Molly nodded. “But I didn’t choose him, Daniel did.” The longer Molly talked, the darker Edge’s expression became.
“You’re safe with us, Molly,” he said. “Tomorrow we’ll take you away from here.”
Molly’s eyes filled. Skye felt a sting of sympathy behind her own eyelids.
“Talk to us, Molly,” Skye urged. “Tell us what happened. Start at the beginning.”
Molly gripped her hands together in her lap and took a steadying breath. Her face had a little more color now, but her lips occasionally trembled.
“I met Daniel Henson at a church picnic in Denver. Both my parents had recently died when their car hit a patch of ice and slid off the road. I was still in shock, still grieving. I had no brothers or sisters, no family, not many friends. I was always shy, worse after my parents died. Daniel took me to lunch and told me about this place where people like me—people left alone in the world—could help each other. He suggested I go out there with him and meet some of the others in the group, so I did.”
“What happened when you got there?” Skye asked.
“It seemed like an interesting place, one that sits in a lovely valley surrounded by mountains. They had some horses and a few head of cattle. They raised goats and pigs and grew their own vegetables. There was even a vineyard.”
She looked down at the hands in her lap, then back at Skye. “It was kind of old-fashioned, you know, with all the women in long dresses. Everyone I met that day seemed happy. When Daniel invited me to move into one of the duplex cottages with three other unmarried women, I thought it might be a way for me to get out of my old life and start a new one.”
“So the people you talked to were happy?” Edge asked.
“The ones I met at first were all new to the program. They’d only been there a few days, so they had no idea what they were in for.”
“What about the others?” Skye asked.
“Some of the women who live there like it. A few even have children. They don’t mind taking orders. They like the idea of being taken care of and not having to make any decisions.”
“But you weren’t that way,” Skye guessed.
“No. For people like me, it isn’t so good.”
“Go on,” Edge prodded when Molly fell silent.
“I’d only been there a few days when Daniel took me aside to discuss the rules. That’s when I started to worry. There were rules for everything. And there was punishment if you broke the rules.”
Edge sat up straighter. “What kind of punishment?”
Molly’s cheeks flushed. “Corporal punishment. You know, spare the rod and spoil the child? But it only applied to the women. Either Daniel administered the punishment or the husbands did. They couldn’t use their fists, but they had other ways of hurting us. And you couldn’t deny a man his husbandly rights. Daniel said that came from the Bible. But I don’t think we were ever really married.”
“Why not?” Edge asked.
“Because sometimes the men went elsewhere and never came back, and that seemed to be okay.”
“How many women live there?” Edge asked.
“Right now, twelve women and fourteen men, plus Daniel. Two of the men don’t have wives yet, but eventually they will.”
“So once you’re inside, you can’t leave,” Skye said.
Molly nodded. “You saw the guards. If you tried to escape, you were punished or . . .” Molly swallowed and glanced away.
“Or what, Molly?” Edge prodded.
A tear rolled down her cheek. “I had a friend named Sarah. We met those first few days. Sarah was unhappy almost from the start. Then Daniel married her to a guy named Webb Rankin, and things got worse. Sarah tried to make Webb happy, but he expected absolute obedience. Sarah was outspoken, not used to being treated that way. She went to Daniel and told him she wanted to leave, but Daniel reminded her that she had taken a vow. He said she had pledged to obey her husband until death parted them.” Molly’s lips trembled. She covered her mouth with her hand.
Skye moved closer on the side of the bed and put an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
“I just . . . I just want to get away from this terrible place.”
“What happened to Sarah?” Edge asked, the words more demand than question.
