“A bath?” Louisa asked.
“Yes, warm water will feel good.”
“Warm water?” she asked, as if I were speaking another language.
“We’ll get you clean and fed, and then you can tell me what happened.”
I wrapped a blanket around her and took her across the hall to the steamy bathroom. As we helped her into the water, I saw skinny purple bruises on her lower back and buttocks. Bruises that could only come from a belt or
a switch. They were in multiple shades of purple from different beatings. This poor child. She would not be going home to that bastard if it was the last thing I ever did.
With Merry on one side and me on the other, we gently scrubbed her skin and lathered her hair. I searched for nits in her fine white-blond hair, but found nothing. After a few minutes in the warm water, she stopped shivering. When we had her scrubbed properly, I helped her out of the tub and dried her with a soft towel.
“I’ll go see about a tray of food for her,” Merry said.
Josephine had left a flannel nightgown hanging on a hook behind the door. Louisa sagged against me as I slipped the nightgown over her head.
I carried her back into the bedroom and pulled the covers over her. Louisa trembled and let out a small, sad sigh.
“Are you sleepy?” I asked. “Do you want to eat first?”
She nodded. “I went to town for food,” she whispered. “But the butcher shop was closed. We have nothing at the house to eat. Pa’s been asleep since last night.”
Asleep? Passed out was more likely.
Merry came in with a tray of chicken soup and some of Lizzie’s freshly baked sourdough bread.
“Is that for me?” Louisa asked.
“It is. Can you eat it all up for me?” I set the tray over her lap.
“Yes, Miss Cooper.”
Her hand shook as she brought a spoonful to her mouth. She took a timid sip, then another, then another. I buttered a piece of bread for her, and she gobbled that down next.
When she’d had enough, I set the tray on the dresser and returned to the bed. I adjusted the pillows, so she was less upright. “Louisa, why didn’t you go home after you came to town?”
“I was out looking for food,” she said. “Sometimes I can find berries or a dead bird.”
A dead bird? Goodness, this poor child.
Louisa’s gaze never left my face. It was as if she were watching to make sure I didn’t leave. “If I come home without anything, Pa gets mad.”
“Does your pa beat you if you don’t bring home food?”
“Yeah. And other things too.”
“Like what?”
“We play the hunter game. He chases me through the woods. I’m the deer.”
Chills traveled the length of my body.
“If he catches me, I get a beating. I deserve it because I’m not fast. He says he’s teaching me how to survive.”
“Does he ever shoot his gun at you?”
“Sometimes. Just to scare me. He thinks that’s fun.” She shuddered. “One time he almost hit me. I felt it go right past my ear. He laughed and laughed when I fell to the ground.”