Baby On Her Doorstep. Rhonda Gibson

Baby On Her Doorstep - Rhonda Gibson


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      This book is dedicated to my readers—thank you so much for reading my books and supporting my writing. You are the reason I write.

      James Gibson, I wouldn’t be able to write the stories of my heart without your help. Thank you, Michelle Matney—you pulled my bacon out of the fire this time. You’re the best.

      Above all, thank You, Lord, for letting me write for You.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Introduction

       Bible Verse

       Dear Reader

       Dedication

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Chapter Twenty-One

       Chapter Twenty-Two

       Chapter Twenty-Three

       Chapter Twenty-Four

       Chapter Twenty-Five

       Chapter Twenty-Six

       Chapter Twenty-Seven

       Chapter Twenty-Eight

       Chapter Twenty-Nine

       Chapter Thirty

       Chapter Thirty-One

       Epilogue

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       Chapter One

      Glory, Texas March 1884

      Something placed beside the door, wrapped in a blanket, was the last thing Laura Lee expected to see when she arrived at the steps of the one-room schoolhouse. Laura swallowed hard. Her eyes narrowed, and her heart pounded in her chest. She whispered to herself, “What is that?”

      Ignoring the chill that lingered in the morning mist, Laura looked up the steps. She pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders. “Well, standing down here won’t answer my question, now, will it?” she asked, reminding herself mentally that she was doing it again. Talking to herself.

      Laura raised her chin, squared her shoulders and climbed the steps, keeping her focus on the bundle at the top. “Jess Parker could have left some sort of wild animal in that bundle to scare me,” she muttered, thinking of one of her favorite students. Jess was older than the other boys and always full of mischief.

      Once at the top of the stairs, she looked down into the face of a sweet, rosy-cheeked child. Long blond lashes feathered under its eyes. The blanket rose and fell gently as the child slept peacefully.

      Laura looked about but saw no one. Bending, she unpinned


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