“Which one of those things happened to Ethan’s ma?”
“All of them.” Rachel forced the words past the constriction in her throat. “She was a fragile little thing to start with and barely twenty when she arrived here. Between the laudanum and the harshness of that life, it’s hard to say which made her give up in the end. Cyrus found her one morning hanging from one of the rafters in her room. Ethan was sleeping on the bed.”
“Did he see what happened?”
Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know. He never talks about it. He was only four at the time. My hope is that if he did see anything, he was too young for the memory to take hold.”
“Terrible thing for a young’un to witness.”
“Don’t judge her harshly for it,” Rachel said, fearing her story cast Alma in a poor light. “She was a good girl brought down by circumstance. Sometimes a body can only stand so much hurt before it just can’t take anymore.”
His gaze transferred to her. The air stirred around them, brushing against her like a soft touch. She wanted to look away, to break the current of electricity his gaze elicited, but she couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.
“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
Rachel clamped her lips shut. What was it about this man that made her reveal the things she did? She needed to watch herself. He was not her confessor, he was a man who had turned her life upside down and thrown her emotions into turmoil.
“What happened to Ethan after his ma died?”
Rachel finally looked away, but the effects of his gaze lingered, taunting her. “Cyrus took what little money she had saved and used it to bury her, then dumped Ethan on Hunter—”
“Who?”
“The sheriff,” she said. “I was in town running errands when it happened. Hunter said that if he couldn’t find a family to take Ethan in he’d have to find an orphanage. Hunter was a bachelor, ill-equipped to be looking after a small child. I knew with Ethan’s background—he practically grew up in a whorehouse—I worried there wouldn’t be a lot of decent families willing to bring him into their homes.”
“So you took him.”
She nodded. “What else could I do?”
Caleb had no answer to her question. He wished someone had cared that much about him when his own ma had passed, instead of leaving him in the care of his grandfather, a mean and bitter man who preached the word of God to others then twisted those words to excuse his cruel behavior at home.
He understood Rachel’s reasoning. Everybody had their own limit for the amount of hurt they could stand before it became too much. His mother had reached her limit. Caleb often wished he had reached his, as well, but each time he thought he had, the limit extended itself. He knew more awaited him down the road. Some people thought surviving hurt made you strong, but Caleb had decided long ago that it just made you unlucky. Plenty of times he’d wished he could will himself to die, but each time death eluded him.
“It was a good thing you did, taking him in.” How different would his own life have been had someone done him such a kindness?
“Robert didn’t think so,” she said, staring out into the streaks of orange fading from the sky.
“But you did it anyway.”
For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw her chin tremble, but she took a deep breath and regained her composure. “Just because something’s the right thing doesn’t mean it’s the easy thing, but you do it anyway.”
“Like stayin’ here, pretending to your family nothing has changed to keep them from worryin’ while you shoulder the burden yourself?”
Her dark gaze found his, searing into him until he felt it through every inch of his body. “I would do anything for my family, Mr. Beckett.”
He didn’t correct her on the use of his name. Any other time he would have enjoyed getting a rise out of her and watching the fire dance in her eyes, but at that moment all he wanted to do was pull her into his lap and hold her against him, protect her from the vagaries of the world the way she did Ethan. It was doubtful she would ever allow such a thing. He’d seen enough to know she didn’t lay her burden on others with any great ease.
Just as well. He had a sinking feel if she did, he’d pick it up and carry it for as long as she needed him to. And that was a risk he couldn’t take.
He stood and motioned toward Ethan. “Here, let me carry him back to the house for you.”
“I can—”
He didn’t wait for her to complete her refusal. He leaned down and scooped Ethan into his arms, taking in a lungful of violet-sweetened air as he did. The boy didn’t even stir, though something deep inside of Caleb did. He wished now he had kept his mouth shut, hadn’t asked so many questions. The more he knew of Rachel Sutter the harder it became to remain immune to her and her situation.