Chapter Two
Abright August sun shone the next morning, leaving few signs of the horrible storm other than the fence posts and the side of the soddy where sand had drifted. It seemed a bit odd that Heath Lassiter could take deep breaths of the clear air but he was most thankful.
Their patient was drifting in and out of consciousness, never lucid long enough for questions. The dog refused to leave her. Heath sat by her bedside while Sally made breakfast.
She looked vulnerable lying there still and lifeless.
Discounting the swath of white bandage circling the top of her head, she put him in mind of a beautiful China doll he’d once seen in a store window in the bustling town of San Antonio. Long dark lashes rested on this woman’s high cheekbones. Her lips were perfectly formed and softly parted as though she might speak at any moment.
As far as her age, she appeared young, twenty at best if even that. Her eyes fluttered open briefly several times only to close in sleep. He’d give ten of his prized herd to see more than brief glances of the startling green orbs with dark gold centers that added depth.
The slight woman weighed less than a sack of feed. Too thin. If she’d been tending her family for a length of time, maybe she hadn’t had time to eat. He didn’t want to consider that she’d been over there without food.
Heath reached for her hand and the dog rose from beside her, growling. “Hush. I’m not going to hurt her. It’s all right.”
The dog gave him a baleful stare, chuffed, and lay back down. Heath turned the woman’s hand over. Calluses and ugly blisters, some cracked and bleeding, attested to the hard work of digging graves. An unfamiliar feeling ricocheted around inside him. He wished she’d have asked for help. He’d have dropped everything.
For sure, he had plenty of burning questions to ask when she could talk.
Heath reached out to finger a tendril of silky pale hair between his thumb and forefinger. Who knew if she had anyone other than him and Sally. He again searched his mind for a name to put to her, but Isaac Malloy had kept those children, especially the girls, away from folks and Heath had never heard any mention of names.
The woman suddenly moaned in pain and tried to reach for her head.
“Sally,” he called. “She needs more of that willow bark tea you made.”
“Be there in two shakes.”
While he waited for Sally, he murmured comforting words and the woman quieted.
When Sally entered, Heath rose from his chair to give her room. He whistled to the dog that had glued itself to his mistress’s side. The animal had eaten very little since being there. Except for hurried outings to take care of business, the canine parked himself next to the patient, often laying his head on the pillow next to hers and whimpering. Heath had to admire the pooch. The animal’s persistent loyalty touched something deep inside him. Perhaps the faithful companion sensed that his mistress needed to know he wasn’t going to leave her like the rest of her family evidently had.
Despite the rocky beginning, Heath and the animal had called a truce. The dog no longer tried to bite him or Sally when they came close, but Heath couldn’t rightly say it had developed a liking for them either. The animal merely tolerated them, sounding a warning growl at sudden movement.
Now, at Heath’s whistle, the dog cocked his head from side to side.
“Let’s get something to eat, boy.” The canine whined, and Heath recognized the plea. “You can come right back. I promise.”
Seeming to understand, the short-haired pooch leaped off the bed and padded after Heath. Cutting off a generous piece of salt pork, Heath watched the dog gobble it up, then turned to his own breakfast.
His plate of eggs and ham sat on the table in his usual place with a platter of hot biscuits. He ate quickly then rose, told Sally he was leaving, then grabbed his hat.
An hour later, he rode onto the Malloy property. Smoke hung in the light breeze. He urged Hondo into a gallop.
When he rounded a dense growth of scrub oak, his heart froze.
The Malloy home lay in smoldering ruins. Everything was mangled and charred. The house had once stood tall and proud on the banks of a crystal blue lake on the canyon floor, a lake that had provided water for many a weary traveler and their animals.
What? How? Had someone set it to possibly stop the spread of disease? Or had a spark caught in the windstorm. Or—?
Heath stared in disbelief, not wanting to consider the third scenario—that someone had deliberately set fire to the structure.
To consider that would mean Miss Malloy had enemies and he didn’t want to think that anyone harbored ill will against the pretty lady.
No, the fire had to be an accident.
What would she do? Where would she go?
He gave Hondo a gentle nudge. “Let’s see what we can find.”
Rachel’s head throbbedand she raised a weak arm, trying to touch it. How strange that she’d feel pain in heaven.
She sniffed and the smell of moist earth swam up her nose. She sensed she was underground. Was she in a grave? If she was dead, how come she could still smell? Panic washed over her. The only conclusion she could draw was that she’d possibly been buried alive.
Someone had given her a shove then put her in a grave. But why?
It was a struggle to open her eyes, but she finally succeeded. As they adjusted, the dim figure of a man took shape. He looked nothing like how she’d pictured her Heavenly Father. This one was just a plain ordinary man. No, she took that back. Nothing about this man was plain or ordinary. What she meant to say was that he was earthly. No white robe and no halo.
He sure had a nice smile though.
“Hey there.” The man rose from a chair and leaned over her. “About time you woke up, ma’am. I’m Heath Lassiter.”
“I’m alive?”
“Yes, praise God.”
Bitter disappointment coated her throat like a thick dose of castor oil. Why couldn’t she get some relief from her misery?
Her mouth was as dry as parchment but she managed a whisper, “Where am I?”
“The Lassiter homestead. I found you during the sandstorm unconscious on the ground. You weren’t far from the Malloy place, so we assume you belonged to them.”
Rachel winced. She remembered digging her sister’s grave, the horrible wind, and falling. She nodded. “I’m Rachel, their eldest daughter.” She winced. “Or at least I was.”
“Nice to know you, Rachel. You’re welcome here.”
“How long have I been like…this?” she whispered.
“Two days.”
Panic rifled through her as she looked around for her clothes. “I have to be going.”
Just then an older woman entered the alcove. She was a tall, big boned woman but the no-nonsense way about her was what struck Rachel most. “Good, you’re awake. I’m sure you must be hungry enough to eat a horse. I’m Sally, Heath’s sister.”
Something moved on the bed beside her and licked her face.
“Jax.” Her arm felt as though it weighed a ton when she lifted it to grasp a handful of fur.
Heath’s deep voice filled the small space. “He hasn’t left your side.”
“I suppose I should thank you for rescuing me, but you should’ve left me where you found me. You should’ve let me die and join my family.” She couldn’t keep the brittleness from her tone.
“Evidently the Good Lord isn’t ready for you yet.” Sally Lassiter moved her brother aside to plump Rachel’s pillow.
“Could you please bring my clothes?”
“You’re not up to leaving yet.” Heath’s deep voice was like an old familiar friend she didn’t know she had. “I’ve been taking care of your animals so don’t worry your head about them. The only thing you need to concentrate on is getting well.”
“I’m going to get you some nice hot stew.” Sally bustled into the next room. The woman yelled everything at the top of her voice, making Rachel’s head hurt even worse.
Heath shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “When you’re up to it, Rachel, I have something to talk to you about. No rush though. You just get well.”
“Will you tell me something? Why does your sister talk at the top of her voice?”
A crooked grin tilted the corner of his mouth. “She thinks I’m deaf.”
“And you keep letting her think you are?”
“Saves having to talk when I prefer not to. She likes to chew on my backside something fierce. This way I can pretend I can’t hear her when my ears get sore.”
Right then she knew Heath Lassiter was a scamp.
“I saw the graves,” he said quietly. “I heard you had the fever going around over there. I just didn’t know it was so bad. Why didn’t you come to us for help?”
“Not our way. My father hammered into us that it was a sign of weakness to ask for help. He said we could take care of ourselves. No need bothering other folks with our problems. That’s just the way we did things.” Rachel felt as though her skin had opened up and all her insides leaked out. She was so tired. Weak. Heartsick.
“The Good Book teaches us to help one another. There’s no shame in leaning on a brother.” He stood. “But, you’re too ill to listen to me harp. You need your rest.”
Rachel watched until he vanished from sight then her gaze scanned the portion of the house she could see. The earthen walls told her she was in a sod house. Though the floors were dirt, everything had a tidy appearance.
She closed her eyes and tried to remember what she’d heard her father say about the Lassiters. Oh yes, their parents had both died in a wagon accident. They went off a steep cliff. Heath had spent an entire day climbing down to where their broken bodies lay. Then he’d dug the graves where his mother and father were instead of trying to get them to the top. Folks said he was just a boy of eleven when he went down and a man by the time he finished and made it back home.
Heath Lassiter would know what it was like to lose people he loved. But at least he had his sister, even if he did let her think he was deaf.
Rachel had no one. Not one single person to laugh with, to eat with, to care whether she lived or died.
God had forgotten her.
Unshed tears swam in her eyes. She blinked hard and tightened her jaw. It was fine with her if He had. She’d do all right without Him. If God didn’t want her, she didn’t want Him either.
Heath saddled his gelding, Hondo, and rode to the escarpment overlooking Yellowhouse Draw. He needed to do some thinking.
True, he didn’t know her very well. But he felt her anguish and it tore a big hole in his heart. He felt he owed it to her to help find a way out of her problem.
What could he have said when she’d told him she wanted to die? He couldn’t imagine being in a place that dark. Even on his worst day, he’d never felt like giving up. As long as there was breath there was hope for a better tomorrow. If only he could convince her of that.
How would she take the news when he told her she had no house left? If she was in deep despair now, what more would that do to her?
To lose her entire family then her home would deliver a major blow.
One thing for sure, he’d have to wait until she got a little stronger.
Thank you for rescuing me, but you should’ve left me where you found me. You should’ve let me die and join my family.
He’d known despair and heartbreak when his parents died and left him and Sally orphans, but he’d clung to his faith. To lose everything including faith would do anyone in.
How in the world could he help her see that she still had things to live for?
An idea had begun to roughly take shape. He just didn’t know if marriage was the answer or not.
God always had a plan though. Heath just had to be patient.
But just in case, he needed to practice up on a marriage proposal.
He wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it. He’d always been tongue-tied around women. Females were a mystery to him. Even Sally. Sometimes his sister could sorely test his sanity. She often said no when she meant yes and go yonder when she meant come here.
A man could get in a heap of trouble without half trying where she and the rest of her gender were concerned.
But Rachel needed to know she had options and one being he’d like to take care of her.
She would ease some of the powerful loneliness of the wild Texas plains where a man could ride for days without seeing another human.
Seemed to him that marriage could benefit them both.
There was a reason he found Rachel and saved her from the storm. Excitement rippled along his veins.
If she were to say yes, Rachel could be the wife he’d never had.
Heath thought about how best to propose.
Maybe begin by laying out all his worldly possessions and listing all the reasons why she should tie her lot to his. After all, he’d acquired ten thousand acres on which five hundred head of the best longhorn in Texas grazed. Pretty impressive if he said so himself.
But he didn’t want this union to be about monetary gain. He wanted her to marry him because they shared a fondness. And because they needed one another.
Over time, maybe she could even come to love him.
Maybe it was possible, for both of them.
He wiped a layer of sweat from his brow. This proposing business was hard work.
Heath decided the best way was to just be honest and direct. No beating around the bush. Just open his mouth and let the words pour out. He’d simply tell her what was in his heart and that he’d be proud to take care of her. His sacred duty would lie in keeping her safe.
No need to tell her he needed a wife. After being around Sally she must’ve pretty much seen that for herself anyway.
He thought of the load of lumber he’d hauled all the way from Colorado City a few months ago. He needed to get started rebuilding Rachel’s house. After all, he didn’t expect her to be all that thrilled to live in a soddy. Besides, he and Rachel would need their privacy.
Sally probably would want to remain in the sod house which was the only home she’d ever known or wanted.
And who knew? Maybe Sally would get married herself. She might be lucky enough to find a man who didn’t mind that she’d died on the vine while waiting for West Texas to become more settled. More folks arrived every day, some of whom weren’t too particular.
Heath shook his head to clear it and got back to this proposing.
The next thing he had to decide was finding the best time to broach the subject.
Not today. She’d just woken up and was not feeling up to snuff yet.
One thing for sure, he didn’t want to hammer her over the head with the notion. Give her time to get her bearings slow-like.
But it’d have to be before she left to go back to the smell of death on the Malloy land. She should know she had another option and didn’t have to face her problems alone.