Now, ouch, my brother, he said, his voice low and dangerous in a way that reminded Eliza startlingly of B. And don't insult our mother. She's worth 10 of anyone in this town, including you. Why, I never Mrs. Peton sputtered.
Margaret, are you hearing this? These wild children need discipline. And as for their so-called mother, she's our real mother. Nathaniel piped up, not to be left out. She stayed up all night when Meera was sick and saved her life.
What have you ever done that was that brave? Mrs. Henderson, caught in the middle of this confrontation, looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her hole. "Perhaps we should all just I'll tell you what I've done. " Mrs. Peton cut her off.
"I've maintained my dignity. I've upheld proper standards. I haven't sold myself to the first man who'd have me for the price of a drink. " The slap of those words hung in the air. Eliza felt her carefully maintained composure crack slightly, felt the old shame trying to worm its way back into her heart. But before she could respond, before she could defend herself, all three boys were talking at once.
Paid $1 because that's all she was worth to this terrible town. He saved her from you awful people. She's the best thing that ever happened to us. Boys, Eliza said, her voice cutting through their passionate defense. That's enough.
Thank you for standing up for me, but I can fight my own battles. She turned to face Mrs. Peton fully, drawing herself up to her full height. You're right about one thing. Bo Thatcher bought me for $1 in a public square.
Do you know why he only paid $1? Mrs. Peton's mouth worked soundlessly. Because no one else bid, Eliza continued, her voice steady and clear. Because every person in this town had already decided I was worthless based on something I couldn't control.
But Bo Thatcher, he saw something different. He saw someone who could love his children, who could keep his home, who could show up every single day and do the work that matters. And I have. Every day for 6 weeks, I've proven that my worth has nothing to do with my womb and everything to do with my heart. She took a step closer to Mrs.
Peton, and the older woman actually backed up slightly. So, you can call me cursed. You can call me Baron. You can call me whatever you want. But those boys standing behind me, they call me mama.