Chapter 2

2

"It's time, Beth. This year I'm going."

Beth, quietly rocking baby Lydia, froze the rocker in place and looked up at her mama with a sharp jerk of her head.

Silence stretched between her and mama as their gazes held. Mama was an older version of herself, and she saw grim determination in those matching blue eyes. Fighting down the need to shout No , she looked at Mama. She'd known the time would come.

They had to do this sometime. It just always seemed like later was better.

Trying to cover her panic, Beth said, "I should have gotten pregnant again."

Ginny Rutledge, ready to go face being Eugenia Rutledge and fight for her freedom, smiled. "That stopped me last summer, and I suppose it would have stopped me again."

"How's the canyon entrance? I've noticed you walking that way a few times."

"It's good enough. Better than it was when Kat and Sebastian got out. We can get through. It's August for heaven's sake. How could there still be snow in August?"

"Mountains help. Northern Idaho helps."

A snort from the back room turned both their heads. Before Ginny could rush after one of the twins, Jake came out carrying his daughter. Jake had taken to sitting in the twins' bedroom during naps, reading and waiting and hoping to pounce on one toddler before the crying woke the other. He had Marie, who was rubbing her eyes and looking around through heavy lids, safe in her papa's arms.

Marie was a match for Beth and Mama, too. Dark curls and fair skin. Thick lashes around her blue eyes. Jake's hair was straighter, his eyes a brighter blue, like Jacob Jr.

Beth thought of her own father, Thaddeus Rutledge. Had he ever once held her? Certainly not that she remembered, but maybe when she was really young. Maybe for a few moments on the day she was born.

Beth shied her thoughts away from what was an old pain, one she'd accepted long ago.

"Mama is ready to go out, Jake."

Jake, grinning down at his daughter, looked up, the smile gone now. He focused on Mama. "You're sure, Ginny? No reason we can't wait another year. Another five years. Maybe you can outlive your old coot of a husband. We're happy here."

"We are. We're cut off from the whole world except when your friend Dakota brings us a newspaper, or the occasional O'Tooles' visit with mail from Kat and Sebastian. And Joseph has made a few runs into town."

Joseph was the one who was the least likely to be recognized, so if they had a serious need, he was the one to go. But they were more likely to go to the O'Tooles and give them a list and the money to cover purchases. Of course, they didn't need much.

They were right to be wary. Father still had men out there hunting Ginny. Dakota and the O'Tooles had been questioned more than once.

"Oscar's not gonna like it." Jake bounced little Marie, then lowered her to the floor to play.

Mama gave her kindhearted smile. She loved Beth, her only child, without reservation. Jake was the son she'd never had, and she respected him and was thrilled to have him in the family. She'd said often enough that her grandchildren were gifts straight from a loving God.

But Oscar was her best friend. He was their hero. His intelligence, skill, hard work, and loyalty had saved Mama. Oscar had led them to this place they called Hidden Canyon.

He'd supported Beth in her planning to get Ginny to freedom. He'd known about this canyon, recruited his two brothers, Joseph and Bruce. The three of them traveled here and worked hard to make it a comfortable sanctuary. His skill and cunning, plotting things out with Beth, saved Ginny from being caught and returned to the asylum, where her husband had locked her away when she wouldn't hand over the inheritance she'd received from her parents.

Even more, Beth hadn't known this, but Father had demanded Mama hand over Beth's inheritance, too. But Ginny had been willing to pay any price to defy him, to protect her daughter.

Beth had gotten her out, and her friend Kat as well. Kat was another asylum resident who had come with Mama. Beth brought the three of them to Independence, Missouri, where a wagon train was heading west. Oscar had wagons outfitted and ready when they arrived. He'd led them across the country on the wagon train.

They'd come to this hiding place late in the summer of 1869, and now in 1873 they were still here. And in that time period, Mama hadn't stepped one foot outside of the well-hidden canyon.

Without drastic action, Ginny would still be under lock and key in the Horecroft Insane Asylum back in Chicago. After four years, they'd decided they were safe here. Mama was profoundly angry at the injustice that was done to her and was being done to many other women. It was time to come out of hiding, to face down the laws of the land that made it dangerous for a married woman to be under the power of a tyrannical husband.

Oscar came to the door, Joseph just behind him. They often came in for an afternoon coffee break about the time the babies were up from their naps.

Though Oscar didn't make a sound, somehow Jacob Jr. sensed that it was time to get up and play. A shout of "Mama" came from the back room.

The cabin had three bedrooms now. The baby, Lydia, slept with Jake and Beth. Mama slept in the second room. The twins had the third bedroom to themselves.

Oscar's eyes went straight to Mama. His frown was fierce, but they'd had this talk many times, and he must've known this was coming. "I saw you out at the canyon entrance this morning. It's time then?"

"You know I have to go."

"Like I said before, you do not have to go. We're safe here. We're happy, aren't we? We can stay in this canyon for as long as your fool of a husband lives. He's an old man. Maybe he'll get himself planted in the dirt soon."

Joseph stepped into the cabin. His one arm didn't work right because it had been broken when he threw himself in front of stampeding wild mustangs to save Yvette, the last member of their little family of recluses. Since they lived too far from a doctor, they'd taken him to the O'Tooles and then ran for a doctor and hauled him back. It'd been over a day later before the doc arrived. The man had done his best after getting there far too late.

Living so far out came with risks, and Joseph's permanently crooked arm was one of the prices they paid for Mama's safety.

Behind Joseph, at a distance, stood Yvette. She came closer these days, but still never entered the house. She hadn't had a violent outburst in years, but they all treated her very carefully, so it was hard to be sure she wouldn't have one still if the wrong thing happened. She'd come a long way from the dangerous, badly abused, mentally traumatized woman she'd once been after being set free from Horecroft by Father because she had clues as to Mama's whereabouts.

"What are we going to tell Yvette? She'll think we all abandoned her."

Joseph said, "I'll talk to her." He had talked once, briefly, about losing a baby girl long ago. He treated Yvette like his own long-lost child. But he was still careful in how he went about it.

Yvette would strike out wildly when anyone touched her. But they'd learned if they gave her a lot of time, she would sometimes touch them. She'd rest a hand on someone's arm or tickle one of the toddlers under their chin.

She was a beautiful woman with haunted, lonely eyes. She lived in a cave away from the rest of them, with a hot spring that kept one room warm in winter. They'd built a bedstead to make it comfortable.

Mama and Beth had learned to sew well enough to make Yvette any clothes she needed. But she was still a distant kind of creature, timid and shy as a deer.

Mama had said that the asylum had many women in it that were fully sane and had no reason to be there. They'd been locked away on account of abusive relatives, who had them committed to the asylum against their will more because they were inconvenient than for any reasons to do with madness.

But the Horecroft Insane Asylum wasn't a terrible place just for unjustly diagnosed sane people. It was also the worst possible place for those people who were in fact insane. The treatment there was cruel and harsh, the medical attention nonexistent, the rooms cold and deliberately made to be miserable.

Mama wanted to free herself from the tyranny of her husband, but she also wanted to free all those poor souls who still lived in the Horecroft Asylum. She wanted humane treatment for the folks with illnesses of the mind.

Her first step was to get a ruling on her own sanity. She and Beth had been writing to their friends Kat and Sebastian Jones to get advice on how best to do that, and they had a plan in place.

Ginny would take the next step, assuming she won, and try to free the others who shouldn't be there and find better treatment for those who needed help.

"I'm going, Oscar." Mama leaned near to Beth and took the now-awake Lydia into her arms.

A long silence settled on the room, broken by Lydia's babbling, Jacob's hollering as he ran into the room, and Marie's sweet laughter at her brother's antics. But even with all that, a long silence.

Finally, with a firm jerk of his chin and a scowl on his face, Oscar said, "Let's talk about the details."

Oscar was a man who liked to plan.

Jake went to get a pot of coffee brewing.

Beth resumed her seat in the rocking chair. "We've written back and forth with Kat. I'll tell you what I know and where we might find the best help." She began going over points they all already knew.

Mama chimed in now and then, but Beth thought she looked strung tight as a clothesline. One little extra bit of weight and she might snap.

Oscar paced, his hands behind his back, as he reminded them of all that could go wrong.

"You're going back to the asylum, Ginny?" Yvette rarely spoke.

Every head in the house came around hard at the sound of a delicate, musical whisper, but one laced with terror.

Yvette stood in the doorway. Her hair, so white-blond that it was nearly colorless, was nicely styled in a way most women would need a lady's maid to arrange. Her large blue eyes looked as if soaked in fear, and she was slender to the point of being almost breakable. She was an unusually pretty women, fragile as spun sugar. Her hands clutched together, tucked tight to cover her heart. She stared at Ginny, her eyes filled with tears.

Then Yvette stepped just one pace inside the door. She'd never come inside before.

After a few moments of stunned silence—even Lydia seemed fascinated—Mama said, "No. I am not going back to that horrible place, Yvette. I will never go back, and I would never let anyone take you back. But I am leaving the canyon. I'm going to talk to a judge and demand he rule that no one has the right to lock me away like that without some proof I am truly insane. I hope we can find a judge who will hear my case and rule fairly, and a jury who will declare me sane and refuse to allow me to be locked up."

"If they listened to me"—a single tear escaped Yvette's left eye; typically she was more inclined to run and hide and possibly scream than to cry—"they would rule against me. Then they'd lock me back in that asylum. I deserve to be there."

"No one on this earth, no matter how troubled they might be, deserves to be locked in that wretched asylum." Ginny took a step toward Yvette, an arm outstretched to comfort the woman.

Yvette cringed and moved away. Fallen tears now streaked her face.

Joseph said, "Let her be, Ginny."

Frowning, Ginny stepped back.

Joseph produced a handkerchief from his pocket and extended his hand slowly to offer it to her. He waited, they all waited, as Yvette, her hand trembling, reached out and took the white kerchief. Her hand never touched Joseph's.

"Th-thank you." She pressed the cloth to her eyes in such a way that her whole face was covered with it. Her shoulders trembled but no sobs escaped. Her misery was all the more heart-wrenching for its silence.

Beth had never heard what had happened to Yvette to send her to the asylum. The woman was obviously troubled, yet she cared for herself well here. Did she have a husband who had deemed her insane and forced her behind those heavy doors of the asylum? And why did she hate to be touched?

Beth couldn't help but believe that someone had treated Yvette terribly to cause her to have such a reaction to human touch.

They all held their breath and wondered what she'd say. Instead, she stepped to the side of the doorway, then leaned against the wall right inside the door.

Her tears finally ended, and she lowered the now-drenched handkerchief to just below her chin. "How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know, Yvette."

Joseph, who'd become a father of sorts to Yvette, said quietly, "I'm staying here. I'll see to it no harm comes to you. You go on living in your cave and come here as you like, for meals and such. We'll wait in safety in the canyon until they return, be it a week or a month."

Or forever , Beth thought, being careful not to say that out loud.

She hated leaving. The canyon walls and the oddly hard-to-find entrance had acted like a fortress, protecting them for years now. But no more living behind these walls. Mama needed to start a fight that would change her life and maybe, just maybe, with God's help, change the world.

It made Beth's stomach twist with fear. Because if they failed and somehow Father found and dragged Mama away, Beth might never see her again.