Chapter 1

My mother looked up from the stove where she was cooking stew for our dinner. Beef stew to be exact. Here, let me introduce myself. My name is Bailey Tunstall. I am sixteen years old tomorrow, and live alone with my mother. My father left us when I was about two, and so now I work to add some money to my mother's already poor salary, being a weaver. She weaves the finest clothing, making me always elegantly dressed, but it didn't bring much money. I work as a newspaper boy. Well, newspaper girl really. I only have one known and living relative, and that is my Uncle John. He lives in a town called Lincoln. A place that is known throughout my far away home of White Oak as a bad place with only scum and whores living in it. I don't really believe these rumors, seeing as we live right across the street from Jane's Whore House. But I have never been to Lincoln. I have met my uncle once. I was five and it was around New Years Eve. I don't remember anything about him, besides the fact that he was tall.

"Dear, can you start to cook up some rice for our dinner? It would be a huge help." My mother stated with a small smile.

"Of course mom, let me get a pot." I smiled at her, and then moved from my place on the dirty couch, to get a pot from the high cupboard. I lifted it off the shelf slowly and carefully. Then I set about making the rice for dinner. I usually got along well with my mom. She was a good lady and I loved her very much, even if she didn't have a great job.

"So is this all we are having for dinner?" I asked it before I realized it wasn't the best thing to say. My mother has always had a bit worried about me not living a "full" life, because of our money issue.

"I'm sorry mom. That was rude of me to say."

"It's not the first time." My mom said in a slightly sad way. I frowned.

The next day I got up before my mother. This was usually the case. I got up early, made breakfast, and then started on my schoolwork. I was home schooled, or rather, I am self schooled. My mom doesn't have time to teach me, so I teach myself. And I am pretty good at it too. My mother got up at least an hour after I had started working. She frowned at me, then sighed and sat down next to me. She looked troubled.

"What's wrong mom?" I asked.

"Oh dear, this is so hard for me to tell you. But it is for the best." I immediately got worried, deciding that what she had to tell me probably wasn't good.

"What is it?"

"I talked to your uncle last night."

"Ok…"

"And I was telling him about our money problem. More about how I thought you were unhappy with the situation."

"And…"

"He said that over the past years he has acquired a ranch and shop. He is living now alone with his helpers."

"Oh no. No, no no! You can't send me to work for him!"

"Oh no dear, that's not it! I am sending you to live with him."

The words struck me hard. I got up slowly.

"I am going to live with Uncle John on his ranch? Seriously?"

"Yes"