Authors note: If you're new to Wattpad, please click on the star at the end of the chapter if you like what you read. That lets other readers and me know that you found it worth reading. You are allowed to leave comments. Authors always appreciate comments. I especially appreciate constructive criticism. Thanks for reading.

This day was like all of the others — hot and dusty. I had slipped away from the women's part of the caravan and was walking alone some distance from the rest.

Momentarily free from the choking dust and the chattering women, I yanked off my headpiece and veil. I shook my head to loosen my hair, enjoying the feeling of it flowing freely in the wind. I hated the constrictions Papa placed on his women. He said Yahweh, the one true God, demanded these restrictions.

Other women weren't treated much better, but as we traveled I had glimpsed women in bright colored robes, wearing jewels and walking escorted by only a maid. In comparison my garments looked drab. Because of the heat, I had discarded my robe, but even it had only a hand‑stitched design of red and yellow along the hem. My plain dress had no decorations. I imagined myself blending with the surrounding hills. Anyone watching would notice me only because I moved. They might even think I was one of the small dust storms that arose often. That's probably what Papa wanted — men to think of me as some harmless bit of hot air.

I dreamed longingly of a return to Grandpa Laban's. For a long time I, Dinah, had been the pampered only granddaughter. Even now I fancied I was his favorite. The others were all so young and silly. Grandpa always brought me trinkets — most of which I had hidden away. Papa didn't believe in women adorning themselves with anything but earrings, unless of course it was Aunt Rachel. As his favored wife, Mama's younger sister could get away with anything. I wish Papa would look at Mama the way he looks at Aunt Rachel. Now if I was her daughter . . .

My thoughts were jolted back to reality by my mother, Leah's, strident voice.

"Dinah, replace your veil at once." She shook her head despairingly and continued, "Six sons and no problems. Why did Yahweh give me a daughter with such a strong will? It's enough that your father doesn't love me. Must you make my days a trial also?"

As I slipped my veil back on, I tried hard to be penitent. "Sorry, Mama," I mumbled. I knew she was in a bad position. It must be difficult to love someone completely and receive indifference in return. She hadn't always been so sharp. I could remember her laughing and playing with me when I was small, but the frown lines were set in her face now, and the shrillness never left her voice. Well, I couldn't make Papa love her. I should have felt sorry for her, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I was determined I wouldn't end up like her. Giving Mama a look of disgust, I turned and flounced toward the caravan.

It was then that I noticed the settlement in the distance. Since our water supply was getting low, I hoped we might stop. I said a quick prayer to Yahweh. Papa would probably call that sacrilege; men were in charge of religion. I, a mere woman — albeit a very young one at age 14, needed a man to intervene on my behalf. I wasn't sure I believed that. I knew Mama prayed directly to Yahweh; she said that was why she had so many sons. I couldn't see that it had done her any good, though. The one thing she really wanted, Papa's love, Yahweh didn't seem able to grant.

Sometimes I wasn't even sure Yahweh existed. He didn't seem any more powerful than Grandpa's idols to me. I prayed anyway. I figured it couldn't hurt and maybe it might even help.

I was so tired of traveling. I felt like we had always been nomadic. The years living near Grandpa seemed a faded memory. Longing to stop and settle down for awhile, I dreamed of friends my own age. All the other girls in our entourage were so much younger. I couldn't play their games anymore. I was supposed to act dignified. After all, I had just attained my womanhood.

I wondered if I would ever be able to marry. If we kept traveling, there was little chance of that. As planned, Papa had been reunited with his estranged brother, Esau.

He had hoped to find me a husband among his kinsmen. He was insistent that I marry someone who was both a Yahweh worshipper and a blood relation. I was hoping he would soften. I had not been too pleased with the appearance of Uncle Esau and his men. It was hard to believe he and Papa were brothers, much less twins.

They were so different in looks and personality. Papa had smooth dark skin, dark hair and a pleasing way with words. Uncle Esau was light-skinned, hairy, redheaded, loud and uncouth.

I knew Papa hadn't negotiated a marriage contract. I was thankful that it hadn't been a priority for him. Mama had begged him to discuss it, but Papa said you had to be sensitive. The time never seemed quite right. We hadn't met any other Yahweh worshippers and despite the reconciliation, I didn't expect Uncle Esau to want me for a daughter‑in‑law. By the time we finally settled down, I'd probably be beyond marriageable age anyway.

Then I'd be like Mama, either traded off for some favor, or have someone tricked into marrying me. I wasn't about to let that happen. I'd find a heathen before I'd be bartered to some reluctant kinsman.

As I approached the women, I sensed an air of excitement. My favorite brother Simeon ran toward me. "Hey, Dinah, have you seen Mama? I've got a message for her."

"Sure," I replied, "But I won't say where until you tell me what's going on."

Laughing he said, "Flash those bright eyes at the wrong fellow and you'll regret it."

"Come on Simeon," I pleaded. "You know Mama will tell me eventually anyway."

Grinning widely he said, "We're making camp. There's a village up ahead. Papa wants to negotiate for water and grazing rights. If everything goes well, we should be able to pass safely through Canaanite territory. All these tribes are related and we need to prove we're friendly. It looks like you may get that long rest you've been wanting. Now where's Mama? She needs to select a sight for our tents. If she doesn't hurry, the other wives will get the best places."

I pointed to a distant dejected figure walking head down removed from the caravan. "You'd better run. Even with your speed, we'll have the worst place by the time she gets here."

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Simeon yelled, "Maaama, " and took off running.

I watched knowing we'd be the last to set up, but I didn't care. At last I could bathe and wash my hair. Maybe I could even wheedle my way into the village; someone would have to negotiate for supplies. Maybe Papa would take Simeon — just maybe...

Too excited to return to the caravan in the demure way expected of a lady, I took my dress in both hands, pulled it above my ankles and ran.

I would have preferred to tuck it into my girdle as the men do, but even I didn't have that much nerve. When I was a small child, my elders would smile and shake their heads when I exhibited such boyish behavior. Now the smiles were replaced by frowns, but the heads still shook in my direction.

I slowed as I reached the caravan, but Zilpah, Mama's handmaiden, had seen me coming. "Dinah," she chided, "will you never grow up? It is unbecoming for a young lady to run like a wild ass."

"Yes, Zilpah," I replied contritely, but I'm sure my dancing eyes belied my words. She simply shook her head and suggested I help watch the younger children while I waited for mother.

As expected, we were the last to select a sight for our tent and so had the location nearest the village. None of the women wanted to live within sight of the village. They thought it would expose them to too much scrutiny. I thought they were being silly. The front of the tent faced inward, not toward the village. I was secretly pleased with our location. While supervising the games of the younger children, I could easily watch the activity near the village gate.

As soon as camp was set, Papa called a meeting requiring that all the women and children be present. Everyone gathered in the center of camp talking in low speculative voices about the possible reasons for the assembly. When everyone was present, Papa stood and asked for quiet

An expectant hush fell as Papa spoke. "I have requested the women and children be present because what I plan to do affects everyone. We are camped near Shechem, a city I am familiar with from my earlier journey. It is located in a fertile valley that can support many cattle. I hope to negotiate with the King for a parcel of land. We will remain here for an indeterminate length of time."

An excited buzz arose as we considered the implications of what he had said. Raising his hand for silence, he continued, "Although we will be neighbors of these Canaanites, they are not our equals. They worship pagan gods and have foreign customs. No one is to go into the village or to speak with the inhabitants. I will personally attend to all business matters. Anyone who disobeys this edict will be severely punished. The women and children may now return to their domestic duties. The men will assemble in the tent of meeting to discuss further details."

I despondently helped Mother to unpack the hand mill, mortar and other cooking utensils. My desire for friends had been dashed by Papa's speech. I knew better than to try to cajole him into a change of heart. The way he had spoken had left no hope. However, my rebellious heart continued to consider possible ways to make contact with the inhabitants of the village. Their pagan deities would not contaminate me. Hadn't Grandpa Laban kept such gods? Daily contact with him had not turned me into a heathen. Why had Papa married the descendants of a pagan worshipper if he was so concerned about their influence on his family? I felt Papa was being unreasonable. The more I thought about it, the more determined I was to experience for myself the "foreign" ways of these people.

In my petulance, I was rather rough as I helped to unpack, banging the pottery with force. Mama sighed and spoke interrupting my reverie, "Dinah, you are acting childish. I know you do not wish to help with these duties, but must you be so rough on my pottery? If you break the dishes, where will we obtain more? There is no potter in our family. You will be more help supervising the children. Go out and relieve Zilpah."

I went out demurely, but inside I was ecstatic. The tent was stuffy and gave me no opportunity to observe the village. Outside, I located Zilpah sitting in the shade of the tent watching the children play. To my delight, they were playing behind the tent. Taking Zilpah's place in the shade would give me an unobstructed view of the village gate. Noting that the children were enjoying a lively game and would probably be occupied for some time, I approached Zilpah and told her Mama had sent me to trade places. I would supervise the children while she helped unpack. After reminding me to keep the children near the tent, Zilpah withdrew.

Unabashedly watching the activity near the village, I completely forgot the responsibility of the children until a small girl came into my line of vision some distance from our camp. She was chasing something the wind was blowing towards the village. In shock, I realized it was my young sister, Sarah. Putting the oldest child present in charge and promising to strangle anyone who breathed a word of this to Mother, I took off after Sarah. Running toward the small child afraid to call out to her for fear of attracting the attention of the camp, I stared in disbelief as the bit of cloth she was chasing landed at the feet of a village girl. The girl stooped and picked up the cloth, handing it to Sarah just as I approached. She smiled at me saying, "She's about the same age as my younger sister. I imagine she would be upset if she lost the doll garment."

Tongue‑tied in the presence of the foreign girl, I stammered my thanks. When she suggested that perhaps I could come and visit at the palace, I replied, "I don't know. We are just getting settled. It will be some time before I can get away."

"That's all right," she answered. "There isn't much to do in a desolate place like this but go to the market, take walks in the cool of the evening and congregate at the well. Surely you will be sent for water. I'll watch for you. My name is Sheerah. What's yours?"

Glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone had noticed me, I said, "I'm Dinah, daughter of Jacob, but please don't tell anyone you have met me. My father would be incensed. I can't explain now. Perhaps I can meet you another time. I have to go."

I grabbed the gawking Sarah by the hand and headed for the tent. "Don't you dare tell anyone you went near the village. You heard what Papa said at the meeting. If he finds out you went there, you'll be in big trouble."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "But I had to catch this, she sobbed holding up the robe for her doll. "Joseph took it off and threw it into the wind. I couldn't leave Hanah naked."

Putting my arm around her, I soothed, "It's okay Sarah. I won't tell if you won't."

I dried her eyes as we approached the now quiet children.

Singling out Joseph, I chided, "You should not tease the little girls. She could be in big trouble because of you."

Looking at me haughtily, Joseph replied, "It's you who will be in big trouble when I tell my Mother I saw you talking to that Canaanite girl. I bet Papa will have you stoned."

With bravado I didn't feel I challenged Joseph, "If you say one word, you little sniveling trouble maker, I'll tell it was all your fault. I couldn't be rude by refusing to thank the girl after she retrieved the robe you threw."

Joseph said, "I was only teasing, Dinah. You won't tell will you?"

Relieved I promised not to tell this time, but warned that he'd better remain on good behavior while I was in charge.

That night as I lay on my mat, I had trouble falling asleep. My mind was filled with pictures of the Princess Sheerah, as I had dubbed her. She said she lived in the palace so I reasoned that made her a princess. I envied her the black tendrils escaping from her head covering. I despised my own copper colored ringlets. Simeon assured me that my thick, curly hair was attractive, but I wanted straight, dark hair like Mama's and Aunt Rachel's. My green eyes also caused me moments of despair. Aunt Rachel's large, soft, brown, doe eyes were my ideal. I imagined Papa looking into their depths when they met at the well — hopelessly ensnared. I couldn't imagine my eyes inviting entrapment, only issuing a challenge. My every emotion was reflected plainly in my traitorous eyes. Sheerah, though, had those inviting brown eyes that promised much but revealed little, lending an air of mystery.

Hugging my cover close, I made and rejected numerous plans to meet her again. I finally slept and dreamed of a princess giving me a smooth colorful gown and jewels to wear.