That was mean of him. Emma, James said gently, but Margaret held up a hand. It's all right. She's not wrong. Sarah moved closer to her sister.
Are you sad? Margaret considered this. I was, she admitted, but now I'm mostly tired and uncertain about what happens next. You could come home with us, Sarah said immediately. We have extra space.
Papa made a bed in the spare room last month. Just in case. Just in case of what? Margaret asked. Just in case someone needed it, Emma said simply, as if this were obvious.
James cleared his throat. The wagon's just down the street. "If you're willing, we can head out now and make it home before dark. If not, I'll come," Margaret said. The words surprised her even as she spoke them, but they felt right.
What did she have to lose? She was already as lost as a person could be. The ride to the ranch was quiet at first. The girls sat in the back of the wagon, whispering to each other and occasionally asking Margaret questions. Did she know how to braid hair properly?
Could she make Johnny Cakes? Did she like horses? Margaret answered honestly, "Yes, she'd braided hair in the orphanage where she grew up." "Yes, though it had been years since she'd had the ingredients, and she didn't know. She'd never been close to one." You've never been close to a horse, Sarah's voice was incredulous. But how did you get anywhere?
I walked mostly, Margaret said. Or took the street car in Philadelphia. James glanced at her. You grew up in an orphanage until I was 14. Then I worked in a dress shop until the owner died and her son sold the business.
After that, I took in sewing at home. She didn't mention how barely she'd survived, how many nights she'd gone to bed hungry, how close she'd come to the streets. When the factory wages undercut the seamstresses, there wasn't enough work. The advertisement seemed like a chance for something different. I'm sorry, Thornton wasted that chance.
James said quietly. Margaret looked out at the landscape rolling past. The land was vast in a way that made her chest ache, nothing like the cramped streets of Philadelphia. Mountains rose in the distance, purple against the sky. The air smelled clean and sharp.
Maybe he didn't waste it, she said softly. "Maybe it just led somewhere different." When they arrived at the ranch, the sun was low on the horizon, painting everything gold. The house was small, rough timber with a stone chimney. There was a barn, a corral, and in the distance Margaret could see cattle grazing. It wasn't much, as James had said, but it was tidy, cared for.