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I believe love, pure and true,
Is to the soul a sweet,
Immortal dew.
—Townsend
A cool breeze wafted through the bedroom window, fluttering the sheer curtains over the bed as Shirleen Mingus folded clothes, then slid them into her embroidered travel bag.
A keen sadness swept through her at the thought of what life was forcing upon her. After traveling from Boston with her husband and three other families to settle in Wyoming, Shirleen was now planning another journey. She wished she were back where she had been the h
appiest.
And that had been before she had met and wed her husband, Earl.
While courting Shirleen, he had been a consummate actor, for he was nothing like the man he’d appeared to be when she had accepted his hand in marriage.
Even her parents had been fooled.
Although they had not wanted their seventeen-year-old daughter to move so far away, fearing they would never see her again, they had felt satisfied that she would have a good husband who would treat her with love and respect.
She would never forget those last moments with her papa. He had run his fingers slowly through her long, red hair as he peered through tears into her green eyes, saying that he feared the long journey out west would be hard on her because she was so petite. He had called her his tiny, pretty thing, so slender that he could place his hands around her waist, his fingertips meeting behind her.
But when she had reassured him that the man she was marrying loved her with all of his heart and had vowed to protect her, and that she had no doubt he was capable of both things, her father had given his final blessing.
Now she was twenty-one and had learned the hard way just how wrong she had been about the man she’d married. He had been abusive to her ever since they’d arrived in Wyoming, taking the belt to her at every opportunity. He beat her when he found the slightest fault in anything she did around the house, or with their daughter Megan. He believed she would never leave him because her parents were too far away for her to flee back to their protective, loving arms.
But Earl was wrong. At this very moment, while Earl was on his way to the trading post with his two neighbor friends, Shirleen was taking advantage of this opportunity to flee from someone she considered a madman.
She was going to escape this life she abhorred.
She was not sure where she would go, for she did not have the money to travel back to Boston. But no matter what, she must flee this man who she feared might one day kill her.
The dear Lord above would guide her to a better, safer place.
Her Bible, her prayers, and her daughter were all that had kept her going these past months when Earl had beaten her daily, all the while using foul curse words that their daughter Megan overheard.
Now and then, the sweet child used one of those words herself because she had no idea that it was wrong to speak them. Her papa had said those words. That made it alright in her young mind.
A tugging at the skirt of Shirleen’s dress brought her out of her deep thoughts.
She turned and gazed down at her four-year-old daughter Megan. The child’s blue eyes and golden hair had been inherited from her father, while her tininess had come from her mother.
Shirleen had been married at the age of seventeen and had become with child soon after, while on the grueling trip to Wyoming.
A small grave had been left beside the road on the day Shirleen’s abused body aborted that first child.
While their traveling companions were fetching water from a creek, Earl had taken exception to her soft complaint about the heat. He doubled his right hand into a tight fist and hit Shirleen so hard that she had fallen from the wagon, landing on her stomach.
Within the hour she had aborted the child and had learned what the word hate meant, although she had been taught that hatred was sinful.
But she had hated Earl from the first time he’d hit her right up until this morning when he had given her the usual punch before setting out for the trading post.
Their friends had never learned what sort of man Earl was, for he had put on a good show, appearing to be the most thoughtful of husbands while they were around. But he treated Shirleen like a punching bag when they were alone, when he was not lashing her with his horrible belt.
“Mama, can I go and play with the baby chicks? Can I?” Megan asked, her blue eyes wide as she gazed up at Shirleen.
Seeing the innocence of her child, Shirleen swept her daughter into her arms. Megan was one of the reasons Shirleen knew she must leave. Earl had never beaten the little girl, but Shirleen had no doubt that he would once Megan was older. She and her daughter must be far away from him before that happened.
