He looked around. “I’ll look at her in a minute. How did she end up here?”
She tilted her chin. “I dropped her when I fell.”
“You fell?” He lowered his brow. “You weren’t trying to harm yourself.”
Swiftly, she shook her. “I swear to you. I was about to head back to where I left you when I tripped over something.”
The tightness in his chest eased, and he could think clearly.
“Esther is crying, which means she’s alive. Let’s get you up first.” He lay down in the mud on his belly. Reaching both hands over the side, he tried to reach her. “Give me your hand. I’ll get you back up.”
“I can’t let go,” she said as she tried to pull herself further up the branch. She fell back into the water and winced.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “Just scraped up from the bark.”
“We can fix that,” he whispered. He could see the exhaustion on her face, and panic was setting in. A good sign that she hadn’t been trying to harm herself again. If she had, her face would bear an expression of serenity. Reassured, he needed to calm her down.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“L-l-Lauren Hale.” Her teeth were chattering.
“Lauren, can you hold on for another moment? I need to get some help.”
Lauren nodded. “Make sure Esther is alright.”
Christopher could see her bobbing up and down in the water. Scrambling to his feet, he ran back to the basket and removed the baby from the muddy carrier. Christopher quickly opened the dirty wrapping and ran his fingers over the infant. Nothing appeared to be broken, and she had no cuts or scrapes.
Holding the child against his chest, he could see where Lauren had lost her footing, and the ground gave way under her feet. There were grooves in the wet dirt where she had slid down and where she tried to climb back up. An elegant boot stuck out from the mud, it’s tan leather now a dark brown.
“Come on, little one,” he cooed at the baby. “Let’s get your momma some help.” Looking around, the closest buildings were the schoolhouse and the church. He knew there wasn’t anyone at the schoolhouse, so he headed towards the church. “Pastor Collins!” he said, racing around the side of the building.
Pastor Collins and his sister, Beatrice, were having a heated conversation on the steps of the parsonage. As approached the steps, they stopped speaking and looked at him.
“Goodness gracious, my man,” the Pastor said. “You are a mess.”
“What happened?” Bea said, putting her arms out for the baby. Christopher reluctantly put the little girls in Bea’s arms. He watched her look at the child before her eyes snapped back to him. “This is Esther.” Her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing with her?”
“Esther?” Pastor Collins interrupted.
“Lauren Hale’s baby. You remember?”
The Pastor nodded. “That’s right. I do now. Didn’t realize she named the child.”
“She’s fallen,” Christopher said, placing his hands on his muddy pants.
“Who?” Bea and Pastor Collins asked at the same time.
“Lauren. She fell down the embankment and is holding onto a tree. I need some rope.”
No need to tell them the reason.
“Oh, good heavens. The buggy house. There is some just inside the door.” The pastor took off towards the buggy house with Christopher on his heels. Disappearing behind the door, the pastor emerged a minute later with a coiled length of rope.
Snatching the frayed length from the pastor’s hands, Christopher raced back towards the tree where Lauren was stuck. The Pastor and Bea, with the crying baby, followed him. He popped his head over the side and Lauren was still here, clinging to the branch.
“Are you in distress?” he asked again, untangling the rope.
