Lonestar Angel (9 page)

The bunkhouse held the scent of the baby powder she’d put on the girls after their baths last night. She settled onto the sofa and grabbed the landline. Daniel should be at home now. They’d grown up together in the same foster home, and he was a true friend and brother. Hearing his voice would calm her jitters. And he’d be happy to hear that her engagement to Kent didn’t happen. Her heart hurt when she thought about Kent. She prayed he’d be able to get past the hurt she’d caused him. He deserved to find a woman with a whole heart.

But the phone rang until she was dumped into his voice mail. She left a message with the ranch number and hung up frowning. Would he really still be mad at her about Kent after all this time?

Glancing at her watch, she saw it was time to take the girls on a hike. The mountains were stark and forbidding. Cacti and who-knew-what creepy crawlies would be waiting at every turn. But by the time she retrieved the girls, found Clay, and started up the trail, she was enjoying herself.

India skipped along beside her. “Look, Miss Eden, a yucca. Did you know you can eat the flowers? Buzz told me. Can I taste one?”

“Um, I don’t think so, India.” Eden exchanged a rueful grin with Clay.

She held Katie and Madeline by the hand as they hiked up the desert mountain where they’d been told they could see into Mexico. The sun was bright and hot on her arms. The landscape was so different from Indiana.

“I’m hungry,” Madeline said.

“I have a granola bar in my backpack,” Eden said. She stopped and shrugged it off her back. None of the other girls wanted a snack yet, but Madeline scarfed hers down in six bites and asked for another. “I think you have hollow legs,” Eden said, handing the little girl another one.

When they reached the peak, they stopped and stared at the panorama. No people, just endless desert and, in the distance, a ribbon of blue that was the Rio Grande.

Clay set down the picnic basket he carried. She dug into her backpack and pulled out a tablecloth and spread it on the ground. He began to set out the sandwiches and chips Rita had packed for them. When the children finished eating, they began to collect wildflowers.

Clay leaned on his elbow on the tablecloth as he watched them. “They’re all so different,” he said. “It’s fun watching them interact. I’ve been imagining first one then the other is Brianna.”

“Me too,” Eden admitted. “Just when I think I have it figured out, I change my mind.”

His expression as he watched the girls filled her with warmth. She’d always thought he would be a good father, but he hadn’t had the chance to show how good.

His gaze went from the girls to her face. “I don’t like the note left on our door last night. There seemed to be animosity toward you in it.”

She raised a brow. “I don’t think so, Clay. I’m guessing someone wants me out of the way so I don’t get hurt. You know how the police always said the kidnapper was likely someone close to the family. Maybe it’s someone who likes me and hates you for some reason.”

“That would mean he is likely a friend of yours. Or a relative.” He shook his head. “I’m not convinced that was the intent of the note, though. I don’t want you wandering off alone here. Stick close to me. I’ll protect you.”

“Just like you protected Brianna?” She wished she could call back the words when his eyes shuttered.

“You still blame me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice soft.

She bit her lip. “You knew what you were doing in Colombia was dangerous.”

“All my missions are dangerous. And I didn’t know that one would be dangerous to my family! You’re not without blame either, Eden. If you’d been paying attention that day . . .” He inhaled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

She blinked at the sting in her eyes. These same arguments were the ones that had sent her fleeing the moment he left the country. And she didn’t really blame him. Not anymore. If losing Brianna was anyone’s fault, it was hers.

She laid her hand on his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t even mean it. I’d rather fight sometimes than admit the pain I feel.”

He studied her expression. “Tell me what’s been going on in your life.”

Her face heated and it wasn’t from the sun. “Just life,” she said.

His smile vanished. “You lower the mask for a fleeting second, then slap it right back into place.”

Maybe she did tend to be too secretive. She wished she could be more like Allie, laughing and open about her feelings. Maybe it came from being a foster kid. She ached for these five little girls.

“Earth to Eden.”

She blinked and smiled. “Sorry, I was woolgathering.” Could she let down a small corner of her veil with him? Maybe it was worth a try. “I’m working on being more open, but it’s hard for me. Is there something in particular you want to know?”

“I’d like to know how you became a Christian.”

“When Brianna . . . died, it was either go crazy or look for meaning. I chose to look for meaning.”

His smile came. “And you found it?”

She nodded. “Well, as much as I could in such a horrible situation. I still don’t know why he allowed it, but I came to realize we have no control over bad things. When I got to Wabash, a coworker invited me to church. I just held on to God a day at a time.”

“What about Kent? How did he fit into all this?”

“He helped me start to live again. To begin to think I might do more than get through every day.”

“I would like to have helped you do that.”

She rubbed her head. “I saw the ruins of our hopes everywhere I looked, and it hurt too much.”

“Now here we are.” He smiled and nodded toward the girls. “She’s here. We just have to find her.”

“I hope so. One minute I’m clinging to hope, and the next minute I’m fearful this is a cruel joke. We don’t know.”

“I’m certain,” he said. “Can’t you feel her here, Eden?”

“Maybe it’s wishful thinking.”

He shook his head. “Trust me, Eden. Cling to that hope. We’ll find her.”

He had enough faith for both of them. “I’ll try,” she said.

Clay couldn’t stop watching Eden. He should have seen it right away, that undercurrent of a changed soul. So much for the intuition he’d always thought he possessed. Now that he knew, it was clear to see.

He put his hand in his pocket, and his fingers touched his digital picture viewer. Had she looked at pictures of Brianna lately? Pulling it out, he turned it on, smiling when Brianna’s chubby cheeks came into view.

“What’s that?”

“I like to look at these,” he said. He showed it to her. Brianna was cradled in his hand at the hospital. His hand was nearly as big as she was.

“Oh, Clay,” she whispered, her voice full of tears. “I had that picture enlarged and hung it over my bed. On bad days, that’s how I imagined her. Cradled in God’s hands.”

Her insight gave him pause. “And now we know that he’s been taking care of her all this time.”

She took the viewer and advanced to the next picture. The two of them were staring down at their baby with expressions of awe. In the next picture, they were gazing at one another with love in their faces. His breath caught. He’d forgotten about that one. He hardly dared glance at her, but she didn’t go on to the next photo like he’d expected.

“We were so young,” she said softly.

“Now we’re old and decrepit?”

She shook her head and looked at him. “I didn’t mean that. We didn’t have any idea what life had in store for us. The pain that was coming our way in a few short weeks.”

Tell her
. He wanted to say that he’d never wanted her to leave. That he wished he’d been there to comfort her during those dark months after Brianna was taken. He opened his mouth.

“Look, Miss Eden, a tarantula!” India’s voice was full of excitement.

Eden broke their eye contact. “Get away from it, India!”

“It won’t hurt her,” Clay said.

“I’ve heard those things jump.”

“They don’t usually bite. It’s more afraid of her than you are of it.” He pointed to the way the dark blob crawled under a yucca plant.

Eden shuddered and steered the little girl in another direction. “Let’s play with the other girls.”

But the children preferred to poke at the tarantula. Clay took a stick away from Katie and directed them to a rocky outcropping with a path that appeared safe. “Let’s climb to the top.”

The children squealed and raced for the top as he and Eden chased them. From the heights, the view of the Rio Grande was even more magnificent.

“People,” Lacie said, pointing to about ten people, men and women, hurrying through the desert in single file.

Eden glanced at him with a question in her eyes. “Illegals,” he mouthed to her. He could try to call them in, but by the time the Border Patrol arrived, they would be long gone.

“We’d better get back,” he said, herding the group back down the trail. “It’s almost time for our outing to Big Bend.”

9

T
HE THERMOMETER STOOD NEAR NINETY
,
BUT THE DESERT BREEZE WAS DRY AND BRISK
. T
HE
girls were piled into the back of the Bluebird Ranch van, an older model that was neat and rust-free. Eden sat two seats back with one arm around Lacie and one arm around Katie. She relished the way the girls had taken to her.

Zeke rode shotgun with Clay driving, and Della and Rita were in the back with the older girls. Clay turned into the lot by the park headquarters. The girls chattered excitedly, showing one another their cameras. He’d bought an inexpensive digital camera for each of them.

“Everyone out,” he said, opening the van door.

The girls squealed and jostled for the door. Eden counted heads.

Clay led them onto a trail that had vegetation marked. “Here we are. I want you to walk single file. Zeke, you bring up the rear and make sure no one wanders off,” he said.

Eden reluctantly let go of the small hands she’d been holding. “Look, there’s a roadrunner,” she said, pointing to the bird by the agave plant.

The girls all shrieked, and before anyone could show them how to use a camera, the bird ran off into the desert. “I think we need a little lesson first,” she told Clay.

He grinned and began instructions on the camera. Eden’s eyes glazed over when he started talking about picture composition and where to aim the camera. Her gaze wandered to the high peaks around the park. Though stark, the place was beautiful, but she wouldn’t want to be lost in the desert. It could be brutal. She saw something move by her foot and jumped out of the way as a tarantula lumbered by.

Shuddering, she went to stand by Clay. She glanced around, counting heads once more. Wait, there was one missing. She counted again and realized Katie’s red hair was nowhere to be seen. “Clay, where’s Katie?”

“I told her she could go to the bathroom.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the ranger building.

“Not by herself!” she scolded.

She jogged across the desert to the ladies’ room, where she found Katie washing her hands. Eden realized she might have overreacted. This was a family park, and the girl had only gone twenty or thirty feet to the bathroom. But she wanted no snakebites, no run-ins with any of the scary creatures that inhabited this desert.

She took Katie’s hand to go back, but the little girl stopped and tugged her fingers free. “I forgot Button!”

Button was the much-loved bear with the missing eye. “Where is he?” Eden asked.

“I left him in the stall.” She pointed.

“I’ll get him. Wait here.” Eden walked to the back stall and pushed it open. The bear was on the floor. Ick. Not very sanitary. She’d have to wash him when they got home. When she returned to Katie, she handed her the bear. “Let’s get back to taking pictures.”

She pulled on the door handle but it seemed to be stuck. Frowning, she jerked on it again. What on earth?

“You’re doing it wrong,” Katie said. She grabbed the handle and pushed. It didn’t budge.

“Hang on a minute.” Eden stooped and peered through the crack in the door. “It appears to be locked. Maybe the janitor locked it accidentally.”

But it was the middle of the afternoon. And they’d notified the rangers they were bringing a group of children today. She banged on the door. “Hello,” she called. “Can someone let us out?”