here,” Rebecca looked around apprehensively. “If she comes back she’ll kill me, I’m sure.”
“Who?” The boy searched the surroundings, suddenly aware that whoever had captured the girl might take him as well.
“She said her name was Bedra.” Rebecca felt as if a horse had trodden upon her.
“This way,” the boy led her deeply into the woods. “Never heard the name before. Who are you and where did you come from? You sound foreign or something.”
“Rebecca,” she replied. “Let’s just get away from here!”
The lad led her away a good distance, stopping frequently along the way while the girl struggled in pain and exhaustion. When they reached his cabin he helped her inside and deposited her onto a freshly made bed.
The building was cozy and rustic, constructed from peeled logs notched expertly together at the corners. Although this house had been more masterfully constructed than the train station, Rebecca wondered why the Americans built so many things out of logs. Didn’t they have the means to cut lumber? There were windows here, which she appreciated for their civility and the bed bore a soft downy tick that felt like a cloud after weeks of hard travel on wooden seats and her night on the dirt floor.
“We’ll need to deal with that cut,” he told her and the boy pulled up a bench beside the bed and placed a fine pitcher and bowl upon it. Rebecca looked down at her filthy hands and was horrified that they were both covered in blood.
“Oh my heavens,” she gasped. “I’m bleeding?”
“It’ll be alright I think,” the boy remarked. “We won’t know until we clean it up.” He took a small hand mirror from the dresser, handed it to Rebecca and left the room.
The girl was overcome when she looked into the glass. The image reflected was not recognizable to her, it couldn’t be! Her face was gray with mud and a dark stain ran down one cheek covering the side of her face from the hairline. Her lips, a pure white, quivered beneath her flaming red eyes. She reached up
Rebecca fought him, confident that he meant her more harm.
“Easy there,” the boy tried to calm her. She looked like a terrified colt and Mark had handled injured animals many times in the past.
Rebecca was not assured and demanded to know who he was.
“Like I said. Mark,” he replied leaning back onto one knee. “What happened to you?”
“She brought me here and tied me up,” Rebecca poured out. “And she left me to die. Please don’t hurt me!”
“I’m going help you if you will lay still.”
“Please,” Rebecca pleaded, looking into the youth’s eyes for a promise of safety. He was much better-spoken than the people she had met on the train, and she found comfort in his voice.
Mark tugged at the heavy ropes, and, after resorting to his pocketknife to free the girl, he helped her to her feet.
Rebecca lost her legs underneath her and fell to the cot. Then, in an awkward attempt to leap from the bed for fear of the rat, fell squarely into the boy.
“Relax!” The lad stood up and dusted himself off. This girl was certainly pitiful, but kind of silly he thought.
“There’s a giant rat living under there, this big!” Rebecca held up her hands in illustration of the beast’s size.
“A rat? I’ve never seen a rat that big! Out here?”
Rebecca wanted to be free of the shack, concerned that the woman might return, and in no mood to argue with the boy, she tried again to get to her feet.
Mark steadied her and led her into the sunlight.
“I have to get away from here,” Rebecca looked around apprehensively. “If she comes back she’ll kill me, I’m sure.”
“Who?” The boy searched the surroundings, suddenly aware that whoever had captured the girl might take him as well.
“She said her name was Bedra.” Rebecca felt as if a horse had trodden upon her.
“This way,” the boy led her deeply into the woods. “Never heard the name before. Who are you and where did you come from? You sound foreign or something.”
“Rebecca,” she replied. “Let’s just get away from here!”
The lad led her away a good distance, stopping frequently along the way while the girl struggled in pain and exhaustion. When they reached his cabin he helped her inside and deposited her onto a freshly made bed.
The building was cozy and rustic, constructed from peeled logs notched expertly together at the corners. Although this house had been more masterfully constructed than the train station, Rebecca wondered why the Americans built so many things out of logs. Didn’t they have the means to cut lumber? There were windows here, which she appreciated for their civility and the bed bore a soft downy tick that felt like a cloud after weeks of hard travel on wooden seats and her night on the dirt floor.
“We’ll need to deal with that cut,” he told her and the boy pulled up a bench beside the bed and placed a fine pitcher and bowl upon it. Rebecca looked down at her filthy hands and was horrified that they were both covered in blood.
“Oh my heavens,” she gasped. “I’m bleeding?”
“It’ll be alright I think,” the boy remarked. “We won’t know until we clean it up.” He took a small hand mirror from the dresser, handed it to Rebecca and left the room.
The girl was overcome when she looked into the glass. The image reflected was not recognizable to her, it couldn’t be! Her face was gray with mud and a dark stain ran down one cheek covering the side of her face from the hairline. Her lips, a pure white, quivered beneath her flaming red eyes. She reached up
Similar Books
