His hands shook as he untied the knot. When he pulled the sack open, the world tilted.
Inside was a baby girl. Eight or nine months old. Pale skin. Tiny lips tinged blue. Barely breathing.
Caleb scooped her up against his chest, wrapping her in his denim jacket. Her eyes fluttered open—huge, exhausted eyes far too serious for a child so small. Her lips moved.
“Ma…ma…”
The word struck him like a blade.
For a split second, he saw smoke. Flames. The son he never got to watch grow up.
But this time, the baby was alive.
“No, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You’re not going anywhere. Not today.”
He mounted his horse in one swift motion and rode hard toward town, holding the baby tight against him for warmth.
The town clinic sat near the square, a modest brick building with a red cross by the door. Dr. Andrew Collins, the town physician, barely had time to stand before Caleb burst in.
“Doc—please. I found her in the creek. She’s barely breathing.”
Dr. Collins took the baby immediately.
“On the table. Now.”
Severe hypothermia. Dehydration. Weak pulse.
“But she’s fighting,” the doctor said quietly. “That’s something.”