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Beth hoisted the heavy pail from the well with heave and let it thunk on the wooden cover, water sloshing around, dripping onto her cotton skirt in random patterns. It was probably immodest, she though to herself as she looked at the soaked material of her tight bodice, but she shrugged it off. Who was going to notice up here? She turned her head, wiping a few stray hairs from her face and glanced around the place she called home.

The old log three room cabin in the woods she called home probably wasn't high living by most standards, but it was hers. Her father had built before she was born and had raised her there alone, after her mother had died. She had a barn for her horse, a tiny garden in the back and a yard for her chickens and that was proably all she would ever need.

As Beth lugged the water pail back to her front door she knew there would be no one inside, and that was alright with her. She was never much for town living, although she visited often enough, and people were fine, if they gave her her space. Her father had died a few years ago, but before that he had been an adament perveyor of the social scene, not for himself, but for Beth. You see, years before he died, he knew he had a heart problem, one that both he and Beth knew was going to take him away from her someday, but that didn't slow him down a bit. His only concern was that Beth would be alone after he was gone and for him the only way was to see her married off to some nice man ...

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