A Baby at the Horse Tamer’s Door (Preview)

Chapter One

Cedar Ridge, Texas

Eliza Harper smiled in the darkness, eyes fluttering open, the sheer curtains of her bedroom dancing in the pre-dawn breeze. She always loved sleeping with the windows open, enjoying the symphony of the night: crickets chirping, frogs croaking, and the whippoorwills calling.

She knew what had awakened her, but waited for it again. Just then, she heard it; something heavy knocking on wood. It was Thunder, her impatient six-year-old gelding, letting her know he was hungry and tired of waiting for his oats.

Rubbing sleep out of her eyes as she sat on the edge of her bed, Eliza drew her bothersome mane of auburn hair back in a messy ponytail. She made a mental note to replace the straw in her mattress just like she did every morning, only to forget by nightfall when she was too tired to bother.

Thunder kicked his stall door again, and Eliza shook her head.

“Hold your horses!”

The grandfather clock marked the hour downstairs, a slow drone, counting out four chimes. She frowned, realizing something was wrong. Even Thunder, as ornery as he was, wouldn’t be up at this hour without reason. Something had spooked him.

She had a dozen horses and two cows; Thunder was the most vocal of the bunch. He had been a gift to her grandfather the year before he died, Eliza breaking him over the course of a few weeks, bonding them together.

Lighting the bedside candle with a quick strike of a match along the back of the nightstand, the flickering glow danced around the bedroom. Was someone trying to break in?

Dressing quickly, slipping on riding trousers beneath her dress, she put on her boots, grabbed her gun belt, and headed downstairs. Midway down the staircase, she froze, hearing something that chilled her heart.

The hairs stood up along the back of her neck when she heard it again, her breath catching in her throat.

It was the sounds of a baby, softly cooing just beyond the front door.

Coming to the bottom of the stairs, she bit her lower lip, moving as quietly as possible, listening.

Was she dreaming? Indeed, that had to be it. There was no other earthly reason for a child to be on the porch. She stubbed her toe on the small table. Wincing in the dark, she knew she wasn’t dreaming, the pain bright.

As she closed in on the door, there was motion beyond the window curtains, footfalls on the wooden porch, someone moving. Terror tightened her chest, her heart pumping ice. Eliza Harper wasn’t afraid of much, but she was also a realist. The ranch her grandfather had left her was outside of town, and she lived alone.

“Who’s out there?”

Silence was her answer.

“I have a gun and know how to use it!”

Her fingers curled around the pistol grip, preparing to draw it if necessary, heart dancing, mouth running dry. Indeed, she knew how to handle herself and her gun, but could she actually shoot someone? It went against everything she believed in as a Christian. That being said, she didn’t let go of her pistol grip.

“Get off my property!”

The only answer was the rapid retreat of footfalls. She thought it only sounded like one person. Holding onto her courage, she moved to the door and threw it open to the night, stepping onto the porch. She turned to her left, catching sight of someone racing into the darkness.

“Hey, stop! Hey!”

The person never even looked back, racing in the direction of town.

Eliza started to draw the pistol free of the holster, thinking about firing a warning shot, but she stopped short, her eyes cast downward, her mouth agape.

What a beautiful sight, she thought.

A picnic basket was on her porch, overflowing with a blanket and a patterned shawl, the fabric spilling onto the porch. What they surrounded was a gift from heaven, a beautiful baby, wearing a pink bonnet, sucking on her fingers with not a care in the world.

“Oh, my. Now, what are we going to do with you?”

Eliza looked into the darkness after the person who had run from the porch, wondering who could have left such a precious little thing. She looked into the darkness again, but whoever had left the baby was long gone.

The horses had all settled in the barn, though her heart had not. She stood on the porch for some time, listening, watching, wondering.

***

The morning sun in west Texas was never timid; it burned its way up from the horizon with a purpose, though it had been lost on Eliza. She had other things to occupy her time.

She hadn’t slept a wink, taking the baby into the kitchen, keeping her in the picnic basket. Eliza couldn’t stop staring, wondering how anyone could abandon a baby on someone’s doorstep. Her eyes were incredibly blue, contrasting with her dark brown hair. A sprig of lavender bound by a white ribbon had been lying in the bottom of the picnic basket, but more intriguing was the note. She had read it a dozen times.

It sickens me to have to do this, but I have no choice. I am being hunted and fear that my husband and I may be killed. I have seen you in town and know you’re a good Christian at heart. Please take care of my baby so that I can know she is being cared for. I am going to find help, God willing, and come back for my darling baby girl.

A woman definitely wrote it; the penmanship was beautiful, the letters rolling bits of script. She considered what to do. Should she see the sheriff? It seemed that the baby’s mother was in serious trouble; maybe the sheriff could help.

Eliza changed the baby’s diaper and bathed her in the kitchen sink. She had donated a pair of her worn bloomers to the cause, making several diapers from the cloth. The baby cooed contentedly, waving her hands around wildly before sucking on her fingers.

Holding the baby in her arms felt so natural, so right. She had always wanted a family, but the world hadn’t been so kind to her in that regard. Leon had tugged at her heartstrings for some time, but when it became clear what his intentions were, she had broken it off. She was not interested in having a physical relationship before taking wedding vows.

She realized it was a silly notion; the baby wasn’t hers. The note had mentioned that the mother would soon be back for the baby. That being said, she would do everything in her power to make sure the baby remained safe and loved. Her heart swelled at the idea that God put this wonderful child in her life for a reason. It was not hers to ask why.

When she finally heard Clara approaching in her wagon, the tires rattling over the uneven, rutted road leading to the ranch, she was overjoyed, a big smile teasing her lips. Clapping her hands together several times, she picked up the baby and walked outside to meet her best friend.

Chapter 2

Willow Creek, Texas

Things had always been a little tricky for Sam Brook, and they were growing more so with every passing day. Growing up, he was always playing catch-up with his brother. Sam was twenty-eight and had little to show for it, while his brother was a successful owner of the general store in town. And now, his sister was missing, and his mother was dying of consumption. Everything Doc McDaniel had tried hadn’t worked, and now, he was watching her wither away day by day, like a clock winding down.

He washed his face in the basin in the back bedroom, catching his reflection in the mirror. His brown eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, his face haggard, and his brown hair looking a bit shaggy. His shoulders were wide, his body taught from all the ranch work. He cut a formidable figure until he smiled, then all bets were off. His wry grin made it difficult to take him seriously as a threat. He was simply too affable.

The problem was that there were few things to smile about lately, his mood sour, his expression somber.

Dabbing his skin dry, he hung the towel on the rack and turned toward the bed. On his knees, he leaned against the comforter and began to pray.

“Lord, please hear my humble prayers and continue to give me the strength to find Mary and Richard and their Lily and bring them back home. Please grant me the ability to find them safely. In your name we pray. Amen.”

Sam always felt better after prayer, as if it helped to set the world right, the Lord watching over him throughout the day. Even though he had been struggling with his faith lately, he still prayed. He didn’t understand the Lord’s ways, making his mother sick, and now putting his loved ones in danger, but he was doing his best to come to grips with it.

Coming down the hallway, he looked in on his mother, her shallow breathing easy to hear. He stepped into her room, her eyes fluttering open.

“Oh, Sam, so good to see you. Can you sit awhile?”

“Yes, Mama.”

He sat in the chair next to the bed, taking her hand in his own. She was but a whisper of the woman she had once been. Her once vibrant smile and big eyes had been the talk of the town at one point, but those days were gone. Her skin held an odd yellowish tint, her eyes sunken, her cheekbones looking as though they might burst through the skin at any moment. She had lost so much weight, it always looked like she was wearing someone else’s clothes.

“What are you doing up so early?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I’m not trying anymore of Doc McDaniel’s potions. Those things make me so sick.” His mother waved her hands in front of her.

He smiled and chuckled softly. “I know they do, Mama. I’m not going to hound you about taking them either.” He paused a moment, clearing his throat, gathering his thoughts. I’m worried about Mary and Richard. They’ve been gone now for almost a week with no word.”

“Yes, I have them on my mind, too. Been praying for them both every morning and every night.”

“So have I, Mama, so have I. I’m just worried that maybe Richard got himself caught up in some trouble. He had been investigating the Calwell Gang and Thomas Blackwell, their leader.”

The man’s opulence was legendary, as was his grip on the region.

“I never liked that man. I went to school with him. Did you know that?” Her eyes sparked for a moment, lost in the memory. “He never made good marks, but anybody who dared call him slow or stupid would pay a hefty price. It was so bad, he used to try to cheat off my arithmetic tables.”

“Started his life of crime early, I see.”

Her mother patted his hand and smiled. “It would seem so. He also stole some change Ms. Carmody kept in her desk. We couldn’t prove it, but it was him. We all knew it.”

They were both quiet for a moment before his mother continued, “I think I might’ve been ten when I truly realized what kind of person he was. The church had a bake sale, and Father Preston kept the locked box in his office. On the last night, he walked in with the proceeds to put them in the box, but when he got there, it was gone.”

“Did you see Blackwell take it?” Sam asked, gently stroking the back of his mother’s hand, her skin paper-thin.

His mother scoffed. “I didn’t have to. The fool started spending money like it grew on trees. He bought candy by the pound at the Harvest Apothecary that summer, and he had the cobbler make him a new pair of boots. He even started carrying around a Bowie knife like he owned the place. He wasn’t from money. His father gambled most of the money he made at the mill away every weekend.”

“I remember he got shot cheating at cards.”

“That’s right, but it wasn’t for cheating at cards.”

Sam frowned. “Really?”

“Oh, he was caught cheating, but not at cards. He had been seeing Hal Mortenson’s wife, and Hal had just about had enough of the talk in town, and went to settle it. The card game was held every Saturday night in the back room of Morgan’s Saloon. Good thing the fool was a bad shot.”

They both chuckled, her laugh music to his ears. There wasn’t much to laugh about these days.

“You didn’t come here to reminisce with me, though, now did you?”

“I love hearing you talk about your childhood, Mama. You know that.”

“That I do, but you came in here to tell me about your sister.”

“Yes, I did. Mary and Lily, I’m worried something might’ve happened to them.”

“The Lord will protect them.”

Sam nodded and said, “I know he will.”

The words gave him pause. He had been questioning his faith a lot lately. While prayer still comforted him, he watched every day as the Caldwell Gang continued to wreak havoc in Willow Creek. The quiet town had relied on Richard to keep law and order, and the man had done his level best, but it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t be everywhere at all times; the gang and Thomas Blackwell essentially ran amok.

“Mary told me Richard had been investigating the gang and was compiling evidence to present to the district judge to have them arrested. I worry maybe he got himself in too deep.”

“Quite possible.”

The two words were like nails tapping into his heart.

“Sam, I know we don’t talk about this very often…”

He started shaking his head, knowing where she was going with the conversation. “Mama, now don’t start talking like that.”

“Sam, listen to me, please. I know I’m not long for this earth. I know that. I’m wasting away day by day. While it used to scare me, I no longer fear it. I’ve made my peace. The maker has called me, and I’ll be on my way soon enough.”

“They have doctors in Fort Worth, doctors who have new treatments.”

“That’s not for me, Sam. It’s okay, please listen.”

He stopped talking, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before looking at his mother again.

“I’d like two things before I pass on—just two. I’m not very selfish, and I don’t need much, but I would like to see Mary again before I go. And for you, Sam? I’d like to see you get married. Settle down, have a family.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“And don’t let Amelia fill your head. That city girl didn’t know what she had. Her parents were the ones who ran her off, not you, making her think you weren’t going to be able to take care of her, being a farmer. They have no earthly idea that living and loving aren’t all about money. You’re a good man, Sam. I see your father in your eyes every time I look at you, and I know he would be proud.”

“Thank you, Mama.”

“Can you promise those two things?”

His uneasy smile flickered on his lips. “I’ll try.”

“That’s my boy.”

He stood up and kissed his mother on the forehead, squeezing her hand gently as he left the bedroom. Taking his Stetson from the peg just inside the door, he stepped out onto the porch, his mind teeming with thoughts and worry, wondering how he was ever going to find Mary. He had all but given up on finding a wife, his heart still bearing the scars of Amelia and her meddling father. It had made him gun-shy around women. There were plenty in town who were interested; the problem was that he wasn’t.

Putting his hat on, he stepped down the steps, the dusty earth kicking up tendrils around his feet. Bumping the brim of his hat up with his finger, he took a deep breath and exhaled, hoping the day would be fruitful and there would be news about Mary and Lily. His heart felt cinched inside his chest, his thoughts tangled with worry.