Another Dawn by Deb Stover

alone. She didn't even have herself for company, since she didn't know herself.
           Tears of frustration stung her eyes as she leaned her head back against the door's cool surface and surveyed her surroundings. A kerosene lamp spilled soft, golden light onto the floor and ceiling, leaving the corners dark and unfriendly.
           Across the room from the tall window, a narrow bed with a cheerful patchwork quilt beckoned to her. But as she pushed away from the door, something else seized her attention.
           A mirror.
           Light. She needed more light. With her right hand, she brushed the wall beside the door several times, sensing there should have been a switch there. She knew it, though she didn't know why she knew it. Her gaze drifted across the high ceiling, finding no source for additional light, even if she'd found a switch.
           Frustrated, she retrieved the lamp from the nightstand and carried it to the low dresser beneath the mirror. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she turned up the wick until the golden light grew somewhat brighter.
           Her mouth went dry as she lifted her chin to look into the mirror, fearing who she might find staring back from the silver surface. She gasped, seeing herself for the first time she could remember. The light sent her features into sharp relief, light and shadow contrasting harshly on the stranger's face.
           Her face.
           "How do you do, Sofie?" she whispered, reaching out to touch her reflection. Wild, dark curls framed her small face and fell to her shoulders in back. So that was what Mrs. Fleming had meant about Sofie's hair being in utter chaos.  
           Her ears were small and flat against her head, with a gold hoop in one lobe. "I lost an earring."   She touched her naked lobe, then noted the purple bruise on that side of her head, spreading toward her eye. Gingerly, she probed her injury, realizing how lucky she was not to have lost something much more significant than an earring.
           Like her life.
           But in a way she had lost her life. At least the life she'd known before today.
           She turned down the lamp and placed it back on the nightstand. The bed looked clean and inviting, but her clothes were too filthy to climb between the sheets.
           The mere thought of sliding her exhausted body into bed made her shudder with longing. She'd have to sleep in her undies. After all, Mrs. Fleming had promised Sofie a bath and clean clothes in the morning.
           She pulled off her soiled clothing and left it in a pile near the door. Again, she looked at the strange woman in the mirror. No bra, small breasts and white panties with red hearts.
           Mrs. Fleming won't approve.
           Too exhausted to ponder the possible ramifications of Mrs. Fleming choosing her wardrobe, Sofie left the lamp burning low and climbed beneath the quilt. The clean sheets felt wondrous against her bare skin, and the quilt offered welcome warmth.
           "Dear God, what am I going to do?" she prayed.

           Fear and misery had been painful.
           Hiding happiness was pure hell.
           After playing the role of priest for Fanny Judson's funeral, all Luke wanted was to run through town, shouting to the world that he was free. No one was hunting him, and no one knew about his past.
           But even in his state of shock-turned-ecstasy, Luke knew such a display of unadulterated happiness would be bad form in the midst of a smallpox epidemic and countless funerals. Very bad indeed.
           Though he truly did feel for Zeke's loss and Fanny's death, Luke struggled to restrain himself. Darkness was nearly upon them by the time he bid Fanny's mourners good-bye and escaped their presence.
           No one guarded him now, and no rifles demanded his continued cooperation. He could walk away from Redemption anytime he chose, but