Lonestar Angel (5 page)

Allie grinned. “Casey was the previous counselor. She had to leave because her brother was in an accident. The kids are all yours.” She pointed to the side barn door. “The puppies are right through there if you want to take the children to see them first. They just got their eyes open. Then you can do whatever activities with them you like. There’s a jungle gym set up behind the barn as well as a swing in the hayloft.”

Which one of these girls was Brianna? Eden studied each one in turn as they headed to see the pups. She jumped when Clay put his hand on her elbow and leaned toward her to whisper in her ear.

His breath stirred her hair. “Katie looks like you.”

“She has red hair. That’s all,” she said. “Lacie and Paige both have brown hair like yours. Four of them could be Brianna.” She’d so hoped one glimpse of the girls would tell her which one was their daughter, but it wasn’t going to be that easy.

His hand dropped away and he yanked open the door to the barn. A border collie darted past him and raced toward the house. Eden peered past Clay to the dim interior of the barn. She sneezed at the scent of hay. Dust motes danced in a shaft of sunlight. Was that smell manure? The nauseating scent made her stop dead in the doorway.

Clay glanced at her feet. “I think we’d better get you some boots.”

It
was
manure. A patty of brown lay between her and the closest stall. “Boots? I’m a city girl, not a cowboy.”

“Alrighty then, city girl. Be careful of the rattlers and tarantulas.”

She recoiled when he named the creatures. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Dead serious.” He pointed to something on the wall.

Peering closer, she realized it was the tail of a snake. The rattling part, she assumed. She shuddered.

“Puppies!” Madeline darted past them to where a border collie lay on a bed of hay. Six round-bellied puppies crawled around her.

“Ooh, too cute!” Eden squatted and scooped up an adorable black-and-white one that had one eye circled in black fur.

“Looks like they’re about two weeks old,” Clay said.

But he was watching her, not the puppy. Her face heated and she handed the puppy to Madeline. The little girl’s wispy hair was so blond it was nearly as white as the little collie’s pale fur. Eden resisted the urge to run her fingers through that fine fluff. She’d seen pictures of Clay, and he’d been a towhead as a child.

“This one is mine,” Madeline said, cuddling the puppy close. “His name is Spot.”

“What happened to naming him Oscar?” Clay asked.

The little girl stared at the puppy. “No, he’s a Spot. Oscar is green.”

Eden noticed Paige hanging back. “Want to hold a puppy?” she asked.

Paige backed away. “I can’t have a dog. I’m ’lergic.”

“Well, you can stay here with me, then. Maybe we can get you a fish or something.” Eden smiled when the child leaned against her leg. Being around children again was awakening long-dormant feelings of warmth. She watched the other girls romp with the puppies. “Spot can be our group puppy. We’ll come and see him often, okay? Because puppies need their mommies to grow up strong and healthy.”

Her voice trailed off when the girls looked at her. None of them had mommies, poor kids.

4

E
DEN WAS IN THE BATHROOM HELPING THE GIRLS WITH THEIR BATHS
. C
LAY SAT WITH HIS
boots on the scarred coffee table in the TV room. Their first day was under their belt, but it had been too hectic to even think about getting DNA samples. They’d do that tomorrow for sure. He had brought a top-notch kit from a respected lab that law enforcement officers used.

A fist thumped the screen door, and he looked up to see a man in a cowboy hat on the stoop. “Come on in,” Clay called.

The man pushed his hat to the back of his head and stepped through the doorway. “You two did a fine job today, Allie said.” He held out his hand. “Rick Bailey.”

Clay put his feet on the floor and stood, then gripped Rick’s outstretched hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Michael Wayne. And from Brendan Waddell. Michael is looking forward to seeing you again. I’m sure he’ll be calling so you can meet Gracie and he can meet Eden.”

“I’ll track him down if he doesn’t.”

Rick dropped onto the sofa. “They both gave you a glowing recommendation.” The man studied Clay. “Brendan says you helped him out in Colombia.”

The awareness in the man’s face was caused by more than information about Clay’s past career. “Sounds like he’s given you more than just my work stats.”

Rick’s eyes were kind. “He told me about your daughter. I’m sorry.”

Clay couldn’t hold the man’s compassionate gaze. He sighed and glanced out the window. “Thanks.” It was a relief to have that bit out in the open.

“Did you ever find out who was responsible?”

Clay shrugged. “Not really.” He didn’t know the man well enough to confide in him. He picked up the file on the table. “I’ve been reading about the girls in our bunkhouse. Rough stuff.”

Rick nodded, his expression sober. “The things we see could break your heart. This batch of kids is sweet as all get-out, though.”

Clay opened the folder. “Looks like Lacie was left outside a Catholic church when she was six months old. In February.”

“A puzzle, that one. She’d been well taken care of. Had on a sleeper that came from Nordstrom’s. That seemed odd. Her parents were well enough off to buy things at a fine department store but then abandoned her? Something weird about that.”

“This was in Dallas?”

“Yep.” Rick reached over to pull out a picture of a baby held by a nun. “This is Sister Marjo. She visits Lacie every month, so I hear. She’s the woman who found Lacie.”

Clay studied the woman’s smiling face. “Does Lacie mention her?”

“All the time. The sister is coming here in two weeks while on vacation.”

“That’s dedication. Getting to this neck of West Texas is like visiting the moon.” He flipped to the next child. “Madeline was taken from her mother when the mom was put in a mental hospital. Where is the mother now?”

“Evidently she was released two months ago. She’s begun proceedings to regain custody.”

Clay winced. “How well is she?”

“Probably not that great,” Rick said. “Schizophrenia isn’t easily cured. I’m doubtful she can get custody.”

“We’re quite taken with Katie,” Clay said, picking up the picture of the smiling redhead.

“We all are. She lights up a room when she comes in. Her father was shot in a burglary. There were no other family members around to take her, so she ended up in foster care at age three.”

“Was she home during the shooting?”

Rick nodded. “She has nightmares about it, though she says she doesn’t remember. Several psychologists have tried to get details out of her. The murderer was never apprehended.”

“Where’s her mom?”

Rick shrugged. “Took off sometime before that and hasn’t been in contact.”

Clay picked up another paper. “From what I read, India’s entire family was killed in a house fire?”

Rick winced. “Horrible situation. She was four. A meth lab explosion.”

Clay’s own plight began to feel less horrible, somehow, knowing the pain that innocent children endured every day. “Lot of heartache in these kids’ lives.”

“Too much.” Rick leaned over and picked up a picture of Paige.

Clay’s heart clenched at the somber expression on her face. Her mousy hair hadn’t been washed. Too much misery stared out of those brown eyes. “What’s her story?”

“No one really knows. She was a year old and found in a Walmart. There was a video that showed two men leaving her in the toy department.”

“Was she—abused?” It was all he could do to force out the question. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Rick shook his head. “No. That was the first worry, but other than being dirty and uncared for, she was healthy.”

“How did you know her name?”

“The foster home named her. She’s been with the same couple for four years. In fact, they’ve started adoption procedures. Good family.”

Which one was Brianna? Clay had no clue. He was drawn to Katie, but how much of that was simple charisma and personality? And the red hair, of course. His daughter could be any one of the girls except for India. He flipped back through the pictures. Why had he thought this would be so easy?

“Want to meet the other counselors?” Rick asked.

“Sure.”

“They’re coming here for devotions. We try to do that with all the kids together. I wanted to make sure you were up to it on your first night.”

“I can use some of God’s Word myself right about now. It’s been a wild day. But fun.”

Clay watched Rick step to the door and call across the yard. A few minutes later a couple trooped inside with eight girls. The kids were a little bigger than Clay and Eden’s charges, calmer somehow, and a little warier.

The couple was in their late thirties. The man looked like a young James Earl Jones, burly and with an expressive face as he smiled and shook hands with Clay. “Glad to have some help here,” the man said. “I’m Zeke, and this is my wife, Della.”

His wife was beautiful with black hair and dark eyes that held love as she touched the head of a little girl near her. “I caught a glimpse of your pretty wife, Clay. Where is she?”

“She’s getting the girls ready for bed.” He heard them trooping down the hall. “Here they come.” He drank in the sight of the freshly bathed girls. He was already beginning to think of them as his girls.

Eden paused in the doorway and smiled. “Hi. You must be the Rodriguez family.”

“We’re about to have devotions together,” Clay put in.

The day she left him, she shouted that she wanted nothing to do with a God who would take her baby from her. She said she was a Christian now.

When her eager smile came, he wanted to know what had happened in the five years they’d spent apart that had brought her to Christ.

In the shaft of light through the open door, the children were clearly visible. Eden stared at each girl. They slept peacefully, curled together like puppies in the big bed. They’d begged to sleep together, but she doubted they’d stay like that all night. She pulled the door closed, squared her shoulders, and went to find her husband.

She stopped in the hall and gulped. Clay was still her husband. She hadn’t allowed her thoughts to wander there much since this race to find their daughter had begun. Was it only yesterday at seven that he’d shown up in her life again? A few hours ago she’d been planning to accept Kent’s proposal.

Forcing herself forward, she went down the hall and stood in the doorway to the gathering spaces. An old western starring John Wayne played on the television. The scent of popcorn teased her nose, and she saw Clay in the recliner with his boots off. A bowl was in his lap and a big glass of iced tea was on the table beside him. She knew without sipping it that there would be enough sugar in it to eat the spoon away.

He must have sensed her gaze on him because he jerked his head toward where she stood. Kernels bounced from his lap as he sprang to his feet. “Hey.”

“The girls are asleep.”

He held up the bowl. “Want some popcorn?”

The smell tantalized her, but the thought of cozying up to him on the couch to share the treat made her shake her head. She chose the chair the farthest away from him.

“Tea?” A grin tugged his lips as he held up his glass.

“I still have a gag reflex.”

He took a gulp. “You’ll be happy to know I’ve cut down on the amount of sugar.”

“To what? Half a cup?”

His grin widened. “It’s what keeps me so sweet-natured.”

She squelched the desire to smile. During their very short and tempestuous marriage, he’d always had a way of coaxing her out of a bad mood. Picking up the remote, she shut off the TV. “We need to talk.”

“I’m all ears.”

“There’s no way of knowing which of those girls is Brianna. We need that DNA test as soon as possible.”

“I know.” He picked up a manila file folder beside him. “I’ve poured through their histories and even talked to Rick. Any one of them could be our daughter, except India.”