Fair Valley Refuge - The Shepherd's Heart, Book 3, Prologue and Chapter 1

Prologue

New York City, July 21, 1867

Thick black clouds covered the moon and stars, blocking out even the pretense of light. God had, at least, granted that favor. Ignoring the pain that emanated from every pore of her body, the woman clutched the baby to her chest and took Zeb’s hand, allowing him to help her from the coach. “I’ll only be a moment.”

“Yes’m.”

Darting a look around, she scuttled across the cobblestone street.

The Foundling Hospital lay just ahead now, all its lights extinguished. Hannah had told her to expect that. She trembled as she stepped onto the walk. Pausing, she swiped the tears from her cheeks and glanced both ways, and then behind her, straining to glimpse any movement or change of shadow. No one was there, as it should be at this hour of night.

Clutching her precious bundle tightly, she hurried on towards the hospital. Mercifully, the babe slept. At least her last memory of the child would be one of peace and contentment.

The door loomed ahead, its pointed arch only a lighter shadow outlining a darker center. Her steps faltered, now that safety was so near.

Easing back into the dark shadows next to the door of the hospital, she pressed against the wall and lifted the baby touching her damp cheek to the child’s small soft one. A silent sob parted her lips, shook her shoulders, and stole the strength from her legs. Sliding down, she laid the babe across her lap and wrapped the blanket tightly around her so she wouldn’t get cold in the night. She dashed more tears from her cheeks with quick, angry swipes and tucked the note carefully into the folds of the blanket making sure the rag doll was there too. It was not right, this travesty.

Yet love compelled her. One last time, she trailed the back of her first finger over her daughter’s soft cheek. “Ahh Lambkin, the good Lord He be knowin’ I’m only tryin’ ta save ye. ’Tis His forgiveness I’ll rest on. I ken not another path to take.”

The baby took a soft shuddering breath and turned her face towards the finger, searching even in her sleep for something to latch onto.

Quickly now, lest she change her mind, the woman opened the outer door of the hospital and stepped into the vestibule. Standing still, she let her vision adjust to the soft candlelight, searching first for anyone who might be lurking in the room. It was empty. She sighed in relief even as her heart sank at being so close to this oh-so-final act.

There across the room, tucked into a small alcove she could see the candle-lit niche holding a white-swathed cradle. A crucifix hung above it, Christ’s arms stretched wide to welcome the children placed below him, a reminder that loving sacrifice had been made before.

She swallowed, looked down, pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, instinctively pulling the child tighter to her breast. I’m so unlike Ye, dear Father. I ken only make this sacrifice kickin’ and screamin’ on the inside. I didna know he was such a bad’n. Give me strength, Father of Grace.

The baby bleated a soft cry of protest and the woman’s heart skittered. The last thing she needed was for one of the nuns to hear and come to see what was going on. Quickly she brought the babe’s hand to her tiny mouth so she could find her thumb. A smile softened her face as the wee child spurned her thumb and settled for slurping on her two middle fingers.

Tears blurred her vision again, shattering the candle flames into glittering, twinkling, haloed-stars. Slowly, she stepped towards the cradle and laid the bundle of blessing inside. Trembling, she clasped the heart-shaped silver locket at her neck and slid it back and forth on the chain. She’s a right to be free from me mistakes. The metal against metal zinged softly as she stared down at the babe, indecision furrowing her brow. She’s also the right to know. After only a moment’s hesitation she lifted the chain from around her neck and tucked it into the babe’s blanket next to the note and the rag doll.

Looking up at the crucifix, she folded her barren arms. “Ye brought this child safe from me womb into this world. I give her back to Ye.” The broken whisper sounded loud in the room. A sob caught in her throat as she touched the baby’s cheek for the last time. “The Lord bless ye and keep ye, chil’. May He cause His face to shine upon ye. And give ye rest.”

Turning she stumbled out into the darkness, leaving the babe behind.

***

Sister Josephine Claremont stepped into the vestibule the next morning, her hands tucked carefully into her sleeves. A slight rustling sound was her first clue that they had a new little one. Leaning over the side of the cradle, she peered down at the tiny babe. Lying on its stomach, eyes open, two fingers captured in its little mouth, the baby couldn’t have been more than a day or two old.

“My, my, tiny one.” She reached for the baby and snuggled it into the crook of her neck. “What hardships has our Good Lord rescued you from, eh?”

The baby shifted a wobbly head and slobbered all over its fist trying to find something to suck on.

“Now, now. That’s not going to do you a bit of good, that fist is not. What say we get you a yummy meal of milk, hmmm?” Sister Josephine calmly walked upstairs to the nursery, even though her heart was pounding like the choir-boy who got carried away with his drum last Christmas. It never ceased to surprise her when a child was left here for them.

Sister Rose tsked when she entered the nursery. “Oh my, another one? Is it a boy or a girl?” Rose slipped a clean shirt over little Francy’s head.

Five-year-old Anna stopped tracing on the slate and scampered over to see the baby. “Who’s baby?”

“The Good Lord’s, child.”

Josephine laid the baby on its back and unwound the blanket around it. A thin onion-skin paper fluttered to the floor and Anna bent and picked it up. A silver locket and a small rag doll were the only other items with the child.

At the feel of the cool air on its body the little mite balled up its fists and howled.

“Hmmm! Good lungs!” Rose commented, handing Francy two wooden blocks.

Josephine reached for a dry diaper. “Girl,” she pronounced in the middle of the procedure. “There now!” She cooed as she wrapped the blanket tightly around the little tike once more. “All done, and we’ll get you a nice warm bottle of milk. How will that be? Hmmm?”

“Here’s her letter.” Anna held the paper up to Sister Josephine.

“I’ll go get Mother Superior while you get her a bottle,” Rose said.

Josephine looked down at Anna. “Thank you, child. I’m going to the kitchen for just a moment. I’ll be right back and you can help me feed the baby. Mean time, watch Francy like a big girl.”

Mother Superior and Sister Rose entered the nursery just as she was settling back down with the new little one and showing Anna how to hold the bottle.

Smoothing one palm down her habit, Mother Superior held out her hand for the letter. She scanned it and then lifted her head, eyes rounding. “We need to get this child on the next Baby Train. That’s in two days. See to the task of outfitting her. I will look through our records for a suitable family.”

 

Chapter 1

***

Shiloh, Oregon. April, 1887

Victoria Snyder gasped and snatched the newspaper closer to her face. “Oh! Today of all days!” How had she missed seeing the ad until just now?

Mama rushed into the dining room, her hair still in rag curls. ‘What is it, Victoria? I thought I heard you talking to someone?”

Victoria schooled her features, carefully folded the paper and set it aside. Wedding planning. That’s what’s kept me from noticing it. The last thing Mama needed to worry about on her wedding day was a couple more needy children. “It’ll keep, Mama.”

She stood and placed a kiss on Mama’s cheek, hoping the wild pounding of her heart could not be heard. In her own ears it sounded like the thunder of a wild stampede. Her mind rushed over today’s schedule. Would she make it to the train station on time? It would be tight, but she could make it. She had to make it.

She patted Mama’s shoulders forcing her thoughts back to the present task. “You are going to be the most beautiful bride in Oregon today!”

Mama chuckled. “Well, not with these things in my hair! Come help me take them out, would you? My arms get dreadfully tired, trying to untie them all.”

Victoria grinned, delighted by her mother’s excitement. She would think about getting to the train station, after the wedding. Right now she wanted to revel in Mama’s giddiness. “Dr. Martin will be happy to take you as his wife any way he can get you! I think you should walk down the aisle with all those rags in your hair, just to see if he really loves you, or not!”

“Oh, Posh!” Mama waved away her joke with a flick of her wrist.

Victoria covered her mouth as Mama grinned and rushed from the room in a flurry of frilled petticoats. She couldn’t stop a little giggle at the thought of Mama actually showing up at the church with all her rag curls still in. Wouldn’t that give Julia Nickerson something to talk about at the next quilting bee!

Lifting the skirt of her new golden-yellow gown, she followed Mama to help her finish getting ready. Entering the room, she glanced around and smoothed a hand down the front of her dress. Everywhere she looked Mama’s touch was evident. From the colorful, hand-appliquéd floral quilt they’d sewn the year Victoria turned thirteen, to the braided rugs they’d just finished last summer – everything in this room would be a reminder of Mama. She fiddled with the pendant at her throat, unanticipated dread threatening to rob her of today’s joy. After the wedding, Mama and Dr. Martin were going on a wedding tour to San Francisco, California. And when Mama got back she would move into Dr. Martin’s little home above his office. Mama’s trunks were already packed and waiting by the door.

Mama caught her eye in the mirror. “I’ll just be across town, Ria.”

Victoria forced a smile. “Of course you will. It’ll just be different. I’ll get used to it. And,” she shook her finger, “don’t think you are getting away from me, because I plan to visit you! Often!”

Mama chuckled. “You’d better, or I will come after you with my rolling pin! Now,” she patted her hair and arched her dark eyebrows.

Victoria stepped up behind her and deftly began pulling the rags from her hair. She glanced up and compared their reflections. They were about as different as any two women could be. Mama’s dark hair and coffee colored eyes graced a heart-shaped face with a smooth, clear complexion. It amazed her that anyone in this town actually believed she was Clarice Snyder’s daughter. Even Papa had been blessed with dark hair and bronze skin.

Before Mama and Papa had moved to Shiloh they had lived in Nebraska. She could still vividly remember the taunts the children at school used to hurl at her. She swallowed and pressed away the memories. That was in the past. Still, she often wondered if she really did have vile blood running through her veins. Who were her people? Where had she come from?

“What are you thinking, honey?”

Victoria wrinkled her freckled nose at her red hair. “It’s amazing that anyone in this town believes I’m really your daughter.”

Mama’s features softened. She reached up and patted Victoria’s hand, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “You are as much my daughter as anyone of my own flesh and blood could ever have been, darling. The day the Good Lord brought you to Papa and me was the best day of our lives, and don’t you be forgetting it. Just because I’m marrying again and moving over to the doctor’s house, doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

“I know.” Victoria made an effort to lift her shoulders and put a smile on her face. She would get through this. Mama certainly deserved this bit of happiness after all she’d been through.

Mama spun around on the stool and captured Victoria’s hands. “Honey, I know I’ve told you this before, but I want to remind you again. You are special. Just because your parents gave you up, doesn’t mean the Lord doesn’t have great plans for you. I can’t tell you the number of times that I’ve thanked the Lord for sending you to Papa and me.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “When Jesus took Papa home, I thought I wouldn’t be able to bear it, and you were such a source of strength to me.”

Victoria pressed a handkerchief into Mama’s hands, blinking back tears of her own. “Now, Mama. We can’t have you looking all puffy-eyed on your wedding day.”

Mama chuckled and dabbed at her tears. “Honey, I just don’t want you to feel like I’m abandoning you.”

Pulling her into a hug, Victoria rested her cheek atop the dark curls. “I know you aren’t. Things are just going to be different. It’ll just take a little while to adjust, is all. I’m so happy for you. And I’m really glad you are feeling so much better, lately. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, too.” And that was the truth of it.

Mama patted her arm. “I’m not planning on skipping through the pearly gates anytime soon, dear. I’m afraid you are stuck with me for a good long while yet.”

Victoria chuckled. “Good! Now,” she set Mama away from her and spun her back towards the mirror, “we need to finish getting you ready. Sky Jordan said he would be here to get you at ten and it’s already a quarter past nine. We can’t have you late to your own wedding!” She removed the last few rags from Mama’s hair.

Grinning, Mama clasped a pearl necklace about her throat. “Doc said he’d come for me himself, if I was even one minute late.”

“I can see him doing it, too.” Victoria plucked the wedding dress off the bed and gestured for Mama to stand. Settling the gorgeous champagne satin over Mama’s head, Victoria fluffed and fussed with the skirt until it lay in disciplined pleats over the voluminous petticoats. Stepping back she admired the ecru lace and pearls that graced the fitted bodice of the gown. “Oh Mama! You are so beautiful! Here.” She gestured to the stool in front of the dressing table again and Mama sat. Victoria bent and began fastening the tiny satin-covered buttons that lined the back of the dress.

Mama cleared her throat and fiddled with something on the dresser top. “Rocky got back home this week.”

Victoria’s fingers stilled, her heart shying like a stung mare. Resuming the buttoning, she carefully kept any hint of emotion from her voice. “I heard.”

“He stopped by Doc’s last night while Hannah and I were there. Doc asked him to walk me down the aisle. I was hoping he’d get back in time.”

“Before she went back to the orphanage last night, Hannah told me he was shot trying to help Jason apprehend a criminal.”

“Mmmm, but Doc says he’s going to be fine. It will just take a few weeks for him to fully recover the use of his arm.”

Victoria fastened the last button and stood. Her lips pressed together, she reached for the brush and styled Mama’s hair for the beautiful pearl combs. Nothing she said would keep the morning peaceful. Mama loved Rocky and had been gently pressuring Victoria in his direction for years – ever since Victoria had innocently proclaimed on her thirteenth birthday that she thought she loved him.

“Honey.” Mama waited until Victoria met her gaze in the mirror. “I would much rather have had the few years I had with Robert, than to have never known what it was like to love him at all. Only the Lord knows the future. Don’t rob yourself of happiness because you are afraid of what the future holds.”

Victoria snugged the last comb into a wave of dark hair and rested the circlet of the veil on Mama’s head, then bent and kissed Mama’s warm cheek. “Alright, I promise not to rob myself of future happiness.”

Mama arched a slim, dark brow.

Victoria gave her a cheeky smile, knowing she hadn’t promised what Mama really wanted to hear.

“Ria, you know good and well what I mean.”

Victoria sighed. “Mama, Rocky has not so much as ever even hinted that he thinks of me as more than a friend. But if he does, I promise you I will seriously consider him.”

A gleam of satisfaction leapt into Mama’s eyes and she nodded her acquiescence to Victoria’s promise.

There. Now Mama could go through the day with a light heart.

And it wasn’t like she was in any danger of having to follow through on her promise. Rocky was never going to pay attention to her in that way. So she would never have to worry about having a lawman for a husband – A lawman who could be killed in the line of duty anytime he went to work, or even stepped out his door to call in the dog.

And that would definitely ensure her future happiness.

***

ChristyAnne glared daggers at Jimmy Horn across the swaying train aisle. Big bully! She pressed her own half of an apple into Damera’s tiny hands and sat back, folding her arms. This time she would watch and make sure Mera got to eat it. Jimmy smirked, stuffed a huge bite of apple in his mouth and turned to look out the train window. Hope he chokes on it!

Mera tapped her arm. “Sissy, you can have yer apple. ’Sokay.”

ChristyAnne smiled and used the sleeve of her dress to wipe away Mera’s tears. “You eat it, Mera. ’S good for ya.” Her tummy rumbled and she coughed, hoping Mera hadn’t heard it. Raymond Thornton had taken Mera’s biscuit at breakfast, so she’d given hers to her. Least dumb ’ol Ray got picked at the last stop. Don’t havta worry none ’bout him no more.

She carefully wrapped the biscuit from tonight’s meal in a scrap of cloth she’d saved and stuffed it into the top of her small valise. She and Mera could share it later. There wouldn’t be any more food today and Mera always got hungry right before bedtime. A small snack usually helped her settle down and go to sleep. If they didn’t get picked today, they’d at least have a bit of something to calm Mera’s hungry tummy.

Since Jimmy was now busy drawing pictures in the dust on the seat in front of him she looked out her window. The train chuffed into a forest of tall trees that blocked out the sun and she could see her reflection pretty good in the dirty glass. She practiced her smile, the rhythmic chug of the engine in the background a monotonous reminder that they were moving farther and farther away from all they’d ever known. She adjusted her lips. Not too big a smile, but not too timid either. She’d tried big and timid both already. Those hadn’t worked for her. Well… She sighed. Maybe they had. Someone at every stop had wanted to take her home with them, but no one, so far, had wanted Mera too. And she refused to be separated from her sister.

Miss Nickerson, the woman who worked for The Children’s Aid Society, was getting desperate to find homes for the rest of them that were left. At the last stop, she’d made ChristyAnne go with an old woman and her husband who wanted a maid. ChristyAnne shuddered at the memory of that old woman dragging her out of the church by one arm while Mera screamed for her from Miss Nickerson’s arms. Mama had always told her if she couldn’t say anything nice not to say it at all, but the look on that woman’s face when she’d told her she would break all of her fine dishes, rub dirt into her floor and even poison her well if she didn’t take her little sister too, had almost been worth the whole ordeal.

ChristyAnne suppressed a giggle.

The woman’s expression had reminded her of the time Raymond Thornton put that big ol’ toad in the top of the lunch basket and it jumped out into Miss Nickerson’s lap, because she looked just like Miss Nickerson had that day. Her mouth had dropped open and she’d sputtered several indecipherable phrases, then promptly marched ChristyAnne back inside the church to announce that she’d changed her mind about taking her. Miss Nickerson had been beside herself, but ChristyAnne had never been more relieved than at that moment. She had simply pulled the distraught Mera into her arms and rested her cheek atop her head, holding on tight.

The train lurched over a rough section of track and the whistle sounded. ChristyAnne reached over and clasped Mera’s little hand. No one is going to separate us! Mera was all the family she had left in the whole wide world and nobody was going to take that from her.

The next stop was going to be the last on this trip. And if nobody picked them, ChristyAnne had determined that she and Mera would run away rather than go all the way back to New York. I’m big for ten. Lotsa people think I’m older. I can get a job and take care of us. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the glass. “I’m trying, Mama,” she whispered. I’m trying to take care of Damera like I promised you. But I miss you lots. Hot tears pressed at the backs of her lids, but she didn’t let them fall. She didn’t want Mera to see how worried she was, and Miss Nickerson would just tell her to toughen up if she saw the tears.

Maybe at the next stop there would be a family that would want them both. Maybe.

***

Rocky gingerly slipped his arm into his Sunday-best, black coat. Pain sizzled in jagged shards through his shoulder and down into his torso. He winced, closed his eyes and waited for the pain to pass. Thank you, Lord that I’m still here to feel this pain. It was the prayer he’d been repeating daily since his accident two weeks ago.

The scent of bacon and coffee wafted through his room. His stomach let loose with a rumble that could probably be heard in the next county.

Downstairs, someone knocked at the door and Dad answered it. “’Morning, Dad.” That was Sky’s voice – probably dropping off Brooke and Sierra, so Brooke could visit with Ma while Sky picked up the bride. Dad would be on his way out the door to head for the Sheriff’s office. With all of them busy with the wedding today, Dad had said he would cover things down at the jail and to give Clarice and Doc his best wishes.

Rocky pulled a deep breath in through his nose and eased it out through his mouth. His tense muscles gave up some of their pull. So long as he didn’t move his right arm the pain was tolerable. Thankfully Ma had pressed his shirt and suit last night, so he hadn’t had to deal with ironing them this morning.

Using his left hand, he flipped his string-tie over one shoulder and fumbled to pull it around so he could tie it at the front.

Today he would have the honor of giving away Victoria’s mother. Doc Martin had asked him yesterday, as he’d examined his arm, if he would be willing to do it. Rocky had never felt so privileged. Clarice Snyder was pure gold – one of his favorite people ever.

Her daughter’s not so bad either. He grinned at that thought as he made an X from the two sides of the tie and tried to loop them together. His heart felt as light as Hannah Johnston’s biscuits. Yesterday, Clarice had granted him permission to call on her daughter. Victoria hadn’t been far from his thoughts recently – but especially since the accident. Yet the very reason for her occupying his thoughts, the fact that he’d almost lost his life, was the reason Victoria wouldn’t want anything to do with him. He was a lawman. And her father had been a lawman. One killed in the line of duty.

He sighed and gave up on the tie, heading downstairs to where Ma could help him with it. All he could do was lay his heart bare before Victoria and hope she didn’t trample it under her tiny booted heels. The irony in it all was that if he could get his hands on some nice horse-flesh and find suitable property in the area, he’d walk away from his tin star in a heartbeat. But he didn’t see that happening any time soon. His savings would just have to sit in the bank a little longer.

Ma was in the front parlor, snuggling Sierra and cooing like only a granny could. “How is Grammy’s baby, huh? Is Grammy’s baby just getting to be such a big girl? Oh yes you are!” She smooched the baby’s cheek loudly. Sierra slobbered happily on one fist, her gaze fixed on Ma’s face. She didn’t look too impressed with all Ma’s commotion.

Rocky grinned at Brooke seated in the armchair to his right. “I see Ma’s hands are full. Can you help me with this?” He gestured to the tie. “One handed bows are not something I’ve been practicing, lately. I’m bad enough when I have two.”

Brooke smiled tiredly. “Sure.” She started to rise.

Rocky reached out to stop her. “Just sit.” Quickly, before she could protest, he bent down to a level that she could reach. “Sky tells me Sierra prefers to sleep during daylight hours.”

“Yes. And last night was no exception.” She grinned and deftly gave the tie one last adjustment. “There, you’re all set. You look great.”

Rocky gave a small bow. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself. I’d say green is definitely your color.”

“Oh, yes. He’s right, Honey,” Ma pitched in. “Your red-blonde hair looks stunning with that green.”

“Thank you. Sky picked this material out for me and had Mrs. Chandler sew it as a gift after Sierra was born. I thought that was very sweet of him.”

Ma turned back to Sierra. “You have one smart Daddy. Yes you do!”

Rocky adjusted the sleeves on his coat. “Well, I better get on over to the church. Is Sky coming back for you ladies, or would you like me to walk you over now?”

Ma waved him on. “We have a few minutes yet. Sky said he would be back for us. Don’t forget to grab yourself some bacon and eggs in the kitchen on your way out. Everything is made ready and waiting.”

He grinned. “Thanks, Ma. My stomach could have been mistaken for T. Edgerton Hogg’s Southern Pacific Railroad when I first smelled that bacon this morning.”

Ma chuckled. “See you over there.”

With a wave of his hand, Rocky headed for the kitchen, hastily sandwiched bacon and eggs between slices of bread, then hurried out the back door as he stuffed a huge bite in his mouth.

Bright sunshine warmed Shiloh. It was a good day for a wedding. A good day to start wooing Victoria’s heart.

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