Outside she jerked her arm loose from his hand, stumbling over a hidden tree root in the snow.
Nathan tried to grab her, but she twisted away and fell into a snow bank. Nathan reached out again to help her stand.
Laura slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me. I can do it myself.”
Stepping back, he held his hands up in a form of surrender as she scrambled to her feet. “Damn it, woman. What is the matter with you?”
“Nothing, I’m—” she started to answer as she scrambled to her feet.
“Where’s your coat? What were you thinking, coming outside without even a sweater? Are you trying to freeze to death?” he said, cutting her off, his eyes narrowed.
Laura turned, trying to control her temper. With her shoulders and back as straight as possible, she marched to the house. He made her sound like some foolish ninny. “I was only concerned with getting you to bring your daughter down when she said she wanted you to.”
“What?” He stopped her with a hand on the door. “Rachel spoke to you?”
“Not with words. She blinked at me when I asked her if she wanted me to come and get you.” She opened the door and left him standing outside, puzzled.
A minute later, Nathan came in, heading for the stairs. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed Laura had followed his instruction regarding the milk and had made a trip to the creek. “You wore a coat to the creek, didn’t you?”
His scolding really aggravated her. “No.”
He swore again. “Laura, you can’t go outside in winter in this country without some sort of coat. If you were to fall or get injured and no one was around, you could freeze to death in a matter of minutes.”
“If you’re done lecturing me, I was going to say I wore my thick blue sweater and gloves to the creek. In case they got wet, they’d be easier to dry.”
The concern on his face took some of the starch out of her anger. He nodded then turned on his heel and headed up the stairs.
A few minutes later, he returned with Rachel. The little girl was dressed in the same light-blue dress she’d had on the day before, with her hair a tangled mess and holes in her socks. Her pitiful condition tore at Laura’s heart.
Nathan sat his daughter at the table, where she continued to suck her thumb and stare into space. Laura looked at him for some clue as how to get the little girl to eat.
“Just put her food out in front of her and go about your work. If she wants to eat, she will,” he suggested, then went back out to the barn.
“Well, that was a great big help.” Laura shook her head. She set a bowl of oatmeal on the table with a spoon in it. She sat in the chair near the child. “Do you like sugar and butter in your cereal, Rachel?”
Rachel blinked at her, so Laura took this to mean yes. She spooned in a little butter and some sugar, stirred it around and then pushed the bowl closer to her. She fetched the cup of milk she’d poured earlier and returned to sit next to Rachel once more.
As she watched the child, Rachel continued to stare into space but her hand came slowly toward the bowl. She put one finger into the oatmeal, then brought some food to her mouth.
Rachel doesn’t know how to use a spoon.
Anger surged through Laura. Not only was she mad at the people who had hurt this child, her anger included Nathan for not correcting the situation.
“Would you like me to help you eat with the spoon?”
She was pleased when she received a blink in reply. She lifted the spoon and slowly brought some oatmeal to Rachel’s lips. The child opened her mouth and accepted the food without looking at it.
“Rachel, you need to watch the spoon so none of the food will spill on you.”
Laura bought another spoonful to the little girl’s mouth. This time Rachel watched the spoon until it was in her mouth, then stared out into space again.
“That’s very good,” complimented Laura, thrilled she’d accomplished some contact with her. “Remember to watch each bite. You don’t want to miss any of it. Do you like this oatmeal?”
Blink.
“This is how my mother used to make it when I was a little girl like you. Would you like some milk?”
Blink.
“Watch the cup as it comes to your mouth just like you did the spoon.”
The meal progressed like this until all the food and milk were gone. Laura sat back in her chair with a satisfied smile on her lips. Today she’d accomplished something more important than cleaning ten houses.
“Would you like to get down from the table and play?”
Rachel didn’t blink. She simply put her thumb back in her mouth.
Hmm.
“Would you like to stay at the table while I do some cleaning in here?”
Blink.
Okay. They’d established some basic communication and discovered the little girl could follow instructions.
“All right then. You sit there while I make some bread dough and clean up the kitchen. Maybe I could tell you a story while I work. It would help pass the time and make my work easier. Would you like that?”
Blink.
In as animated a fashion as she could, Laura told her the story of Little Red Riding Hood while she mixed the bread dough and set it on the dry sink to rise. As she washed the dishes, she continued the story and finished the tale as she mopped the floor. During the story, she asked Rachel questions to determine how much she understood. By her answering blinks, Laura decided the little girl grasped a great deal of what was said to her and was actually a bright child.
* * * * *
An hour later Nathan entered the kitchen, brushing snow off his coat. He was greeted by Laura singing a church hymn as loudly as she could while she stood on a chair cleaning out the top cupboard. Before he could chastise her for standing on a chair again, he noticed Rachel sitting at the table sucking her thumb and tapping the other hand on the table, keeping time to the song. Without taking his eyes off Rachel, he tapped Laura on her bottom.
“What?” Laura gasped at his touch and looked from him to Rachel.
“Keep singing and watch her.”
“In the sweet by and by, we will meet on that beautiful shore.” She stopped singing, tears running down her face.
Nathan walked over to his daughter. “I don’t believe it.”
“That’s not all she’s done today.” Laura climbed down off the chair. “Watch her eyes. Do you like the singing, Rachel?”
Blink.
“That means yes.”
“How do you know?” He eyed his wife with skepticism. Was she trying to make something out of nothing?
Excitement glittered in her eyes and she smiled enthusiastically. “When she wants to say yes, she blinks. When the answer is no, she just sucks her thumb. I’ve been asking yes and no questions to her all morning. You try.”
“Would you like to go take a nap?” he asked his daughter.
She simply continued to suck her thumb.
He tried something different. “Would you like to hear another song?”
She replied with a blink.
While Laura sang another hymn, Nathan fought the tears that threatened to spill over. When he felt composed enough, he stood and faced Laura.
“Thank you. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you.” He glanced around to see the kitchen fairly gleamed. “Looks like you’ve been busy. Have you found everything you need?”
She nodded. “I’m just about through in here and thought I’d start making some supper. Will ham and biscuits be enough for today?”
“If you add some of those cooked apples like you made yesterday. I haven’t had any apples cooked that way since before the war.”
“There doesn’t seem to be any more apples in the house. Do you have a root cellar somewhere?” She could get some sort of meat for supper while she was down there. She was getting tired of ham.
“It’s off to the left, near the hen house. You did go out to the hen house to gather eggs this morning, didn’t you?”
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She counted to ten. Of course he’d assume she knew how to gather eggs. This was probably another one of his tests. “I didn’t know it was part of my responsibilities. How do I gather them?”
“Every morning you need to go to the hen house, reach under the hens, grab the eggs and put them in a basket. There are twenty layers, right now. And in the back are ten I’ve set aside for eating. I bet you don’t know how to wring a chicken’s neck or pluck one either.”
Right now she’d like to wring his neck. “No, but I’m a quick learner. If you tell me how, I’ll be happy to do so. Would you like chicken tonight?”
“No, darlin’. Beef will be fine and you can find that in the root cellar along with the apples. Before I forget,” he said, standing in the open doorway, “scatter feed on the floor of the hen house for the chickens before you try to get the eggs. Most of the hens will leave their nests to eat. That should save you some pecking from their beaks.”
She scowled at the door as it closed behind him once more. “Rachel, your father is a little short on chivalrous behavior.” Laura looked at the little girl. “Do you want to go upstairs?”
No response.
“Will you stay at the table while I’m gone?”
Blink.
She put on her coat and picked up the egg basket. “I’ll be as quick as possible. If you stay right here, I’ll make apple pie for dessert tonight. Okay?”
Blink.
At the hen house the birds squawked the minute she opened the door. She closed it quickly to prevent any of them escaping. Once her eyes grew accustomed to the light, she found the bin holding the grain just inside the door. Lifting the lid, she scooped out some and scattered it on the floor. Many of the birds flew down to peck at the food.
She edged her way around the clucking birds to their nests to begin collecting their eggs. The ones in the empty nests she found first before the hens could sit on them again. Then she approached the nests with birds still perched on them.
The first hen or two sat still, allowing her to reach under for the eggs. The next one—a big, fat, brown one—pecked at her hand several times before Laura got the egg out. She narrowed her eyes at the bird. “Keep that up and I’ll see you get moved to the side where Nathan keeps the dinner birds.”
She finally left the hen house with two dozen eggs and almost as many peck marks on her hand and arm. “I don’t think I’m going to like this part of farm life much,” she muttered, heading for the root cellar.
The building’s top protruded halfway above ground. She carefully carried the basket of eggs down the steps, leaving the door propped open so she could see inside the dugout. Hanging from the rafters were all kinds of smoked meats. Along the lower shelves lay burlap bags of onion, potatoes, carrots and apples.
She chose a small piece of beef she thought she could roast in the oven. Along with it, she grabbed a small bag of potatoes and one of apples. Carrying all her provisions and balancing her basket of hard-won eggs on her other hip, she slowly made her way back to the house.
In the kitchen, she found Rachel sitting at the table exactly as she’d left her. Once the food for the evening meal was underway, she fried up more apples and made simple ham and biscuit sandwiches for all three of them. She was in the middle of repeating the morning’s feeding ritual with the apples and the spoon when Nathan came in to eat.
“She’s eating from a spoon?” He sounded shocked as he hung his coat by the door and pulled off his gloves.
“Yes. She let me feed her the oatmeal with a spoon this morning. Apparently she’s never eaten from one before. No one ever bothered to teach her.”
She shouldn’t feel pleased with herself for pointing out his fault, but dammit someone should have figured out long ago that the child needed help. He was her father and it was his responsibility to do so.
He washed his hands and joined them at the table. “I didn’t know she couldn’t use a spoon. She’s only been with me a year and a half. Most of that time I spent just getting her not to scream when I held her.”
Guilt washed over Laura. The man had taken in a child rather than see her go to an orphanage. He’d done the best he could. She shouldn’t be trying to make him feel bad for doing so.
She handed him the spoon. “Why don’t you feed her for a few minutes while I get your plate?”
She watched as the large man gently fed his daughter her meal. Then she turned back to the dry sink, swallowing the emotions lumped in her throat.
Nathan finished feeding Rachel, then ate his meal in silence while Laura peeled more apples and made pie dough. The progress she’d made with Rachel in so little time amazed him. There seemed to be something about Laura his daughter instinctively trusted.
It seems that my daughter and I are both drawn to something in this woman.
“Would you like to go to bed now, little darlin’?”
Blink.
He gathered Rachel into his arms and carried her to her room. Gently he laid her down in her bed and drew up the covers. “Do you like Laura, little darlin’?”
Blink.
“I’m beginning to think I do too. Do you like me?”
Blink. Blink.
“Does that mean you love me?”
Blink.
“Good, because I love you too.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead.
He walked back downstairs, stopping at the kitchen door to watch his wife make her apple pie. She had flour on her cheek and nose. The strongest urge to kiss it off hit him. With great effort, he forced himself out the door instead.
How in the world am I going to live with the woman for one year, let alone five, and keep my hands off her?
* * * * *
The evening meal was eaten with more animation than the previous night’s awkward one. Both adults took turns helping Rachel with her food and asking questions. She still wouldn’t look them directly in the eyes or attempt to feed herself, but her progress pleased them nonetheless.
“Nathan, I have a question,” Laura said as she set a slice of apple pie in front of him.
Taking a bite of the dessert, he savored the tart sweetness and buttery crust. “What is it, darlin’?” He liked the blush that filled her cheeks when he called her that.
“You said you spent the better part of the last year and a half getting Rachel to let you hold her. She doesn’t seem to mind you carrying her. What was the problem?”
“When the couple showed up here they had Rachel in the back of the wagon. They claimed that Kirsten gave them money to keep her, but hadn’t heard from my ex-wife for months. They had a paper in Kirsten’s handwriting, stating I was the father and where to find me.”
He ate a few more bites of pie, trying to calm the anger that surged through him at the memory of the filthy condition Rachel had been in. His heart had broken at the sad, strange-looking child who wouldn’t even look his way.
“That was kind of them to bring her to you,” Laura said, her eyes full of sympathy.
He snorted harshly. “Hardly. They wanted more money from me.”
“They wanted to keep her?” Shock replaced the sympathy in her voice.
“Fools thought they could milk me for money and continue to abuse her. I promised to pay them the money they asked for, but asked to hold her first. The moment the woman picked her up, she started screaming like a wild animal.” Suddenly the dessert tasted like sand in his mouth and he set it aside. “I had to get her away from them, even though she kept screaming.”
“What did you do?”
“I took her inside and set her on the floor. She scurried into a corner and huddled there, but she quit screaming.” He looked across the table at his daughter sitting quietly in her seat. “I protect what’s mine. The moment I saw her, Rachel was my daughter. So I grabbed my rifle and went back onto the porch. Shot a hole into the back of their wagon and aimed straight at the man. Told the pair they weren’t getting another cent. They were to leave my land and never come back. And if they ever
stepped one foot toward my daughter it’d be their last.”
“Good.” Laura nodded as if she approved.
“They couldn’t get down the road fast enough, but I had a bigger problem to deal with.”
“Rachel.”
“That first week was a nightmare. It was like having a wild animal in the house.” Renewed anger washed over him as the memories came back full force.
The frightened child cowered in the corner. She’d been there for hours. He’d tried coxing her out with soft words. He’d tried offering her food. Not once did she look at him, nor did she move one inch out of the corner.
“Look, child.” God, he didn’t even know her name or if she had one. “Sun comes up early in the summer and I’ve got to get up with it to milk the cows, so we’re going to have to get some sleep.”
Deciding he had no other choice, he walked toward her, his heart breaking as she tried to shrink farther into the corner of the kitchen.
“I know you don’t know me, child, but I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, reaching out to stroke the matted mass of hair from her face.
“AHHHHHHHHH.”
He drew back his hand and she stopped screaming.
Great. How was he going to get her upstairs to bed? He couldn’t just leave her down here by herself.
With a sigh he moved back and went to the pantry where he stored odds and ends, along with his hunting pack and bedroll. He also grabbed a winter blanket.
“Okay, little darlin’, I guess if you don’t want to sleep in the nice, soft bed upstairs, we’ll just have to sleep down here.” He rolled his bedroll out between her spot in the corner and the kitchen door. Then he folded over the blanket to make a pallet beside him, just big enough for a little girl.
After turning down the oil lamp on the table, he stretched out on the bedroll then patted the pallet beside him. “I’m going to sleep right here and you can have the small one.”
He watched her for a while, but his own weariness soon had him drifting off to sleep.
A noise woke him.
The little girl was sitting under the table hunched over the bowl of corn bread and beans he’d left out and quickly shoving the food into her mouth.
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