A Baby to Soften the Miner’s Heart (Preview)

Chapter One

October 1873

Silverton, Colorado

Silence broken only by a cricket chirping somewhere outside made Rose Vexley shiver as she walked into her mother’s bedroom.

She sighed shakily, looking around the room in which she hadn’t set foot for ten days, not since she found her mother on the bed, cold and still.

Her mother’s death wasn’t exactly unexpected, but it hurt all the same. Rose had sat next to her mother’s body, holding her icy, withered hand and crying like a little girl.

She sniffled, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes. If she got started again, she feared she would never stop.

She sat down, opening the hope chest that sat at the end of her mother’s small bed. The chest was nearly half the size of the tiny room, and it was a possession that her mother had insisted always be kept dusted and secret.

Rose felt strange about opening it, strange about handling any of her mother’s things. It was like she was five years old again and she might be scolded for it.

A sob caught in the back of her throat as she lifted the first item from the chest. A white christening gown, which must have been Rose’s.

She put the gown in her lap as the tears began to spill down her face.

She missed her mother’s laughter echoing through the house. Rose had always loved to make her laugh. She missed her mother’s warm, thin hands on hers. She missed her mother’s soft kiss on Rose’s forehead.

“Thank you, Rosie, for all you do,” she’d say, every day. She never let Rose think that she was ungrateful.

And Rose never felt resentment, even though she’d been caring for her mother for most of her life. The sickness had taken her suddenly, after being a ghost in their house for as long as Rose could remember. They never spoke of it, but Rose knew her mother got much worse after Rose turned sixteen.

The sudden knock on the door startled Rose out of her wave of grief, and she was grateful. She wiped her face, placing the gown on the bed as she hurried to the door.

She opened it to see Bonnie Danner standing there, her lip trembling as she held out her arms to Rose.

Rose walked into them and Bonnie hugged her tightly, crying softly.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Rosie,” she murmured against Rose’s ear, and Rose felt gratitude and sisterly love wash over her. It wasn’t the first time Bonnie had said it – she’d been at the funeral – but it was the first time they’d been alone together.

Of course, Bonnie wasn’t actually her sister. Rose had no siblings, lived alone with her mother in the cozy cottage. She had no family to speak of, really, except for her father.

But Ebron Vexley was more of a specter in Rose’s life than a real father. He supported Rose and her mother financially, and she supposed she was grateful for it. But he wasn’t warm or inviting, and in truth, Rose had only even met the man a handful of times.

“Thank you,” Rose said, and she meant it. At the small funeral \ she met a few of her mother’s old friends who had seen the obituary in the paper. Her father had attended, but he’d only stayed for a few moments, watching the burial and then disappearing. Ebron Vexley supported Rose and her mother financially, but not emotionally. And even the financial aspect had started to dry up after Isolda got sick.

They’d all told her the same things: I’m sorry for your loss. She’s in a better place.

But all of it had seemed hollow. At least Bonnie had known her mother.  Rose had never met any of Isolda’s so-called friends.

“I just started trying to clean her room,” Rose said as she pulled away from Bonnie slightly.

Her close friend nodded. “I’ll be happy to help. I know how hard it is to go through her things. When Pa died…”

Bonnie trailed off, her voice cracking.

Rose took Bonnie’s hand and squeezed it, leading her into the bedroom.

Bonnie picked up the christening gown, smiling softly. “This must have been yours.”

“I suppose so. She never let me look in that chest. I thought it would be full of secrets.” She chuckled. “But I suppose it’s just a place to store mementos.”

“Maybe there are secrets,” Bonnie teased. “Isolda was always a wily one.”

Rose smiled, fighting tears again. She’d cried so many, she wasn’t sure how anything was left.

Bonnie and Rose both kneeled on either side of the chest, pulling out each item.

Rose lifted out a scarf that felt like silk, and she gasped at the feel of it. She held it out to Bonnie.

so soft. I’ve never felt anything like it,” Bonnie marveled.

“Me either. I never knew she had anything so fancy.”

“Do you think your father gave it to you?”

Rose wrinkled her nose. “Probably not.”

The next was a book of poetry, her mother’s favorite – Walt Whitman. Isolda always said that he wrote like he’d lived a thousand lives. Rose hugged the poetry book to her chest, remembering how her mother used to read it to her when she was sick.

There was a book of dried flowers with a single name written on the front page: Ernest.

“Who’s Ernest?” Bonnie asked, turning the book over and over in her hands as if it would spill the secret.

Rose shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe an old friend?”

“More like an old boyfriend,” Bonnie teased, and Rose was grateful to her friend for lightening her dark mood.

“Do you think Mama had old boyfriends?” she mused. She honestly didn’t know much about her mother’s past before she’d met Rose’s father. Isolda always said she preferred to stick to the present, to live in the now instead of in the past.

If that were true, Rose thought, then she wouldn’t have this hope chest full of memories of the past.

“Of course she did,” Bonnie said easily. “She was such a beautiful woman. She probably had tons of suitors before she chose your father.”

Bonnie shivered slightly, and Rose knew it was because she didn’t like Ebron Vexley.

To be truthful, no one really did, not even Rose herself.

He was a hard, stoic man who cared little for emotions or family ties. He did his duty by Isolda and Rose, but when it came to the day-to-day emotional needs of the women, he wasn’t there.

He had never been as far back as Rose could remember. In fact, since she was sixteen, she’d lived in that little cottage with her ailing mother.

When she asked Isolda about it, her mother had only said that she was ill, and that Ebron was a very busy man. She hadn’t elaborated, and Rose hadn’t asked.

Her mother taught her from home, and Rose might have been totally isolated if it weren’t for Robert Danner, Bonnie’s father.

He’d passed away a couple of years ago, and Rose had mourned him as if he had been her father, too. He was a neighbor of Rose and Isolda’s, and he showed up with a pan of brownies the first day they’d moved in.

“They smell delicious. Thank your wife,” Isolda had said.

He’d grinned crookedly. “My wife, Lord love her, can’t boil water, let alone bake brownies, but she’ll be happy you thought so.”

Isolda laughed out loud, hearty and happy.

Robert had been a good man, and he and Ursula, Bonnie’s mother, had visited Isolda and Rose every week, like clockwork.

Ursula and Bonnie had come along on the next visit, and Rose and Bonnie had been bosom buddies almost immediately.

“Do you remember that summer when your pa tried to fix the roof?” Rose asked, and Bonnie snorted out a laugh that was almost a sob.

“How could I forget the image of him hanging off the roof by one leg?”

Rose started to laugh, remembering it, remembering her mother’s loud, raucous laughter as poor Robert dangled from the roof.

Eventually, they’d managed to get him down with the help of the ladder, but Isolda had kept laughing for a long time.

Rose was glad to have the memory tucked away for lonely nights. The realization that other than Bonnie and her emotionally absent father, she was alone in the world settled over her like a shroud.

As if she could read her mind, Bonnie scooted closer to her on the floor, tucking her skirt around her thighs. She leaned her head on Rose’s shoulder. Rose deflated, her energy depleted. She would finish unpacking the hope chest later.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “You can come and stay with me and Ma for a while.”

Rose shook her head. “I couldn’t put that burden on you so soon after you lost your father.”

Bonnie frowned. “We get by.”

Rose frowned back. “Not with another mouth to feed, you won’t.”

Her voice was firm enough that Bonnie didn’t protest any further.

Bonnie sighed. “What about your father?”

“What about him?” Rose grumbled. She knew she was being difficult, but she couldn’t help it. Ebron hadn’t been there for Isolda when she was clearly sick, and      that hadn’t changed when she died.

That fact didn’t really fill her with confidence that Ebron would take care of her.

“Hasn’t he offered to help?” Bonnie asked.

Rose raised her chin. “He helps, throws a pittance at us every now and again.” She folded her mother’s blanket, trying to keep her hands busy as she continued. “He barely came to the funeral. You saw him, he was there, what, half an hour?” Rose continued rifling through the hope chest, pulling out her mother’s favorite books, mostly poetry, and setting them neatly on the floor.

“He’s always been a silent man,” Bonnie said.

“There’s a time to break silence,” Rose insisted. She huffed out an angry breath, settling back on her knees and looking at Bonnie helplessly.

“You’re not alone, Rosie. You know that,” Bonnie said softly, taking her hand.

“I know that, Bonnie. I just… I don’t know what to do now.”

“Well, first, we’ll finish clearing out her room…” Bonnie started.

Rose shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. I’ve been taking care of Mama since I was sixteen. I’ve only ever known this cottage. What comes next? I feel like I’m floating in the ocean and there’s no way to shore.”

“We can focus more on planning to build that shelter we always dreamed of,” Bonnie said eagerly, and Rose couldn’t help but smile.

“We’ll need an investor,” Rose pointed out, like she always did.

“Then we’ll find one,” Bonnie said stubbornly.

Their dream was to open a shelter for women and children who had no place else to go. They wanted to call it A Hopeful Place.

Rose had the idea years ago, when they were still just teenagers, and when Bonnie lost her father to a sudden heart attack, their plans had only gotten bigger.

It helped to continue the work as they talked about A Hopeful Place. Rose carefully folded her mother’s clothes from the wardrobe, sometimes holding them to her face to smell her sweet, lavender scent.

Tears came, but more sporadically, and by the time everything was packed up, Rose’s stomach was growling.

“You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?”

“Of course. Ma isn’t expecting me until tomorrow. I thought we could have a sleepover, like we used to.” Bonnie smiled and Rose smiled back, even though her face was hot and swollen with crying.

“That sounds wonderful, Bonnie.”

Rose headed into the kitchen with Bonnie in tow, and the two cooked a simple meal – pork leftover from the funeral feast and some potatoes.

“After we eat, we can dig into that cake that Ella made,” Rose suggested.

“Ella Riley? She can bake?” Bonnie asked incredulously.

Ella was their neighbor on the other side, who lived alone. She was a bit of a spinster, but she was kind, even though she wasn’t the world’s best cook.

Rose laughed out loud. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Dinner went by quietly enough, but then they dug into the sugary cake and found a burst of energy.

Bonnie and Rose played like children that night, card games that Robert had taught them when Isolda wasn’t looking.

Rose didn’t have time to miss her mother, and when she and Bonnie climbed into bed together, Rose wished she could take Bonnie up on her offer.

She wished she could live with Bonnie and Ursula, but she knew that they were barely making ends meet with Robert’s pension from the military. He’d retired from the Army just after he met Ursula.

Rose closed her eyes, knowing for sure she wouldn’t sleep well. But in the end, she drifted off easily, emotionally exhausted.

When light spread across her face from the window, Rose turned, still half-asleep, and put an arm around Bonnie.

Bonnie didn’t so much as stir, a heavy sleeper.

Rose yawned, keeping her eyes shut tight and hoping that sleep would take her again. She’d barely been able to sleep in the empty house the whole week, and she was exhausted.

But then a soft cry pierced the silence and Rose sat up, frowning. There was a stray cat she called Nickel due to his silver fur, and she hoped he wasn’t hurt.

Rose slid out of bed as quickly as she could, knowing she wouldn’t wake Bonnie.

She crept to the back door, where the sound came from, and opened the door to find…

Nothing.

She frowned wider, and then looked down, certain that she’d see Nickel whining for food or maybe, God forbid, bitten by a snake or kicked by a horse.

Instead of the little grey cat, though, a basket sat on her back stoop. Rose crouched down, moving the white blanket aside, expecting to see some baked goods left by a well-meaning neighbor or something of the like.

She was utterly flabbergasted to find a newborn baby, wiggling and fussing.

Chapter Two

Auren Strade stood quietly in front of the baron’s office, hands clasped in front of him.  His hands ached from mining, his muscles sore.

All he wanted was to go home and draw a hot bath, but he had… responsibilities.

He wasn’t altogether sure what the baron and Ebron wanted from him today, but he was sure it must be important.

Despite working in the mines, Auren had worked his way up the ranks, and he was among the baron’s most trusted men. For now.

Auren didn’t make a sound, but he found himself swaying back and forth, unable to keep still. He was dragged directly from the mines, still covered in soot.

Time passed. He wasn’t sure how much, as he didn’t carry his father’s pocket watch while he was mining. It seemed like an awfully long time to be standing in this hallway, though.

The heavy wooden door opened slowly, creaking slightly, and Auren made a mental note to have it oiled. The baron wouldn’t like that it was creaking. He wanted everything perfect, always.

It was a sentiment Auren almost agreed with. One of the only common traits he had with the baron.

Auren quietly stepped inside, keeping his hands clasped. The baron stood at the end of the room, facing away from him.

He didn’t turn.

Auren looked up at the high ceilings, the fancy lighting. Electricity was hard to come by in this town, but of course, the baron spared no expense. It wasn’t quite a chandelier, but it was close enough.

The air was so tense he felt he could slice it with a pocketknife, take some home for dinner.

His throat itched, and he wanted to clear it, but he didn’t dare. He just stood, quiet and still, waiting.

Ebron stood near the baron, facing Auren, his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes and silver hair contrasted so that he almost looked uncanny, and he swept his gaze over Auren once, barely acknowledging him.

Another man, dark-haired, wide across the shoulders, sat in a chair, close to the baron, just watching.

The baron leaned over, whispering something to Ebron, and Ebron nodded tightly.

“Are you ready for this?” Ebron asked in a low voice, and Auren’s heart jumped up into his throat.

“Yes,” Auren said, not knowing what he was agreeing to.

Two men came up behind him, grabbing him under the arms, one on each side. Auren grunted but didn’t resist.

The man sitting in the back of the room stood, stalking toward Auren, and the next thing Auren knew, his wrist was pinned to the baron’s desk.

A fourth man entered the room through the back entrance and went immediately to the fireplace.

Auren’s heart pounded so hard he felt it might break his chest, but he didn’t move. Didn’t resist. Not that he could have if he’d wanted to. He was restrained. He looked down at his wrist, the soot all over it, the veins prominent as he struggled not to resist.

Auren knew what came next.

Sarina, his older sister, was back at home, taking care of things, like always. He pictured Sarina’s face, her open smile, the way her belly was rounded with child. He ached for that life again, wanted it so badly it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

She was married to a good man named Riley, and she seemed to always be expecting. She always said that Riley wanted a dozen children, and she talked him down to a half-dozen.

Auren hadn’t had time to find someone, not with how hard he was working to get into the baron’s inner circle. He told himself he had plenty of time to find a wife and have children, but as things progressed, he was less and less sure of that.

He let a long breath out of his nostrils, watching as the man near the fireplace pulled out a poker, glowing orange.

“Don’t struggle,” the man pinning his wrist down snarled, and Auren remained silent.

He wasn’t struggling. He was reticent, just waiting for the inevitable pain.

The man with the poker grinned, seeming to relish in his task.

Auren gritted his teeth, jaw tightening as the man pressed the hot poker against his flesh. The pain was unimaginable, hot and searing.

Sweat popped out on his forehead as the poker burned bright. Then the pain came again, as the man made a crude “x” on his wrist. Heat flooded up his arm, the pain feeling hotter than anything he could imagine.

When the man was done, everyone let him go, the two men holding him, the man pinning his wrist, the man with the poker. All four men left the room, as if nothing had happened.

The smell of burning flesh filled Auren’s nostrils, making his stomach roll. He swallowed bile that came up his throat, standing up and realizing that his branded wrist was trembling.

“There you go,” Ebron drawled as he walked up to Auren. “You’re in.”

Auren straightened up, his heart still pounding away. He didn’t speak, didn’t want to say anything that might change Ebron’s mind. He’d been working for months to get here, and he couldn’t jeopardize that. It was the only way to protect his family, to make sure that Ebron and the baron didn’t do any more damage. The baron was after all the ranches in the area.

The man’s smile was cold somehow, predatory, and as he slipped a note into Auren’s hand, he leaned in close.

“You did well.”

Auren nodded tersely and tucked the note into his pocket. He left the room, left the building, without another word.

He favored his left hand, as it was his right wrist that was branded, holding it close to his chest as he walked briskly to the saloon.

There was nothing better for pain than spirits, and he planned to imbibe more than usual.

He didn’t pay much attention to the townspeople as he walked, at least not until someone bumped his shoulder, jostling his right wrist.

Auren cursed under his breath and turned sharply, ready to fight.

“Watch it,” he growled, and then he looked down to see a small woman cradling a baby.

An auburn braid, knotted at the end, laid over one shoulder, and her eyes were a particular shade of grey that Auren wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before. Another woman stood behind her, scowling at him. Neither of them seemed particularly friendly, but the one with the baby seemed incensed, protective of her child, no doubt.

His second curse died in his throat.

“Watch yourself,” the woman snapped, her storm-grey eyes bright and shining as she glared at him.

He opened his mouth to apologize, raising one hand to take off his hat, but before he could do so, she whirled around and stormed off, still cradling the baby.

Auren watched her go, fascinated. She was slender, not much curve to speak of, but pretty, in a quiet way. And those eyes of hers…

He made his way to the saloon without further issues, and he thanked God for it. He wasn’t in the mood to get into a fight, or to even talk to the other townspeople.

“Whiskey, neat,” he barked at the bartender, and he raised an eyebrow but slid him the whiskey in a clean glass.

“Auren,” the bartender greeted, washing a glass with a rag. “It’s usually Cole ordering the whiskey.”

Levi Winston had bartended in Silverton for as long as Auren had been drinking, and he’d put up with Auren and Cole when they were young and rowdy.

Cole, Auren’s twin brother, was a big name in this town, and since they were identical, some townspeople couldn’t tell them apart.

Levi, though? He knew as soon as one of the twins walked into the saloon.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a rough morning,” Auren said, taking a gulp of my drink and wincing as it burns on its way down.

“Ebron putting you through it?” Levi asked, and Auren tightened his jaw, not answering.

He was halfway through his third drink when he finally decided to take the note out of his pocket and read it.

His eyes scanned the page and widened.

Chapter Three

Rose stormed into the sheriff’s office with Bonnie in tow, cradling the baby in one arm. The little guy was quiet, and even when Rose heated some milk and had him suckle it from a cheesecloth, he didn’t fuss.

She had to figure out where this baby came from. She felt fiercely protective of it, and maybe it had something to do with losing her mother so suddenly. She couldn’t stand to think of this baby, motherless, alone.

“Sheriff Amos,” she breathed as she walked up to his desk.

Amos Brigg sat behind it, his round belly nearly on top of the desk as he leaned forward.

“Miss Vexley,” he said in a half-sigh, as if he was annoyed. “What’s wrong now?”

Rose stiffened. She didn’t have the best relationship with Amos. The only time she’d actually interacted with him other than to say hello, he’d come to take her mother’s body.

He’d been rude, almost irritated the whole time as Rose cried.

Bonnie huffed out a breath. “Can’t you see there’s a baby here?”

Amos peered at the little bundle but didn’t seem interested.

“And?”

“And it was left on my doorstep!” Rose exclaimed. “We have to figure out where it came from.”

Amos waved a hand. “People leave babies on doorsteps every day. Take it to the orphanage.”

“I won’t take him to an orphanage,” Rose insisted, cradling the baby closer.

Amos shrugged, eyeing Rose up and down. “Not my problem.”

Bonnie turned to Rose and whispered, “He’s not going to help us.”

Rose allowed herself to be dragged out of the building, and when they stood in an alley, she looked at Bonnie fiercely.

“I’ll never abandon him,” she said, pulling the bundle up to her face and nuzzling the baby’s nose. He made a little fussy noise and promptly went back to sleep. “If I have to find the mother myself, I will. Every baby deserves a mother to love him.”

Tears stood in her eyes, threatening to fall. She was shaking in frustration.

Bonnie put both her hands on Rose’s shoulders, making her friend look at her.

“You’re not alone, Rosie. I’m here, aren’t I? I’ll help you. We’ll go to the ends of the earth if we have to.”

Rose perked up, so grateful to her friend that it made the tears stream down her face.

“Where do we even start? The only thing in the basket was this blanket.”

“It’s a comfy blanket,” Bonnie mused.  “But I think I might have a lead.”

The baby twisted only slightly in the basket when Bonnie kept tickling him. He was a sleepy little fellow, only crying weakly when he was hungry. He was thin, maybe too thin.

“A lead?”

Bonnie nodded. “About a week ago, a young woman came into the clinic.”

Bonnie’s father had owned a small medical clinic in the heart of Silverton. He wasn’t a doctor, per se, but he’d been a medic in the Army and he had skills.

The town doctor charged a pretty penny, but Robert had provided a sliding scale with most of his patients. Bonnie had taken over after her father died, since she had been his apprentice. She did house calls when Doc Lane couldn’t, as he had more patients than he could handle as it was. It brought in a little money, but without her father’s help, it wasn’t what it once was.

“What did she come in for?” Rose leaned closer, hoping that this was truly the baby’s mother. She knew how hard it was to be without your mother, and she wouldn’t allow this child to feel that pain any longer than he had to.

“She was in labor,” Bonnie said, and Rose’s eyes widened. “Or at least, she thought she was. I told her I’d have to send for the doctor. By the time I got back with Doc Lane, she was gone. I don’t remember exactly what she looked like, only that she was a redhead and her eyes were wild.”

“Wild?”

Bonnie nodded. “Like she was scared. Maybe she’s his mother.”

“It sounds likely,” Rose mused. “But which way did she go?”

Bonnie shrugged. “If she just gave birth a week ago, she’ll be weak. She’s probably in Silverton somewhere.”

“Or she went West,” Rose mumbled, adjusting the baby so that her arm stopped aching. He was just a little thing, lighter than a feather, but still, walking all the way to town with him in tow had been a little painful.

Bonnie nodded. “Maybe.”

“Did she leave a name?”

“No. Nothing.”

Rose bit her lip. There was no way she could scour Silverton and potentially go West to find Thorne’s mother. The small stipend her father afforded Rose had dried up after funeral expenses.

“I’m out of money,” Rose admitted, and Bonnie frowned.

“What about your father?”

Rose groaned. “I suppose I’ll have to.”

Rose hated to take money from her father. She hated taking anything from Ebron.

“Don’t act so put upon,” Bonnie said lightly, bumping Rose’s shoulder with her own. “Your father is rich, take advantage.”

“I don’t want anything from him,” Rose muttered, but then she sighed. “But I suppose I have no other choice, do I?”

Bonnie shook her head. “Unfortunately not. I’d offer to help but Pa had a pretty bad year last year financially, and I’m not sure we’ll make the winter.”

Rose put a hand on Rose’s shoulder. “I told you, I’m not going to be a burden on your family.”

Bonnie pouted. “You’d never be a burden.”

“Nevertheless, I’m going to talk to my father first,” Rose said firmly.

She wished with all her heart that she had a horse, but she’d only ever had a pony that Ebron brought her as a child. She’d named it Lancelot, after the knight. The story of Camelot had been her favorite story, and she’d had her mother tell it to her over and over again. Rose could still remember the pony’s soft, white coat. It had spooked after seeing a snake when she was around ten years old and broken her leg.

Ebron had taken her out back and shot her, and it took Rose years to forgive him.

She wasn’t sure she really ever had.

Bonnie headed to the clinic t, and Rose trekked toward Ebron’s large house. It sat at the end of Iron Hollow, right before the road passed into another town.

Rose huffed and puffed by the time she arrived at Ebron’s place, and she walked up the porch stairs, looking up at the guards posted at the door.

They knew who she was, but still, they blocked the door.

“I’m his daughter, for God’s sake,” she said firmly, and finally, the men moved aside.

She stalked up to Ebron’s office, banging on the door with purpose.

It wasn’t her father who answered the door, but another guard.

Ebron kept the place highly secured for reasons Rose couldn’t begin to understand. After all, there had never been any guards at the cottage.

She supposed she knew what his priorities were, and they weren’t his wife and daughter.

Her father sat in a chair by the fire.

“Daughter,” he greeted coldly, not even looking at her, and beckoned her over with one hand.

She slowly walked over and sat down across from him, exhausted from the walk into town and then to his house.

The place was huge, probably six bedrooms, and Ebron had seized it from an auction after a bank foreclosure. Rose had only visited five times in her entire life.

A chandelier hung above her head, and the constant tinkling of it would drive Rose crazy if she thought about it too much.

It was an old, old house, and it creaked as it settled.

The electric lighting was warm, and the fireplace was hot, so you’d think it would feel cozy, but there was something so stale about the place.

There was no love here, no family, and it showed.

Ebron’s dark eyes slowly widened as he took in the bundle in her arms.

“You…” he trailed off, his look turning into a glare.

“It isn’t mine,” Rose said quickly, and Ebron’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Someone left it on my doorstep.”

“And you’ve come to me for help,” he drawled, his words laced with something Rose couldn’t quite name.

Rose sighed but nodded.

“So you want to save this little bastard?”

Rose’s grip on the newborn tightened. “I won’t leave him at an orphanage. He needs his mother. I’m sure she wants him back.”

“You’re sure?” Ebron raised a dark eyebrow with silver shot through it. “Why would she abandon him, then?”

“Maybe she had to. Maybe she was in danger, or she couldn’t take care of him…” Rose trailed off, gathering her thoughts before continuing. “In this life, there are many possibilities for hardship.”

“You want to take care of this baby? You want to be responsible for it?”

Rose nodded again, feeling like her father was testing her in some way. She wasn’t sure if she’d pass the test.

“Alright,” he said finally after looking at her for a long moment, his eyes softening slightly. “I’ll help you.”

Rose swallowed hard. “I don’t have money for bottles or milk…”

Ebron nodded sharply and reached into his back pocket for his wallet, pressing a few bills into her hands – less than she’d need. But it was something.

“Take care of him for now. I’ll pull some strings. See what I can find out.”

Rose wasn’t sure that she could trust him to help her, but there was no way she could leave this baby behind. She had to hope that he would help her find Thorne’s mother.

“Th-thank you,” she stuttered, and Ebron nodded, turning back to his newspaper as if she wasn’t even there. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still stung.

She sat there for a few moments, resting, and Ebron didn’t say another word to her. He didn’t ask how she was doing after her mother’s death, didn’t ask her if she needed anything else.

Rose hated his apathy. She’d rather him hate her, yell at her.. But instead, it was like she barely existed, like she was some ghost rattling her chains, only a nuisance to him.

She took the baby, starting the walk out through town, thinking she would take a rest at Bonnie’s clinic if she had to.

But as she left, a man ran up behind her. “Excuse me,” he murmured.

She whirled around, and looked up at the man. He was tall, lanky, and young, seemed barely eighteen.

“I-I have a wagon,” he stuttered, clearly not used to talking to women. “I can’t let a woman with a child walk all the way back to town.”

Rose softened at his kindness. “That would be lovely. Can you take me to the other end of town? I live in a small cottage there.”

“Yes, of course. You’re Ebron’s daughter, right?”

Rose nodded, her jaw tight. She wasn’t particularly proud of it.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t want you traveling alone with that babe,” he said, and led her to a nearby wagon with a single stallion.

He helped her into the wagon and then sat next to her as she cradled the child.

“You’re Rose, right? My name is Jack.”

Rose nodded, feeling exhaustion slip over her. She shifted the baby to her other arm to give herself some relief.

“Thank you, Jack. For the ride.”

Rose was somewhat suspicious of the young man, worried that he might make a pass at her, but she was more focused on trying to get home than anything else.

Her father wasn’t the world’s best man. He’d never win any awards for piety or humility, but surely he wouldn’t employ villains.

To Rose’s delight, Jack was a perfect gentleman, barely even speaking to her as the horses trotted the wagon toward her cottage.

Rose had him stop at a general store, where she purchased milk and a couple of glass bottles with nipples for the baby.

They arrived and he offered to help her down, but she shook her head.

“You’ve done enough.”

“Wasn’t nothing,” he mumbled, blushing.

She waved at him as she stepped up onto the porch and headed inside to place the baby down on the bed. He was starting to fuss, probably hungry.

Rose put pillows around the baby just in case he started to roll and hurried into the kitchen to heat up some milk.

When she popped the nipple into the baby’s mouth, he suckled hard, grunting, and Rose couldn’t help but laugh.

Things might be dire right now, given their situation, but this baby might be a blessing in her life – a distraction from the death of her mother, at least.

At the same time that it distracted her from her mother’s death, though, it made her think about Isolda. She was a wonderful mother, always there for Rose emotionally and otherwise.

Rose wondered what would happen to her and this baby. Would she become a mother? The thought made her throat tight but her chest warm. She’d always wanted a child, but she’d thought that was years in the future, if ever.

She was happy with her little life, up until her mother died, and now everything had changed. Rose felt a strange connection with the mother of the abandoned boy – she had a father who was cruel, and she had the idea that this baby’s father was cruel, too. She wasn’t sure why she thought that because as she told her father, there were many reasons for hardship.

Perhaps his mother was in an abusive marriage and couldn’t get out. Perhaps the father didn’t want the baby, wanted her to get rid of it.

Rose wanted to find the mother, first and foremost, but she was prepared to take over if that didn’t happen. She was prepared to be this child’s mother, even if it scared her.

It gave her motivation to live that she lacked before the baby showed up on her doorstep.