Chapter Five
Rachel collapsed onto her borrowed bed as soon as she washed the supper dishes. She couldn’t rightly say what the problem was; she felt so faint and everything she looked at was double.
It was difficult to think straight, and she had a list of things the length of her arm to sort out.
Tomorrow. She closed her eyes. Everything would be better tomorrow.
But morning dawned with no improvement. In fact, she seemed worse. Oh, her splitting head. She wanted to stick it in a bucket of icy water to cool off.
Holding to the wall then chairs, she finally made it to the breakfast table.
Sally looked up from her task of cracking eggs into a skillet. “Oh, my blessed Lord! Your face is whiter than a peeled turnip. What’s the matter, child?”
Rachel tried to force a smile. She hadn’t been a child in a long time. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
Bustling around the small table, Sally felt Rachel’s forehead. “You’re burning flat up.”
Heath opened the door and came inside. “What’s wrong?”
“Infection would be my guess, brother.” Sally glanced from Rachel to her skillet of eggs. “Can you help her back to bed? I don’t want our breakfast to burn.”
“I can manage,” Rachel weakly protested.
“You’re about to fall over.” He helped her to her feet and put an arm around her waist. “Just lean on me, pretty lady. I’ll help you.”
“The room is spinning like a top,” she murmured.
His voice was low, his breath ruffling the tendrils of hair at her ear. “It’s all right. You need more rest and you’ll feel right as rain as my mother was fond of saying.”
Rachel laid her head against his broad chest. The sound of his beating heart was strong and sure. The fragrance of wild desert sage and fresh rain enveloped her. Even if she could’ve objected to his nearness she wouldn’t have been able. His strength and gentleness wrapping around her made her feel safe and secure—and most treasured.
The emotions it stirred left her shaken.
This connection between her and Heath was something indescribable and brought a delicious warmth.
Whatever it was she wanted to close her eyes and savor it.
She let her eyes drift shut for just a moment. Someone softly kissed her cheek. She smiled and lifted a hand to caress his whiskered jaw. Then she snuggled into the down of the feather mattress. She wasn’t alone.
When Rachel opened her eyes, she found Tillie Gregory perched by the bed.
Tillie rose and touched Rachel’s forehead. “How are you?”
“The room isn’t spinning and I don’t seem as feverish. What time is it?”
“Eight o’clock. The Lassiters left and I’m in charge.” Tillie reached for a glass on the small bedside table. “I’m supposed to make you drink lots of water.”
Rachel sat up and took a sip from the glass.
“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here,” Tillie said.
At Rachel’s nod, Tillie explained. “Heath Lassiter appeared at my door about an hour ago and asked me to sit with you while he and his sister worked at your burned-out house. They’re clearing away the charred timbers and getting ready to rebuild.”
“I told them I didn’t want them to do that.” Guilt lay heavy on her heart. She didn’t want to be even more obligated to the Lassiters. Lord knows they’d already done more than enough.
And here she was lying in bed while they toiled to give her a place to live. If they insisted on carrying through with their plans, the least she could do was help them. Or take care of her animals and not leave that chore for Heath.
“I need to get out of this bed.”
“Sally threatened me within an inch of my life if I let you. Would you like some breakfast?” Tillie took the glass from Rachel and returned it to the little table. “You’re probably hungry.”
“Not right now.”
A smile curved Tillie’s lips. “Heath wanted to go alone and leave Sally here with you but she wouldn’t hear of it. You should’ve heard the ruckus. In the end, Heath threw up his hands. I get the feeling he doesn’t win many arguments.”
“Sally’s a force to reckon with all right.”
Suddenly Rachel’s breath stilled.
Oh, sweet Lord! In clearing off the debris from the fire, they’d find the trapdoor to the root cellar beneath the house.
Once inside, it’d only be a matter of time before they found the strong box and knew her father’s secret life. Why hadn’t she remembered it before now? Rachel threw aside the bedcovers and swung her legs to the floor.
“What do you think you’re doing, missy?”
“I have to get up. I have things to do.”
“Sally gave me strict instructions and I’d hate to have her ire turned on me.” Tillie gently lifted Rachel’s legs back onto the bed. “Whatever it is you think you need to do can wait until tomorrow. I won’t fall down on my duty.”
With a long sigh, Rachel did as Tillie requested. “Sally put the fear of God in you then?”
Tillie chuckled. “You might say that. She reminds me of an aunt I once had. Lord, how that woman made me toe the line.”
It was comforting to hear her friend talk of family.
“How is your mother? I do hope the treatments in Tucson are going well.”
“Mama is a little better. The dry Arizona climate is exactly what she needed and the doctor there is very encouraged.”
Rachel’s thoughts turned to beloved Jane who rested beneath the soil in Black Hawk Canyon. Her father was another matter however with his surly disposition and harsh treatment. At the time when she’d needed him most, he turned his back and called her horrible names.
“Will Mrs. Gregory ever be able to come back one day?” Rachel asked.
Pain filled Tillie’s dark eyes. “I don’t know. I miss her very much.”
“Keeping the farm going with only Mr. Yancy to help must be a terrible burden.”
“Sometimes I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.” Tillie’s anguished whisper filled the small alcove. “With each passing day the house and barn…I’m afraid I’ll wake up one morning to discover it’s fallen in on me during the night. Yancy does what he can but he’s getting old and many things he once did he simply can’t do anymore. I don’t want to let my papa down but I don’t know what more I can do.”
Rachel covered Tillie’s hand with hers. “Let’s have some tea. I promise to do nothing more than walk to the kitchen table. Then I’ll come right back to bed. I promise.”
A few minutes later they sat, sipping a cup of fragrant tea and enjoying each other’s company.
“This is nice. I always yearned for a friend, Tillie. I wanted to get to know you.”
“And I you.”
“In the past, my father forbade any friendship. You probably wondered about that.”
Tillie ran her finger along the edge of the square table. “I assumed you had your reasons. It wasn’t my place to pry.”
“I treasured berry-picking because I looked forward to seeing you.”
“Do you ever lie in bed at night and wonder when your life will start? Or even if it will?” Tillie’s voice had turned soft and wistful. “I yearn for a husband and children to love.”
Rachel bumped her tea and sloshed it then hurried to wipe it up. She’d wanted far more but had been grateful for Alice and being able to pour her love on her baby sister. Painful memories surfaced along with a desperate need to make sure Alice knew she mattered and not suffer the coldness of their father.
“I dreamed more than once of a different life.” Rachel had seemed stuck, mired down, unable to move forward for so long. All she’d been able to do was look back and think of what could’ve been had circumstances not thrust her into an impossible situation.
“I fear I shall never get married or have a family of my own.” Tillie rose to refill their cups.
Rachel turned. “With women severely outnumbering men, I don’t hold much hope either. And our isolation in the canyon only adds to that.”
Except, she had an offer, her conscience berated. Heath Lassiter wanted to make her his wife and would tomorrow if she’d only say yes. But how could she when so much stood like a barrier between them? Far too long she’d fought like a dammed-up river being kept from its natural course, getting nowhere.
Rachel reached for the wildflowers Heath had picked for her that made a beautiful centerpiece on the table. She removed a yellow sunflower and absently fingered the petals.
Could she have a normal life with Heath? The ticking of the clock was the only answer she got.
Needing a place to live and someone to take care of her was a poor reason to get married. Putting aside the biggest reason of all, her secret shame, maybe she and Heath could come to love each other over time.
And maybe not. It seemed a foolish risk to take.
Tillie rose to look out the window. “Let’s make a pact. We’ll help each other through these dark times.”
“I’d like that.”
“We’ll start with you first,” Tillie said turning. “We need to make a list of everything of value you have. We’ll find you a way to survive and make a living.”
It didn’t take long and to Rachel the list was pretty pitiful. “Of course, the goats provide me with milk and butter. And the chickens lay eggs.”
“What if you take some butter and eggs to the trading post? George Singer might buy them. What with the post being located where four military routes cross, he gets lots of business from soldiers.”
Rachel brightened. “That’s a good idea, Tillie. Except it’s dangerous going there. Lots of bad men hang out in front.” Fear raced through her.
“Not anymore. Soldiers and ranchers keep an eye on that store now. It seems safe enough when I go.” Tillie rose. “Want more tea?”
“No, thanks.”
A few seconds later, Tillie returned and stared at the short list. “What else? A bull won’t do you much good. Maybe you could sell it. At least you wouldn’t have to feed it.”
“Who on earth would want my bull? He’s ugly and mean.” Rachel’s papa had always been in his element when he was trading something. It didn’t matter what the offer. Five months ago Isaac Malloy had brought the worthless bull home after one of his long absences. Never said where he got it.
Tillie pursed her lips. “Maybe some of the ranchers around here would take the bull off your hands. It’s worth a shot to see.”
“You’re right. I have nothing to lose.” Rachel tapped the pencil on the table. “I just wish I’d start feeling better. I have so many things to do. I’ll bet the garden looks a tangled mess.”
Tillie’s eyes lit up. “What did you plant?”
“Lots of squash, beans, carrots, cabbage, and potatoes. We also planted a few pumpkins but those won’t be ready yet.” She thought of Jane who’d brought lots of different seeds. “Let’s exchange seeds. My stepmother was of Comanche blood and brought some seeds with her when she came. I don’t know how you feel about Indians.” She wouldn’t apologize for that.
“I think that’s wonderful. What different seeds did she bring, and can I have a few?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be happy to share. She brought different squashes, corn, pumpkins, mesquite beans, and things like that. I meant to can a lot of it but then the fever came.”
“I’ve got just the thing. You can make pumpkin bread and sell it out of the trading post. Prickly pear jelly. Mesquite jelly. Those along with the goat milk and butter might provide some much-needed income. I’ll help you.”
Rachel rose and hugged Tillie. “You’re a godsend. I’m so glad you came to stay with me today. I can’t wait to get started.”
Tillie shook her finger. “Slow down. You have strict orders not to lift a finger today.”
“Oh posh!” She’d do as she wanted yet she lacked a little bravery. “Okay, let’s talk. You’ve had the freedom to get around so tell me what you know of your neighbor on the other side of you.”
“Cora Quinlan?”
Rachel nodded. “One time when I was picking berries, I paid no attention to how far I’d gone and found myself at her farm. She came out the door wearing a thick black veil. What’s her story? Did someone die?”
“She’s very mysterious but she’s always worn that veil. Of course, we hear all kinds of stories, but it has nothing to do with anyone dying. Maybe she has a scarred face.”
“Or she could be pockmarked and ugly,” Rachel threw in.
Tillie grinned. “What if she worked as a soiled dove and bought her land with her earnings?”
A soiled dove? Was that similar to a whore? Her father had thrown that word at her but she hadn’t known what it meant. She must’ve had a strange look on her face.
“You know. A woman of ill-repute who works in one of those bawdy houses that men go to,” Tillie explained.
Unable to ever go to town, how would she know? But it must be bad. Rachel pretended to understand. “Oh. Maybe so.”
“I overheard Yancy and his son Noble talking one day and Yancy said Cora mourns a lost love, but I don’t know where he got that from. Maybe he made it up.” Tillie rose. “I’m going to make you an egg and a piece of toast. You don’t have to eat it all. Just a few bites.”
“I guess.” Rachel watched her friend, so competent and sure. “Don’t you think it’s strange that all three farms here in the canyon are now run by women?”
“A little I guess but we can do it. Women are smart and capable. Sometimes we need a bit of muscles and then have to let men help. I’m just happy that I could get you pointed in a new direction. I can’t imagine what I’d do in your situation.”
“You do what you have to and get through each day as best you can.” Rachel bit her quivering lip. Often that wasn’t enough to stave off the deluge of memories.
“I’m sure you miss them something fierce.”
Rachel’s hand trembled and her whispered voice thickened with tears. “Waking up each day to this emptiness is unbearable. I’ve lost a sense of place and my purpose for being on this earth. I don’t belong to anyone anymore. And no one belongs to me.”