Morning light glimmered through the last drippings of a night storm at the window. The leaves of a summer rich oak fluttered in the July breeze. Rose McCoy laid in the tangle of cotton sheets and watched the goldfinches flitting between the branches. Stretching her toes to the end of the bed, she gave a contented sigh.

She could almost forget the writhing nightmare of her uncle coated in flames. In her worst dreams, she watched him rise and walk towards the barn then set it ablaze. Unable to free themselves, Rose clutched her sister as the cow and horse screamed under their feet, the fire rising up around them. She woke choking on imaginary smoke and wished that Cordelia Hatfield had put her in the same room with Linet.  

Dread rose up in her throat. Rose squeezed her eyes shut. 

"Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal..." she repeated to herself, imagining the sea. 

Of course, she had never strayed beyond the hills where she had been born. Yet after she had read the tale of the Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen in her cousin Fay's book of fairy stories, it was her refuge to daydream about the endless ocean when life was too harsh.

She had repeated that first line many times to herself in the loft of Uncle Randall's barn. Especially on that last night, after he had beaten her senseless. Her shoulders and back were still bruised from that event.

It was strange to think it had been a whole week since the McCoy homestead had burned down. Her circumstances had changed overnight. Rose felt like she was living in a dream. But at what cost?

Rising from her bed, she opened the window against the rising sun. The Hatfield's grandfather clock rang out eight times down in the foyer. Linet would have been up already for hours, now free to roam the forest at will. There was a wildness in Linet that even the finest house would never tame. 

That did not hold true for Rose. The gentility and peace of Cap and Cordelia Hatfield's home spoke to her spirit. She liked soft sheets, clean skin, and fine libraries with roaring fires. The well tended garden beds outside had beckoned to her since they had arrived, soot stained and shivering in the back of a wagon.

Pushing open the pane, Rose leaned out the window and breathed in the fresh air. Her window looked out over the field of tall grass and wildflowers leading towards the stable.

A black clad figure emerged from the coach house, his pale red hair gleaming as he removed his hat. The intimidating Justice of the Peace, Rivers Hatfield, glanced up and held her gaze. His hard chin clenched before he shook his head, striding towards the house. 

Rose's face warmed. What had she been thinking, hanging out the window in her nightgown? That was something Linet would do.

Uncle Randall used to say that Linet wanted to be beaten. She asked for it with her brazen words and actions. Painfully aware of her questionable lineage as Nancy McCoy's bastard child with brown skin and black hair, Rose knew that to draw such attention to herself was dangerous. 

Ever since Aunt Betty's death, she'd learned to keep her head down and mouth shut out of self preservation. Linet enjoyed provocation. She was also safer with her white skin and under a father's last name, being the daughter of the notorious Bad Frank Phillips. Rose had never experienced that kind of security.

Wherever they were sent, the threat of being turned out into the streets hung over Rose. As though she weren't a legitimate member of the McCoy family, only suffered out of pity or obligation. 

Sometimes, Linet acted out to protect Rose from unfriendly words and back hands. Not that it kept such things from happening, as seen with Uncle Randall's abuse. And certainly with Rivers Hatfield who seemed to only have glares for her.

Gently shutting the window so not to disturb any others in the house, she swept across the spacious bedroom to the dark paneled bureau. In the days after they had arrived at Cap and Cordelia Hatfield's home, Miss Cordelia had called in a dressmaker from town. Most of their possessions had been destroyed by fire. Their dresses that had survived were in such a poor state of repair, Cordelia had quietly ordered them to be washed but set aside by their housemaid.

Everything was practical, but so lovely. Rose had difficultly restraining her glee around the sneering Linet. The chemises and drawers were lined with lace. They had pairs of both wool and silk stockings, and corsets made of silk and elastic for easier movement than the more dated styles. Cordelia even made sure they had the brand new brassiere, a recent invention for supporting the bustline. They had four dresses a piece, one for morning, another for the afternoon, a fine gown for formal events, and a simple, work dress. 

Though she loved the blue silk of her morning dress, Rose opted for the modest grey gown with it's understated style. She didn't want to appear like she was putting on airs, especially with Rivers Hatfield in the house. She hated to admit, even to herself, that he scared her.

The light rapping of knuckles came at the door.

"Come in!" Rose called out as she arranged the pleats of her skirt under a silk taffeta belt.

Leona Levicy, the youngest child and only daughter of Cap Hatfield, strode into the room. She wore an olive morning dress that brought out her grey green eyes, her dark brown curls pulled high on the top of her head in a romantic, loose bun. 

"Why aren't you wearing the blue?" She said, pulling it out of the bureau with a frown. "This color is like heaven on you."

Rose's face warmed at the compliment. Leona was free with advice, praise, and opinions. She had never felt a palm against her cheek in any way but a gentle caress, so her tongue ran like a river in spring.

Linet called her a spoiled priss and Rose agreed, but she'd also quietly added that she was a very nice spoiled priss. Leona had been nothing, but welcoming since their arrival, even politely ignoring Linet's subtle barbs or deflecting them with humor. She was unflappably confident.

"I felt like this was more appropriate," she replied, smoothing her hands over the modest gown.

"Rosie, you're our guest. Not a servant in this house," Leona chided returning the blue to the closet. 

Even though they'd just met, Leona had gotten into the habit of calling her Rosie. Rose still wasn't sure how she felt about it. She had never been around someone so aggressively friendly in her life. It was almost endearing.

"Come along then, Rivers has joined us for breakfast. Elias is off doing his good work for the Lord somewhere. I'm just thankful to have you here. Rivers is dull as paint, talking Pap's ear off about this law or that penalty." She hooked a hand through Rose's elbow, but then paused at the door. "By the way, I stopped by your sister's room, but she was absent. Where do you think she's gone?"

Considering it was Linet, there was no telling.

"Sometimes she enjoys a brisk walk first thing in the morning," Rose answered, choosing to sound as unoffensive at possible.

A shadow covered her heart. She thought of the graveyard and their mother's headstone, of the small patch of plants that grew next to it. For years, Rose had jealously guarded the secret. She had always been the more sensible sister. But now, hot headed Linet knew where it was located. And they were living in a house of Hatfields. 

"Of course. How efficient of her to wake so early. Perhaps we should try to follow her example?" Leona said, her tone only showing a slight edge.

Rose wondered how long it would be before they were moved once again. She prayed that this time, it wouldn't be to a jail cell.