The words were more audible out there.

'Sarah is only fourteen!'

'You were only fourteen, Annaleah, when your father, or the man who acted as your father, pledged you to me.' Sarah sensed her father's impatience. Her boldness had reaped its harvest many times.

Her mother choked back a sob. 'May the Lord forgive me, I must protest--'

'Enoughl' Silence.

Lord, no. Not Hesker? Sarah thought of his enormous stomach, bulging eyes, sagging, bewhiskered jowls and flabby wet lips, habitually moistened with a flicking pink tongue. There was a metallic taste in her mouth now, testament to her rising bile. She felt sick.

'The matter is agreed. I will hear of it no more.'

'But Orson . . .'

'Annaleah!' The voice was resolute, commanding.

She knew then that her mother's protest was at an end. A hot tear ran silently and slowly down her cheek. She retreated quickly back to her room before her father left for his. It had been a long time since he had favoured her mother's room as his place of rest.

At her bedside, she fell to her knees and buried her salt-wet face in her hands. The Lord was her only chance of reprieve.

'Our dear Heavenly Father, I thank thee for the blessings bestowed on my family and me. The food on the table, the bounty in the fields, the health of our livestock. The manner in which foseph junior was spared when plague-ridden in the summer and it seemed all hope was vanquished. I thank thee for those and many other blessings. I beg here for thy mercy. If it be according to thy will that I be wed to Hesker Pettibone, then I beseech thee to think again. I apologise for my insolence, but I request with all reverence and humility that I not be married to that disgusting fat old hog -- I seek thy forgiveness for that ungodly description. Should thou ignore my plea, so help me, Heavenly Father, I will not answer for the actions I henceforth take. Amen.'