Chapter Text
The smoke was thick in the air, the orange glow looming over the mountains. Beth watched the horizon, worrying her index finger nail across the cuticles of her thumb. Everything they had, everything they were building was gone, she didn’t need to see the land to know. The first time in her entire life that Beth Dutton felt truly free and it was all gone the second she felt comfortable saying it.
She wiped at a lone tear threatening to create a river down her cheek as she sat on the edge of the truck’s footwell, surveying the movement of the parking lot. The truck and trailer were covered in ash from surviving the drive away from the devastating wildfire with her heart in her throat.
Never had she experienced a threat this large. The barn backlit with flames in her rearview mirror, her husband out in the pastures trying to save what he could, protecting their land, their future, the new legacy that was just starting to bud. Carter, always quiet, beside her, letting her clutch at his hand like he was her only lifeline.
A helicopter passed overhead, drawing her gaze skyward. Her eyes drifted between the glowing horizon and the entrance to the bar’s parking lot, the evacuation point busy with movement and the flash of emergency lights across the perimeter. There was still a steady trickle of movement on the main road, new trucks pulling in as locals sought refuge from the disaster, none of them her husband.
Beth was getting antsy, watching cars pull in, her husband’s absence hammering in her chest. Carter coughed behind her, sitting in the passenger seat, still expelling the smoke from his lungs with a painfully dry sound. She was ready to fall to her knees, to start praying for Rip when a voice sounded beside the trailer. ‘Beth?’
‘Mary.’ She inhaled, jumping down from the cabin of the truck, the cooling paper cup of coffee sloshing in her hand.
Beth wouldn’t have claimed to have known Mary Warren and her family all that well, just enough to know their names, a little of their story. It was a relief, seeing a familiar face amongst the devastation. Beth and Rip saw them once a week, in the one bar in town for dinner. They would smile, nod, Rip would stop to talk shop for a few minutes. Carter was close in age with the eldest boy, sometimes Beth would find them talking in the corner when their meals were done. ‘I’m glad to see you made it out.’ She offered, looking the petite blonde over, relieved to see that the baby sleeping in her arms and the woman herself were unscathed, clean.
‘Where’s Ford?’ Carter asked, leaning over the console of the truck, hopeful for some relief in all the unrest.
Mary shook her head, biting down on her lip as her eyes welled. ‘Wes and the boys stayed,’ her voice wobbled. ‘They wanted to save the cattle, to defend the barn …’
‘They couldn’t –’ Carter started, stopping as soon as Beth threw him a glare. There was no defending in that fire, and even if there was, Wes and his two boys … they would need more than just the three of them.
‘I have to go back.’ Mary straightened her shoulders.
Their land was miles from hers, already in the path of the fire before it reached their barn. She didn’t like to think about it, but there was likely nothing left by now. ‘Mary, I’m sure they’ll turn up any minute.’
The other woman shook her head. ‘They should have been here already, I need to find them. I should be with them.’ Mary inhaled firmly, the breath deep and long, filling her chest with air. ‘I need to, Beth. Don’t you want to go after him?’ There was no arguing with that. It near killed Beth to leave Rip behind, even on his own order, seeing the life they were trying to build go up in flames around her. She was worried, sickeningly so.
‘I promise you, Wes probably found Rip on the road and they’re going to walk down that path any second.’ Beth pleaded, the haunted look in Mary’s eye sent an ice-cold shiver down her spine. She knew and yet she wanted to go anyway, to see for herself the damage that had come to her family.
‘Can you look after Isabel, please?’ Mary asked, eyes on the sleeping baby she held. Beth stared at her, watching the woman’s face before her own gaze dropped to the child.
‘Of course.’ She muttered, dazed. Without permission, her arms reached out, ready to take the baby as Mary pushed her into Beth’s arms. ‘I managed to grab a bag of supplies, if you need it.’ She offered, shouldering off a diaper bag and leaving it beside the wheel of the truck. Mary stepped forward, pressing a final kiss to the top of Isabel’s head, muttering something Beth couldn’t quite hear over the rush of blood in her ears.
Beth didn’t want to let her go but short of holding the woman down herself she didn’t know what else to do or say to keep her there with the other evacuees. Her arms felt rigid and heavy with the six-month-old in them, cogs of her mind racing at full speed, as she watched the girl’s mother walk away.
‘Do you think they’re ok?’ Carter asked over her shoulder.
Beth turned towards him, feeling as hopeless and haunted as Mary looked. ‘I don’t know, baby.’
‘Do you think Rip is ok?’ The worry in his voice was as evident as the knot in his brow.
She tried for a reassuring smile, ‘I hope so’.
[...]
It was nearing 5am as Beth paced with Isabel asleep in her arms. She walked the length of the truck and trailer over and over, her thoughts playing on a vicious loop inside her head. Mary’s haunted gaze, Rip riding off towards the flames, her own inability to sit still, be stagnant when her husband was out there.
She yanked the truck door open, startling Carter. ‘Help me unhook the trailer.’
‘What?’ He asked, confused by the request.
‘You stay with the horses.’ Beth instructed, as if it was answer enough. ‘Come on.’
She watched, bouncing the baby softly as Carter climbed into the tray of the truck, moving with the practiced ease of a task he had done a hundred times over. Job complete, he looked at her expectantly, eyes darting down to the baby in her arms.
‘You need to watch her until her mama comes back.’ Carter grimaced but didn’t argue, adjusting his stance as Beth transferred the baby into his arms. ‘Watch her head.’ She offered, nudging him to hold his elbow a little higher.
His eyes were wide, worried and scared storming in blue eyes. ‘What if she needs something?’ He asked nervously, the same concerned look on his face she had been seeing since he was fourteen-years-old. ‘Let me go,’ Carter pleaded, willing to sacrifice himself.
‘I can’t let you do that.’ Beth pressed her hand to his chest, right over his heart. ‘I’ll be right back.’ She promised, her word as good as anything.
[...]
The destruction left behind in the wake of the blaze was midnight black, the air warm like an overheated oven, orange still glowing in her periphery as well as ahead of her as Beth traversed the truck across decimated roads.
She could hardly have said where she was, everything was flattened in the dark of the early hour, not a marker left for navigation. It was memory, as well as heart, that guided her, the organ pounding in her chest as she squinted ahead, trying to spot the silhouette of her husband.
She never should have left him out there. Not that he would have let her stay, but with the sight of the aftermath in front of her the guilt bubbled in her gut. He needed to save the herd, give them a fighting chance to get away from a painful death. And yet, in this moment – fuck the herd.
It was all for naught if he was dead. Movement caught her eye, a lone figure on a horse straight in front of her, crawling across the blistered and broken road.
Beth’s chest heaved, relief trickling down her spine in a slow release as she stopped the car and threw herself out of it.
Rip dismounted, limping towards her with a single calf in his arms. She’d never seen him this broken or damaged, smoke rolling off him in waves, his clothing covered in ash, singed where embers had reached him.
She met him, half way, the both of them falling to their knees.
‘It’s gone.’ He rasped, her hands taking hold of his face. ‘It’s all gone.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ She locked her eyes with his. ‘We start again.’ It was a promise, a simple feat. She had him, she had Carter, the memory of her father. This ranch had made her happy but they could do it again, replicate what they had lost.
‘I’m sorry.’ Rip whimpered, Beth was quick to wrap him in her arms, her grip tight around his neck, not quite ready to believe her luck that he was right there in front of her. ‘I’m sorry.’ She knew he did everything he could, that if it could have been saved, Rip Wheeler would have saved it.
‘Carter’s worried sick.’ She whispered against his temple. ‘Volunteered to come looking for you in my place.’ Rip swore under his breath, an affectionate frustration at the boy they had taken in. ‘You haven’t seen anyone else out here?’ Rip pulled back, searching her face with confusion before shaking his head softly. Nothing on this long and burned stretch of road.
Her stomach twisted.
Rip swore under his breath, finding the strength to pull away from her, the two of them returning to their feet. He staggered slightly, exhaustion taunt in his muscles, finding his balance in her, his hands on her shoulders, tugging Beth into a kiss.
‘Let’s get out of here.’
[...]
The parking lot was busier than she had left it. The lights still flashing, bodies huddled around canisters of coffee, food on offer, supplies for those who needed it. There were a few people gathered around the back of an ambulance, shoulders covered in blankets, hands holding facemasks to noses.
Beth maneuvered the truck back into its space in front of the trailer, her eye on Carter in the side mirror. The boy guiding her back with a wave of his hand, Isabel’s blonde head in the crook of his arm.
Rip staggered out of the car, half falling from the truck in a move her husband made look graceful. He balanced himself with the side of the truck, holding himself up.
‘Just one straggler?’ Carter asked from across the traybed, looking in on the small calf.
Rip hummed, ‘I saved her’.
‘Did the rest of the herd get out?’
‘I think so.’ He looked out across the organised disarray, the faces they recognised from town, some he didn’t recognise at all. ‘I cut the fences, the rest is up to the herd.’
His eyes tracked Carter as the boy moved around the truck, the relief expressive in his eyes, his face holding back. Rip wanted nothing more than to tuck him under his arm, give the boy a squeeze out of his own relief to be there, standing, looking at him again.
‘What’s this?’ Rip stopped in his tracks as Carter rounded the front of the truck, eyes falling directly to the pink clad bundle he held.
Beth stepped around him, answering the question, ‘Isabel Warren’. She held her hands out to Carter, sliding her grip under his, relieving him of the weight and responsibility of the six-month-old. ‘Mary hasn’t come back?’ She asked, worried.
Carter shook his head. ‘They’re startin’ to set families up at the surrounding motels. Maybe she went there?’
She grimaced, an unsettled feeling stirring in her gut. ‘She would have come and got Isabel first.’ The baby in her arms started to stir, distributed by the change in hands and the growing tension in the bodies around her.
‘What’s going on?’ Rip asked, voice hoarse as he coughed.
‘Wes and the boys stayed behind, they wanted to fight the fire … Mary was here … she left Isabel and got in her truck …’ She had done the same thing Beth did, the two of them almost leaving two orphans alone that night in search of their home, their husbands lost in the blaze. Isabel started crying, confusion taking over her little body at the unfamiliar set of faces, none of them her family.
‘I’ll go.’ Rip decided, moving for the cabin of the truck, already trying to shrug off Beth and Carter’s protests until the boy stepped in front of the driver’s door. ‘There ain’t no fighting this fire, boy.’
‘Then why would you go?’ Carter argued, refusing to budge.
‘Move out of my way, I’m going.’
‘The fuck you will.’ Beth snapped, trying to readjust her hold on the little girl, trying to awkwardly rock her on instinct. ‘You can’t go back out there again. Fire and rescue can handle this. She knows we have Isabel. She’ll come back.’
[...]
The sheriff pointed them in the direction of the relief workers, volunteers keeping a record of those who had come in and out of the evacuation point, taking names and numbers of those missing and the people searching for them. It was the early hours of the morning, dawn was due to crack soon, everyone was exhausted, adrenaline crashing after hours as weary eyes looked them over, watched the crying baby on her hip.
There was nothing that could be done now but wait for fire and rescue to give the all clear, no one was confident that it would come today, the fire still burning, fuelled by the land and the property it tore through.
‘Is there someone who can take her?’ Beth asked, eyes soft, pleading with the woman on the other side of the table. She was bouncing, gait uneven, trying to sway her hips to calm the baby that screamed on her hip. Isabel held a small fist curled at the base of Beth’s throat, face red with exertion.
She didn’t know what to do with a baby, neither of them did. Beth had hoped there was a plan, someone camped out waiting to take on potential orphans … a mother willing to add another to her brood.
‘If her mama gave her to you, ma’am, then she’ll know how to find you. Best you keep her.’ The volunteer offered with a soft, sad smile. ‘You registered at the gate?’ Beth nodded, Isabel was checked in with her mother, Mary’s name now crossed off the list of those accounted for. There were already so many missing despite the mass of bodies collected here, waiting in limbo for the next steps. ‘There’s a coordinator organising rooms at the motels … they’re prioritising families first. Don’t think they’d have you high on the list, your boy is grown.’ She nodded at Carter over Beth’s shoulder. ‘But, I’ll tell them you’ve got the baby.’ Her stomach did a flip, insides curling and clenching around the idea of spending the night with Isabel in their custody. ’Did her mama leave you with anything?’
Beth felt her chest squeeze, a wild sort of panic building up in her. They were leaving her with Isabel, expecting her to tend to the child. ‘Yeah,’ she blinked, ‘um, a bag.’ Carter stepped up behind her, the boy’s quiet presence almost forgotten as he placed the bag down on the table.
The volunteer reached for it, ‘do you mind? We can see what you have, what you might need.’ Beth nodded softly, out of her depth, feeling her heart hammering as Isabel thrashed her head against her shoulder. ‘It’s been a while since your boy was this little, I bet.’ She smiled, nodding at Carter, assuming what every stranger did, that he belonged to Beth and always had.
The diaper bag contained very little; a few diapers, powder, cream, a case of pacifiers, two changes of clothes, a small plushy of a black and white cow and most importantly a manilla folder of the girl’s documents. Isabel’s birth certificate stared up at Beth, her immunisation records, the necessary paperwork in an emergency, a few photographs of the girl as a newborn not too dissimilar to the things Beth grabbed on her way out the door. However, there was nothing in the bag to feed the girl.
‘Was she breastfed?’ The volunteer asked, expression soft as she packed Isabel’s belongings back into the bag.
Beth shrugged, ‘I don’t know. I think, maybe?’ She was trying to picture Mary and Wes, their two boys sitting at a table in the bar, eating dinner like every other family. The baby, she couldn’t picture entirely, sure that Mary always held her in her arms, Beth unable to place a bottle in the myriad of times that she had seen them.
‘Maybe there’s things in Mary’s truck?’ Carter offered, hopeful, her sweet boy. The very same truck she left in, the same truck no one would go looking for.
‘I think we can gather up some supplies.’ The woman gave a reassuring smile, ‘you said you were the one with the trailer … parked on the end?’ Beth nodded as Carter pointed out where they had stationed themselves.
‘There really is no one who can take her?’ Beth insisted, desperation spilling into her voice. ‘There’s not a mother who wouldn't mind one more?’
Maggie looked at her, chin tilted, her gaze sliding between Beth and Carter. She was the mother. Her shoulders stiffened.
‘Ma’am,’ Maggie started. ‘Are you good people? You love your son?’ She nodded dumbly, staring at the other woman’s hand as she reached across the table to squeeze her fingers. ‘Then you’re the best she’s got tonight.’
Rip stopped tending to the horses to watch his wife cross the parking lot, her face forlorn, deep in thought. ‘What’s the verdict?’
She tried to swallow a deep breath, shifting Isabel’s weight. ‘She’s ours until her mama comes back.’ The adults shared a look, hearts sinking, neither of them hopeful on the return of Mary Warren.
‘You’re fucking joking.’
It didn’t take long before the volunteer found them, her face drawn in a warm smile despite the loss and despair around them. Maggie, she introduced herself, had tracked down some extra diapers, two bottles and a half tin of formula, enough to buy them some time.
‘There’s a room ready for you at the motel. The Stevenson’s have a car seat they’re happy for you to have, their little ones outgrown it.’ Turns out, they had loaded it into the car the day before with the intention of donating it in the morning. ‘No news on the Warrens.’ Her mouth turned down. ‘Everyone’s keepin’ an eye out, got ‘em in their prayers.’
‘Prayers won’t help,’ Beth snapped.
‘Thank you, Maggie.’ Rip stepped forward, smoothing over his wife’s response, asking where he could find the Stevenson’s and their generosity. ‘I’ll get the baby seat.’ He was eager to get them settled, carve out a little piece of quiet as Isabel continued to cry, her wails ebbing and flowing with her distress.
‘There’s hot water over by the coffee station if you want to feed her now, though I’d say you’ll have facilities at the motel as well.’
[...]
They had no idea what they were doing.
Rip had to recruit the assistance of Thomas Stevenson to help him install the car seat into the back of the truck. Beth watched from a distance, swaying gently, her hand tapping against Isabel’s back, the girl wrestled into a fitful sleep against her neck.
Beth didn’t know how to drive with a baby in the car, the large Ram moving hesitantly across asphalt, well under the recommended limit for this stretch of road. She was over cautious, more so than the usual with a trailer in tow, crawling along the road with an unsettled anxiety swirling in her gut.
The relief they had gained from Isabel’s nap had been brief, the second Beth moved to lay her in the car seat her small body came alive again. Beth’s eyes kept flicking towards the rearview, watching Carter peek over the edge of the car seat, haphazardly trying to play peek-a-boo with a baby who was more focused on letting her frustration be known to the world rather than finding a little joy in it.
The three of them stood stock still in the doorway of the small motel room at the Western Inn. Each of them at a loss for what to do. One room, two beds, the only thing they could be afforded on this disaster of a night. So many people were in need of a place to rest their heads.
‘Carter, baby, can you make sure the horses are sorted? The calf too.’ Beth turned to him grimacing at a particularly shrill wail from Isabel. Carter gave her a small, dutiful, nod, backing out of the room easily. ‘Rip, shower.’ She demanded, setting Rip into motion. He had done enough tonight and although the sun was starting to peek over the orange burn of the distant fire, they all needed to find some respite. ‘Maybe a bottle will calm you down?’ She asked the girl in her arms, Isabel staring up at her with wide, wet blue eyes, a wail perched on the end of her small lips. ‘Are you hungry?’ She cooed, at a loss for what to do or say to the girl, grateful on one hand that she wasn’t old enough to ask questions, mournful on the other that she couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening.
She looked around the room, trying to find a strategy, a plan to work with what they had. Maggie had called ahead, outfitted their room as much as she could. A small table held a kettle, a portable cot leaned against the wall, a meager, but much needed, stack of donated clothes on the end of the bed. The rest was gathering outside, a makeshift relief station taking place under tents and on tables, the community coming together in a time of need.
In need of both of her hands, Beth hesitantly deposited Isabel in the middle of the first of two queen sized beds. ‘Stay.’ She heeded the warning, her hand hovering in the air above Isabel’s chest as the change in position startled her quiet. ‘You don’t fucking move, do you?’ She asked, blank baby blues blinking up at her. What the fuck did Beth Dutton know about babies? Absolutely nothing.
She turned her back inspecting the tin of formula, the kettle hissing as it boiled. Beth dutifully tried to follow the instructions, measuring out the scoop with levelled care, grimacing at the burn of the bottle against her hand with the freshly boiled water. It would need a few minutes, she had no doubt, and yet she was proud of herself for preparing it.
When she turned around, Isabel was on her stomach. ‘Hey! What did I say?’ Beth hurried over, crossing her legs as she joined the baby on the bed. She watched her, waiting for the bottle to cool, daring her to move again. Instead, Isabel cried, the sound frustrated, mournful. Beth tried to soothe her, a soft sound falling from her lips as she reached forward to run a hand over Isabel’s head.
Of all the people at the evacuation point, Mary had approached Beth, pushed her baby into her arms. She barely knew the woman but the sense of duty was growing within her. In the quiet of the motel room, Beth felt the idea settle, she would take Mary’s request seriously. She had no idea what she was doing with a baby, or what they were going to do if the Warrens didn’t reappear. They could only do the one thing left, take each day as it came until they could find out for sure, then start again, rising from the ashes.
She watched the girl, stomach down on the bedspread, taking in the curls of blonde hair at the back of her head, the creases of her skin at her elbows and knees, the tiny bare feet kicking in the air. Isabel dropped her head, mouth open, trying to gnaw at the blanket, a pathetic grizzle falling from her mouth in her own frustration.
‘It’s going to be ok, little dove.’ Beth picked her up, gently shifting her into her arms, bottle cooler to the touch as she brought it slowly to Isabel’s lips. The girl stared at her, eyes holding her gaze intensely, almost unmoving.
‘Do you want this?’ She asked, running the nipple of the bottle against her lips, Isabel unmoving in response. ‘It’s the best you’ve got, baby. It’s this or nothing.’
The bathroom door opened, the sound of it causing the baby to startle, her eyes blinking, brow furrowing in confusion. Beth looked up at her husband, relief settling in her chest at the sight of him clean, unharmed now that the soot and ash had been washed from his skin.
‘How do you feel?’
‘A little less like barbecue.’ He smiled, towel slung low around his hips, his usual glee shining through for just a moment. ‘What now?’
Isabel pushed the bottle away with a grunt dragging Beth’s attention back down to her. She frowned at the girl, at a loss. ‘There’s some clothes there.’ She nodded to the pile on the second bed. Rip stepped forward to search the offerings. ‘Get dressed. You need to assemble that thing.’ Another nod, this time to the port-a-cot against the wall. Beth leaned against the headboard, stretching a leg out in front of her as she held Isabel. ‘Hopefully she’ll eat and allow us to get some sleep.’
The digital clock on the bedside table read 6am. She knew Rip and Carter would struggle to sleep now after the hour, but they needed it. There was nothing they could do now but be prepared for the days ahead, that meant rested minds and bodies.
Rip returned the bathroom just as the lock on the motel room door beeped and opened.
‘The animals are fed.’ Carter announced, standing at the foot of the bed.
Beth smiled at him, grateful for the man he was becoming. Long gone was the fourteen-year-old boy who talked back, in his place was a reverent young man. ‘What about you, did you get something to eat outside?’
Carter shrugged, ‘not really that hungry’.
‘Are you sure?’ She stared him down, trying to read through the exhaustion on his face. Carter had a funny habit of putting other people’s needs above his own. The boy nodded, the movement honest. ‘Rip’s just about finished with the shower. You should take one next.’
‘What about you?’ He asked, always polite, always attentive to her needs.
Beth smiled, ‘do you know what to do with her?’ He shook his head. ‘Me neither. Probably better me than you.’ Beth answered, looking down at the girl, offering her the bottle again. ‘I didn’t have any cousins or aunts and uncles growing up. Just my brothers, I was five when Kayce was born so I suppose I remember him as a baby, a little. I don’t think I came home at all after Tate was born.’ There was nowhere to be exposed to babies on Yellowstone Dutton Ranch property, She didn’t keep friends all that long, no one to invite her over to eagerly meet their newborn. Beyond the street, Beth was fairly certain Isabel was the first baby she had seen up close since Kayce was little.
It never stopped the longing, the clench in her gut, the ache of her body at the thought of a future, a family. The possibility of it had been torn from her well over a decade ago, the anger she harboured with it resting in Jamie’s unmarked grave. It didn’t stop the mournful feeling from climbing up her throat at the little reminders of what if.
‘I didn’t even have a brother.’ Carter pulled her out of her thoughts, his face drawn in melancholy.
‘Go shower, baby.’ The door opened again, Beth instructing Carter to trade places with Rip without any hesitation.
Wordlessly, Rip assessed the portable cot, standing there in sweatpants and a black hoodie, looking entirely out of his element. He pulled at the device, fighting with it, face knotted in confusion.
‘She not eatin’?’ He asked, sparing a glance in his wife’s direction.
Beth sighed, ‘apparently not’. Isabel, with impeccable timing, hit the bottle away again, her face screwing up in displeasure. ‘I know, I know.’ She soothed, ‘everything’s wrong. Your mama’s not here. This formula probably sucks. The motel isn’t exactly the Hyatt.’ Rip scoffed across the room. ‘This asshole is laughing at you.’ She added, watching as his gaze snapped towards hers.
‘What did I do?’
Beth laughed, glee bubbling up within her despite the circumstance. ‘Nothing, baby. Just teasing.’ She winked at him easily, happy to have him in front of her before she returned her attention to rocking the baby in her arms.
‘You doin’ ok with this?’ He asked, suddenly serious, eyes on the baby. She spiralled for a week when Monica and Kayce announced they were having a child. Beth turned to liquor so hard and fast, he put himself and Carter on a twenty-four hour watch. She was wild and destructive, had no care for herself or her safety until the mood fizzled out.
But this, caring for someone else’s baby, holding her, feeding her, not knowing when her parents were going to come back. He could only imagine the thoughts swirling through his wife’s head. It was no secret she wanted to give him children and the fact that she couldn’t tore at her regularly. It was the reminders of what they couldn’t have, the trigger to the little voice in her head, that caused the most pain. Beyond that, she had been happy with Rip and Carter – their not-son.
She smiled softly, a genuine Beth smile, her guard down, walls dropped. ‘I’m okay. I promise.’ He nodded to himself, watching her a moment longer before returning to his task, happy to take his wife at her word.
Rip was sliding the portable cot between the two beds when Carter emerged from the shower, standing in the doorway, standing at the apparatus.
It was bad enough that the four of them were sharing a room. Although after the night they had, Beth was not arguing about keeping both boys within her sight. But Carter, he shouldn’t have to have a crying baby sleeping next to him all night.
Beth cringed, ‘sorry, baby’.
‘Your turn.’ He answered simply, thumb pointing towards the bathroom door.
‘She hasn’t eaten.’ Beth answered, as if that was reason enough.
Carter shrugged, with a smile. ‘Rip can take her’.
Her eyes darted to her husband, his dumbfounded expression almost laughable.
If Beth had no experience with babies then she didn’t know how to describe Rip’s lack of know-how. He looked somewhat frightened as he watched her, trying to calculate Beth’s next move, his eyes darting down to the baby in her arms. She wasn’t sure there had ever been a time where she had seen Rip frightened, let alone at something that posed no danger to their lives.
She stood, nodding towards the edge of the bed, wordlessly instructing him to sit. Rip approached slowly, like she was a wild animal waiting to pounce. He sat, blue eyes holding hers as he lowered in front of her.
‘Just hold her, offer her the bottle.’ Beth instructed, sliding Isabel into his waiting arms.
Isabel started crying at the shift in bodies, her face screwed up with distress. ‘Hey now,’ Rip warned, his voice deep, rumbling in his chest. Isabel’s eyes shot open, staring at him as Rip stared back, his eyes skating over the tiny little body sitting in the length of his forearm. ‘There won’t be none of that.’ He chided, eyes holding hers. ‘We’re going to finish this bottle and then you’re going to take a nap.’ He offered, tone authoritative but soft.
Beth watched, as speechless as Isabel, the baby falling under his spell. An ache in the pit of her belly pulled her away. She wanted to watch, to pull up a chair and stare at him holding the small child, a vision she had not let herself dream of in twenty odd years. The pain of it pulled her away, the light so bright it was blinding, and after everything they had just lost she didn’t need a reminder of the things they could never have.
[...]
It was quiet when Beth emerged from the bathroom, feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders in borrowed clothes. She could still smell the smoke, the heat of burning. That was a feeling that wouldn’t leave them all for weeks no matter how much she showered.
The curtains were drawn, the room basked in a dim glow against the rising morning sun. In the corner, Carter was asleep, already tucked under the covers of his bed. She watched him a moment, chest settled to see him at ease, to know that things could have been worse if the storm didn’t wake them. He could have been in the house when the blaze hit, asleep, unaware of the danger just outside his window, the threat of the rising heat.
Isabel was in the cot, miraculously asleep, stealing Beth’s breath at the ease in which her husband had managed without her. The man himself, already on his back, hands on his chest, his eyes closed.
She crawled to him across the bed, her limbs heavy and slow. Slotting her body next to his Beth let her breathing match the rise and fall of his chest. Her hand curled against the fabric of the hoodie he wore, fisting it tightly in her grip.
[...]
They meandered like that for two days. Haphazardly handling the crying baby, waiting for news, for the permission to return to the land they owned, to the desolation they were waiting to assess.
Isabel wasn’t letting them sleep much. She slept in short stints, an hour or two at a time, before waking and wailing in the cot between Beth and Carter’s beds until Beth picked her up. The boy, eighteen, was not without a pillow over his head each time Beth glanced in his direction, his body curled as far away as he possibly could get it. She would settle in Beth’s arms for a few minutes, better in the dark, like she didn’t realise who was holding her.
They didn’t talk about Mary or Wes Warren, about their two sons, the family Isabel was crying for. Those thoughts, they kept to themselves. She could see it on Carter’s face, staring at Isabel from across the room when Beth managed to get her to take a bottle. Rip thought it, watching his wife pace across the carpeted floor, trying to bounce the baby to sleep.
He had watched her then, Beth smiling softly, the baby’s cheek pressed to hers, eyes on his as she swayed. There was another thought, one deep down she didn’t like to think of, the what if, the alternate version of their lives. He looked so carefree, content, his face unguarded as she bounced Isabel. They should have had this. Although they found Carter at fourteen, that was hardly the same as a small baby in his wife’s arms.
It was easy to crash back into her body, the memory that this girl had lost her parents. The thought swirled in her head, the inevitable, the answer they all knew was coming as she watched Carter, sitting on his bed, lean over Isabel, the plush cow from her bag dancing in his hand above her head.
She was putting their own misery into perspective. Isabel was faced with losing everything she had ever known and even though she was too small to comprehend it fully, the thought still stole the breath from Beth’s lungs.
When her ears picked up on Isabel’s small whimper Beth found herself on the edge of the bed already, her arm dangling into the port-a-cot, fingers already tapping against Isabel’s belly. The bed behind her was empty, Rip already up, Carter a lump of blankets in front of her.
Beth gathered Isabel quietly, scooping the girl into her arms, her blanket following suit. Her hands were full as she stepped out of the room, baby bunched in her arm, blanket dangling, a half made bottle in her other hand as Beth tried to shove it into her back pocket.
‘Morning, honey.’ Rip greeted, appearing out of nowhere to help free her hands. ‘Want me to get some water for this?’ He asked, waving the bottle filled with dry formula at her.
Relieved for his assistance Beth nodded, squinting in the early morning sun. The car park was as alive as it had been the past two days, bodies milling about aimlessly, creating small talk, searching for aid items or information that others might have. Stories were being swapped, news from the other establishments hosting those displaced from the fire.
In her arms, Isabel hid from the sun, her face rubbing against Beth’s neck as she stretched her small body from sleep. One small hand tangled in her hair, the other shoved firmly down the front of Beth’s henley, small fingers flexing and moving as she woke, tugging on blonde strands, pinching skin.
‘Mrs Dutton?’ A voice called to her, drawing Beth’s attention. ‘Good morning,’ the sheriff greeted. Maggie stepped up behind him, her smile pleasant for the morning, until it landed on Isabel. The sight of them dropped a cinderblock in her gut. ‘How’re you and your family findin’ everything?’
She nodded in acknowledgement, eyes darting across the parking lot, searching for the body of her husband. ‘Fine, thank you’. Her eyes found his, green meeting blue, understanding dawning across his face. He moved towards her with purpose, allowing the concern to ease in her chest just a little.
‘We have an update for you, regarding the Warrens.’
‘Did you find them?’ Rip asked, hand sliding against his wife’s lower back as he joined them.
The sheriff took his hat off, holding it in front of him with both hands. ‘Sir, madam. I regret to inform you that we found Mary Warren in her truck just off the 278. It appears she didn’t make it back to her property before the smoke inhalation got to her.’
Beth’s heart fell through her chest, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. As if on cue, Isabel began to squirm in her arms, the tell-tale signs of tears threatening to spill down her face. Beth held her tighter.
‘What about Wes, the boys?’ She asked, fighting around the lump in her throat. All she could picture was Carter and that if things had been different, if they had been home instead of the valley, he might have tried to leave with Rip. Her body leaned into Rip’s touch, his hand and the weight of the baby in her arms, the only two things keeping her steady.
The door behind them opened, the soft mechanical whir of the lock before it cracked quietly, door giving way from the seal. Beth didn’t have to look to know Carter was standing behind her bleary eyed, squinting out into the morning just as she had.
The sheriff shook his head. ‘No sign of them, ma’am.’ Isabel’s entire world, gone.
‘They stayed, they were defending their ranch.’ Carter spoke, his voice laced with grief, confusion, still waking from sleep, catching the tail end of the conversation.
Beth had to snap her eyes away from Maggie the second the woman’s bottom lip curled. ‘There’s nothing left, son.’ The sheriff answered, ‘rescue teams confirmed it this morning. There’s no record of them at any other evacuation point. We’ve spread the word, they could turn up.’ But, it wasn’t likely. If they had made it out of the blaze, they would have been accounted for by now.
Beth released her free hand from the baby, twisting it behind her to search for Carter’s. She found his hand, squeezing his strong fingers between her own in a vice like grip.
‘What do we do with the girl?’ Rip asked, taking charge of the conversation. He could feel the emotion radiating off those he loved, the Warrens were good, kind people. They deserved better than this, but there was a bigger question to be answered.
Maggie sighed, ‘she’s best with you’. Her answer was simple. ‘The county is overwhelmed at the moment, at capacity, the rest of the state is trying to chip in with relief where they can but this fire could not have come at a worse time. I’ve been in touch with the correct authorities this morning and they’re searching for next of kin, grandparents, an aunt or an uncle.’ The older woman smiled softly, ‘until then. She should stay with you.’
‘We’re not equipped for a baby.’ Rip argued, his hand curling against his wife’s back.
Maggie’s smile was soft. ‘You’ve done well so far. Rather than displacing her again, she should stay with people she knows.’
[...]
Beth’s ears were ringing, the sheriff’s words running on repeat. The Warrens were gone, Isabel orphaned in a single, tragic, night.
She was trying to juggle the baby and her bottle in one arm, the other holding tight to a bottle for the calf Rip rescued from the blaze. The creature was small, but tough, her sucks yanking on the bottle, tugging on Beth with every draw as she tried to hold steadfast.
‘C’mere,’ Rip’s voice soothed over her scalp, his figure drawing a shadow over her as she looked up at his ash covered hat. ‘You can’t feed ‘em both at the same time.’ He put down the breakfast he’d acquired on the edge of the trailer, his hands reaching for the calf’s bottle. ‘Where’s Carter?’
The boy called out behind him, brushing down his horse just out of sight. ‘Get over here, boy. You should be helping with this.’ Rip sighed, pointing at Beth and Isabel, the small brown calf trying to reach for the milk he’d taken away. If he couldn’t watch Beth at every second with the baby, he needed to trust that Carter would.
Rip didn’t know what to make of Beth and Isabel. Her instincts were there, haphazard in all of them, but it was Beth who guided, seemed to know what to do. He didn’t think this was healthy for her and the timing was down right inconvenient.
‘Breakfast,’ Rip nodded at the food, pointing it out to Carter. ‘Then you can finish feeding this one.’ The boy nodded in understanding, saying a quiet thanks for his meal as he took it.
Beth chuckled at him, watching the boy dig in with abandon. She was happy to see his appetite returned. ‘Slow down, baby, no one’s taking it from you.’ It was only a few weeks ago that Lloyd came out to the ranch, ribbing the boy for how much he had grown. Puberty tore through him, changing him from small, chubby boy to lanky young man, his face maturing into that of an adult. He was only eighteen, but he hadn’t slowed down on the changes, Beth swore she could look away for a minute and something different would be there when she looked back. But for those who saw him rarely, they were speechless, befuddled by how he could change so much. None of them saw how he demolished every single meal, his stomach endless, fueling his body towards each and every change.
‘I’ve been thinking.’ Rip announced, handing the calf’s bottle over to Carter as the boy finished wiping his hands on his jeans, earning a small sigh of displeasure from Beth. ‘I think we should go stay with Kayce, West Yellowstone isn’t that far – it’s somewhere to house the horses, better than this motel. Just until we can figure out next steps.’
Beth shook her head, she loved her brother, she did. They couldn’t encroach on his space, she wasn’t even sure she was ready to set foot on Yellowstone property just yet, scared the land would take her back, like it would realise she had escaped.
‘Honey, it’s gonna be a few more days before we have a proper plan here.’ She watched Isabel, eyes closed, hand over Beth’s on her bottle, the sound of her lazily suckling. ‘Walker told me about an opportunity in Texas.’
‘Texas?’ Rip hummed his confirmation. ‘Where in Texas?’
‘I don’t know, some small town called Rio Paloma, about an hour from the border.’ He took a seat beside her at the end of the trailer.
‘How much land?’ She asked, looking up from the girl in her arms.
‘Five thousand acres. Black Angus 175 head on it.’
‘How much are they asking?’ Her eyes were on Carter, watching the boy stroke the head of the calf, focused on his task, his head nodding softly, weighing up what Rip had said absentmindedly. He was a bright young cowboy, learning from the best in her husband.
‘About every nickel we got.’
‘Cheaper than rebuilding here, that’s for sure.’ Beth watched their surroundings, eyes tracing the people, the cars covered in ash, the horses that could be saved. She had bought this ranch with a life in mind for the three of them, a new plan, a legacy, succeeding where her father had failed. ‘Will it give us the life we want, baby?’
‘In success, yeah.’ This ranch, by all means, just needed to grow. They could do that with their eyes closed.
‘We gave this place all we got, didn’t we?’ She asked, eyes on the horizon, voice soft, a little forlorn. He knew it would take a lot to remove Beth from Montana no matter how hard she resisted coming back in the first place.
Rip hummed in agreement. ‘Sweetheart.’ He started, letting the endearment sit there, his eyes on her face, waiting for her to meet his gaze. Rip’s hand found her thigh, squeezing. ‘Montana will always be our home.’ Montana held her family’s history, their history. There was no erasing that simply because they didn’t live there anymore.
‘What do you think, Carter?’ Beth asked, smiling softly as the boy raised wide eyes towards her. He always looked so startled to be called upon. ‘This affects you too.’
He hesitated, chewing on his thoughts as his focus returned to the calf in front of him. ‘What’ll happen to Isabel if we go to Texas?’ The question was quiet, nervous. Beth couldn’t get a read of how he wanted her to answer.
For now, she assumed, he was worried about her, mourning the loss of people he knew. ‘Orphan’s don’t get shipped off around here.’ Beth uttered, feeling her husband’s gaze snap towards hers. Echoing a sentiment he had once shared with the boy himself. ‘Her mother asked me to watch her, I’m watching her.’
‘Her mother’s dead, Beth.’ Rip sighed beside her, rubbing his palms against his jeans.
‘Well then,’ she straightened her shoulders, ‘it was her dying wish’. She nodded, throwing Carter a mischievous wink.
‘The sheriff knows we have her, they’re lookin’ for family. I don’t think it’s that simple, Beth.’ Rip warned, already worried about the headache this would cause. They couldn’t just take Isabel. This wasn’t like John finding Rip, or Carter being brought to them.
‘Leave that to me,’ she promised. ‘I think she’s going to be ours now, baby.’
Carter smiled shyly, ‘If you had a nickel for every time you found a kid at someone else’s death bed, you’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot … but it sure is weird it’s happened twice now.’
Beth gaped at him, smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Carter’s sly grin grew with the acceptance that he didn’t say the wrong thing, eyes alight with his own cleverness, the joy of making Beth laugh.
Rip rolled his eyes affectionately, ‘she does love a stray’.
The baby scared the shit out of her. Taking Carter in had been one thing, he was fourteen, could walk and talk, could listen to instruction. He was practically fully formed when he came to them. Isabel, on the other hand, needed nurturing, supervision, to be held and fed and rocked to sleep. They couldn’t just give her a list of chores and send her on her way, make her earn her keep.
And if there was no family to be found, no distant relative, they would have to raise her, mold her into a young woman, teach her right from wrong, make good on the childhoods their own parents got wrong.
Mary had entrusted her daughter to Beth knowing full well what she was walking into, that she might not come back. Beth wasn’t going to go back on her word, to prove to the woman posthumously that she should not have been trusted. She understood the weight of this trust, of a mother handing over her child’s life to the hands of another.
They were out of their depth with a baby, they would be out of their depth in Texas. What difference did it make trying to add ease to their lives now.