Chapter 4

My resistance only made the Petersons meaner. Cletus seemed to take my defiance as a personal challenge. The days blurred into a haze of fear and small acts of rebellion – refusing food, glaring at Cletus until he backed off, anything to show I wasn't broken.

I kept repeating my grandparents' names, hoping someone, anyone, might overhear and make the connection. "Eli Miller! Agnes Miller! They live near Stillwater Creek!" I' d shout when I thought no one was listening too closely.

One evening, Jake returned. He was dropping off some firewood. He avoided looking at me, but I saw him glance my way when he thought I wasn't watching. I looked terrible, I knew. Bruised, thin, my clothes torn. But was there a flicker of recognition this time?

"She still yappin' 'bout old Eli?" Pa Peterson asked Jake, with a sneer.

Jake just shrugged, his face unreadable. "Heard her. Sounds crazy." But his eyes lingered on me for a second too long.

Later that night, as Cletus got more aggressive, trying to drag me towards a dark, musty root cellar behind the shack, I fought back with everything I had.

"No! Get away from me!" I screamed, kicking and scratching. "Grandpa Eli will kill you for this!"

"He ain't your grandpa!" Cletus snarled, his face inches from mine, his breath foul. He backhanded me, and stars exploded behind my eyes.

Just as he was about to shove me through the cellar door, I heard shouting from outside.

"Peterson! Open up! Sheriff Brody!"

Then, another voice, deeper, colder, a voice that sent shivers down my spine even in my terror – Grandpa Eli. "Peterson! You got something that belongs to me!"

The door to the shack burst open. Grandpa Eli stood there, silhouetted against the fading light, Grandma Agnes beside him, her face a mask of fury. Sheriff Brody, looking uncomfortable, was just behind them, along with Jake, who looked pale but resolute.

Grandpa Eli' s eyes found me, struggling in Cletus's grip. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

"Let her go, Cletus," Grandpa Eli said, his voice dangerously calm.

Cletus froze, his eyes wide with a new kind of fear. He released me, and I stumbled, falling to my knees.

Grandma Agnes was at my side in an instant, her arms around me. "Sarah, child, oh, my poor child."

Grandpa Eli took one look at my battered face, then turned his icy gaze on the Petersons. Sheriff Brody shifted nervously. He owed Eli more than a few favors.

The rescue was swift. The Petersons, faced with Eli Miller's cold fury and the law, crumbled.