Beauty From Ashes

by Lynnette Bonner

  He prayed for clouds, but if the Good Lord didn’t choose to send clouds, he prayed that the only loss would be Liora’s cabin.

  Pacing to the kitchen, he poured himself a cup of the coffee Liora had set to perking on the stove, then studied the yard outside.

  He lamented the fact that his horse stood picketed in the open. If Hunt’s thugs decided to kill the mustang, there would be nothing he could do to save him. Though he hoped they wouldn’t try since horse thieving was still a hanging offense in these parts, if they did, the mountain-bred Paint, a good sure-footed horse, wouldn’t be easy to replace—emotionally or physically.

  Behind him, he heard a soft intake of breath, and turned to find Liora looking past him to the Paint.

  He still couldn’t believe he’d asked her to marry him. The farthest thing from his mind this morning when he’d woken up had been that he might be a committed man come evening, and yet, he couldn’t deny the hurt that had curled up and lodged in his gut when she’d turned him down flat. His head told him it was likely better this way. But his heart seemed to have other ideas, and that perplexed him.

  Ever since he’d been a kid and Father had hammered into him the importance of a man’s reputation, he’d determined that the woman he one day chose to love would also be an upstanding and respectable person. The sound reasoning persisted. When he thought of Liora, his rational side reminded that other men had gone before him. It screamed that it would be better for his future if he turned his attentions to a woman society wouldn’t shun. Not only for his own protection, but for his future children’s, as well.

  And yet…here he stood, considering marriage to her. Repentant though she may be, she was barely tolerated by most in town because of her sinful past. He’d always prided himself on his friendship with her, and been irritated—angered even—by the fact that many women of the town shunned her. They treated her as though she wasn’t a new creation in Christ; as though God’s grace wasn’t sufficient to cover her sins.

  Something crimped in his stomach. Wasn’t his refusal to even consider her as an eligible marriage partner, the same form of prejudice? She had proven herself to be a changed woman, so no danger existed of becoming unequally yoked in this situation. The thought that his actions and thoughts were no better than those of the disapproving gossips in town, dropped a rock of self-disgust into his heart. All this time he’d been harboring a judgmental attitude, yet he himself had mistreated her just as badly!

  His jaw jutted to one side and he massaged it, considering.

  Something had broken open inside him this morning when he’d blurted those two words. Marry me. And the fissure revealed a side of himself that he didn’t much care for.

  His actions toward Liora had been just as bigoted, just as misrepresentative of the true gospel, as the actions of those women who crossed the street when they saw her coming to avoid having their skirts brush hers. That thought alone nearly took him to his knees.

  Only compounding the matter was the fact that he knew Liora had tried to guard his reputation on more than one occasion by distancing herself from him. She’d been trying to protect him, when he should have been the one protecting her.

  What must it be like to be in her situation? Unable to undo the sins of her past, and yet knowing that because of them she would never be accepted by many?

  He was a cad! The lowest of the low.

  No wonder she had turned him down with such vehemence.

  And yet, it wouldn’t help her any to add fuel to the town gossips’ fires. The very fact that they were likely going to have to pass the night together—no matter that Tess was also here—would set off a veritable tornado of prattle in town.

  Yes sir, any way one considered it, Liora had opened up a whole can of worms the moment she’d decided she wanted to help women escape the likes of John Hunt.

  “I’m sorry I got you into this, Joe. Do you think they’ll hurt him?” Her voice emerged soft and full of concern. Her gaze remained on the Paint outside.

  Even in this situation her thoughts were first and foremost about him and his horse. You’re a fool, Joseph Rodante. Where in the world would he ever find a better woman than this one? She was waiting for him to reply so he said, “Not sure. I hope not. But there’s nowhere for me to put him, even if I could get to him under cover.”

  Tears brimmed in her eyes and she started to spin away. Before he could think better of it, his hand shot out to stop her from fleeing. Her wrist felt warm and smooth beneath his fingers. He loosened his grip just enough to let her know she was free to go if she really wanted to make her escape, but still tight enough that she would know he wanted her to stay. Because he desired more than anything for her to stay. He needed to prove to her that he could be, would be, a better man for her than he had been these past months.

  When she didn’t try to pull away, he dared to let his thumb stroke the inside of her wrist. He’d never touched her before—at least not in the way that a man touches a woman, though he’d been plenty aware of her and that was certain. Her skin slid softly beneath the pad of his thumb as he traced a blue vein down the inside of her wrist to her sleeve.

  If he could just keep the women alive through the night and bring the law into this come morning, John’s options would be severely limited. He would have to be a lot more cautious after that, knowing that he would be the first one scrutinized.

  But even if Joe managed to keep Liora and Tess safe through the night, his pulse hammered with the realization of what John Hunt could do. He could take Liora to court—accuse her of theft, not of Tess herself, because slavery was no longer legal, but of the income Tess owed him, and maybe even of the income she would have provided for him in the years ahead. And with their current circuit judge—a man who had proven his friendly view toward many of the outlaws in the area—there was no telling how the ruling would be handed down. John would bring in character witnesses of her past conduct to prove how low she’d been willing to stoop. And he would say she had coerced Tess into fleeing with her—maybe even accuse her of trying to start her own whorehouse.

  Yet if she married, she would fall under her husband’s protection. And Hunt was just enough of a coward that he wouldn’t want to harass her if he knew it could come back to bite him. And Joe would make certain he knew it would come back to bite him.

  The truth was, Liora agreeing to marry him would solve a lot of her problems. Simply because of the situation they found themselves in, she was already in danger of the town gossips running her out of town on a rail. Mrs. Hines wouldn’t tolerate her shopping at Jerry’s Mercantile after tonight, or him for that matter, and that would leave them needing to ride all the way to Cle Elum for supplies. But if they married, the town chatter would soon turn to something else and everyone would forgive—if not forget—the fact that they’d spent a night together before marriage. So…how did he go about convincing her?

  He brought himself back to the present and realized Liora’s breathing had grown louder. Still caressing her wrist, he lifted his eyes to hers.

  She trembled from head to toe.

  Alarm darted through him and he released her. Had she thought— “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

  “Joe…” Her tongue darted over her lips. “There are many reasons why you and I could never marry.” She wrapped her arms around herself, and so much pain radiated from her gaze that he felt it in his core. “It wouldn’t be fair to you. Do you understand?”

  He didn’t understand. But words seemed elusive. Joe’s heart thudded several times. He took in her pale face. The dots of moisture on her forehead. The taut skin around her wide eyes… He straightened, his heart kicking about in his chest like a green-broke bronc with a bur under its saddle. “You know I would never hurt you, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I scared you just now, didn’t I?”

  A moment of pause was followed by a softer, “Yes.”

  He searched through his actions trying to figure
out what he’d done to cause her fear. The only thing he’d done was reach out and touch her to keep her from fleeing. And yet with her history… He was every kind of a fool. “Liora, I’m sorry. But we can get past—”

  “We can’t, Joe.” She shook her head.

  He felt confusion tighten his brow. He’d been about to say they could work past her fears. “We can’t what?”

  She shook her head again, more forcefully this time and took a step back.

  But when she started from the room he said, “Don’t go. Please?”

  She stopped at the threshold, her back still to him. A fawn poised to flee.

  He looked down and clasped his hands, which suddenly felt so barren. “Talk to me, Liora. We have some time. They won’t attack again until dark. What can’t we do?”

  “Marry, Joe. It will never work. I have too much…brokenness.”

  That made despair surge, but he pushed past it. Maybe he could still convince her. “My mother used to say that time was a gift God gave for our healing.”

  She made a little sound and raised one hand to her forehead. “There are some things one simply doesn’t heal from.”

  “I remember the beating you took, Liora. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to prevent it.”

  She flinched. Brushed a strand of hair off her neck. “You were off helping my ma.”

  True as the words were, they didn’t change his regret. He considered her reaction and thought back over their years of friendship. He’d hardly ever touched her. Only in the last couple days had she needed the escort into town. And prior to that, on any occasion where they’d had contact, she’d been stiff and guarded. His heart ached with the realization. And yet if there was one thing he believed in, it was the healing power of God, for mind, soul, or body.

  And if she had only ever known the touch of a man as harsh, oppressive, and hateful, maybe he ought to show her what the touch of love felt like.

  His mouth went dry and he rubbed his palms down his thighs.

  She still hadn’t moved.

  He needed to see her face. More than he needed air. He strode over and eased around her.

  He waited patiently for her to lift her gaze to his. “Do you trust me?”

  She licked her lips, eyes wide. After a long moment, she nodded.

  Slowly he raised one hand, giving her plenty of time to withdraw.

  She trembled, but held her ground, only flinching slightly when his fingers grazed along her cheek. He settled his hand there and simply took in her beauty, willing her to experience love. Patient. Kind. Unselfish. Unflappable. Pleasurable.

  “Joe, you can’t look at me like that.” Her words were barely audible.

  “And how am I looking at you, exactly? Like a man who has suddenly recognized what a dunce he is and that he owes you an apology?”

  She frowned. “An apology for what?”

  He swallowed, forcing himself to admit the humiliating truth. “I’ve mistreated you. For years.” He hurried on when she started to shake her head. “Yes. I have. Just like the town gossips.”

  Her denial was forceful. “No, Joe. You haven’t. You have been the kindest, most—” She broke off and tore her gaze down to his chest. “And I care for you too much to let you—”

  He dropped his thumb over her lips. “Don’t say it.” Softly, he stroked the dip below her mouth. Awe and wonder mixed together inside of him like the convergence of two rivers. “I want to marry you.” It was a breathy statement, more revelation than declaration. And even more assertion filtered through the next words. “And you need me.”

  He felt her tremble before she took a step back. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Joe. You can’t do this.”

  He eased after her, making sure to keep his movements slow and allow her time to escape, if she felt the need. “Why not? Don’t you want me to?” He curved a caress around the side of her neck and rested his thumb against the skittering pulse in the hollow of her throat.

  Those amazing dark-lashed blue eyes of hers widened a little, and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips again.

  He pressed on before she thought to make another escape. “If you marry me, you’ll have protection. Not only from John and his men, but from the town gossips.”

  Liora’s jaw jutted to one side, and her arms dropped into a firm, protective clasp before her. “So that’s the reason I should marry you? For protection?”

  He felt her pulse thrum beneath his caress. “It’s a start.”

  She rolled her eyes and spun away. She yanked several potatoes from the barrel by the sideboard and set to scrubbing them with a fierceness he hadn’t known she possessed. “I need to get breakfast preparations going. Tess!” she called, even as she thunked several potatoes onto the cutting board. “Come and help me, please? I’ll teach you how to prepare the potatoes, like I promised I would.”

  A clear dismissal.

  He sighed and strode over to peer out the dining room window.

  By all the cedar in the mountains! He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen his growing feelings before today. And yet here he was, a man in love with a woman. She needed him now more than ever, yet still she refused him. He turned back to study her once more. She continued to scrub furiously at the potato in her hand.

  He grinned and took a large slurp from his cup. At least she hadn’t turned him down flat this time.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Liora had scoured the potato in her hands until the skin was nearly off. She passed it to Tess and forced herself to concentrate.

  Tess chopped nice even slices out of the potatoes.

  Liora gave her a nod. “Good job. Just like that. You are doing fine.” She turned to the stove and thrust two more sticks of wood into the firebox. At least they had enough wood inside that they would be able to stay warm through the night—if they held out that long. But by the way Joe was acting, he didn’t think they had till morning.

  Joe… She gritted her teeth, holding back a growl. It irritated her, his logic that made so much sense. If they married, it would solve a lot of her problems. But she had always thought that if she could ever get past her fear of being intimate with a man again, she would have a marriage with a foundation of love. And if not love, at least something stronger than duty and obligation. Yet her own poor decisions had brought her to this place. If she had never been a prostitute herself, the people of the town would likely champion her decision to help girls like Tess. Even John Hunt would probably think carefully before attacking a woman if he knew she was highly respected and revered.

  But ashes begat ashes, it seemed.

  And now, she found herself trying to determine which decision was the more foolish—to turn Joe down, or to let him step in as the protector he offered to be. The answer might be easy if she didn’t want to shrivel up inside and die each time she thought about a man touching her like the men of her past.

  And yet, Joe’s touch just now…when he had curled his hand around her neck and asked ‘don’t you want me to?’ she’d felt a warm sensation deep inside that she’d never expected to feel around a man ever—especially with his hand at her throat—and that had confused her. Maybe she could make a marriage to Joe work, after all? An unfamiliar shiver swept down her spine.

  On one hand, she knew that even were she to wait and search for a thousand years, she would never find a man more kind, considerate, or God-fearing than Deputy Joseph Rodante. On the other hand, she knew it wasn’t fair to saddle Joe with the burden of her reputation—or her fears which would certainly cost him, as well as her. For the stench of her past would never quite evaporate. Even if she and Joe could work past her fear of intimacy, in the eyes of most townsfolk she would never measure up, and she didn’t want to burden Joe with that. Yet that was something he already knew. He was a grown man, and it wasn’t like she had coerced the offer from him.

  He’d even said he wanted to marry her. But he didn’t know what he was asking. What if she could never release her fears? And besides,
in all the years she’d been friends with Joe, he’d never once expressed an interest in her. That was why she’d been so comfortable with their friendship. So, wasn’t it more likely that he simply wanted to be close enough to her to protect her at all times? Joe was nothing if not conscientious over the safety of those under his purview. And that was most probably what he’d actually been feeling. She nodded to herself. The fact of the matter was that Joseph Rodante was simply a good-hearted man who couldn’t stand to see anyone in danger. His proposal had been based on that and nothing more. And later he would come to regret his rash decision. She must protect him from that.

  So therein lay her dilemma. She could do worse. A lot worse.

  But he could do better. A lot better.

  She rolled her eyes at herself and blew a hank of hair out of her face.

  “He done hurt you, ma’am?” A genuine note of concern rang in Tess’s question.

  Liora startled back to the present and gave a wave of one hand. “No, I’m fine. Sorry. I simply got lost in thought for a moment.” She reached for her large bowl and the bottle of vinegar. “See the pump here? We need to pump out the tepid water until it turns really cold.” She demonstrated by working the lever and indicated Tess should feel the water temperature. “Feel how cold it is now?”

  Tess nodded.

  “You put one tablespoon of vinegar into the bowl, like so. Then fill it halfway with water.” She demonstrated. “The vinegar helps keep the potatoes from turning brown in the water. And keeping the water really cold helps too. After that, we scoop the potatoes into the bowl and then we put it in the ice box.”

  Tess’s eyes rounded in fascination when Liora opened the lid on the insulated bin that Joe had built right into the kitchen for her. “The ice comes at a bit of a dear price, so I do try to keep the icebox lid closed as much as possible…” Liora put the bowl inside and shut the lid. “Of course, we could slice them up come morning, but I find that doing them this way the night before saves time in the rush of morning chore—”