––––––––
Miranda opened her eyes, sat up, and listened intently. At first, she'd thought the pounding was in a dream, but no—someone was definitely trying to knock down her door. She sat up, swung her feet off the bed, onto the floor, and scooted them around until she found her slippers, before she struggled into a wrapper.
Who in the world would be knocking at this time of the morning? It was barely dawn, she thought, as she stumbled down the stairs and to the kitchen door. Something must be wrong. Someone must be very sick or severely injured. Still... why would they come here? Victoria was the physician, and she was in town. And, no one lived close to her.
Perhaps, her hired-hand, Bert Smith, was ill. She went to the back door, reaching out to touch the rifle that stayed, loaded, beside the door—just to reassure herself—before she called out, "Who's there? What is it you want?"
"Mrs. Hendriksen, it's Daniel. I work for Mr. Gus. He sent me to tell you we found them girls. They're safe and sound, and we got all them that had them, too."
"You have the girls?" Miranda asked, in an incredulous voice.
"Yes, ma'am. And, they're all right."
"They're all right..." she repeated.
"Then Mr. Gus said everyone—although, I'm not sure who 'everyone' is—will be meeting with the judge tomorrow morning. Well, I suppose that's later today. Anyway, they'll expect you."
"Yes, all right." She stepped back into the kitchen and asked, "Would you like some coffee? I think there's some left in the pot."
"No, ma'am. I need to get back to town. With the sheriff away, we're helping the deputies with them people—the ones that had the girls. But, thank you, though."
"All right. Thank you for coming out here at such an early hour. And, please, tell Gus I'll be there."
Miranda made herself a cup of tea, carried it to the table, and sank into her chair. Her initial elation over Daniel's news quickly morphed into a deep, unfathomable sadness. The brothel had been found. The girls they'd spent months searching for were found. And, the people behind it were found, as well.
But, the girls would never be all right. It wasn't enough that the fates took their parents from them, leaving them orphans. No! Just when they believed they were being given a chance for a fresh start at making a new life—a good life—for themselves and their sisters, they were lied to, held hostage, and forced to become prostitutes. Whores controlled by their captors and fed opium to keep them docile.
They'd lost their freedom, their sisters, and their very dignity.
No. She doubted they would ever be 'all right'. But, she had decided months ago that she was going to do all she could to make things—if she was not able to make it 'up to them', at least she'd make their lives easier. She'd make sure they felt safer and cared for.
Yes, she vowed as she sipped her now cold tea, she was going to do all she could to see they would become as close to 'all right' as they were able.
As soon as she was dressed, Miranda Hendriksen went to town. Leaving her wagon at the livery stable she ran towards the hotel. Well, perhaps not ran, exactly. But, she definitely walked faster than was considered ladylike. As it was, she worried she'd be too late.
She dashed across the street, cutting diagonally towards the hotel. Even though it was still early, there were people on the street. However, they were congregating further down near the end of town, so she wasn't forced to stop and speak to anyone. And for that she was glad.
As she reached the hotel, she nearly bumped into a gentleman exiting. He held the door open for her and mumbled a greeting, but she merely plastered on a brittle smile as she entered the building and the man went on his way.
Joe, the hotel clerk looked up, smiled and said, "They're all in the private dining room. You know the one the judge uses for court."