Rocky Mountain Oasis

by Lynnette Bonner

  He took a step nearer. “The next time you need to get out of the house, or away from the farm, let me know. That’s fine. I want to be able to accompany you and make sure you are safe. There are men around here who would…” He let his voice trail off but she understood what he meant and looked away, crimson tingeing her cheeks.

  “All right. I’m sorry. I never thought about it not being safe until I was already here. Next time I will tell you.” She knew there wouldn’t be a next time, though. How could she justify keeping him from his work so he could accompany her berry picking? She would stay home rather than bother him with such paltry matters.

  He led the horse closer and then turned, looked at her questioningly, and gestured toward the saddle, asking for permission to help her onto the horse. With sudden surprise she reflected over the past two weeks. He had not touched her even once during all that time. He didn’t even hold her hand during grace anymore; had not since the night she had been so nervous and he had been forced to repeat his promise not to mistreat her. Of course, she had known that he meant he would not touch her intimately or abusively, but apparently he was refraining from any contact in order to prove his pledge sincere.

  Her mind raced back to that night two weeks ago when she had spilled the coffee and burned her hand. When Sky had cared for her so tenderly that her emotions had run away with her. She glanced at his outstretched hand, willing her heartbeat to stay steady. Even for all of Sky’s kindness she did not want to become too emotionally attached to him. She had never known a man like him and still felt he was a little too good to be true. Riding home with him would involve sitting, once more, within the circle of his arms.

  She pressed her lips together.

  He still waited patiently, concern on his face. She realized it was too late to keep her heart rate steady. Steady? It hammered in time with the staccato beat of the woodpecker she could hear a few trees away!

  Swallowing her apprehension, she gave an almost imperceptible nod, bending to pick up her bucket of berries. His large strong hands encircled her small waist and lifted her into the saddle with ease. He swung smoothly up and she tried to still the trembling of her hands, balancing the wooden bucket carefully as he settled just behind the cantle.

  Sky leaned in and whispered, “Remember, I always keep my promises.” Tingling warmth raced down her spine as his breath tickled her ear. She tightened her grip on the handle of the berry bucket.

  Reaching out, he tapped the back of one of her white-knuckled hands with his forefinger and continued in the same soft voice, “You have nothing to fear from me, Mrs. Jordan.”

  Brooke closed her eyes. For the first time she felt a little disappointed hearing that promise. But she quickly checked the emotions, reminding herself that she could not afford to fall for any man—no matter how kind he appeared to be or how much desire she felt.

  Thick shadows deepened the gloom of the forest. He stamped his feet, trying to return the warmth of circulation to them, the pine needles underfoot muting the sound. Bringing his gloved hands to his mouth, he blew on them in an attempt to warm his stiffening fingers. Pulling a gold pocket watch from the front pocket of his vest, he tried to read the time in a weak shaft of moonlight filtering through the swaying tree tops but had to give up in frustration. The temptation to light a match was strong, but no one must know about this meeting, so the risk of a light, even as small as a match, could not be taken. Irritably shoving the watch back into his vest, he rubbed his hands together, breathing on them again.

  The timber overhead creaked eerily, and a night owl called. Somewhere a twig snapped and he stilled, drawing himself back against a tree trunk, trying to blend with the shadows, his eyes alert. He could make out footsteps now. Pulling a derringer from its sheath in the sleeve of his coat, he waited.

  A soft chuckle sounded right behind him, making him jump and spin around, the small gun held at arm’s length, coming up to chest level. This only caused the new man to laugh harder. “You are not a true woodsman.”

  As recognition dawned, he lowered the gun with a frustrated sigh. “Shut-up, Chang,” he snapped. “Is everything set?”

  Chang nodded and placed the stem of his ever-present pipe in the corner of his mouth, reaching for his pack of matches.

  “Light that, and I will shoot you.” His voice was deadly calm.

  Chang put the matches back in his pocket.

  “Now listen,” he continued, “I want the town to be loud and noisy on that night. Give your people something to celebrate and make it happen big. Do you understand?”

  Chang nodded, his dark eyes dancing in merriment. “It will be done.” He paused, as though judging the risk he took with his next question. “I know why I am willing to do what you have asked—Fraser put his nose into my business once too often. But what did he do to you to make you hate him so much?”

  He stared off into the darkness. “He thought I wasn’t good enough for his daughter.”

  This brought another chuckle to Chang’s throat, but it expired quickly when he glared at him with deadly maliciousness.

  “Everything will be done as you have ordered.” Chang bowed from the waist and disappeared quietly into the forest.

  He sighed in contentment as he holstered his gun and rubbed his hands together in front of his chest. He was about to reap the rewards of revenge, and he was enjoying every moment.

  Brooke fluffed the cushions she had just finished making and rearranged them on the couch, eyeing them critically. They were not perfect, but they would have to do, she decided with a sigh.

  Sky had given her a bag of scraps his mother had sent with him when he moved to use in patching and repairing different items. The scraps had not been very pretty, but she had done the best she could with the dull colors, and now the couch at least looked comfortable.

  The front door opened and she turned toward the sound, wondering if something was wrong. It was not yet lunch time, and Sky didn’t usually come in until then.

  She blinked in surprise.

  Sky held out a small stool. A bouquet of yellow daisies, interspersed with golden stalks of wheat, and tied with twine, was lying on top. He smiled at her. “I was scouting at the edge of the wheat field and saw these daisies. They made me think of you, so I picked you some. The stool is something I’ve been working on, so you won’t have to stand on a bucket at the chicken coop anymore.”

  Brooke didn’t know what to say. She took the offering and smiled shyly. “Thank you.”

  He nodded. Then, gesturing toward the cushions, he said, “The couch looks nice. What did you stuff the pillows with?”

  “Hay.”

  “Later in the spring I’ll hunt some geese and then we can fill them with something a little softer.”

  “That would be nice,” Brooke replied as she placed the bouquet into an empty canning jar and added some water.

  Sky was quiet a minute, then cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll head back out now. See you at lunch.”

  Brooke nodded and watched him go. As she raised the bouquet to sniff the woodsy scent of the daisies, her heart hammered in her chest.

  As Brooke looked out the cabin window a week later, she realized September had seeped into the surrounding countryside. Red-gold maple leaves fell in thick blankets and the Tamarack trees added yellow splashes of color to the darkly timbered hills around the cabin. The days had begun to grow shorter and frost whitened the ground on the occasional morning now.

  With Brooke’s careful attention and ministration old Bess’s leg was getting better. She made trips to the barn morning and evening to change the poultice and clean the infected leg carefully.

  Brooke really enjoyed her new life. Sky was always tender and gentle, ever thoughtful of her needs. She could not deny that he seemed to have a peace she didn’t have. There was something different about Sky Jordan, but she hadn’t figured out what yet. He was still proving to be different than any man she had ever known.

  She considered their marri
age. Could I learn to love him?

  Her attraction to him gave her pause. Her pulse raced even at the memory of the few times he had touched her. And as her thoughts turned to his careful attention of the past few weeks, she realized, It would not be hard. I will have to watch myself. Although she truly liked Sky, she didn’t want to fall in love with him. She’d had enough of love and its effects for one lifetime.

  As she fixed breakfast, she began to sing a mellow tune Solomon, her uncle’s stable hand, had taught her.

  Sky entered quietly and leaned one shoulder against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest. He loved the sound of her voice. On many occasions lately, as he approached the house, he had heard her singing, but she always stopped when she heard the door open.

  Today she must not have noticed as he entered. Her back to him, she kept on. She was singing a hymn—a Negro spiritual. He closed his eyes and listened to her deep alto.

  “Kum by yah, my Lord. Kum by yah.

  Kum by yah, my Lord. Kum by yah.

  Kum by yah, my Lord.

  Kum by yah. Oh Lord, Kum by yah.”

  The last time he had heard the song had been in his mother’s kitchen back home. He could see her with her hands submerged in dirty dish water, singing her heart’s cry to her Maker. He wondered if Brooke truly understood its meaning. “Come by here, my Lord.” His thoughts turned to prayer. Lord, make that her cry. Help her want Your presence in her life. Show her how much she needs You.

  He opened his eyes. This woman was beginning to mean more to him than he had ever imagined she would. She brightened his day in so many little ways. If circumstances had been different, he never would have married her. She did not share his faith. Yet she touched his heart in a way no one ever had. Not even Victoria. But could he allow himself to love this woman? What if she chose to leave him because of his belief? He would have to let her go. Would he be able to do that if he allowed himself to love her?

  Brooke turned from the stove, still singing. She started and squealed in alarm, dropping the spoon she held, one hand going to her mouth.

  Just as suddenly as fright had filled her, anger sparked in her eyes. She stomped one foot on the floorboards. “Sky Jordan! How dare you stand there and frighten me like that!”

  Sky, still leaning against the frame, glanced down at the spoon on the floor and then back into her sparking blue-green eyes. One eyebrow arched its way upward and a smile spread before he could think better of it. “A man is not allowed to stand in his own house?”

  She turned her back on him with a flounce, and Sky’s chest tightened. He suddenly wanted, more than anything, to gather her into his arms. It was with great difficulty that he forced himself to calmly pick up the spoon, set it on the counter, and turn toward his chair and sit down at the table. “You sing beautifully. My mother used to sing that song.”

  She still made no reply, but he noticed that her hands quivered as she set the pot of porridge down. He had to force his hands into his lap to keep from taking her hands in his. Not touching her in any way had become increasingly difficult, especially since he had picked her up in the woods that day. He loved the feel of her in the circle of his arms, her body nestled securely next to his chest, the smell of her soft skin filling his senses.

  He smiled. What had he just been asking himself? Could I love her? I think it’s already too late.

  She seated herself across from him. He began to bow his head for prayer, but she said, “Sky?”

  He looked into her eyes.

  “You startled me. I’m sorry for flying off the handle like that. I keep telling myself that one day I am going to get a hold of that temper of mine.” She smiled sheepishly.

  “I’m sorry I startled you. But,” he grinned impishly, “your eyes are very beautiful when you are angry.”

  “Skyler Jordan!” She feigned shock, but pleasure blushed her cheeks.

  He laughed and, without thinking, held his hand out across the table, preparing to say the blessing.

  Brooke looked at Sky’s hand, surprised because he had not done this since the first day they had arrived.

  I’m staring. She reached out just as Sky, probably realizing what he had done, pulled his hand back. Her fingers grazed the tips of his and her heart lurched. She blushed again, looking toward the back wall of the cabin, and pulled her hand quickly into her lap.

  “Brooke, I…” Sky pushed both hands through his hair in frustration. “I didn’t mean to reach across the table like that. Ever since I was a kid we prayed holding hands before meals, and it’s become a habit, I guess. I would love for it to become a tradition in our home someday, but I don’t want you to feel like I am pushing you in any way.”

  “Sky—” her eyes focused on his face—“I don’t feel that way.”

  He cleared his throat. “Do you mind our holding hands during grace?” She forced her eyes to stay on his face as she shook her head no.

  A soft smile lit his eyes as he held his hand out across the table once more.

  Brooke hoped he wouldn’t feel her trembling as she placed her hand in his large, work-roughened one and bowed her head.

  “Our Father, we thank You for this food, only one of Your many blessings. Guide us, Lord, as we go throughout this day, and draw us closer to You. And Lord, I take time to remember Jason. Remove the bitterness from his heart and help him to find his way back to You. Open his eyes to all that he is missing, Lord. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Brooke started to pull her hand from his as the prayer ended but felt his hand tighten on hers for just a moment. Her gaze flew to his face. He grinned at her, then released her hand, helping himself to a huge bowl of porridge.

  “Do you really believe that Jesus can change people’s lives?”

  “Yes I do.” His eyes were sincere.

  “Why?”

  “Why do I believe that? Or, why does Jesus change people’s lives?”

  She shrugged thoughtfully. “Both, I guess.”

  “Well, I believe that Jesus changes people’s lives because of the changes I have seen in myself and others who have given their lives to the Lord. As for the second question…Jesus changes people’s lives because He cares for them.

  Sin brings only sorrow and death into our lives, and Jesus wants better for us. The Bible says that man used to have one-on-one communication with God, but then man sinned and sin separates us from God. Jesus came to earth and died for all of us so that we could once again have communion one-on-one with God. Once we give our lives to Him, when God looks at us He no longer sees our sins. He sees the blood of Jesus. Jesus was the perfect sacrifice, covering all people for all time. It might sound complicated, but what it really boils down to is the fact that while we have sin in our lives, God can’t have fellowship with us. We have to accept the fact that we are sinners and need the blood of Jesus to cleanse our lives. Then He takes our sins away and we can have fellowship with God. That’s how it was meant to be from the beginning.”

  “So you’re one of those people who believe that unless you ask Jesus into your heart you can’t go to heaven?”

  “Yes, that’s true. Heaven is where God is, and we can’t enter there if we have sin in our lives. Once we accept the fact that we are sinners, and we give our lives to Christ, it is as if our sins are gone. We still have to live with the

  consequences of our sins, but God no longer holds them to our account because of the sacrifice His Son made on our behalf. The Bible says, ‘There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.’”

  Brooke thought silently. Would I go to hell if I died right now? If what Sky says is true, then I would. Her heart constricted in her chest as her thoughts turned to Hank. God would never forgive her for all the wicked things she had done.

  The silence in the room grew heavy until Sky broke it by saying, “I thought we might go into town tomorrow.”

  The words brought her head up with a snap, her eyes brightening. Maybe this was what she needed to help
her forget for a while. Forget the past, forget the hurt, forget what Sky had just told her.

  Sky chuckled at her excitement. “If you look around and make a list of what you need or might want, we will see what we can do about it. Pierce City doesn’t have a lot, but it might be able to supply some of the things you need.”

  Brooke couldn’t remember the last time she had been so excited, but at the back of her mind she kept replaying her conversation with Sky.

  The rest of the day was spent going through the cupboard and cellar and making a list of things she thought they could use. At the end of the day she was rather appalled at the length of the list, but Sky didn’t say a word when she handed it to him, just tucked it in his shirt pocket and bid her good night.

  They rode into town the next morning around 11 o’clock. Brooke’s first glimpse of Pierce City was fascinating. The town sat in one of the most beautiful locations she had ever seen. It nestled in a small valley encircled by gently rolling, forested hills. Several creeks surrounded the little town, the largest of which was called Orofino Creek, Sky told her.

  The length of Main Street stretched out before them as they rode in from the south. A tall tree grew directly in the middle of it on the near end of town, its branches shading them momentarily as they rode underneath.

  To the left, as they rode up the street, Brooke saw what appeared to be some kind of Chinese temple. A sign on the front of the building was lettered in Chinese characters. She made a mental note to ask Sky what it said later. Next door to the temple was the Pioneer Hotel. Across the street and up a little ways was a store dubbed Fraser’s Mercantile.

  Sky pulled to a stop in front of this building, his hands coming gently around her waist as he helped her to the ground.

  Inside the dimly lit store, shelves of canned goods, bolts of cloth, and a table of tin dishes took up the main of the room. Barrels of mining equipment, garden tools, and seeds lined the walls. By the counter stood two large casks of coffee and molasses. These filled the room with a heady pungent aroma and melded with the grainy scent of the cracked corn stacked in bags to one side.