Reluctantly, she pulled herself away from the horses and decided to explore the barn. Even though she knew the house might be the better first choice, for some reason she was scared to go there. The dilapidated barn seemed a safer place to explore. The doors were open, but she didn’t hear anyone.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” Ruth called, but there was no answer.
She walked into the barn and found it full of neatly stacked bales of hay, some ranch equipment, and bags of animal feed. Despite its outside appearance, the barn looked strong and snug on the inside.
She wondered what kind of rancher left his spread unattended. There was nothing of interest to see inside the barn, and she wandered back outside to find barrels and wooden boxes scattered in various places, some neatly stacked. Still strangely alone, she felt a tug in her heart to just turn around and go home since the ranch looked neglected and she began to feel more scared and alone. How could she possibly live here alone? Was there no one here anywhere?
The windmill blades creaked slowly as they turned at the bidding of the breeze. The cabins were empty, except one single cabin that might be in use, but was locked up. Birds chirped around her and from somewhere in the distance she was certain she heard whistling and a dog barking.
Beyond the cabins was open land, showing a beautiful landscape of distant mountains and rolling hills.
Maybe the ranch wouldn’t be so bad, she thought, making her way to the house. The earlier gentle breeze had picked up slightly and blew dust and dry leaves along the dirt trail. As she approached the house, she began to feel more scared and apprehensive. She clasped her hands together in silent prayer for courage and strength. Edging her way closer, she stepped up to the simple porch. It was badly neglected. Four wicker rocking chairs were placed on both sides of the front door, perfectly centered. There were two benches, one at each end of the porch.
“Hello?” Ruth knocked on the door twice to no response. “Is anyone here? Dr. Grant?”
After she tried a few times without any response, she thought to go look if there was another way inside. Maybe someone was at the back of the house and had not heard her knocking.
“Is anyone here?” Ruth called again, to no response.
She walked past the side of the house and noticed that all the wooden shutters at four rectangular windows looked old and rotted. She tried to look through them, but all were dusty, peeling and rickety. If her job was to help around this ranch, it seemed as though it would be quite challenging, that is,ifDaniel allowed her to stay.
Just the thought of being turned away made her heart beat faster, and she wondered what her father had been thinking when he wrote to Dr. Alexander Grant. He may have been delirious, and had not thought the idea over properly, but here she was, honoring his dying wish.
She’d be so happy if she could just go back to the life she had, working with her father at the medical clinic in the morning, and once finished at the clinic, they would work around the ranch together. Despite the hard work, her father always made everything fun and interesting. Ruth had held onto his every word and watched everything he did. She closed her eyes and could almost smell the clinic, the ranch, their horses, and the early morning fresh air as they walked along the streets of Colorado Springs with the Rocky Mountains as a backdrop.
Wiping away the dampness in her eyes, she pressed on. Maybe someone was in trouble and why she … Ruth paused and pushed her thoughts away. She listened closely and heard a sound, a faint sound. Was it a cry from inside the house? Someonewasin trouble! She panicked and ran to the back, again finding no one in sight.
Oh, Lord, please help me get inside, Ruth thought as she frantically searched for an open window or a side door. There should be an entrance leading to the kitchen.There must be a way inside.
The cry grew louder and more distinct. It sounded like a baby! Could it be that a baby was alone in the house? Panic-stricken, Ruth tried to look through the windows again and realized the baby’s room was probably upstairs.
She found the kitchen door. It was open! Had something happened? Was someone hurt?
Fearing the worst, Ruth entered the kitchen and smelled something sour. She covered her nose and mouth with both hands. The kitchen was large for a ranch, the tabletops were neat and clean, and the stove was cold. She couldn’t imagine where the smell came from. She passed through the kitchen and continued to follow the sound of the cries. The kitchen led to the dining room, also very large, and she gasped in horror.
There was a man lying face down on the large wooden table. She peered at him to see if he was alive and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw he was breathing. He seemed to be in a deep sleep, oblivious to the baby’s cries coming from the upper floor.
Ruth shook his shoulder, trying to wake him, but he was fast asleep.
A cup of stone-cold coffee and an untouched plate of food also sat on the wooden table. A small, empty bottle of port had fallen to the floor where it lay on its side. He must’ve forgotten to lock the door before drowning himself with drink, Ruth thought angrily and then realized the source of the smell.
The cries grew louder, hastening her efforts to find the crying child. The ranch was surprisingly well-decorated as she saw fine wood furniture and high-quality fabrics such as silk and tapestry covered upholstery and lampshades. Fine curtains hung at every window, each tightly drawn. No wonder she couldn’t see through the windows! Framed pictures were lined up along the walls, photographs and painted landscapes.
She passed two rooms before she found the staircase and rushed up to find the nursery. The further she went, the closer she knew she was to the unfortunate odor. The first room off the second floor landing was certainly the nursery, with a beautiful rocking crib, and crying his heart out in the crib, Ruth found a perfect cherub-like baby with sky blue eyes and dark blonde curly hair, wearing a white long-sleeved dress decorated with lace embroidery and buttoned up in front to a round collar. She guessed the baby was a boy, but it was hard to tell. It was such a pity there was no such fashion specific to infant girls or boys. Either way, the baby was gorgeous, and from working at the clinic with her father she guessed that this child could not be more than a year old.
An empty glass baby bottle lay next to the pillow, and she noticed the baby needed to be changed. His clothing, including the bedding, was wet.
“You poor thing,” Ruth whispered as she lifted the baby and held him close to her chest. Making shushing sounds, she slowly shifted her weight from side to side, gently rocking the baby in her arms.
“It’s alright,” she cooed, gently rocking the baby. It was clear he was hungry. Where was his mother? And why was that man asleep downstairs if he knew his child needed another bottle? Was there no one looking after the poor infant?
Ruth looked around the room. In the corner was a sweet wicker rocking chair, to its left was a chest of drawers, and a square oak table with drawers. Next to the lampstand was a full bottle of milk.
“Aha, it seems someone was expected to feed you,” Ruth said conversationally, wondering when the man downstairs would wake up. It was quite late in the day to still be sleeping. She considered trying to wake him up again, but first she needed to feed the baby. She got the bottle and gave it to the hungry boy. Tiny hands reached out for the bottle and began to hungrily gulp the milk.
After a few minutes, he’d had his fill, burped, and began smiling and gurgling. While the baby had been drinking his milk, Ruth dug in the chest of drawers searching for new clothing and decided he first needed to be bathed.
Fortunately, there was a pitcher of water and a small tin washbowl on the table. It would have to do for now; maybe she would ask Dr. Grant if he had a small washtub.
