Chapter Three
The following day, Rachel asked Sally to help her outside into the warm sunshine to a willow chair cushioned with blankets. Rachel dropped onto the soft perch and Jax settled at her feet. The spectacular golden rays thawed some of the icy coldness that had frozen everything inside her.
Rachel rested her head against the back of the chair and let the delicious warmth seep into her bones. Sally made a roaring fire in front of the dwelling and set about scrubbing dirty clothes.
She watched the strange woman attack the task like it was a sworn enemy. The dimness of the soddy had disguised the woman’s age. Now that Sally was in the bright sunshine Rachel could tell she was a seasoned woman who had probably withstood many storms and life’s disappointments. This was a woman who would bend but not break. Rachel wished for more of Sally’s fortitude.
The creak of the windmill at the corner of the soddy lulled Rachel into a tranquil peace. She dearly loved the sound of a windmill. To her the structure powered by the breeze seemed to echo the heartbeat of the land.
In the distance came the comforting coo of a mourning dove and the call of a mockingbird, interspersed with the cattle’s mooing.
Although most of the dizziness had left, Rachel was as weak as a day-old colt. Each time she stood her legs wobbled and buckled.
Jax’s ears perked up and Rachel’s attention was drawn to Heath Lassiter on horseback. He trotted to the corral and dismounted. Tall and lean, his shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders as he undid the saddle and lifted it off as though it weighed a little of nothing.
She didn’t know exactly what to make of Heath and his sister. The way they’d taken her in and doctored her revealed genuine care. But her papa had never allowed his children to know the Lassiters or any of the other two families occupying Black Hawk Canyon.
They’d never had any friends or been normal.
Isaac Malloy had drilled into their heads that they had to protect themselves by living apart from everyone. Folks didn’t cotton to people like them he’d said.
When baby Alice had come along four years ago, her papa had grown even fiercer in his demands.
Even though her stepmother Jane hadn’t given birth to Rachel and her three brothers, she’d seen their desperate need and wrapped her love around them. Jane more than filled the void left by Ruth Malloy’s passing nine years earlier and made not only Rachel, but all her siblings, feel special.
From what Rachel had seen firsthand of Heath and Sally Lassiter, they were honest, hardworking people. Even so, they probably wouldn’t understand the ways of her father.
Neither had she. Rachel had harbored deep resentment.
Heath’s boots struck the hard rocky ground as he strode toward her with a wide smile and his tall shadow fell over her. “It’s something to see you outdoors, Rachel. Must mean you’re getting well.”
He upturned an empty barrel and sat on it.
“You’ll get rid of me soon enough.”
Awkwardly he cleared his throat. “I have something to tell you but been waiting until you’re up to it.”
“Sounds serious.”
“I just rode over to your place.” He paused. “There’s no easy way to say this.”
Rachel’s breath hitched painfully in her chest. “What is it? Tell me.”
He inhaled sharply. “Your house is gone.”
“My house…gone? What do you mean?”
“It caught fire and burned. It’s still smoldering.”
“Why? How?” Her hand flew to cover the sob that rose. Not only was she alone, she had no home left. Nothing. Everything was gone.
Not one shred of her familiar life left.
For several heartbeats, she sat there in shock, unable to speak. Blow upon blow of life’s unending catastrophes had knocked her flat. God had stripped her of everything. What had she done? She’d assumed everything was fine and she’d go home as soon as she recovered. But it was a long way from fine.
Heath clenched his hat tightly. “I’m sorry.”
Still reeling from news that she was homeless, other thoughts flew into her head. Had the locket Jane had given her survived? The family Bible where they’d recorded births and deaths?
What about her father’s hidden metal box with its iron lock?
Quite possibly the fire had uncovered many secrets. Her hand trembled.
Had the fire been her fault? She searched her memory. Had she left a pan on the stove when she’d gone out to bury Alice? She couldn’t believe she’d been that careless. But then she had other things on her mind at the time and was exhausted. But no, she remembered she hadn’t cooked that day. She’d been too grief stricken to even eat. She knew she was losing baby Alice and there hadn’t been anything in her power to stop the hand of death from reaching down and snatching her little sister up.
What now would be her fate? Rachel buried her face in her hands.
“Do you have other family somewhere?” Heath asked. “An aunt or uncle perhaps?”
Her eyes met his. “None that I know about.”
She knew next to nothing about her heritage. Her papa hadn’t encouraged questions.
All she really knew was that her papa had once made a living as a buffalo hunter and that her grandfather had settled the land in Black Hawk Canyon. But she hadn’t a clue about her first mother Ruth’s past.
“I wish I could help you.” She met his anguished gaze. “I’m not your problem. I’ll be gone as soon—” her voice broke. And go where exactly? She had nothing to tether her. The world had suddenly become a scary place.
Heath picked up a stick and threw it, watching Jax race to retrieve it. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Sally will be grateful for the companionship of another female. She doesn’t say anything, but I suspect she’s awfully lonely with only me to talk to.”
His gentle voice was comforting and he was so good with her dog. Strangely, he began laying sticks in neat rows and throwing them for Jax to fetch. If Jax in his enthusiasm got them out of alignment, Heath straightened them. He liked things in order apparently. So had her oldest brother. He, too, had an orderly nature.
Rachel blinked back gathering tears. The life she’d known was gone. Snatched from her as swiftly as it had taken her family. It would’ve been a blessing if she could’ve joined Alice. But God had evidently deemed her unworthy of even that.
She didn’t share her thoughts. Heath already pitied her.
Pity was something she could never tolerate. Let him scorn, mistrust, or ignore her. Anything but pity her.
She couldn’t still her trembling hands or melt the ice that had formed inside. Rachel straightened and pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I’ll only stay until I can make other arrangements.”
“When you feel stronger, Sally and I will help you sort through the rubble. Though it doesn’t appear so on the surface, there’ll be things the fire didn’t destroy under the ashes. No hurry on that though.” Heath took the stick from Jax and patted the dog’s head.
Relief flooded over her. Maybe the cherished item she and her family had guarded had survived the flames.
“I’m sure I’ll manage,” she answered with a heap more confidence than she felt. She needed to make plans but was simply too weary to think.
“I’ve been doing a lot of pondering.” Heath’s honest gray gaze met hers and a hint of a smile flirted with the corners of his mouth. “Marry me. Let me take care of you. It would solve everything.”
The notion robbed Rachel of breath. She struggled with a reply. Marrying the handsome rancher had certain appeal. If only things were different. But they weren’t. She’d made mistakes that couldn’t be undone.
It was too late. Way too late.
“Marriage?” She shook her head. “No, I couldn’t.”
“Are you already spoken for?”
She wished that were the case. Heath Lassiter didn’t know just how unworthy a wife she’d make.
Rachel picked at a loose thread on the blanket. Her voice was barely louder than a whisper when she answered. “No, there’s no one else.”
“Then maybe if it’s because of the soddy, I’ve already bought enough lumber for a real house with wooden floors that you can sweep and mop. Just tell me how you want it built and that’s what you’ll have.”
His sincerity touched her. She didn’t wish to hurt this man offering to share all his worldly possessions and his life with her. She didn’t see any way around it though.
“Mr. Lassiter—” she began gently only to be interrupted.
“Heath. Please call me Heath.”
“Very well. Heath, you’re a wonderful man who deserves all the happiness you can get. You have so much to offer.” A dark frown formed but she hurried on before she lost her courage. “Any woman would be thrilled to have you for a husband.”
He scowled. “Go ahead and get to the ‘but’ part. I know it’s coming.” He lifted his hat and ran his hand through his hair. Rising, he stood with his legs apart as if braced for a blow. “You don’t have to spare my feelings.”
“I’m not the kind of woman you need.” There. She’d said it. Let the chips fall where they may. In the silence that stretched, the sound of the wind ruffling the tall grasses on the gently rolling plain reached her. The sky was so crystal blue it took her breath.
Better to disappoint him now rather than later.
He stubbornly crossed his arms. “I see. And just what kind of woman do you think I need? I’d love to hear it.”
Rachel cringed at the hurt that overlaid his words. She licked her dry lips. “You need a woman who can throw herself wholeheartedly into marriage. A helpmate. Not someone like me.”
If he ever found out what she’d done he’d run far and fast in the other direction. She wouldn’t be able to bear the disappointment, and possibly loathing, in his eyes, hear the coldness in his voice.
Heath dropped backonto the barrel. His voice was quiet as he took her icy hand. “You’re hurting now and grieving for the people you love. But you’ll get over it. Trust me. Time heals all things.”
“Not this.” She gave him a weary smile.
“You can find joy again if you let yourself,” he insisted. “We aren’t allotted a certain number of people to love and care about. Love is like a flowing stream. It’s never-ending. Just give yourself a chance.”
“Right now, I’m consumed with anger,” she answered, her voice shaking. Tears began to fall. “Anger at God for taking my family and leaving me alone. Anger at my family for dying on me. Anger at myself for not knowing enough to keep them alive. Why couldn’t I make them well? Why couldn’t they recover? I did everything I knew.”
Her pain and anguish broke Heath’s heart. “It didn’t have anything to do with what you did or didn’t do. I wish I had the answers, wish I could help you see you did nothing wrong. I only know that it was time for God to call them to Glory.”
“Why did He leave me behind?”
“It wasn’t your time. The Good Book says, ‘To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under the heavens.’ ” He squeezed her hand and stared at the distant horizon, praying that his words would help make a difference. “For now, let’s just focus on getting you back on your feet.”
“I don’t care what happens to me.”
The anguished whisper jolted Heath. “It’s too soon. You’re not well enough. Give yourself a few more days. In the meantime, our home is open to you. Stay as long as you want.”
Rachel pulled her hands away and folded them in her lap. “You’re a kind generous man, Heath Lassiter. But I guarantee I won’t change my mind.”
“Begging your pardon, Rachel, but I doubt that. Life doesn’t stand still. It’s always moving and changing. And we change in the process.”
One thing he was sure of. He’d not give up on marriage. Rachel Malloy was the one for him despite all her protests. Maybe when she got to know him better.
One thing he knew. If he was supposed to marry her, God would send him a sign.
Maybe not a burning bush or a horde of locusts, but something.
Heath had always been a planner. He thought things out and calculated his life right down to what color shirt to wear on which days. For as far back as he could remember he’d worn a blue shirt on Mondays and Fridays and brown on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. He reserved his black and gray for Thursdays and Saturdays. White was his color of choice on the Lord’s Day.
He’d determined a long while back that he wouldn’t marry until he’d gotten his herd where he could turn a good profit and give a wife the kind of life she deserved. He now had everything in place. Even the lumber to start on a new house.
He’d prayed, begging God to send him a wife, and then here came Rachel.
Didn’t that make her a divine gift from heaven?
Besides, his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather hadn’t lived past the age of forty. Heath was two years shy of thirty. If he only had about ten good years left, he’d have to get started on bringing some children into the world. He wanted a son as badly as he wanted a family, a son to carry on the Lassiter name, a son to take over the ranch.
In time maybe Rachel would let him provide for her. After all, they just met.
Meanwhile, he’d get started on the house. When she saw how serious he was about taking care of and protecting her, she’d be more receptive.
Also, he’d court her while he built the new house. He’d pick her some flowers that grew wild in the pastures and along the creeks and streams.
A few years ago at a barn raising, he’d heard some bachelors talking about their courting. They said women liked being sung to. Heath didn’t know any courting songs but he did know a lot of hymns. And Sally told him he had a real nice singing voice.
Flowers and singing would surely bring Rachel around.
The next day at herinsistence, she rode with Heath and Sally to the only home she’d ever known. The smell of death swirled around Rachel like a buzzard circling its prey. The house was nothing but a shell that had been reduced to ashes. The big stone hearth that stood like a proud but battered soldier was all that was standing.
“There’s nothing left. It’s all gone,” Rachel whispered.
She wanted to run. But run to where? She had nowhere to go and no way to provide for herself.
There had to be another option other than taking Heath up on his marriage offer.
And would he even want her after he found out what she’d done? Her gaze swept to the seven mounds of dirt and a feral cry sprang from her throat. She urged her horse toward the burial site. Tears streamed down her face as she slid from the saddle and ran unsteadily to Alice’s grave, collapsing to the ground.
“No! I can’t. I can’t. Come back,” she cried.
Footsteps sounded and Heath took her upper arm, helping her up. “I know this seems like the end of the world, but it really isn’t. We’ll help you get through this. Come.”
Swallowing around the thickness in her throat, Rachel managed, “The scope of it just hit me.”
Her stepmother’s last words telling her she had to go on and make a new life for herself crossed her thoughts. Except Jane hadn’t known the enormity of the task.
With Heath on one side and Sally on the other they put her back on the horse and she rode on to where the house once sat. Then they helped her around piles of debris to a stone ledge at the base of the hearth. He swept it off and Rachel collapsed on it. Sheer panic rose.
She had no clothes, no place to lay her head that belonged to her.
“I knew you were trying to rush things,” Sally blustered, throwing a worn shawl around Rachel’s shoulders. “You needed a few more days rest before you tackled this.”
What was that horrible smell? She covered her nose.
Heath removed his worn Stetson. Holding it tightly, he shifted his weight from one foot to another. “This is all a bit too soon. I propose we get you back home and into bed.”
“I need to find my papa’s tin money can. It probably doesn’t have much in it, but I can sure use what’s there,” she murmured.
“Where did he keep it?” Heath asked.
Rachel looked up, blinking hard to hold back tears. “In a cabinet in the kitchen.”
“I’ll find it. You sit right here.”
She was weary to the bone but doubted he’d find it. “I’ll have to show you.”
With her clutching his arm, they made their way through the blackened mess to the kitchen area which she recognized only by the cast iron stove that sat like a beacon amongst the charred remains. It reeked of kerosene. A large blackened can lay in the charred ruins.
Chills crawled up her neck when she saw footprints in the ash where no one had yet walked. Heath stooped to examine them, a dark frown on his face.
Someone had been there. Someone who had no right to be. The person who started the fire?