Intertribal Life Newspaper -

Miriam wearily brushed the hair away from her face as she scrubbed the last of the pots in the hot, humid kitchen. It had not been her idea to become a scullery maid in the house of the arrogant family for whom she worked. They paid her little notice. Her only value to them was in keeping their kitchen clean, the vegetable garden weeded, and the chamber pots emptied.

She longed to stroll along the path in her father’s flower garden and sit beside the melodic fountain in the cool of the evening. There she could watch the sun set behind the forested hills surrounding her father’s est...