She sighed as the carriage jostled her back to the present. Rosaline stared out the window at the rocky terrain as they passed acres and acres of empty farmland and cattle. How she wished she could run past them in the opposite direction. Her heart longed to be free of the drudgery and misery of her circumstances. If only God would hear her plea and help her escape the clutches of her arrogant employer.
“Don’t you forget who all that belongs to,” he said, gesturing with his cane. “I own the clothes you are wearing and the room you sleep in.” He smirked. “You have nothing and no one without me. No parents or relatives to take you in.”
Rosaline shifted in her seat, trying to hide from his gaze. She hated it when he tried to intimidate her. She was never sure when his patience would wear thin and the shouting would begin. The confines of the fine carriage did not allow for any kind of escape.
He had never noticed her until he had heard her singing on that fateful day. Why would he? She had been nothing more than a dirty servant girl back then. A creature beneath his station, not deserving of his attentions.
Since then, Mr. Voss had forced her to sing whenever they had company, reminding her how grateful she should be for him even allowing her out of the kitchen.
If only she had gone about her work silently that day. But then again, it was impossible for her not to sing while she worked. Hymns poured from her soul like water from a spring. There was no stopping it.
The horses came to a stop in front of the imposing farmhouse.
A few lights flickered in the windows. Some of the other servants were still awake to welcome Mr. Voss and take his coat. She could just make out their hurrying silhouettes through the lace-draped windows, scurrying to welcome their master.
The wrap-around porch was silent apart from the swing swaying gently in the breeze.
He blocked her escape with his cane, just as she reached for the door.
“You think those people were applauding because they liked your voice? That was pity applause, they felt sorry for your lack of talent,” he sneered. “You need to try harder.” His tone held a warning. “Go to bed without supper, you don’t deserve to eat.” He lowered the cane, allowing her to pass.
Rosaline flung the door open and raced past the horses, picking the skirts of the fancy dress up as she ran. She would not spend a moment longer in his presence than she had to, lest his temper turn. She ran around the house, knowing he would be watching her every move. She had tried to run away once before, but he had caught her in the act and locked her in her room for a week without any food.
Running to the back of the house, she yanked open the door at the bottom of the stone steps that lead to her quarters. Once inside she flung herself onto the metal-framed cot in the corner that took up most of the space.
She allowed her breathing to ease before she reached for the matches next to her bed and lit the candle stub. Mr. Voss only allowed her to have one a month, so she had to be careful how long she let it burn and only used it to read her Bible.
Reaching behind her into the bustle of her dress, she pulled out a roll that she had managed to sneak on the way out of the town hall. The room had been laden with food for the guests, so she had snatched one and quickly tucked it into her bustle. At least all that material was good for something.
She carefully placed the roll on her bedside table.
This wasn’t the first time that Mr. Voss had punished her by forcing her to go without food. She had known after seeing his face in the crowd that she would have to take what food she could get when it was available.
Rosaline began to pull the pins from her hair and let the auburn tendrils fall to her waist. Once they were all out she took the old brush from the table and brushed out the curls. The brush and the Bible were the only keepsakes of her mother’s the orphanage had allowed her to keep.
She sighed as she brushed her hair, remembering the evenings her father would read to them from the Bible as her mother combed out her hair before bed. She knew all the stories by heart, yet it still brought her comfort night after night, reading the verses that gave her courage.
She stood and walked over to her basin, splashing her face with cold water and removing the powder and rouge Mrs. Voss had insisted she put on.
She felt so much better once all of the makeup was off and she could lay back peacefully on her bed.
Once she was ready for bed, she took the Bible out from under her pillow, feeling for the money she had hidden. It was the only glimmer of hope she had for a better future. She didn’t have much as far as money went; Mr. Voss was not a particularly generous man. She had to use what little wages she earned to buy her own soap and intimate items.
The money that she had managed to save was enough for a one-way train ticket out West. She dreamed that someday she would board that train and steam as far away from the Vosses as possible.
Once she was certain that everything was present and accounted for, she sat on the bed and nibbled at her roll. Flipping through the chapters, not needing to check the index, she stopped at her mother’s favorite verse.
(Ephesians 2:8-9) “For by grace are ye saved through faith, and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God. Not of works, lest any man should boast.”
Her lips moved as she read to herself and flipped to her father’s favorite verse.
(Deuteronomy 31:6-8) “Be strong and of good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, he is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee… And the Lord, he is that doth go before thee; he will be with thee, he will not fail thee, neither forsake thee: fear not, neither be dismayed.”
Closing the book she lay back on her pillow as hot tears stung her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “Lord, please help me,” she prayed in desperation. “You are the God of miracles. Make a way where there seems to be no way.”
Chapter Two
Baxton, Kansas. 1870
