Chapter Nine
The strongbox occupied Rachel’s thoughts as she made herself an unappetizing meal of cold egg between a dry biscuit. What a relief to have it gone from her land. If only she’d never seen it.
The contents of that box had bound her to things she wanted no part of.
Her mind drifted back to earlier days and how her father had become obsessed with keeping everyone away. He’d been as cold and mean as his first wife, Rachel’s real mother. She’d never really known a mother’s love until Jane came into her life. There had been none quite like stoic gentle Jane, forced into a marriage she didn’t want. Still, she had a mother’s touch when fever raged or in the dead of night when nightmares haunted.
She didn’t know how long she sat at the kitchen table, motionless and morose. The food she’d fixed still untouched.
When she first heard the cries, the shadows had begun to lengthen, and the first purple rays of twilight drifted over the canyon.
At first, the sounds were very faint, gradually becoming more insistent.
A whippoorwill called as it probably settled down for the night and an owl hooted nearby.
But the cries persisted. Curious, she rose and walked to the door. Seeing nothing, she decided she must have imagined it.
Jax whimpered and pressed his cold nose to her hand.
Maybe it was Jane crying for her from beyond the grave.
But the cries were young. Alice?
Everything stilled inside her. Her palms grew moist and her heart pounded.
Alice had good reason to haunt her. Rachel’s throat constricted and her mouth got as dry as cotton. She’d never told Alice the truth. She should’ve told her.
Rachel dabbed at her forehead with the hem of her apron and stepped outside.
Maybe she’d been a bit hasty in practically ordering the Lassiters from her land. What would it have hurt if they’d stayed a few more nights with her? After all, she’d have nothing but a burned-out hulk of a house if not for them. Or much of anything else for that matter.
With Jax by her side, Rachel took a few tentative steps away from the house. The cries came again and definitely from the direction of the row of graves.
The dog left her side and darted ahead.
With trembling legs, she crept toward the new mounds of dirt. As she drew closer, she could make out a woven basket sitting on top of Alice’s grave.
Barking, Jax raced ahead, sniffing all around.
Reaching the mysterious object, she stared down at the tightly wrapped bundle that was nestled inside.
She sucked in a quick breath.
A tiny baby.
A note lay on top of the squirming, crying form. It consisted of only four words written in neat penmanship.
Her name is Eden.
As Rachel looked around, hoping to see who had left the child, she spied a beautiful white dove on a juniper branch. Her skin prickled. She’d never seen one in the canyon before. Was it a sign? The bird lifted its wings and took flight. Though too dark to see well, Rachel scanned the area for the person who left the infant. There was nothing but shadows.
Lifting the basket, she hurried into the house. Setting it on the table, she carefully removed the baby, cradling the small form to her.
Eden, the note had said.
“Hello, baby Eden,” she crooned. “Where did you come from? Who is your mother?”
And why had the infant been left by the graves? And what did the white dove have to do with it?
What if she hadn’t heard the cries? What if some wild animal had come along and carried the infant off? And why leave the infant here? A million questions raced through her mind. Jax too it seemed. The dog didn’t quite know what to do. He started to lie down then stood, sniffed the baby, and whined.
A piece of old quilt wrapped the tiny form. The square section was tattered in places but clean. Baby Eden stared up with round blue eyes. She had stopped crying when Rachel picked her up. The smattering of hair on top of the baby’s head looked to be quite fair by lamplight.
Laying the babe on the table, Rachel removed the quilted covering. The child wore a crudely made gown fashioned from an old flour sack. Lifting the hem, she glanced at the cord that hadn’t even started to dry up, telling her Eden was only a day or two old. A quick glance discovered a wet diaper. Jax watched her every move with dark, soulful eyes.
With the infant secure in one arm, she searched for something to make a dry diaper from. Moments later she located a clean dishtowel that would have to do for now.
Putting Eden on the only bed, Rachel removed the wet clothing. She lifted the crudely tied cord out of the way. Quickly changing the diaper, she wrapped Eden in a soft towel. It’d do for the moment.
Holding the infant girl to her chest, a powerful love came over her. They were two people alone in the world, but they had each other.
What had happened to the mother? Was she unable to care for her child? Sick?
Eden let out a soft mewling cry and sucked a fist.
“You must be hungry, my darling. Thank God for the goats.”
Rachel carefully laid the tiny girl in the middle of the bed and hurried to the spring house for the crock of milk from the day’s milking. Next, she put her mind to thinking of how best to get the fresh milk into the child. If only she had a bottle.
Then she suddenly remembered that Jane had fashioned a bottle to feed the baby goat kids that had lost their mothers—stretching a rubber nipple over a blue Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters bottle. It had worked wonderfully well with the goats. Hopefully it would for Eden.
She put the goat’s milk on the table and sprinted to the barn with Jax right beside her. Lighting a lantern, she held it up high as she tried to think of where the bottle might be. Jax sniffed at everything and barked at the cat at home with the hay and horses.
Scanning the area where the tack was stored, she spied the blue bottle on a shelf. It was dusty and covered in cobwebs, but a good washing would fix that.
A scant half hour later, she sat in the rocker with Eden in her arms. The baby sucked greedily on the nipple making little contented sounds as the warm milk filled her belly. Rachel’s heart went out to the tiny babe that someone had apparently dumped with no more regard than a shoe that had grown too small.
Eden was a throwback. A child no one wanted.
Whoever had left her had discarded her as though she meant nothing at all. But then—maybe desperation had driven the person to leave Eden. She knew a little about that. She would stop judging the mother until she found out more.
Why had the mother left Eden here of all places? They were so isolated.
Tears suddenly filled Rachel’s eyes. Right then and there she made a vow that the child would never know the way she came into her care.
Kissing the tiny forehead, Rachel found a joy she hadn’t had since Alice died.
In each person’s life there were moments that are meant for them to remember forever, in the tiniest detail, smell, and shade. Finding Eden had been such a moment. She remembered the deepening purple sky, the sound of the water lapping gently against the bank of the lake, the lonely whippoorwill’s call, and the fragrant patch of wildflowers that grew near the house.
She put Eden on her shoulder to burp her. A peace drifted over her like soft, warm fleece. Her heart swelled and the wish to die that had been with her since she buried little Alice suddenly left. She had a purpose. Someone needed her and that felt good.
The next morning Rachel woke early and dressed. She had much to do. Her gaze found the sleeping babe lying next to her. The infant had awakened several times during the night but had gone back to sleep after getting milk into her small stomach. She was a good baby, never crying unless she needed something.
Today Rachel would look for the trunk of baby things of Alice’s. There were gowns, blankets, and diapers. Everything Eden needed. The last time she’d seen the trunk had been when Papa had moved it from the house to the barn. And he’d also stored Alice’s cradle out there. Seemed as though everything wound up in the barn when it outgrew its usefulness. One thing about it, Isaac Malloy hadn’t thrown anything away. He’d been too busy.
How fortunate the barn hadn’t burned. Rachel rose and dressed. She could probably milk the goats before Eden awakened.
She opened the front door and again nearly stumbled over Heath Lassiter. Busy folding a blanket, he had the grace to blush. It was clear he’d spent another night sleeping in front of her door.
“Good morning, Rachel.”
His quick grin that showed the whiteness of his teeth sent flutters through her chest. And for a moment it felt as though she was hurtling off a high cliff.
“It’s a beautiful day,” he said.
“Good morning, Heath.”
“You’re not mad?”
“That you spent the night here against my wishes? I’m quite perturbed, but not angry.”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “You feeling all right?”
“Never better.”
“Something has changed. Would it have something to do with the cries I heard coming from inside the house last night?” He tried to peer past her.
“It would. I have something to show you. Follow me.”
She led him into her bedroom and pointed to the bed. “Someone left her out on the graves late yesterday.”
“You don’t know who did it?”
“No.” She told him about the note lying on top of the babe’s blanket. “That’s all I know. The babe isn’t more than two or three days old.”
Eden opened her eyes and yawned. Heath picked her up as if she might break. “Hey there. You’re a mighty pretty little thing. You’re going to have so much love you won’t care how you came to be here.”
Rachel’s throat burned seeing the gentle care he took of the baby girl and his crooning words. There was something in the way Heath’s big hands wrapped around the tiny form so protectively that deeply touched her.
He lifted his gaze. “I’m constantly amazed at the working of God. Remember me telling you there’s a season and a time to every purpose under the heavens?’”
“I recall. What are you trying to say?”
“I think maybe this sweet babe is the reason God left you behind when he took the rest of your family.” He kissed the baby’s cheek.
Rachel stiffened. “How do you figure that?”
“Eden would need you, so He left you here to care for her.”
She let Heath’s words sink in. Could he possibly be right? “Maybe. But if he cared so much, why let this happen to such an innocent babe? Why punish her?”
“When a high wind knocks baby birds from their nest and dashes them to the ground, do you think God is punishing them?”
“Of course not.”
“All living things have a season. A time to live and time to die. This is Eden’s time to live and there’s a purpose for her being here in your house. In your care.”
“It’s nothing but a coincidence,” she insisted.
“I don’t believe that. Sometimes when things happen, we don’t know why. It’s often long after the fact that we can see the intricate workings in our lives. Like now. It’s very plain that you’re needed here on this earth. I don’t know why you refuse to see that.”
Could it be true she was needed? “When I found Eden, I saw a white dove sitting on a juniper branch. I don’t know what that meant but I think it was important for some reason.”
A look of wonder came over him. “It was a sign, an old symbol of hope.”
His words shook her, but she wasn’t about to let him know. She wasn’t sure she wanted to let her anger go yet. If she did, she’d be forced to change her opinions. Her father had been despicable, treating her and Jane so badly.
She still felt the sting of his words. “You asked for this,” he’d said following her abduction and return. “You’re nothing to me. You are just something men use. I should’ve let them kill you.”
Ice knotted in her stomach. She waved an arm. “We could stand here swapping beliefs until we turn blue in the face, and it won’t change a thing. I don’t know about all this, but I do know I need to milk my goats. Eden will be hungry soon.”
“Here, you take her, and I’ll milk the goats in exchange for some hot coffee.”
“You have a deal, Heath Lassiter.”
She took the child and followed him to the door. He stopped to pick up his battered hat lying on top of his bedroll and adjusted it on his head.
With long strides he covered the ground to the goat pen.
The man who had such strength in his convictions sure cut a nice figure with his long legs and broad shoulders.
He loved babies. And he was a good secret-keeper.
If she could only bring herself to reveal her shame and the fact she was too damaged for a good, kind, decent man.