Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)
Jody Hedlund
Chapter
1
JANUARY 1883
CENTRAL MICHIGAN
It was time. The drunk shanty boys were finally quiet.
Lily Young peered up through the shadows of the early morning darkness to the balcony that ran the length of the hotel. It was higher than she’d thought. Good thing she’d brought a rope.
She drummed her stiff fingers inside her mittens and lifted her gaze to the clear sky overhead. The last stars were fading. The lumber town would awaken with the first hints of light. And soon the woods would ring with the chopping and sawing of the shanty boys, who needed to make the most of each minute of daylight for their hard labor.
Which meant if her rescue was going to succeed, it was now or never.
But where was Edith?
Lily stepped away from the building and scanned the windows of the upper floor. Only yesterday, she’d looked the young girl in the eyes, watched the tears pool in their painful depths, and confirmed the escape plans.
Had the girl changed her mind so soon?
A window scraped open. Each halting inch up, the wooden frame rasped like a dying man gasping for breath. A bare foot poked through the opening followed by a slender bare leg.
Lily released a swoosh of air that made a white puff in front of her. “Good,” she whispered. Another life rescued from the pit of hell. Yes, it was only one. And it wasn’t her sister.
But it was a life that needed saving nonetheless. How could she stand back and do nothing—especially when her own sister was suffering the same fate somewhere?
The young girl climbed out the window. She took one step forward then stopped and wrapped her arms across her camisole. Dressed only in her undergarments, the girl shook like twigs in a winter gale.
“Edith. Here,” Lily called softly. “I’m over here.”
The girl tiptoed to the edge of the balcony and leaned over, her eyes wide with fear.
“We’re fine. Everyone’s still asleep.” Lily uncoiled the rope. “Tie this on the rail.”
She tossed the rope toward the girl.
With shaking hands Edith wrapped the cord around a post, all the while casting glances over her shoulder toward the open window.
“You’re going to be fine,” Lily whispered. “Just focus.”
The girl managed to hoist herself over the banister. With faltering movements, she snaked down the rope until Lily’s outstretched arms reached her and supported her the rest of the way.
When the girl’s feet finally touched the hard-packed snow, Lily grabbed the coarse sack she’d left in the snowdrift and dug through it for the items she’d brought for Edith. “Quick. Put these on.” She handed Edith her only rubbers and then draped a blanket around the girl’s shoulders.
“Curse the men who think women are no better than cattle,” Lily muttered. The tavern owner had confiscated his girls’ coats and shoes to keep them from running away. Of course, not all the prostitutes wanted to leave their life of degradation. But the minute she’d seen Edith, she’d known the girl was miserable, as miserable as her sister would be by now.
Lily slipped an arm around Edith. If only she could find Daisy . . .
During the past few weeks of living in Farwell’s only temperance hotel, Lily had done the best she could to search for her sister among the dregs. And after questioning some of the prostitutes, like Edith, she was confident Daisy hadn’t been in Farwell.
None of the shanty boys she’d talked to had seen anyone who fit the description of her sister. And she’d jabbered with plenty of the boys over the past month while helping photograph the lumber camps in the area.
The squeak of cutter blades on the icy road and the jangle of horse harnesses sent Lily’s heart slipping downhill. Silently, she stepped to the side of the building and pulled Edith next to her. She put her mittened hand to her lips in warning.
“If Big Joe finds me, he’ll beat me.” The girl’s voice wobbled.
“Stay right by my side,” Lily whispered. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
The cutter inched down the wide main street of the sleeping lumber town. In the predawn light, Lily could make out the hunched back of the driver. She released a breath and squeezed Edith. “Everything’s all right. It’s Oren.”
Lily moved away from the hotel and waved at the oncoming cutter.
It slid to a stop, rattling the camera equipment that was piled high on the supply sled tied to the rear. Beneath a black derby hat, Oren’s bushy eyebrows narrowed to a dark V. He shook his head and muttered, “What in the hairy hound do you think you’re doing?”
“Edith needs a ride out of town,” Lily said. “And since we’re leaving, I figured we could give her a hand.”
“Girl, you’re going to be the death of me one of these days.”
She was sure Oren was remembering the rescue from the previous month over near Averill that had resulted in a chase and several gunshots. “Well now”—she patted his arm—“if you stay quiet enough, we’ll be able to get out of town before anyone hears us.”
Oren grumbled again. Thankfully his walrus mustache muffled most of his words.
Lily helped Edith into the cutter and draped a thick buffalo robe across her. She brushed the girl’s tangled hair out of her face. The heavy locks were in need of a good washing and brushing.