1 The broom felt as if it was made of iron, not wood and straw. Annie was tired, mortal tired. Then again, she was always tired. There was always too much work to be done in a day and not enough hours to finish it. So it wasn''t surprising that the broom she wielded chattered a bit on the puncheon floor-and the uneven surface of the split logs didn''t help. "Small strokes with the broom, you lazy little tramp! You''re sending dirt everywhere!" The woman at the stove turned and glared, her hand hovering over the stout cane switch she always had at her side, tied to her apron string. Annie thought of her as "She-Wolf," regardless of her real name, because she was as cruel and vicious as a rabid wolf. So was her husband "He-Wolf," though his cruelty manifested itself in other ways than just the beatings Annie was accustomed to get from his spouse.

Hard words, punishments like being deprived of meals, being sent into the cold, dark root cellar for an hour among the black beetles, and long lectures on her inadequacies, while he watched her with a gleam in his eyes that made her shiver, though she didn''t know why. Annie Moses winced and ducked her head, murmuring "Yes''m," and tried to make the strokes of the broom smaller. It was hard, though, because she was small for her age, the broom was taller than she was at a mere ten years old, and she was already exhausted from an entire day of tending the baby, cleaning, helping to prepare food, chopping wood, and pumping water. Pumping water outside in the winter cold was brutal, and her red hands and feet were covered in aching chilblains. By her reckoning, Annie did most of the work in this household; all the She-Wolf ever did was stir a pot now and again, rock and feed the baby, and beat Annie. And the moment she turned her back on her employer, she heard the quick steps on the wood floor, and braced herself for the blow of the switch. Inevitable and unavoidable, the blows came, raining down on her back and shoulders until she dropped to her knees. She was holding her breath to keep from sobbing, as She-Wolf scolded her for being impertinent.

The She-Wolf yanked the broom out of her hands and flung a tiny whisk broom and dustpan at her head. The dustpan caught her in the cheek hard enough that she knew there would be a bruise and maybe a cut, the pain bringing more tears to her eyes. "There!" the woman spat. "Now finish the sweeping!" On hands and knees, shivering with cold in the thin calico dress and apron that were all she had to wear, Annie went back to sweeping the kitchen floor with the whisk broom. Every time she gathered a dustpan full, she got to her feet and carefully emptied it into the pail she''d be expected to take outside when it was full. Her hands and feet were numb with cold, but she wouldn''t be allowed near the stove until after He-Wolf and She-Wolf went to bed, and by then it would have been banked for the night and barely warm. All the time she swept, the She-Wolf kept up a running commentary about how useless she was, how when they had hired her, she was supposed to be able to cook, pump water, and tend the baby (just now, thankfully, asleep in his cradle) like a good strong woman, how she was useless at all these things, and how she should be thanking her lucky stars that the She-Wolf was keeping her on despite how she was nothing but a drag on the household and not worth the money it took to keep her fed. She''d have broken down in tears if she hadn''t been so used to it by now.

It was an old song, one Annie knew the words to by heart. And most of it was a lie. She''d been "bound out" to the Wolves on the promise of fifty cents a week for a little light housekeeping and tending the baby. Her widowed Mama couldn''t afford to keep all her children, and at ten, Annie was the most likely to get any kind of employment, so she''d been sent to the Darke County Infirmary-which was the official name of the county poorhouse-and from there she''d been bound out as the Wolves'' servant with her Mama''s consent. And Annie herself had thought it a fine plan; she knew how much of a difference that fifty cents a week would make to the little household, and it made her proud and happy to be able to help. And there had been the promise of school, too; the Wolves had pledged to the people in charge of the Infirmary, Mr. and Mrs. Edington, that there was a school within easy walking distance, and she''d be going every day.

Since there was no school near the Moses home, that had seemed like a dream about to come true. She''d thought she was prepared for the work. She wasn''t afraid of hard work, after all. She''d done more than enough of the housework at home to know she could do a lot of things, and do them well, and she''d helped tend Baby Hulda, so she knew she was competent with an infant. What''s more, she knew she could take up a rifle or snares and easily add to the Wolves'' larder with her uncanny hunting skills-most of the Moses'' meat came straight from her hunting efforts. And she''d have been happy if she''d been treated fairly. She could easily understand how a new mother, perhaps weakened by the birth of her first child, would need some help, and if there were no relatives nearby to lend a girl, obviously they''d have to hire someone. Annie''s own mother was often paid to come be a midwife, and afterward to cook and clean for a few days while the new mother recovered.

But Annie was effectively doing all the chorework, a great deal of the housework, most of the baby-tending, almost all of the water-pumping and wood-chopping, and a goodly share of the cooking. She was supposed to be going to school during the day, not slaving from dawn to dusk. As for the She-Wolf taking an adult woman''s share of the work, well, mostly the She-Wolf sat in her rocking chair by the stove and glared at her, or retired to the bedroom to nap. When this all began, she used to cry herself to sleep every night, wake up still crying, and have to hide her tears during the day. Now, all she felt was numb, and a dull, resigned fear. She was too tired for anything else. She''d written to her mother several times, asking when she would be able to come home again, and pointing out that between her trapping and shooting she was probably able to supply more than enough meat to make up for that lost fifty cents a week, but what had come back had been short replies, not even enough to cover one side of a very small piece of paper, admonishing her that she was to be grateful for what the Wolves were doing for her, that she was to do everything exactly as the She-Wolf told her to do it, and not complain. All these "letters" sounded strangely alike, and none of them sounded like Mama.

At least not to Annie. As for the promise of school, it had been a lie from beginning to end. The school was so far away it took most of the morning to walk there, and most of the afternoon to walk back, and that was in good weather. And of course He-Wolf was not in the least interested in driving her over in the cart. Now that it was winter, it was impossible, so she hadn''t been more than a handful of days in the autumn before the Wolves started piling work on her. It had begun to dawn on her that the Wolves lied a lot. Were they lying about those letters being from her mother? Had they written those replies themselves? Had they even sent on the letters she had written? The chores she got set were often more difficult than they needed to be, and wouldn''t have been nearly so bad if the She-Wolf had just lent a hand. It wasn''t just that she was only ten, it was that she was small for her age-probably because for most of her life she''d never really gotten enough food.

Things in the Moses household had gone plummeting downhill with the death of her father, and had never really recovered. Back home, food was scant, a lot of it came from the children foraging and Annie hunting, and her mother was out working as often as she could get jobs. Wood was free for the chopping, thanks be to God, but everything else cost money the Moses family just didn''t have. But as hard as life had been back home, things were worse here. She got up at four o''clock in the morning, made breakfast, milked the cows, fed the calves and the pigs, pumped water for the cattle, fed the chickens, cleaned, rocked the baby to sleep, weeded the garden when it wasn''t winter, picked wild berries in summer, made supper after digging the potatoes and vegetables or getting them from the root cellar in winter-and then was expected to go hunting and trapping if there was any daylight left. And if there wasn''t, of course, she was expected to do other chores, like washing and mending clothing. Finally the floor was cleaned to the She-Wolf''s satisfaction. But there was no respite.

A basket full of stockings was thrust into her arms with a grunt. "Put your lazy hands to work mending," the She-Wolf ordered. Well, at least she would be able to sit down while darning the stockings. She moved as near to the stove as she dared and began. The She-Wolf settled back into her chair by the stove, and smiled; she seemed to take pleasure in making Annie''s life as hard as possible, though Annie could not imagine why. Was it her size? How could she help being smaller than the She-Wolf had expected? It was her husband who had chosen Annie, after all. If she didn''t like Annie''s size, she should blame him. It wasn''t Annie''s fault.

And it wasn''t as if there was anything she could do about her height, or lack of it. So why b.