Sands of Time

Journal- July 1, 1866

July 1, 1866

The atmosphere on the Ranch has changed. I no longer get to work in the fields with my Coyote. One day while I was working, Mama took me away from Papa in the fields. She needed help at the Ranch Owners home. I spend most of my day trapped in there like a caged fox. I hate the feeling of being entrapped indoors. It is very stifling. It is getting harder and harder to see Landon.

We found time the other night. I snuck out of my cabin, and we ran barefoot into the fields. The moon was so beautiful and full. It graced the top of the stock in a glowing light. If ever there was a romantic moment this was it. Landon held my hand, and very softly brushed his lips on mine. For a first kiss it left me breathless. We slowly walked till we found a quiet spot concealed by vegetation and sat down. He held me while I stared into the sky.

I leaned back against him. I could feel the hard might of his chest, and I wanted to live in this moment forever. But like all good things, this too must end. He walked me back to my cabin. He had a hold of my hand a lot like my heart.

Silently we parted. I watched his soundless departure, and ventured off to find my bed. I laid there that night, thinking how much my life would not change if we got married. I would still live in the Ranch much like my family does now. Deep down I am satisfied, as long as I have my Coyote. I fell asleep that night blissfully happy.

The next morning I rebelliously had a spring to my step, and Mama watched me suspiciously. We walked to the Ranch house silent except for my humming. Mama had to keep reminding me to mind my manner in front of the Ranch Master. I huffed at her, and when she looked away I stuck my tongue out at her.

Laughing at myself for the sheer absurdity of my behavior I tried to be demure as I entered the massive manor with its intimidating structure of glass windows. I felt like I was being watched. A small chill slide down my spine, apprehensively I peeked up at the windows and saw a shadow lingering and watching me as we entered. I hurriedly ran to catch up with Mama.

Mama glance to the side of her and shakes her head at me, while clicking her tongue in disapproval. I kept my head bent for the rest of the day. I lost my self in my work and was daydreaming about my Coyote when someone touched my hair. I jumped, so scared that my shriek congested in my throat defying its release.

I looked up and find the Ranch Master is standing by me. He is staring amusingly at me. He does a clumsy smile saying he was sorry for jolting me. I nod to him, but I am still disturbed that I cannot muster a replay. Thank goodness Mama came into the room that moment. She acknowledges the Ranch Master as Mr. Jeffrey, and tells me I am needed in the kitchen. Awkwardly my feet followed, I stared up at Mr. Jeffrey and gave a polite smile and I followed Mama out of the room.

Mr. Jeffery is a large stout man. His hair is peppered gray, and his face is usually red, and blotchy due the gin in his hands. He unnerves me. I feel his eyes on me as I turn my back to him. He smells of cigars, and musky cologne.

Once I was in the kitchen, Mama turns on her heels and whispers to me, "Be on your guard around that man, little one." She tells me to make sure he is never in the room that I am about to clean. If he is, I am to go to the next, and if he comes into the room then I am to finish and head elsewhere. I am also supposed to be polite, but show no interest in him at all.

The rest of that day I felt skittish, and nervous as I ventured further into his snake pit of a home. I feel him everywhere. As I touch and clean his belongings I feel him studying me from an open door way. He leaves me alone, but our eyes meet more than once. I look quickly down, and feel heat reach my cheeks. I have never had a man stare so openly at me. His gaze speaks volumes, and I shudder with ill ease at his prying eyes. I hear his mocking laugh as I make hast to another room to clean.

I wish Mama would let me go back to the fields. Later that evening when our work was done, I went looking for Mama to beg her to let me work with Papa again. She cast her eyes down in shame, and shakes her head no. I implore her, "Why not, Mama?" She looks at me, humiliation in her face, and tells me it is Mr. Jeffery's orders.

I feel sick. I do not want to be in his huge house, with windows so large and overbearing. I am tired of his always attentive eyes. I want my Coyote. I ran away from Mama, slipping off my shoes, I run as fast as the Silver Fox can. I speed into the fields, and close my eyes as my breathing swallows up the fresh air. Putting some distance from the house makes me feel better.

Finally I spot my Coyote, and I stare as him as a thousand words exchange between us. I cannot say anything to him here, with everyone. Our love is private. He nods his head to me, and I know he will come for me tonight.

-Petra