A BABY ON THE DOORSTEP

AN ABSOLUTELY GRIPPING AND HEARTBREAKING HISTORICAL FICTION PAGE-TURNER

RACHEL WESSON

BOOKS BY RACHEL WESSON

Stolen From Her Mother

The Orphans of Hope House

1. A Home for Unloved Orphans

2. A Baby on the Doorstep

Available in Audio

A Home for Unloved Orphans (Available in the UK and in the US)

A Baby on the Doorstep (Available in the UK and in the US)

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Epilogue

A Home for Unloved Orphans

Hear More from Rachel

A Letter from Rachel

Stolen from Her Mother

Books by Rachel Wesson

Acknowledgments

This book is dedicated to my father, who instilled my love of reading by first telling me stories and then by taking me to the library every week. He believes his three daughters can do anything they want, no glass ceilings for women in my dad’s world.

PROLOGUE

The man crept through the bushes, taking care not to step on any frozen twigs. The slightest noise would alert those still awake in the blackness of the night. He looked up at the sky; there was no moon, and for once he was thankful for the clouds covering the stars. He couldn’t afford to be seen.

Moving gingerly, tuning in to the sounds around him, he crossed the path. In the distance he heard an owl screeching as it claimed its meal, and the blood-curdling scream of a vixen in response to her mates triple bark. He could hear smaller creatures rustling through the greenery, snorting and sniffing out their supper. He gripped his rifle tighter, the whites of his knuckles visible in the dark, his poaching sack over his shoulder.

He’d made friends with the dog they called Shadow on an earlier reconnaissance trip. As he’d hoped, Shadow came bounding up to him but didn’t bark a warning to the house’s occupants. The big black animal almost bowled him over with his greeting, jumping up, and attempting to lick his face.

“There now, settle down, there’s a good fella. I brought you a bone. Go on now, take it over to the barn. Go on. Before someone hears you, boy.”

The dog seemed to sense he wasn’t to make any noise, and he wagged his tail. He took the bone, set it on the ground, sniffed and licked the man’s hand before picking up the bone again and trotting off to the side of the barn to gnaw on it in peace.

If only men were as reliable as animals. I wouldn’t be here now, breaking my woman’s heart. And my own. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he moved carefully toward the front door.

The house was in darkness, not one light shining from any window. He pulled the screen door wide as softly as he could, holding his breath as the hinges creaked in protest. He stilled, waiting, listening, but all he heard was Shadow grunting approval over his prize. He drew the screen door open a little wider before setting his rifle down to one side. Tenderly, he opened his poaching bag and lifted out the small bundle. He moved toward the porch swing and sat down for a moment, the bundle in his arms, holding her tight to his chest, enjoying her breath on his skin.

“This is your new home, Maisie. These people will treat you good and give you plenty to eat. You’ll be safe here. Your mama and me, we love you but we ain’t got no home. The Government took it, said we was squatters. We ain’t got no family to live with. We can’t keep you with us. If the government men see a baby living rough, they’ll take it away and put it in the county home. Here, the ladies will look after ya. Until we can fetch you back.” His voice caught as his feelings choked him.

He kissed the infant on the top of her head before laying her gently on the floor just beside the door. With a last look, he moved off the veranda, gripping the screen door gingerly, pushing it shut quietly. He fell back to the forested section at the border of the massive front garden the youngsters used as a play yard, hiding among the trees. He intended to keep watch, to make sure nothing happened to his baby. That no critter would come and hurt her.

The darkness surrendered to the weak wintery sunrise battling through the thick gray clouds. The rain held off as the chatter of birds increased, the rooster crowing as the light grew brighter. He watched and waited for signs of life inside the house. Upstairs a window opened.

His eyes latched onto the bundle by the front door. He held his breath, wanting to race down and recover his child before it was too late. He took a step, only to hear the squeak of the door as a blonde-haired child he’d seen before, Ruthie, stepped out of the house.

“Miss Lauren, come quick. It’s another baby. Can we keep it?” The little girl’s excited squeal rang in his ears and the tears fell down his face. He kept staring until the dark-haired lady came out and picked up his Maisie. He didn’t even blink; Miss Lauren seemed to stare right at him before she turned back into the house, cradling Maisie in her arms, the younger child following behind.

He retreated into the shadows without a sound, his grip tight on the rifle. He’d fight until he got his home back and put a roof over his family once more.

ONE

Lauren placed the baby carefully on the table, gently examining her for signs of injury or malnutrition. She was a little on the small size but her hand grasped Lauren’s fingers tightly and wouldn’t let go. That was a good sign. Her large brown eyes flitted around the room as if she were wondering where she was.

Ruthie watched, moving from one foot to another, full of questions. “How old is she, Miss Lauren?”

“About six months, I think.”

“Why would someone leave her outside the door? They should have knocked and given her to you, not left her on the ground.” Ruthie twirled her hair around her finger, something she did when agitated.

Lauren sought to reassure the five-year-old. “She’s been well cared for, darling. I’m sure someone kept watch to make sure nothing happened to her on the porch. Becky’s gone to check if they left anything else.”

Becky walked into the kitchen, a piece of paper in her hands. “Must have fell out when they put her down, it was under the swing.”

Lauren cradled Maisie with one hand, the other searching through the cupboard for a bottle. They always had one on hand just in case. “What’s it say?”

“Her name is Maisie and we are to keep her, not let her be adopted. If her parents can come back, they will.” Becky blew some wisps of red hair out of her face. “Doesn’t give her a surname. Want me to hold her while you make up the bottle?”

Despite her casual tone, Lauren knew Becky was dying to cuddle the baby. She passed Maisie over and she immediately grabbed hold of Becky’s long braid.

“She’s got a good grip for sure.” Becky winced as Maisie pulled tighter.

“I told you, you should go to see Ginny Dobbs and get her to cut your hair short. Your coloring is so striking, it would really suit you, make more of a feature of your green eyes. And the children wouldn’t be able to grab hold of it so easy. I think Big Will would be pleasantly surprised.” Lauren couldn’t resist teasing Becky.

Becky raised her eyebrows. “What has it got to do with Big Will what I do to my hair?”

Ruthie said earnestly, “Miss Becky, you know Big Will would like anything you do. He loves you. He told me.”

“Becky knows, Ruthie. She’s just a bit slow deciding how she feels about him.” Lauren quickly intervened in case Becky snapped at the child. Becky was good-natured and cared deeply for the children but, when it came to Big Will, she could be a little oversensitive.

In an effort to distract the child, Lauren added, “Do you want to help me give Maisie a bath?”

Ruthie nodded, jumping up to get a small metal bucket. Becky added warm water, showing Ruthie how to test the heat of the water by putting her elbow into it. Lauren smiled as Ruthie concentrated, enjoying the undivided attention she was getting. She loved all the children in her care but Ruthie was special. They had a bond nobody could break apart after the trauma they had shared.

Lauren held the baby gently as she bathed her in the bucket on top of the kitchen table. Ruthie helped, using a cup to pour the water over the baby’s lower body. Lauren knew that whoever had written the note didn’t want to lose their baby. They must be desperate, and she was glad they’d come to her. Hope House had a good reputation, at least with people that mattered. Even Sheriff Dillon openly approved of the orphanage, although when Lauren first took over from Matron Werth, he’d believed all children belonged in the county home or in religious-backed institutions.

Lauren laid Maisie out on the warmed towel lying ready on the table and carefully dried her before putting on a clean diaper and some clothes. Her brown curls fluffed out around her precious little head as they dried.

Ruthie sat at the table, her head resting on her hands as she gazed at the baby. “She’s pretty, ain’t she? She keeps looking around, do you think she’s looking for her ma?”

“I don’t know, Ruthie.”

“Maybe her ma is in heaven with mine.”

Lauren didn’t remind her what the letter had said. She didn’t want to admit to Ruthie that some families couldn’t afford to keep their children.

Becky made up a bottle of watered-down condensed milk. She took Maisie in her arms to feed her. It took a few tries before Maisie accepted the bottle but soon she was drinking, gulping down the milk.

“Best make her some mush, she’s starving, poor little one.” Becky cuddled the baby over her shoulder as she burped her.

Lauren hugged Ruthie to her side as together they watched Becky with Maisie. The baby again grabbed a handful of Becky’s hair, trying to push it into her mouth, causing Becky to squirm and say, “Maybe you have a point about getting my hair cut.” She moved Maisie onto her other hip.

Ruthie gushed, “She’s like a little doll.”

“You won’t be sayin’ that when she dirties her diaper.” But Becky looked just as smitten with the baby as Ruthie. “Are you going into town today, Lauren?”

“Yes. I have to collect our provisions from Hillmans’ and alert Sheriff Dillon about Maisie. I wish her parents would come and speak to us. Maybe we could help keep them together.”

Becky rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything as Ruthie was there.

Lauren knew what Becky was worried about. They were struggling to feed the children they had so how could they take in more orphans? She pushed back her chair. “No point in me going back to bed now as I will never sleep and it’s almost morning. I’ll have a wash and go into town early. Ruthie, you should go and try to sleep some more. You’ve been up long enough.”

“I’m not tired,” Ruthie mumbled, trying to cover a yawn with her hand. Lauren patted her on the head before sending her protesting back to bed.

Lauren enjoyed the quiet trip to Delgany. She loved the spring, when all sorts of new lives began. Despite the lingering cold and the past month of freezing temperatures, the plants were growing just as they did every year; the trees losing their bareness as little green buds covered the branches.

As she turned into Delgany her good mood dampened; her beloved home town was showing the effects of the Depression. There were more “To Let” signs on buildings, and boards stating items were on sale. The bank remained closed as did the car dealership. She drove past Miss Chaney’s post office, thinking she’d park outside Hillmans’ store, but the spaces were occupied. The Baptist church’s white picket fence was showing signs of gray; the weather must have prevented painting. One thing you could rely on was that fence got painted twice a year, once in spring and again in the autumn. She drove around the war memorial and down the other side, parking outside the sheriff’s office. Pushing the door open, the empty cell reminded her of the time she had found Cal locked up there. She’d been furious at a nine-year-old boy being locked up like a common criminal but the sheriff had been right, the boy could escape from tighter places than Houdini. Thank goodness he’d given up trying to run away to find his ma.

Smiling, she called out, “Sheriff, you here?”

The man came out from the back, bits of shaving soap on his chin, the towel still around his neck. “Morning Lauren, bit early, aren’t you? Is there trouble?”

“No, not really.” Lauren addressed the top of his head, feeling uncomfortable at having disturbed him mid-ablutions. He was at least wearing a shirt, rather than just a vest, but his suspenders hung around his hips. “I came to tell you we found another baby on the porch, a little girl about six months old with the name of Maisie. She’s been well cared for although she’s a bit on the thin side. There was a note asking us not to let her be adopted.”

“So you reckon the parents might come back for her?” He gestured for her to take the seat in front of his desk before turning to pour two cups of coffee from the pot on top of the small wood stove.

Lauren sat down. “Yes I do. I just wish they had come to see me first. Maybe we could have helped them to stay together as a family.”

The sheriff scratched his chin. Lauren wondered if he was thinking or just embarrassed to have been interrupted shaving.

“Can you take her or do you want me to send her to the county home?” he asked, his tone neutral. They had disagreed on the merits of the county home on several occasions.

Lauren shuddered, hoping she’d never have to send a child to live at that place. The county might have been well meaning but it was overcrowded and under-resourced, and the children were treated like animals. “Never, sheriff.”

He eyed her closer. “Things good out at Hope House? I thought you were short of money.”

That was nothing new. Money had been scarce since she’d taken over the orphanage. There was no point in being less than honest.

Lauren admitted, “We’re always running out of cash and it’s challenging to find money for the bills and the mortgage. But I won’t ever give a child to the county home willingly, you know that.”

He looked a bit confused. She wondered why. It was no secret Hope House was low on funds. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Lauren, you said you wanted to help the parents. I thought you had found a benefactor.”

If only she had. For the first twenty years of her life, she hadn’t thought twice about money or how much things cost. She’d just bought what she wanted, spending hundreds of dollars on one dress. Now she worried about the price of sugar, salt, and other essentials. She shook the thought from her mind.

“No such luck, sheriff. Just wishful thinking. I can’t bear the idea of loving parents giving up a child. It’s not natural.”

He sat back in his chair, his hand resting on his belly. “Given the times we live in and the events of the last couple of years, I would have thought you had grown used to difficult times, Lauren.”

“The day I don’t feel empathy for parents giving up a child is the day I quit, sheriff. You’ve still got a heart of gold and you’ve spent your life surrounded by criminals.”

His cheeks turned crimson as he stood up and turned his back to her, moving the coffee pot on the stove. “Speaking of criminals, I have a busy day ahead.”

She took the hint. She finished her coffee, stood up, and walked to the door. Just before she left, she turned back. “Don’t forget to call up and see us. Cal and Fred keep asking when you are going to take them fishing again.”

He swung around to face her. “I never took them young ’uns fishing. I was investigating a case and just happened to come across them at the lake. You know that, Lauren.”

“Whatever you say, Sheriff.” She walked out the door smiling at the crusty old man. He hated people guessing he had a soft spot for children, especially boys like Cal and Fred. Lots of lawmen would have written off the boys as would-be criminals simply because they were poor and illegitimate.

Lauren didn’t get a chance to sit down again as the rest of day flew by in a whirlwind of chores and children’s activities. After reading bedtime stories to the children, Lauren came downstairs to find Becky sitting at the kitchen table staring at a piece of wood.

“What’s that you’re looking at?”

Lauren’s question caused Becky to jump as she hastily tried to cover the object on the table. Lauren leaned over and recognized the Christmas present Big Will had carved for Becky. The wooden shingle said:

Hope House

Proprietors: Lauren Greenwood and Becky Strauss

“Becky Strauss. You have to admit it has a nice ring to it.” Lauren kept her eyes on Becky’s face to see her reaction, wondering if her friend was having second thoughts about settling down. What would she do without Becky if she and Big Will Strauss got married? They’d want a home of their own.

“Fred found it earlier and asked me when I was goin’ to hang it up. Don’t be gettin’ ideas, Lauren. I ain’t changin’ my mind about gettin’ married.” Becky pushed her shoulders back as she spoke but Lauren saw the muscle clenching in her jaw. Who was she trying to convince, Lauren or herself?

Becky’s view of marriage had been clouded by her mama being left alone to raise seven children. Her mama and the youngest child, Donnie, had ended up in the colony for the feeble-minded. Three of her siblings had died and her brothers were missing, presumed dead. The pain of her childhood had put her off getting married.

“Will is a good man, Becky. Look at how hard he works around here helping us all the time. If it weren’t for him organizing the Hillmans, John Thatcher, and the other men for the barn raising, we’d still be sharing the kitchen with Snowdrop.”

Snowdrop was a walking menace despite her lovely name; the goat was on a see-it-and-eat-it diet. She’d created havoc in her first days at the orphanage until Big Will had secured her in a new pen in the barn.

“He gave us his time for free and only charged us what it cost him for the materials,” Lauren added when Becky remained silent.

Despite Lauren’s soft tone, Becky glared at her. “I never asked him to do anythin’.”

Lauren put her hand on Becky’s. “I know that. I love you and I want to see you happy. Don’t let what happened to your mother and the others wreck your future happiness.”

Becky pulled her hand away. “I don’t need a man to make me happy. I have all I need right here.” As if on cue, Maisie started to cry. Becky sniffed as she picked up the baby. “She needs feedin’ and changin’. I moved her cot into my room as she’s a little young to share with the girls.”

Lauren wasn’t ready to admit defeat. She knew Becky loved Will and the feeling was mutual. “You’re a natural mother, Becky. Look how Maisie adores you already.”

“Babies be like animals, Lauren. They love whoever feeds them.” Despite her words, Becky looked tenderly at the baby now in her arms.

Lauren stood up and moved to give Becky a hug. “You don’t have to be the strong one all the time.”

Becky didn’t respond. Lauren left her in the kitchen and headed up the stairs to bed.

Lauren lay in bed but couldn’t sleep. Her mind was going around in circles. She was a fine one to lecture Becky on not letting the past ruin the future when her feelings for Edward Belmont confused her. He’d fought against her father and Justin from the start, exposing them in his newspaper, protecting Nanny, Sam, and Old Sally. She loved it when he came to visit and missed him when he wasn’t around, and not just because he was kind to the children. But when he’d once tried to kiss her, she’d backed away so fast it was as if he had thrown cold water at her. She closed her eyes, remembering the wounded expression in his. She’d apologized, told him it wasn’t him but demons from her past. Had he believed her?