Chapter Nineteen
“Circuit preacher’s ridin’ through here on Sunday, Heath,” George Singer announced. “An outrider brought the news this morning.”
Heath’s met Rachel’s gaze. “I’ve missed church. Is it Reverend Holcomb?”
“Nope. This preacher’s name is Anson Ledbetter. I hear Holcomb got himself shot last month up in Indian territory. It’s sure dangerous up there. Yesiree.”
Rachel’s stomach knotted. Heath was going to ask her to go with him and she wasn’t sure she was ready for any fire and brimstone. God was still a mystery. Sure, He’d given her Eden, but then sent Becca to take her. He seemingly gave with one hand and took away with the other.
Heath shifted Eden and the baby stared at him with big eyes. Then she gave him a goofy smile.
Heath chuckled. “Well, look at that! She’s happy and content, Rachel.”
“It does seem so.” She couldn’t help wonder if Eden would be as satisfied with Becca.
Singer bent and retrieved the basket of goods still on the floor. He tallied up what he owed her and handed her the small amount of change which she pocketed along with thanks.
“I’ll see you home if you’re ready.” Heath carefully tucked the baby into her basket.
“I’m ready.”
He put his arm around Rachel’s waist and drew her to his side. The day was so perfect with a nip in the air. He offered a hand as she climbed into the buckboard then handed the basket to her that held Eden. Once he tied his horse onto the back, he settled beside her and lifted the reins.
“You don’t have to do this, Heath. I’m sure those men are long gone by now.” At least she hoped so. If she ever saw them again it would be too soon. The memory of Chewing Tobacco touching her hair made her shiver despite the sun’s rays.
Heath’s leg rested lightly against hers as they made the journey home and she found it a comfort. “Will you go with me Sunday to hear the circuit preacher?”
“I respect your right to worship and profess your faith. But I can’t get excited over a God who strips a person of all she has.”
“Just promise me you’ll think about it. That’s all I ask.”
“All right, but don’t expect I’ll change my mind.”
They rode for a while in silence listening to the jangle of the rigging and an occasional snort from the horses.
They neared home when Heath spoke, “I’ve been thinking. Why not send a note to the stage office in Clarendon with the preacher? He travels around this area. That way they could send someone to pick up the strongbox and no one would have to go.”
“That’s a wonderful idea! It’s perfect. Do you think he would?”
“We can ask.”
“Then do.” Curiosity got the best of her, and she couldn’t help ask, “Heath, why did you happen to go to the trading post today of all days?”
His crooked smile took her breath. “Had a feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right. I get those sometimes and I think it’s God’s way of saying that I need to listen. I also wanted to check the mail, which I plumb forgot.”
“Whatever it was that made you go I’m extremely thankful. I don’t know what those men planned but it wasn’t good. And Mr. Singer was no match for them.”
“I hope you’ve learned your lesson. No more traipsing off without company. And even on your land keep the rifle within reach. We may not have seen the last of those men.”
“Maybe not. I’ve seen Zeb watching me from the trees and it makes me nervous.”
“Rachel, think about coming to stay with me and Sally a few days.” The somber quietness of Heath’s tone sent chills creeping up her spine.
Whatever was going on, whoever those men were, it wasn’t over. Danger followed her like a dark hulking shadow. She shivered. “If I do that, no telling what they’d do. Maybe burn the place down again.” She shook her head. “No, I can’t leave.”
Heath suddenly began to hum and then burst out singing the old hymn I Shall Not Be Moved. He must really like it because she’d heard him croon it several times.
Or maybe it was his subtle way of making fun of her and her refusal to accept God’s will.
“Just like the tree that’s planted by the water, I shall not be moved,” he sang in his beautiful baritone.
Yes, she did think he was poking fun.
Eden opened her pretty blue eyes and stared up at Rachel. Then she began to coo. Oh, no, not her too. The infant couldn’t possibly know what the words meant, but she seemed to.
Rachel lifted her little darling from the basket and nuzzled her soft cheek. This baby had brought so much joy. The love she felt consumed every part of her.
That evening after putting the final stitches on the baby blanket made from the new flannel she set it aside. Jax dozed in front of a fire and Eden was asleep. Happiness wound around her heart.
She warmed her hands at the fire, listening for sounds of trouble outside. She couldn’t afford to get too comfortable she reminded herself, reaching for the poker and turning the log.
Thoughts of the preacher filled her. She’d done a lot of things she wasn’t proud of and didn’t know if the congregation would accept her as the daughter of an outlaw. Word might’ve gotten out and they’d turn their back on her. Not everyone was as accepting as Heath.
Ugly gossip had a way of spreading.
On Saturday morningafter arming herself, Rachel loaded Eden in the wagon for a short ride to visit Tillie. She’d missed her friend since Tillie had taken the school teaching job.
Tillie rushed from the house when Rachel drove up. “How wonderful. I was just thinking about you. I have some news.”
Rachel handed Eden to her friend and they went into the house, straight to the kitchen table. It seemed like all their problems had been hashed out at the table over hot tea. Tillie put hot water on.
“I have some things to tell you about also,” Rachel said.
“Me first.” Tillie grinned. “You’ll want to hear this. The girl, Becca, whom you suspect is this baby’s mother is in my class. Turns out her father is the new windmill man for Thorn Hill Ranch.”
A vise tightened around Rachel’s heart. She could barely squeeze out the words, “Tell me about her.”
“She’s sort of slow. Though she’s fifteen, her father wants her to get an education. Becca has learning problems and can only read and write a little. I hope I can make a difference.”
“Oh, Tillie, what should I do?” Rachel whispered. “How can I give Eden up now?”
Tillie rested a hand on Rachel’s. “Even if Becca is Eden’s mother, and I’m not saying she is, her father must’ve thought her incapable of raising a child. They might’ve given the baby up because they probably thought you could give her a much better life.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“You should see them. It’s just Becca and her father and they live out of an old sheepherder’s wagon. They don’t have anything to offer a child. I hear his wife died.”
When the teapot whistled, Tillie handed Eden back and took the pot off the stove. She threw in a helping of tea leaves then took two cups from a shelf.
“How sad.” And here Rachel had thought her circumstances were rough. Just showed there were people lots worse off than her. “But Becca and her father could always change their minds. Especially if their fortunes change.” She would never relax, knowing they were close.
“I hoped this would ease your mind,” Tillie murmured. “Now, what were you wanting to tell me?”
Over the next hour, Rachel told her friend about the dead woman Heath had found and the incident at the trading post.
“It was frightening.” Rachel took a sip of her tea. “I don’t know what would’ve happened had Heath not appeared in time.”
“And you’ve never seen those men before?”
“Never. They were terrifying.”
“Then I think you need to listen to Heath and take someone with you when you go back. In fact, just to be safe, you need to have someone along every time you leave your property. Your uncle or someone.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you—I kicked him out.”
Tillie grinned and refilled their cups. “You certainly haven’t been bored.”
“Uncle Zeb got drunk and kissed Sally. She lit into him. I’d warned him about drinking.”
They spent a few more hours discussing the turns their lives had taken. Finally, Rachel prepared to leave.
“I wish you didn’t have to go so soon,” Tillie said. “But I know you must.” She kissed Eden and hugged Rachel. “Did you hear about the circuit preacher on Sunday?”
Rachel groaned. “Not you, too.”
“What does that mean?”
“After telling Heath I won’t go, I ended up promising to think about it.”
A look of dejection crossed Tillie’s face. “I really want to go. Please come with me.”
Tears sparkling in Tillie’s eyes broke Rachel’s heart. She knew she couldn’t say no. She’d do anything for Tillie. Even something she vowed not to do.