Rocky Mountain Proposal

by Pamela Nissen

  She deserved the world and then some. If her happiness was made whole in Hargrave’s arms, then Aaron had to find a way to release her from his. He could be man enough to do that.…

  Except that she’d captured his heart—completely.

  “That’s the way. Just stay with me,” he urged, choking the words past his emotion-constricted throat. He worked his hands down her legs and then her arms. “I’m checking to make sure you don’t have any broken bones, Hope. Do you understand?”

  She hadn’t opened her eyes, but the slightest crease in her brow gave him encouragement.

  When she groaned as he got to just above her left wrist, he lightened his touch. The way a bone protruded slightly was not a good sign—not at all. “I’m going to have to secure your arm before I’m able to move you, darlin’.”

  He searched the ground and found two sturdy sticks, then hunkered down beside her again, tearing four more strips from his shirt. “I’ll get you out of here as soon as possible, Hope. Just bear with me.”

  With a tenuous touch and quivering fingers, he splinted her arm. It was impossible to tell whether she was in pain at this point, though. In the ten minutes it’d taken to secure the bone, she hadn’t once responded. Her expression had gone stone cold, her coloring growing paler as each precious minute ticked by.

  His heart wavered as he watched her chest rise and fall on a shallow breath. She was clearly unconscious—and maybe that was for the best. Broken bones or other wounds she’d suffered in the accident would be aggravated by the jarring motion as he transported her home.

  He had to figure out a way to get her home. He’d give anything to have a little help right now—at least someone to let him know that he was doing the right thing. He was as sure as the setting sun not going to leave her side while he rode for Ben. With the way the wolves had been so thick in the area, he might as well hand her over on a great big platter for them to feast on.

  His thoughts immediately ricocheted to Jonas Hargrave, prickling the hair at the back of his neck. His pulse slammed red-hot through his veins.

  If he let go of the tenuous hold he had on her and gave her over to Hargrave, what would that mean? Would he be relinquishing her to one of the most cunning manicured wolves that had skulked all the way here from Boston?

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Other than a broken arm, the gash on her forehead and plenty of scrapes and bruises, I think she’s going to be all right, Aaron.” Ben balanced the basin of blood-tinted water, then reached behind him and closed the bedroom door with a quiet click.

  Relief flooded Aaron’s heart as he ran a trembling hand through his hair. “Has she regained consciousness yet? Because until I hear that sweet voice of hers, I won’t be able to rest.”

  “She stirred a little while I was checking her over and setting her arm. I’m guessing that she’ll come around soon.” Ben led the way to the kitchen. “I’ll say this much. It’s a good thing you found her when you did.”

  “I have Brodie and Zach to thank for that.” He passed a grateful glance to his brother and his friend seated at the table. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you two hadn’t come along.”

  “Not another word about it. Glad I could help.” The hint of Brodie’s Scottish brogue hung in his words.

  “Me, too. Hope’s a pretty special lady.” Zach rested his elbows on the golden pine tabletop, one of Joseph’s creations. “But then, that’s nothing you don’t already know.”

  He’d known it almost from the moment she’d shown up here. And each interaction he’d had with her had only reaffirmed the fact.

  “Are you sure everything checked out?” Aaron paced the floor. “I mean, she won’t take a turn for the worse or anything, will she?” He eyed his brother, searching for any sign of hesitation.

  “I’m positive.” The solid way Ben peered at him helped relieve his apprehension a little. “But Callie, Lib and I will be glad to stay out here tonight if it’ll ease your mind at all.”

  Jamming his hands into his pockets, Aaron scuffed over to the hallway, staring at the door to Hope’s room. He swung back around and eyed Ben. “I’ve already decided I’m sitting up with her tonight. I’m not leaving her alone.”

  “She won’t be alone. Like I said, we’ll be here.” Ben dumped the water down the cast iron sink, then pumped fresh water to wash the basin out. “But if it suits you to stay, too, then go right ahead.”

  “I’m definitely staying.” Aaron pulled a hand over his face, sick at the idea of her injury somehow being his fault. “I don’t know what happened. I mean, every time I hitch up the wagon, I check things over just to make sure they’re in good repair. When I drove over this morning I didn’t notice anything.” He braced his hands on the table and leaned over it, burdened by guilt’s heavy weight. “I don’t know how that wagon separated from the hitch the way it did.”

  “I’ll look it over,” Brodie put in as he pushed up from the table.

  Zach stood and grasped Aaron’s shoulder. “Don’t let this get to you. It was an accident.”

  “That section of roadway is notorious for mishaps,” Brodie added, sweeping a thick clutch of dark hair to the side. “It can challenge the sturdiest rig.”

  “You know as well as we do that this kind of thing happens.” Ben crossed to the table and shoved his stethoscope into his bag.

  Unconvinced, Aaron gave his head a slow shake. “Not on my watch, it doesn’t.”

  Shrugging from his brother’s touch, he walked over to the window where the afternoon sun soaked the fields in a brilliant sea of golden warmth. Hope had often marveled over the way the crops would seemingly grow right before her eyes on a clear, blue day like today. And she’d found it so amusing the way her kitten would seek out the brightest patch of sunshine in which to nap. There were so many little things about Hope, so many innocent trusting traits, that had warmed his cold and hurting heart. There were so many endearing qualities that had captured him so completely that he no longer dreaded the sun’s rise.

  “I promised to watch out for her, and I failed.” Guilt’s weight pressed harder. “Just like I did with Ellie.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Ben cautioned as Aaron pivoted to face him.

  He longed for freedom from the overbearing weight and pain of guilt, but it had roped his neck like a heavy millstone. “You’re wasting your time trying to relieve me of blame. It’s the way things are.”

  Even as he uttered the words, he felt a prickle of unease work up his spine, a warning whip around in his soul. Had he grown so used to that deep sense of responsibility over these months that he’d forgotten what life was like without the tremendous heaviness?

  Zach puffed out a breath of air. “Well, if you ask me, you don’t have to claim a patch of land in the valley of guilt and set up residence there. That’s not healthy.” He shoved his chair back under the table. “Not for you. And especially not for Hope—that is, if you have any kind of a future with her.”

  He opened his mouth to throw back a resolute protest, but for some reason, words failed him. Did he have a future with Hope?

  “What happened with Ellie wasn’t your fault,” Ben said, conviction clamped tight to each word. “Believe me, I’ve blamed myself enough for her death, but ultimately God is the One who holds life, not me and certainly not you. You’ve taken on more than enough guilt.”

  “It’s high time you let it go,” Zach added. “If you don’t, you’re going to be so gun-shy when it comes to relationships that you’ll end up being some holed up hermit who pops out in society every once in a blue moon.”

  “I’m not going to be a hermit.” Aaron gave a heavy sigh.

  Ben nailed him with a challenging look. “Neither will you be a very pleasant person to be around. Grief is one thing, but carrying around undo guilt is another.”

  “You’re going to suffocate the ones you love,” Zach heaped on, as if the portion of reasoning they’d already dished out wasn’t enough.


  “You think I don’t know that?” he spat back.

  Brodie came to stand next to Aaron. “They’re just trying to help—my brothers and sister would do the same.”

  “We know it’s been hard,” Zach urged. The way his voice broke the slightest bit pierced Aaron straight through. “We also know you’ve been fighting your feelings for Hope for a long time.”

  “Probably since she showed up here,” Ben agreed, grasping his bag.

  “There’s a time and season for everything, Aaron,” Brodie urged. “A time to mourn. A time to rejoice.”

  Zach gave an adamant nod. “He’s got that right. We’re not saying that you’re supposed to just go on as if nothing ever happened. But you need closure. For you and for her.” Zach peered off toward Hope’s room. “At least if you’re going to pursue that little lady all the way to the altar.”

  Aaron exhaled a long breath. Hope had become such a meaningful part of his days. She’d been so understanding, so compassionate and so very tender. And she’d never ever asked for one thing in return—as if she thought that she was a bother.

  She was far from a bother.

  He’d scale the tallest and most dangerous mountain for her and more. She’d breached a very thick wall around his heart from the moment she’d braved her way through a throng of two-thousand pound cattle, and all for a scrawny kitten that she’d turned into a plump house cat—a friend.

  “I know I need closure. But who’s to say she’s even interested in me?” he quickly added as Hargrave, all six feet—dressed for success, refined to the core—of him stumbled into his mind’s eye. “I mean with Hargrave in the mix.”

  “Watch out for him,” Ben warned, holding up his index finger. “I don’t know him from a stranger, but I can tell you this much, I don’t trust him.”

  “You met the man?” Zach inquired.

  “Outside of play rehearsal last night. I went up and introduced myself after Aaron followed Hope home.” Ben shrugged into his coat sleeves. “He was polite as could be. He seemed nice enough, but something about that man just didn’t sit right with me,” he said as he adjusted his collar. “Even Libby acted a little timid with him, and she’ll make friends with anyone.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out about him.” Brodie fingered his U.S. marshal’s badge pinned to his vest.

  Just then the front door rattled with a knock. Weary, Aaron scuffed over to the door and opened it to find….

  “Hargrave.” He set his back teeth. “What are you doing here?”

  The man pulled his rounded hat from his head, his hands trembling and his upper lip beaded with perspiration. “I heard about Hope. What happened? Is she all right?”

  “She’s resting.” Aaron didn’t feel inclined to go into any great detail.

  “Is she all right?” Jonas’s tone was cloaked with the kind of weak desperation that scratched at a man’s soul.

  “She should be,” Ben clipped off as he approached the door. “But we won’t know for sure until she comes to.”

  “Can I—can I see her?” He patted his face with a crisp white handkerchief.

  Aaron pinned his gaze to Hargrave. If the man truly did have feelings for Hope, and she felt the same, then he wasn’t about to finagle a situation just to appease himself. That would hardly be fair. But he could carefully monitor the man. Like an eagle scouting a newly harvested field for an unsuspecting rat.

  Stepping aside to let Jonas enter, the pit in Aaron’s stomach deepened. “You can look in on her but not for long. Since she hasn’t regained consciousness yet, we don’t want to disturb her.”

  Jonas pushed the rest of the way into the house. “I’ll stay as long as I want, Drake. You may be her helping hand here on the farm, but other than that you’ve no claim on her.”

  Aaron eyed him, struggling to maintain his calm. The way the man couldn’t look him in the eye only furthered his already foul opinion.

  “Five minutes. That’s all.” The muscle at Aaron’s jaw ticked with anger. He scraped his gaze from Jonas’s head to his toes, taking the man’s full measure and pretty much disliking everything he saw.

  “You heard him,” Brodie said, stepping toward them.

  “If she happens to ask for you later, we’ll see what we can do about having someone fetch you at the hotel.” Zach gave Hargrave a condescending wink.

  Narrowing his gaze on Aaron, Jonas turned on his heels and walked back to the bedroom, his gait a little too smooth, a little too practiced to make him seem like much of a man. And that small observation pricked Aaron all the more.

  “Please do not blame yourself, Aaron.” Hope held her breath, trying not to wince as she shifted on the sofa. She’d insisted on getting up this morning even though she’d been down for less than a day and even now regretted her decision.

  “You should be resting in bed.” With great care he adjusted the pillow under her arm, his hands trembling.

  She plastered the brightest smile she could on her face. “Had I languished in bed for even a moment longer, my patience would’ve been tried past the point of decency.”

  “I doubt it,” he argued.

  Mostly, though, she hadn’t wished to further Aaron’s sense of guilt. He’d been so attentive to her needs right along with Callie and Ben, Joseph and Katie. Even Jane had offered to get her a drink. Once.

  “I should’ve checked things over just to make sure that the wagon was sound before you took off for town.”

  “Accidents happen.” Hope grasped one of his hands and looked him in the eye, desperate to ease his guilt. “It was a simple mishap, Aaron. An accident. In my frustration, I was probably going a bit faster than I should have.”

  His cheerless gaze was as vulnerable as she’d ever seen. “You’ve given me a few scares over the past two months, Hope, but this one—” a pained expression creased his brow “—I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened to you. Especially after the things I said to you.”

  She could’ve cried right then. Just seeing his anguish gave her a deep and impacting glimpse into his heart.

  “I want you to know that the things I said…I was frustrated. Nothing more.”

  “I responded in kind, Aaron. I’m every bit as guilty.”

  “I would never forgive myself if something had happened to you.”

  “But I’m fine. See, look.” When she pushed herself out of the sofa to prove her point, her battered body silently screamed in protest.

  “There you go again. Insisting on proving yourself,” Aaron scolded as he shot off the sofa and eased her back to her seat. His strong hand at her back was like a warm, healing balm.

  She forced a smile to her face in spite of her pain. How she wished that he could let go of the past and embrace the future. That he could finally move on instead of returning to that moment in time when his life had come to a screeching halt. “You can’t blame yourself every single time something bad happens.”

  He peered at her, and for a moment she felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility for his pain.

  She swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry I—”

  “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.” Gentle as could be, he touched a finger whisper-light to the gash Ben had stitched on her forehead. “I’m just glad that you’re going to be all right—at least once you heal up.”

  She scowled as she peered down at her left arm, trying to dismiss his overly attentive response as just an overreaction. But what if he felt even more obligated to her now? “This is a nuisance, to be sure. It will require me to have most of my dresses altered.”

  “That’s a small thing, easily remedied. And it’s a whole lot better than what could’ve happened.” He fingered the delicate lace edging her sleeve, his soft touch sending tiny shivers of delight coursing up her arm and straight to her heart. “I want you to promise me something.”

  “Promise?” She couldn’t help but grin at his peculiar choice of words. “From your experience, Aaron Drake, promises can be risk
y. You should know that.”

  The way he stared at her then, his gaze so earnest and honest and glazed with affection, gave her heart pause. “I have no regrets. Not one.”

  She wanted to look away, scared to death that she’d see guilt behind his words, or obligation, but she couldn’t seem to pull her gaze from his. She longed for his gentle touch, for the sound of her name on his lips, for the feel of his breath whispering over her skin. One word from him and her knees would grow so weak that it would be hard to find her balance.

  He was nothing she’d ever thought she’d want in a man, but everything she wanted. He was sincere, every inch masculine and yet so very gentle, compassionate, honest and loyal.

  But as the coarse words he’d spoken yesterday inched into her thoughts, her rising emotions slipped from their heady height. Although he’d apologized for his sentiments, she couldn’t bear the idea of following her heart only to find him facing another roadblock in his. Because love that wasn’t pure and free of guilt or obligation wasn’t love at all.

  She just wanted to be loved. And she wanted to love.

  She loved Aaron. She’d probably loved him from the moment she’d stumbled in Gertrude’s stall and was caught up in his arms. But the more readily she set her mind on him being nothing more than a friend, the better off she’d be. And as quickly as she could give Jonas her answer, the better off she’d be, too. Because ever since he’d proposed that she sell the place and go back to Boston, where she belonged, she’d felt sick to her stomach—and absolutely sure about her decision a year ago to break her engagement. His words had shaken her from her minute, albeit odious, lapse of judgment.

  What had she been thinking to believe that Jonas had actually changed? As distressing as it was to admit, it was becoming more and more apparent that his interest in her went as far as the depth of her bank account. When her family had lost their fortune, he’d lost interest but had been too prideful to make his shallow intentions quite so obvious. And when he’d learned from her mother that Paul had gifted her with a healthy sum of money, Jonas had come racing out here to cash in on her fortune.