Fallen Daughters

Birdie did as she asked, not even hesitating. She didn’t know Anna Mae well, but she knew her enough to know she could be an ornery old lady if she wanted to be.

“I don’t think you should be returning to your pa anytime soon.”

“Oh, but I have to.” Panic started setting in. “If I don’t get there before he wakes up…”

“He’s a mean son of a bitch, and I think you need to stay away from him.”

“But he’s my pa.”

“He ain’t no Pa. He’s just a man that has done you wrong. You don’t deserve it.”

Birdie shrugged her shoulders and looked down at the ground. “I can’t just leave him like my ma did. What would happen to him?”

“How often does he beat you?”

“He doesn’t beat me, just corrects.”

The actual answer to Anna Mae’s question was whenever he drank, which was pretty much every day. Just some beatings were worse than others. A lucky night would be a quick slap to the face. An unlucky night? Well, let’s just say that Birdie may have faced death square in the eye a time or two.

“And if you expect me to believe that, then you are a fool. Nothing wrong with correction, but beating a woman ain’t right. And if I remember, he beat you from the time you came out of your mama’s belly.”

Birdie swallowed the lump in her throat and swiped at the loose tear that escaped her eye. “We all have our demons. Mine being my pa.”

Anna Mae let out a loud sigh. “Birdie girl, you need to grow some wings. There are times that a woman has to make some decisions in life. She has to think of herself. You going back to your pa is thinking about him and no one else.”

“But it’s my home. He’s all I have.”

“Well that’s just it. That’s what Rem and I were talking about. We were thinking you could stay here as long as you want—”

“Oh no! I could never,” Birdie interrupted, standing up and rushing toward the door. “I really need to go.”

“Wait! At least take a pair of shoes of mine. I don’t want you losing one of those toes after all the work we did last night to save them.” Anna Mae got up and walked to her room, returning shortly with a pair of faded black boots in her hands.

Birdie studied the boots and then looked into the eyes of the kind-hearted woman. Attempting to walk out the door without the boots on would be futile, this much she knew. “All right. But I want to pay you back for them. I will do odd jobs or anything you like. And even if you say no, I will find the money somewhere.”

Anna Mae responded by holding out the boots. “Put them on. They may be too big, but they will keep your feet protected.”

Birdie grabbed them and walked over to the chair and started unlacing them. Noticing they had no holes and still had a solid sole, Birdie realized she was putting on the nicest pair of shoes she had ever worn.

“Thank you. Your and Rem’s kindness will never be forgotten.”

“I want you to know that my door is always open. No more shelter in the woods, ya hear? If I get wind that you camp in that forest another night, I’ll sic Rem on your hide. Clear?”

Birdie nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Saying the words, she knew it was a promise she would most likely have to break. This was just the way her life was. She had come to terms with that a long time ago.

“And, Birdie,” she said as Birdie slowly opened the front door. “Don’t give no man the power to break your soul. Not even your pa.”

Birdie offered a weak smile. “Please tell Rem thank you for me. I won’t ever forget your kindness.”

16

“Birdie! Girl, is that you?” The booming voice echoed off the bark of the pine trees, reverberating in the isolated woods of the Bluebell homestead.

“Yes, Pa. I’m here,” Birdie called as she ran into the shack they called home. Breathless from running the whole way home, but also from being afraid that he may have been looking for her all morning and was spittin’ mad. “I was just trying to do some morning hunting.”

“I don’t like you going out there. There’s Injuns that will scalp ya,” he slurred. “It happened to your Uncle Isaac. They show no mercy.” He groaned as he got off the ground where he must have passed out the night before and stumbled his way to an almost empty bottle of booze. Smiling at the discovery that a few drops still remained, he quickly downed the brown firewater. He collapsed in an old chair that appeared to wobble beneath his weight. And since her pa was a skinny man, the fact that the chair looked as if it might collapse was pretty telling of its condition. “And you know,” he added as he tossed the empty bottle to the ground, joining the others that scattered along the one room shack they called home. “You’re still alive for several minutes once they scalp you. Just long enough to know that you no longer have the top of your head, staring in the eyes of the Injun as he screams out his war cry.”