Chapter Four
Rachel clutched the blackened money tin they retrieved from the burned kitchen. It only held a few measly coins but she needed every cent. Heath was helping her onto Blackie when Jax commenced to bark. Keeping a firm grip on the horse’s bridle, she turned to see Chantilly Gregory or Tillie as she preferred. The neighbor was Rachel’s age.
Tillie’s pink sunbonnet didn’t hide curling tendrils of hair as dark as midnight around her face and a long braid down her back. Rachel had never seen the pretty girl’s hair down. It was always tied back or in braids.
A friendship had developed during berry-picking outings, times Rachel’s papa had known nothing about. She’d known the risk of keeping things from him but had yearned for a friend so badly she’d have done anything. Life on the Llano Estacado was dreary enough. And without even a friend her own age to talk to it had been downright unbearable at times.
“Whoa, Beulah,” Tillie said softly. She slid from her mule and ran to throw her arms around Rachel. “I just returned from visiting my parents in Tucson and learned about the loss of your family and now your home. I’m so sorry. Although I’ve only seen your house from a distance, I always loved it. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. What will you do? Where will you go?”
Heath moved next to Rachel. She knew Tillie had lots of questions, but how could she answer them when she hadn’t a clue how to respond?
Rachel motioned to her companions. “This is Heath Lassiter and his sister. If it hadn’t been for their kindness, I don’t know what I’d have done.”
“Miss Rachel is staying with us for now.” Heath’s smile crinkled the corners of his gray eyes as he stuck out his hand. “You must be either Miss Grant or Miss Quinlan.”
A good deduction, seeing as how only two other families besides hers lived in Black Hawk Canyon. Heat rose to Rachel’s face. How embarrassing that she’d forgotten to introduce her visitor. “Where are my manners? This is Tillie Gregory, my nearest neighbor.”
Sally pushed her way forward. “I’m Sally. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Gregory.”
“Likewise.” Tillie smiled. “But call me Tillie.”
Rachel clutched her friend’s arm as a sudden bout of dizziness came over her. She swayed, willing the ground to stay beneath her feet.
“Are you okay?” Concern colored Tillie’s question.
Putting a hand to her forehead, Rachel answered, “I was injured in a storm a few days ago and only now felt like coming to view the damage for myself.”
“She needs to get back in bed before she faints dead away.” Sally’s brusque statement seemed to take Tillie aback.
“I didn’t mean to keep you.” Tillie gave Rachel a warm hug. “Come see me when you feel up to it. I can fix some tea and we can talk.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
Now that her papa and stepmother were gone there was no reason to avoid contact with people. And she could sure use a friend.
With a big smile, Tillie squeezed her hand. “Let me know if I can do anything. You have only to ask.”
Genuine concern filled Tillie’s dark eyes and touched Rachel. The girl had trials of her own. Her mother had taken consumption and was away in Arizona with her father for medical treatments. Tillie, along with a man named Yancy Tucker, was struggling to take care of the farm but Rachel had heard it was falling into disrepair despite their best efforts. Yancy did the best he could, but his advanced years worked against him.
Tillie climbed onto her mule and Rachel waved as she rode back the way she came. An inexplicable sense of loss washed over her.
Heath touched her arm. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes. I’m very tired.”
He created a make-do step by cupping his hands for her. She put her booted foot into them and mounted Blackie.
“Get some rest, Rachel.” Turning to his sister, he said, “Take her back to the house. I’ll be along directly. I’m going to look around here a bit.”
“Don’t be too long, brother,” Sally said in her customary bellow. “I’ll have supper on the table shortly.”
Rachel smothered a laugh as Heath glanced down, apparently to make sure he was the one wearing pants. The pair provided entertainment.
Questions filled her mind. Why did he stay behind? Heath did nothing without a reason. But her energy was gone and the Lassiter soddy was a welcome sight.
Rachel slid from Blackie and stood clinging to the animal’s mane for support. Her papa’s money tin slipped from her grasp and landed at her feet. She took deep breaths and tried to will her buckling legs to stiffen.
Sally retrieved the tin and placed an arm around Rachel’s waist. “Let me get you inside. Then I’ll take care of the horses.”
“I hate this feeling of helplessness. I thought I was made of sterner stuff and need to be pulling my own weight.”
“There’s time for that later on.” Sally moved her toward the door and into the house. Rachel had a feeling if she hadn’t been able to walk, Sally would’ve picked her up and carried her. The stout woman appeared as strong as an ox.
Rachel collapsed on the bed and let Sally remove her shoes. Tomorrow she would have none of this coddling she lectured herself. Tomorrow she would set about taking care of her livestock and easing the Lassiters’ load.
Tears welled up and clouded her vision. She hadn’t even felt like seeing if the metal box containing her father’s secrets had survived the fire. She needed to find out soon and put it in a safe place. Otherwise, everything would come out and she’d suffer for it.
Isaac Malloy had talked out of his head in his last hours and she’d roughly put together what his mysterious absences, secret trips to the padlocked box in the root cellar, and their forced isolation meant. “Have to hide the loot where no one’ll find it. Can’t hang.”
Then the last time, he’d yelled, “I’m the leader of this gang and what I say goes, got that?”
So many secrets. But the bottom line was her father was an outlaw. Sadly, she was an outlaw’s daughter.
Not only that, her brothers, Anthony and Jim had started going with him. Anthony had been eighteen, but Jim only sixteen. No doubt to teach them the family business.
Weary down into her bones, she closed her eyes to rest them. Just for a minute.
When she awoke, she felt much better. Rising, she put on her shoes. She found Sally making bread. A pot of chicken and dumplings was bubbling on the fire and the fragrance filled the soddy.
Busy kneading the dough, Sally glanced up. “Do you feel better, dear?”
“Like a new woman. I’m sorry I collapsed on you like that.”
“No need to apologize. The trip to Black Hawk Canyon took the starch out of you. I fear it was too soon.”
“I can’t lie in bed all day. I have far too much to do.” Her gaze lit on a bowl of apples on the table. “Do you need help?”
A smile curved Sally’s mouth and softened the hard lines. She was still a pretty woman with hair the color of deep chocolate and honest eyes that spoke of endurance. If only she smiled more. But then, she probably didn’t have much reason to. No, she seemed to view living as a chore and only to be endured. Seemed Sally and she had that in common.
“I thought I’d make an apple cobbler for dessert. Heath does love them.” Sally rolled the dough into a ball and sprinkled more flour on the bread bowl so the soft dough wouldn’t stick. “You can pare them if you want while I make strips of dough.”
Grateful for something to do, Rachel slid into a chair at the table, lifted the knife, and selected an apple. “I don’t suppose Heath’s returned.”
“Not yet. You know men. They know how to take their blessed sweet time, especially that brother of mine.” Sally’s tone relayed that if he knew what was good for him he’d not dawdle.
Glancing around the room that served as a kitchen and parlor, Rachel spied some bedding neatly folded in a corner. Since she had Sally’s bed, Sally must sleep out here. But what about Heath?
“Can I ask a question?”
Sally carefully put the dough into a pan and dusted her floury hands. “Ask away.”
“I’m just curious. Where does Heath sleep?”
“In the beginning he was sleeping in a lean-to, but once he got the barn finished, he sleeps out there. He built a small room separate from the animals. This way he can snore to his heart’s content and I don’t have to listen to it. Suits me just fine.”
Putting the pared apple into a bowl, Rachel got another. “Now that I’ve recovered, I want you to take your bed back. I’ve put you out long enough. Tonight, I’ll start sleeping out here.”
“You’ll do it over my dead body!”
Sally’s gruff voice took Rachel aback. “I apologize if I offended you.”
“Don’t mind me.” Sally patted Rachel’s shoulder. “I forget myself sometimes.”
Something was afooton the Malloy land and Heath needed to find out what. His conscience berated that he should’ve stressed the danger Rachel might face living alone but she had enough on her mind without adding more. Best to just watch over her silently as best he could no matter what she said.
He turned his attention to trying to figure out who had been poking around the blackened ruins.
It didn’t take long to find dozens of boot impressions and the tracks of many horses. He knelt to get a better look.
That’s when he saw the hole that someone had dug beneath the wide leafy canopy of a cottonwood tree behind the barn. He moved for a closer inspection. Telltale marks indicated a shovel had dug it which ruled out that wild animals had been responsible. A scrap of wadded paper caught his eye.
He picked it up, straightening it out, and stared at the words.
HaHa! Gotcha! You’ll never find the money.
Who? What money? It was unsigned but he guessed Isaac Malloy wrote it.
Maybe this note made someone mad enough to burn the house.
Looking across the shimmering blue water of the canyon lake that had provided an oasis for generations of untold Indians, buffalo hunters, soldiers, and the like, Heath set his jaw. This was far worse than he’d guessed. Malloy hadn’t been overprotective of the family at all. Some criminal activity had been afoot.
And if whoever burned the house meant to harm Rachel, they’d best think again.
His gaze swept the landscape and his breath stilled at the flash of something white. He moved cautiously, not making a sound. There it was sitting in a cedar tree.
A white dove.
The sign he’d asked God for if he was supposed to marry Rachel. A white dove was very rare, a symbol of hope and love. Never in all his years of living had he seen one in the canyon.
The bird sensed him and stirred.
“Please don’t fly,” Heath murmured.
Even as he begged, the bird lifted its wings and took to the air. Heath shaded his eyes against the sun and watched. As the dove disappeared, peace settled in his soul.
Now with the confirmation from God, he had things to do and didn’t want to waste a moment.
At the whinny of a horseoutside, Sally went to look out the soddy’s only window. She whirled, jerked the door open, and yelled, “Don’t you dare think you’re coming in here before you’ve washed up. You look like you’ve wallowed around in those ashes.”
Rachel didn’t hear the mumbled reply. Did Sally realize she acted more like Heath’s mother instead of his sister?
They had the apples in the Dutch oven by the time the door opened. Heath stepped inside, took off his hat, and propped his rifle against the wall.
Her pulse quickened at the sight of him.
His damp hair curled around his neck. With his broad shoulders back, his hands behind him, he carried himself with an aura of confidence. She doubted there was anything he couldn’t do.
Except get her to marry him. That she could never agree to.
Not that it would be that unpleasant. She’d give anything if she could say yes. He didn’t know how many nights she’d lain awake and wished someone would come along and sweep her off her feet and a new chapter of her life would begin.
The problem was she harbored too many secrets she would never be able to speak of. She wished she was the virtuous woman Heath evidently thought her to be. But she wasn’t.
Heath came closer and brought his hands from behind his back. He held a handful of wild yellow sunflowers and purple asters. “Some pretty posies for a pretty lady.”
Rachel’s face heated as a blush rose. She reached for the unexpected gift. “No one’s ever brought me flowers before. They’re lovely. Thank you.”
She met the warmth of his smoke-colored eyes. There was much about this man to admire. But mostly his strong jaw that said he’d face whatever life brought head-on. Heath Lassiter wouldn’t run and hide. Were he to do something he was ashamed of, she imagined he’d own up to it and take the consequences.
Unlike her.
She mentally pictured a wagon train and the practice to park the wagons in a circle at night for protection. Heath Lassiter would be someone to circle the wagons with.
He pulled out a chair. “My pleasure. More’s the pity that these are your first.”
Flowers were just one of many things she’d missed out on, she suspected. When you lived in such isolation, the less your chances to experience the niceties. However, with the Quakers establishing Estacado more people were beginning to settle in this area. She’d never had occasion to visit the town, but Papa had told her they had a hotel, a church, and two general stores. Someday she’d like to see it for herself.
Sally handed her a Mason jar for the flowers, then checked on the bread and stirred the chicken and dumplings. The woman had her head oddly cocked toward them so she wouldn’t miss any of the conversation. The fact that she listened to something private that passed between Heath and herself made her uncomfortable.
“Can we talk outside for a moment?” Rachel asked.
“Lead the way.”
Dusk had settled over the land, bathing everything in shadowed hues.
“Thank you for the flowers, Heath.”
“I’m glad you wanted some privacy.” Heath pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “I found this today where someone had dug a hole back of your house.”
She smoothed the wrinkles and read her father’s handwriting. Color drained from her face. A glance into his eyes revealed questions. “I wish I knew what to say. I don’t have a clue what he was doing. He often left for a while but we never knew why.”
“He didn’t tell anyone?”
“My brothers maybe, but not me and my stepmother. I’m sorry you found this.”
“Rachel, I think something bad is going on and you might be in danger.”
“Don’t you think with my father dead they’d leave me alone?”
“Rachel, they’re back and they’re looking for whatever your father buried. Understand?”
“I had nothing to do with any of that. Nothing.”
“I believe you. Let’s drop it for now. I worked on your place today, clearing a spot to build you a new house.” Heath glanced up at the sky. “Will you insist on staying there, despite all we know?”
“Yes. That’s the only thing left of mine. But—” The whole conversation jolted Rachel but when she spoke, her tone was firm and brooked no further discussion. “I won’t let you build me a house. You’ve already done more than enough.”
He shrugged. “I already have the lumber set aside. Why not use it?”
“That’s for a house of your own,” she insisted. “I absolutely will not take it.”
“This soddy has served us well and will do so a while longer. I can always buy more lumber.”
Heath’s plan bothered her. If she let him build her a house it would make her more obligated and owing him made her uncomfortable. “No, thank you.”
“Then pray tell me. Will you live in the ashes?” he asked.
“I’ll figure it out. You’ve done more than enough.” She could be mulish about this.
“The new house will be small and enough for you, but I figure we can get it built and have you in it in two months.” Heath’s voice was low and deep and seemed to vibrate the air as he continued. It was as though he’d never heard a word she said.
Maybe he really was deaf. No matter how many houses he built for her she wouldn’t change her mind.
Marrying Heath was out of the question. He had to understand that.