In His Prisoner
Kate watched her pa's strange actions in disbelief and sighed. They'd lost the farm, where they had been so happy, and moved to St. Louis to find work. Her sewing talents that her mother had taught her at a tender age had been their salvation.
Thad, on the other hand, could claim no successes, just excesses.
"Get that dirty sack off the table," she ordered as she ladled stew into two bowls and carried them to the table.
Thad grinned, but he was still breathing hard from running and didn't speak.
"And what's so funny?" she asked sitting down opposite him. "You're wearing a silly grin that stretches from ear to ear."
When Thad didn't move to get rid of the muddy bag, she reached for it to toss it on the floor for the time being. But he held it on the table. "Okay, so what is it, Pa? What's so all-fired important that you want that dirty bag sharing the supper table with our food?" she asked as she ate a mouthful of stew.
Thad swallowed a gulp of coffee and finally said, "It's our ticket out of this hovel. We can go somewhere now and buy us a little farm like before. You can live the life you deserve without sewing long hours for that French bitch you work for."
"Pa, don't talk about Madame that way. She puts food on our table and pays our rent."
"Oh, my sweet child," he whispered. She glared at him for calling her a child again, but he continued. "I want better for you, and now I can give it to you."
She sighed. "All right, Pa. Tell me what's going on. What's in the sack that's so important?"
Thad laughed and looked decidedly relieved. His grin returned as he untied the sack and upended it. Gold coins fell on the table.
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