Faith's Mountain Home

by Misty M. Beller

  “Sit. I’ll fill a plate for you.” Laura patted the table in front of one of the chairs, a spot that gave him a perfect view of the stove and work counter—although his back would be partly to the door. He shook off that long-held apprehension. Since he wasn’t on the run from the law anymore, that last part shouldn’t matter to him.

  He eased into the chair as Laura bustled from the counter to the stove, working around Mrs. Bradley with an ease that bespoke a comfortable friendship between them. The other woman looked to be ladling some kind of soup or broth into crockery, and the slope of her shoulders made it look like she’d been at the task long enough to grow tired from her efforts.

  At one point, Laura leaned close and murmured something to her friend. The two shared a smile, and Mrs. Bradley shook her head, but he didn’t hear the words. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard to keep his eyes from following Laura with every graceful movement of her willowy form.

  When she turned to him, a tender smile lit her expressive eyes and tugged her full lips. His gut nearly flipped inside him. As good as that gravy-covered mass smelled, he’d rather sit and watch her for the next few hours than turn his focus to the food.

  “This should warm you.” She set the plate in front of him, and the scent wafting up dragged his attention downward. He had the fork in his hand and a bite stuffed in his mouth before he had enough time to register exactly what he was eating. Flavor exploded on his tongue, warm savory goodness spreading through his senses. His eyes drifted shut as the gravy-soaked venison melted in his mouth.

  He had to open his eyes to load his fork again, and a glance up revealed the two women were watching him.

  Staring at him. Clearly, he’d made a spectacle of himself.

  “That’s usually our reaction to Laura’s cooking, too.” Mrs. Bradley’s voice held an undertone of laughter. “At least, it’s Micah’s. These days I’m not much for flavor. She has a way with food, though.”

  Those simple words didn’t begin to cover Laura’s talent if she’d produced this meal. No matter that he was half-starved and would appreciate anything set before him, even he could tell this food was superior—far and away better than the fare he’d eaten in cafes and restaurants.

  Laura turned away. “That’s not a bit true. Nate’s just hungry. Now, Ingrid, I’ll finish this. You sit and visit.”

  Mrs. Bradley stepped back from the stove and handed Laura the spoon handle. “Thank you.”

  The doctor’s wife turned to him, and despite the fact he was stuffing another bite into his mouth, the pallor of her skin caught his attention. She reached for the chair back nearest her and gripped it, her fingers turning as white as her face.

  “Mrs. Bradley?” He pushed up from his chair to help her. She looked like she might keel over any second.

  She waved him back, but his words brought Laura around. Before she could reach her friend’s side, Mrs. Bradley pressed a hand to her mouth and ran for the corridor.

  Fifteen

  Awareness soaked the air as Nate listened to the padding of Mrs. Bradley’s footsteps drifting down the hallway. He and Laura were now alone in the kitchen. But as the echo of footsteps morphed into the sounds of retching, his gut clenched at the noises, and he turned away from the door.

  Laura released a sigh that drew his gaze to her. “I feel so awful for her. She’s just started coming back into the kitchen again, but I shouldn’t have let her do so much.”

  Did that mean Laura managed all the cooking here? Along with helping in the clinic? No wonder she’d been cleaning the examination room so late that evening. And with her injured ankle, she must be exhausted.

  He motioned toward the pots on the stove. “What can I do to work off my meal? I may not have your cooking skill, but I’ve made my share of campfire food. Give me a job.”

  She waved him away. “Your job is to eat. Don’t think I didn’t hear your belly growling when you came in.”

  He forced a chuckle. “You heard that?” His scant midday meal had been far too long ago. He’d been trying to ration his meat to last until he could hunt tomorrow on his day off. He stepped back to the table. He would help her, but maybe he should gulp down a few bites first.

  Quiet fell over them as he loaded another forkful in his mouth. With Laura’s back to him, he had to force himself not to ogle her. A thought slipped in, and he swallowed his bite so he could ask. “I didn’t hear what it was I can help the doctor with.”

  Laura turned her pretty face to him long enough to offer a smile that lit the room. “I think it was only a question, so I’m sure Ingrid will ask you later.”

  Yes, he certainly didn’t want her to leave her sickbed on his account. He went back to his food, yet even as he ate, his mind and eyes kept wandering back to follow Laura’s every action. Something about this woman had gripped him with a strength he couldn’t resist. Every day, his mind played through what she might be doing, wondering if he’d see her that evening when he came to visit his brother. He’d tried to turn his thoughts into prayers for her—an effort that was definitely increasing his time spent talking with the Lord.

  He scraped the last tasty bite of gravy from the plate and licked the fork clean. She turned and caught him in the act. Heat surged up his neck, but to cover his embarrassment, he sent her a wink. “Too good to waste a drop.”

  Her cheeks had already pinkened from working over the stove, but now her ears turned the same color. How had he never realized how fetching her ears were? Petite and perfectly tucked into her honey-colored hair.

  Rising, he carried his plate, fork, and mug around to the work counter. A pot of wash water sat on the wooden surface. “This for the dishes?”

  “I’ll take them, Nate.” She set her ladle aside and turned to reach for his dishes.

  He shook his head and held tight when she tried to tug the plate from him. “I’ll wash them. It’s the least I can do for getting them dirty.” There were a few other tin dishes in the water he could clean while he was at it. This he knew how to do.

  Her brows lowered in a frown, but he eased the plate from her grip and sent her a smile. “I’ll even let you inspect ’em when I’m done.” He’d known more than one persnickety matron, but he could scrub hardened food with the best of them.

  She turned back to her work, securing lids on the crocks she and Mrs. Bradley had filled. With him working at the same counter, they stood side-by-side, only a breath separating them. If he eased to his right, his elbow would brush hers. It took all his willpower not to close the distance between them. Did she feel his presence as strongly as every part of his body tingled with her nearness?

  “I was thinking . . .” Laura’s voice sounded a little breathy, or maybe that was his imagination.

  She didn’t continue, so he prompted. “Yes?” He used the wet cloth to wipe out his mug in the water.

  She blew out a puff of air that made the tendrils of escaped hair fan around her face. “I was thinking I might go visit Bright Sun and her grandfather tomorrow after church. Make sure they have everything they need.”

  His heart leapt at the thought. If he woke early to hunt, he could still attend the church service he’d been missing, then spend a few minutes with Aaron before going to the cave with Laura. But . . .

  He glanced down at her skirts. “What of your leg? I should rent the horses again.” He’d never pay off his debt if he rented horses every Sunday, but Laura couldn’t walk all the way out there.

  Except . . . she hadn’t exactly asked him to come along, had she? “I mean, I could rent the horse for you to take. You can’t walk that far.”

  She stiffened. “I can walk perfectly well. I’m fully recovered.”

  He was almost certain that wasn’t true, but before he could respond, her posture softened. “I’d be glad for your company, though, if you want to come along.” She sounded so tentative, so unsure of herself.

  A surge of excitement flared inside him. “Yes.” He spoke almost the moment her words ceased
. No need for her to wonder about his enthusiasm.

  She lifted her gaze to meet his but dropped it almost immediately. For his part, he couldn’t pull his eyes from the way her cheeks curved with her smile.

  “If you want to come by after church, I’ll be ready. But please don’t worry about getting the horses.” She positioned the jars in a row, then folded a towel she’d been using. “I think you have that mug clean.”

  He jerked his focus back to the dish in his hand. Had he been wiping this same mug the entire time? Truly, this woman distracted him more than anyone he’d ever known. He raised the mug up close to his face, peering as though looking for dirt he’d missed. “Just making sure it’s clean enough to pass inspection.”

  She pursed her lips, and her cheeks dimpled in another grin as she took the mug from him and dried it. Did she have any idea how pretty she was? He’d be happy to wash dishes the rest of his life if she’d reward him with smiles like that.

  “How’s your work with the big powder? Are you enjoying learning new skills?”

  He had to struggle to pull his mind to the change of topic. Maybe she realized he’d been staring at her and didn’t appreciate the attention. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

  Reaching back into the washpot, he wiped off his fork, then the other spoon clanging in the water. “The challenge is good. It’s hard bearing the responsibility of knowing any error could hurt the others, but I’m careful.” So careful that his shoulders always seemed tied up in knots from the constant strain.

  She looked up at him, the normally smooth skin of her brow forming indentations as she studied him. He met her gaze, and her forehead eased, but she still kept those luminous brown eyes focused on him. “I don’t like you in the way of so much danger, but I understand why you think you need to do it. I just wish . . .”

  Her words died away, but the earnestness in her eyes turned almost haunting. His chest squeezed at the look. What had she been about to say? What did she wish for him?

  He scanned her face, letting his focus roam from her long lashes over the soft curve of her cheeks, down to her lips. He’d never let himself linger on her lips before, but it was impossible not to see at a glance how perfect they were. The upper bow slightly smaller than the lower, neither too full, but just the right size for kissing.

  Those perfectly shaped lips parted, and he forced his gaze back up to her eyes. Did she read his thoughts? Heaven forbid. She would hate him for such a notion.

  But it wasn’t hate he saw there. Her eyes had darkened, their intensity shifting to a yearning that resonated through every part of him.

  Like the north star she drew him, and he slipped his hand around the back of her head. His fingers slid through the soft tendrils as he lowered his face nearer to hers. She must have stretched upward, for her breath brushed his chin.

  A small space still separated them, and her eyes—so round and expressive—searched his. Seeking something.

  Did she wonder if he was worth the kiss?

  He wasn’t. No question about it, he was nowhere near the man she deserved. But with everything in him, he wanted to be. He wanted to protect this woman, to care for her, to cherish her as God created her to be cherished.

  His fingers wandered deeper in her hair, and she responded to the contact. Her eyes drifted shut, pulling him in. He closed the distance between them, brushing her lips with his. Oh sweetness.

  The touch of her mouth was nothing like what he expected. Soft and supple, bending to the press of his. Returning his kiss with a giving that bespoke trust. A trust he didn’t deserve, yet gratitude rose within him like a tide. She was so much more than he’d dreamed, and he deepened the kiss as her hands rose to his shoulders, sliding up his neck, fingering through his hair.

  His blood heated with every touch, every delicious taste of her. He had to pull back. Had to give her space to realize he wasn’t the man she should be kissing. No matter how much he wanted to be that person, she could do so much better.

  With every bit of strength he had left, he eased back, putting a bit of space between them.

  “Laura?” Mrs. Bradley’s voice came from the doorway.

  Nate stepped back as he spun, his stomach dropping to his toes. No.

  He didn’t mean to besmirch Laura’s reputation. He shouldn’t be in the kitchen alone with her, much less kissing her until his insides lit on fire.

  “Ingrid.” Laura stepped toward her friend. Her voice sounded much steadier than his would have. Maybe the kiss hadn’t affected her the way it had him. Even now, his legs wobbled. He gripped the work counter for a little more stability.

  “I . . .” Mrs. Bradley’s gaze swung from Laura to him. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting.” Although her voice said maybe she wasn’t so sorry.

  He should be thankful for the interruption. He’d already stopped the kiss, but he wasn’t quite ready for the moments alone with Laura to end.

  Mrs. Bradley shifted back to Laura. “I only came to tell Nate what I meant to say earlier.” She looked back at him. “I know you sometimes do a bit of hunting. My husband and I are interested in buying furs from you, if you have any you’d like to part with.”

  He straightened. “Any particular kind?”

  She shook her head. “Whatever you have. I know you can trade them at the mercantile, but Micah said he’ll offer you more than you’d get there. He wants to help some of his patients on the east side of town learn to make craft goods to sell in Fort Benton. The steamship captains who make their runs up the Missouri River are looking for that kind of thing to take back to the States. He might even be able to buy the hides you haven’t cured yet, if that’s easier for you.”

  Nate’s pulse leapt. “Yes, that would be a help. Certainly.” He had furs rolled and stacked everywhere at his camp, just waiting to be properly worked. Not only would he be able to earn a little more than he’d hoped for them, he’d also be able to shed a bit of work in the process. Thank you, God.

  Mrs. Bradley seemed to wilt as she turned away. “I’m going to rest awhile. I know your brother is eager for you to visit, Nate.”

  Her way of telling him he had no business lingering alone with Laura, no doubt. And she was exactly right.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He raised his voice loud enough for the doctor’s wife to hear as her footsteps padded down the hall.

  Then he sent Laura a smile. The last thing he wanted was awkwardness to come between them. He’d give his eye teeth for her to be more than merely a friend, but that didn’t seem best for her. Not with the taint of his past and all the responsibilities he was strapped with. Even without those, she deserved someone so much better.

  She turned that look on him that spoke of uncertainty, maybe even a little hope. Yet there was a guardedness in her eyes, too.

  He swallowed to summon some moisture into his suddenly dry throat. He couldn’t hold her gaze, but he forced himself to at least keep his eyes on her face. Her pretty, curved chin was the best he could manage as he stumbled through what he had to say. “Laura, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have put your reputation at risk. Please, forgive me.”

  He turned and strode for the door, not able to bring himself to see her reaction. To hear her agree that yes, that kiss had been an awful idea.

  Better he stop this before it went any further.

  Sixteen

  It’s time to wake up, Aaron.” Laura shook the man’s shoulder harder than she probably should, but she couldn’t bite back the frustration simmering in her gut toward these Long men.

  First, Nate kissed her senseless the night before, then he apologized for it. Did he truly wish their kiss had never happened? That’s what I’m sorry, please forgive me had always meant in her world. If he’d hated the kiss so much, she certainly wouldn’t force him to endure any more.

  Lying awake half the night mulling over his words hadn’t done much for her temper this morning, and now Aaron’s sluggishness added fuel to her frus
trations.

  “Why are you having so much trouble waking these days?” She gave him another shake.

  His head jerked with her effort, and his eyes finally slitted open. “Leave me alone.”

  His words slurred just like Pa’s used to more mornings than not. Aaron couldn’t be drunk, though, nor fighting the aftereffects of excessive drink. The Bradleys didn’t have a drop of strong drink in the building.

  “I’ve brought food for you.” She forced a more patient tone, even though she had to speak through clenched teeth. “It’s important you keep a normal schedule with waking and sleeping, even if you don’t feel like it.”

  He blew out a breath thick with the foul dredges of sleep.

  And something else. Was that a sweetness lacing the air?

  She’d not given him any baked treats the night before. Neither she nor Ingrid had the time or energy to bake much these days.

  At last, his eyes opened more fully and he stared up at her. Red rimmed his whites, and the brown centers bore a glassy sheen.

  Bile churned in her gut and she stepped back, pulling her hand away from his shoulder. “What have you been drinking, Aaron?”

  She’d coddled her father through his drunken binges most of her life, then Robbie after he lost his leg, but those days were behind her.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, wrapping her hands around her elbows to keep from gripping his neck. Or maybe to keep him from gripping hers. The flurry of unwanted emotions had her insides jumbled, and she had to brace herself to keep from backing away. She’d never wanted to feel this fear again. Had promised herself she never would. But the anger was almost as bad.

  “I didn’t drink nothing.” His words were definitely slurred.

  Get away. The thought welled in her chest, stealing her air and constricting her lungs.

  She spun and lunged for the door. Thank God the doctor was here. He would get to the bottom of this. She didn’t have to face it alone. Not this time.

  Laura clamped her hands over her ears to seal out the yelling as she curled onto her bed. Maybe a childish gesture, but the words Aaron hollered were taking her right back to her childhood. This time she had her own room to hide in, but only a single wall separated her from Aaron’s raging.