•Chapter Three•

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When I had finished scrubbing the wooden floors of my chambers, my stomach was rumbling quite profusely.

I went downstairs quickly and realized that it was already 10 in the morning. I couldn't believe I slept in that long!

Abeline, my favorite cook out of our slaves, met me at the bottom of the oak stairs with hints of delicious bacon wafting into my nose. It was so tempting but the memory of father's stern commands were etched into my brain and I went into the closet to begin dusting the dining room.

Abeline followed me in silence, one eyebrow cocked at me. The plate of bacon balanced in her steady hands and my mouth watered at the sight of it.

She laughed lightly and placed three pieces into my callused hands.

"You need to eat just as much as he does," she spoke. I figured she assumed my father. I quickly ate the bacon, making sure father or Willson weren't lurking about.

She patted my back and went back outside to the kitchen house, most likely to begin cooking lunch.

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At last, my chores were done. I gazed upon my dirt and dust soiled dress.

Huffing, I rushed to the stables to look at Jamie. I heard panicked whinnies emiting from the paddock behind the barn. I panicked and sprinted as fast as I could to the paddock. I can't even imagine what happened.

What if Jamie had gotten into a fight with the donkey? Maybe she had tried to jump the fence and gotten her foot caught in the white posts? When I rounded the corner hesitantly, I was filled with fury towards the man I called my father.

In his right hand, he held a bloodied whip with a leather tail at the end.

I set my eyes upon Jamie. The whites of her eyes were very noticable and she was backed into the corner of her paddock, quivering in fear and anxiety.

Lydia stood watching down the fence. I quickly ran to her. She was crying and biting her nails. If I weren't so angered I would've been doing the same.

"He said he's doing it for Jamie's own good; to train her for farm work," she muttered with a sniff.

"That bas-" but before I could finish my sentence, father glanced in our direction and I locked my lips shut, silently praying he didn't overhear what I had been about to say.

As father walked towards us, there was something that flickered in his eyes I had never noticed before; pity or sadness?

No. Father was a coldhearted man, he didn't simply feel pity for a creature.

The unusual flicker in his eyes faded away once he reached the fence.

He glared at me with his piercing ice eyes.

"Don't you have chores to do?" he demanded of me.

Don't you have something better to do than brutally train a horse? I thought in my head.

"I completed them, sir," I replied with a slight smirk forming on my face.

Suddenly, I felt a hand smack it off and red hot pain coursed on my cheek. I rubbed it gently and  cleared my throat, straightening up.

Father began to speak but I already knew what he would say,

"You're attitude today has been horrible and I will not stand for it. No supper, go to bed as soon as you muck out the stables."

With that, he stormed out of the paddock and slammed the red gate. The noise made Jamie throw her head up and whinny in distress.

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