Free Scattered Petals by Amanda Cabot

clean. Perhaps she should accept the reality that she never would.
    It wasn’t only her bathing habits that worried Sarah and Clay. Priscilla had heard them discuss her refusal to leave the ranch. Sarah claimed it was normal and that the fear would subside. Clay was not so certain. Nor was Priscilla, for it wasn’t only fear of the bandits that kept her here. She also dreaded the speculation that would accompany her if she ventured into town.
    Patience had written about how the townspeople had stared at her as if she were an exotic animal that had been brought to Ladreville. How much more would they stare at a woman whose stagecoach had been attacked, a woman who had been violated? They’d know Priscilla was unclean, and they’d either snicker, believing it was somehow her fault, or else they’d view her with pity. Priscilla wasn’t certain which would be worse. All she knew was that she would not subject herself to either.
    “I think I’ll walk outside,” she told Sarah as she rose, gathering the unfinished gown into her arms. Though Sarah had offered to accompany her on previous evenings, tonight she simply nodded. A few minutes later, her wool shawl wrapped around her, Priscilla slipped out the front door. She wouldn’t go far; she never did; but perhaps the cool night air would clear her mind. Perhaps the exercise would tire her enough that the nightmares would not come. Most importantly, perhaps tonight would be the night God showed her his plan. Though she no longer believed he had abandoned her, she had not heard his voice telling her why he’d brought her to Ladreville.
    Priscilla shivered, finding the evening colder than she’d expected. Tonight the sky was clear with no clouds to blanket the Earth, holding in the day’s warmth. Instead, a tapestry of stars tried to compete with the light of the full moon. Priscilla walked quickly, trying to warm herself, and in the process she ventured farther from the house than she’d done before. When she realized that she had reached the small grove of oak trees, she stopped abruptly. This was not where she wanted to be. There were no answers to be found here where trees sheltered the Canfield burial plot. Priscilla shuddered at the sight of the three headstones, one of which was her sister’s. The others belonged to Clay’s mother and his brother.
    She was here. She might as well stay. Though her feet moved reluctantly, Priscilla made her way to the gravestones and sank down next to Patience’s. Her fingers traced the simple words Clay had had chiseled into the marble along with the dates of her sister’s life. Beloved wife, daughter, and sister. Patience had been all that and more. If she had lived, she would have been a mother herself. Though she had considered Texas a hostile land, Patience had found happiness here as she’d waited for the birth of her first child. Mama and Papa had not found even those fleeting moments of joy. Texas had brought them nothing but a shared grave.
    Oh, Mama, I loved you , Priscilla cried silently as she wrapped her arms around Patience’s stone. There would be no headstones for her parents. I didn’t mean to bring you and Papa into danger. But she had. Pain sliced through Priscilla’s heart, overwhelming her with its intensity. Not even on the day of her parents’ death had she felt a grief like this. She had been numb then, trying desperately to block out the memory of what had happened to them and to her. But now the numbness had worn off, leaving her no shield against the pain. It hurt. Oh, how it hurt to know they were gone. Forgive me, Lord, if I hurt them.
    Priscilla closed her eyes to murmur a silent prayer for her parents, and as she did, a memory stole into her mind. It had been a late summer evening a month before her seventh birthday and perhaps a week after Grandmama, Mama’s mother, had died. Though Mama and Papa had told their daughters that Grandmama had gone to heaven, Priscilla knew they were lying.