Rocky Mountain Redemption

by Pamela Nissen

  He forced down the thick lump searing his throat, trying to calm himself before he stepped foot in the mercantile. Libby didn’t need to find him on the edge of rage. She was a sweet child with a past that begged for stability and security.

  Just like her mama.

  That sobering little fact sliced straight through to the very center of his heart. He had to figure out what he was going to do. He still wanted to take care of Callie and her daughter. But he’d find out about Callie’s past, all right. Everything. Because if he ever meant to build a solid future with her, then he’d have to lay some kind of groundwork for trust in the present.

  Right now, the whole thing lay in sinking sand.

  Callie had to leave Boulder. Between Whiteside’s threat and Ben’s promises, she had no choice.

  She touched the wrinkled and yellowed telegram in her pocket, silently reciting the words her father had conveyed some time ago. That he wanted her to come home.

  She could only hope that he still felt the same way now as he did when he’d sent this to her. Had Max not hidden it from her, would she have gone to her father before?

  It was useless to guess. The important thing was what she had to do now. Gathering the ends of an old sheet, she secured it with a knot, mentally recounting the items she’d packed into the roll. She didn’t feel right taking the new things Ben had gotten for her daughter, but Libby had nothing else. And just as soon as she could, Callie would send money to pay Ben back.

  She might never get her head above the swirl of debts that threatened to eat her alive, but at least she’d be in control of what happened to her and to those she loved.

  Love… Did she love Ben?

  She hadn’t even considered it until now. Or maybe she had chosen to ignore the glaring facts. How could it be that she could find love with a man like Ben Drake? Max’s flesh and blood?

  She couldn’t ruminate on such things now. It was useless.

  Thankfully, he’d been out for most of the day and evening on calls, so she’d been able to get her things together to leave as soon as night fell.

  Stepping over to the bureau, she picked up the letter she’d written earlier and skimmed her heavy gaze over it one last time. The paper still felt faintly damp from her tears as she’d penned the words. The note wasn’t long, but it conveyed her sincere appreciation. That would have to be enough for Ben because if she let on as to what her plans were, he’d locate her whereabouts. She didn’t want to put him in jeopardy. Herself in jeopardy. Or her child in jeopardy.

  Whiteside was not one to mince words. When he said something, he meant it. And if Ben was privy to what the man intended to do, she had a very real and grave sense that in order to thwart Whiteside’s plans, Ben would risk his own safety.

  It was like some lavish gift, thinking that someone was looking out for her like that. She’d surely never experienced something so wonderful with Max. It was within her grasp now, but she’d never be able to know the warm and tender embrace of that kind of security. Her past…her husband’s past had come back to haunt her and until she rectified the situation she’d never truly be free.

  But she feared that if freedom hinged on everything being all ordered in her life, she might never be free.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “She’s gone.” Ben choked out the words as Aaron walked into the room where Callie and her daughter had slept, his hands jammed on his hips, his lips pulled taut in disgust.

  “No sign of her or the girl?” he asked, scanning the room.

  Ben shook his head, feeling more alone than he’d ever felt before. And angry. “No. I’ve checked everywhere and all of their things are missing. It’s as if they’d never lived here.”

  “I’m sorry, Ben. Really I am. I’d hoped it wasn’t Callie and her daughter I saw climbing into that wagon earlier.”

  “Why didn’t you stop her?” Ben paced out to the hallway, frustrated, angry and scared.

  “I should have. I’m sorry.” Aaron followed, a few steps behind.

  He imagined her leaving town, head held high, face set with steady resolve toward what, he had no earthly idea. “Well, I’m glad that you at least came to get me.”

  “I had a feeling she’d do something like this to you. I just didn’t think it would be so soon. I tried to tell—”

  “Are you trying to make me feel better?” he spat.

  “The truth usually doesn’t feel good.”

  Ben had tried to ignore the gut-wrenching feeling that had eaten at him the past twenty-four hours, that Callie would do something like this. This evening he’d ridden hard all the way home from his last house call because of it, and when Aaron had met him on the edge of town, Ben’s heart had ceased beating for several seconds.

  When he’d kissed Callie last night, she’d seemed so receptive. But just like strays he’d taken in, just as soon as he’d shown love and affection, she’d run off. Usually strays returned, as if giving in to a deep down need for care and love.

  But not this time. Not this stray.

  “We still don’t know she left for good,” he muttered, hoping that he was flat-out wrong.

  Though he feared his suspicions were true, for some reason he couldn’t seem to reveal that deep-seated dread with Aaron. Aaron had had it out for Callie from the day she’d shown up in Boulder.

  Ben had no doubt that the man he’d seen her talking with yesterday had as much to do with her disappearance as her desire to run from love. And the idea that she might be in danger sent his pulse stampeding through his veins.

  “For Pete’s sake, Ben, are you still holdin’ to your claim that she’s innocent? That her life as a harlot might not be true?”

  “Innocent until proven guilty.” He stalked toward the front door, grabbing his bag and an extra blanket. On the way out to saddle his horse and ride out, he held his hand near the stove. “They couldn’t have gone far. The woodstove is still hot.”

  Aaron followed him out the door and matched Ben’s long strides. “How much more proof do you need to call her guilty? Seven years ago Max said he’d hooked up with some harlot.”

  Ben jerked his brother to a stop. “Don’t say that.”

  “That she’s a harlot?”

  He tightened his fist around Aaron’s coat. “You know how Max would say things just to shock all of us. For some reason he enjoyed seeing us flinch.”

  Aaron brushed Ben’s hand away. “Believe what you will. She showed up in a harlot’s slinky dress four weeks ago. Remember? You showed it to me. And then with everything else…well, what more do you need for proof?”

  Ben turned and strode toward the barn, thankful he hadn’t told Aaron about the man he’d seen Callie talking with this morning. Something had kept him tight-lipped. Aaron already had plenty of ammunition against Callie. Ben didn’t need to offer him more for his stockpile.

  “You just don’t want to believe it’s true. That Callie could actually sell herself.”

  “Enough,” he bellowed, entering the barn. He immediately regretted his outburst upon hearing his mare’s anxious snort. “I don’t want to hear another word about this.”

  Ben stepped up to the stall and spoke in low, soothing tones to his mare as he opened the gate and led her out.

  While Aaron hung back, clearly and appropriately wary, Ben had to wonder what had gone through Callie’s mind to leave so abruptly. Though the weather conditions weren’t bad, in his estimation it was nowhere near fit for traveling at night with a young child.

  She had not only herself to think about, but her child, too. And if their departure had anything to do with the man he’d seen with Callie this morning, then Ben would be dead in his grave before he’d allow his brother’s child to be raised in some hole of a brothel.

  He hauled his saddle up on his horse and cinched it almost as tight as the cord of betrayal that nearly cut off the feeling in his heart.

  “I’m heading out.” He loosened the cinch a couple of notches and set his focus on his brother.
“You can ride along if you want. But if you choose to ride, I’ll not have you saying one more thing like that about Callie. Do you hear?”

  Aaron spoke not another word as he mounted his mare and spurred his horse alongside Ben in a fast gallop south.

  Within an hour, they’d located Callie and her daughter riding in the back of a wagon driven by a traveling salesman. To Ben’s great relief, both Callie and Libby seemed sound. To his almost equaled relief, she didn’t fight him when he gave her no option but to come back to Boulder.

  It almost broke his heart that some of the stubborn tilt to her chin had gone missing. As if some of the fight and determination that defined Callie had been lost between home and the road south. Hesitation, and maybe even a small sense of relief, had hung heavy in her gaze when he lifted her up to ride sidesaddle in front of him.

  With little more than a few complacent words said for the sake of Libby, Ben returned in silence with Callie. Her little girl perched in front of her uncle Aaron, stealing sweet, almost worshipful glances in the moon’s light over at Ben every minute or so, as if to make sure he was heading the same way. His throat grew raw with the effect that had on him—to know that Callie’s little girl looked at him with such awe. He’d be hard-pressed to ever live up to the appreciation he saw in her eyes. He’d failed those he loved more than once, and all he could do was trust that God would work it all out.

  When Callie shifted against him, he struggled to ignore the way every nerve ending hummed with instant attraction. Had Ben not been angry with the petite little woman in front of him, he’d have been driven to distraction by the way her body molded to his in the saddle. The way an errant lock of her hair whispered against his cheek. The way her eyes seemed to pool with unshed tears as she gazed with vacant sadness across the milky, moonlit horizon.

  After they returned to Boulder, Aaron continued on alone to his cabin outside of town. Ben felt an overwhelming sense of relief when he tucked Libby into bed—not in the room she’d been sleeping in with her mama, but in the extra bedroom in his home.

  He found Callie standing in front of his fireplace. As he advanced closer, she trembled slightly as she hugged her arms tight to her chest. Her gaze flickered between shame, stubbornness, sorrow and resolve.

  “Why?” He stood back from the fire, irritation still running with heated energy through his veins. “What were you thinking?”

  She met his gaze with the same kind of bravery he’d seen in her that very first night. “I didn’t have a choice, Ben.”

  He shook his head, noticing for the first time that the heirloom locket didn’t hang there against her creamy white skin, as it had every other time he’d been with her. Had she left it for him?

  “You had a choice.” He couldn’t let that kind of sentimental musing affect his mood. Misplaced mercy wouldn’t do him or Callie any good. “We all make choices. Only yours happen to border on irresponsible.”

  She pinned him with an insolent glare.

  He raised his brows. “Well, far be it from me to say… I mean, I am just your brother-in-law, your daughter’s uncle, and your employer—”

  “Not anymore.”

  On a frustrated sigh, he jammed a hand through his hair. “What I’m saying is that I care, Callie. I care what happens to you and Libby, and exposing your child to the kind of lifestyle you might lead isn’t wise. Or healthy. Or right.”

  She furrowed her brow, her perfect features crinkling in bewilderment. “What do you mean…the kind of lifestyle I might lead?”

  “You’re single.” He took a step closer. “And alone. Do you think there will be many options for you out there?”

  “I’d make it just fine,” she retorted with sharp precision. Grabbing her cloak from the chair, she whipped it around her shoulders. “I can do all kinds of work.”

  “I’m sure you can.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and gave his head a slow, sorrowful shake.

  Just like that, her stubborn streak had barged in on her vulnerability, taking it over by force. Ben would have to be more forthright if he hoped to get through to Callie. Though he may be a fool, he cared for this woman. Deeply. And if he planned on enjoying any kind of future with her, then he’d have to be up-front about his suspicions.

  As irritated as he was with Callie, he also felt sick thinking about how lost he’d feel if something happened to her or her daughter. And how he’d blame himself, too. No matter what her past, he’d hold himself directly responsible for any ill fate that would come their way. The fact that he hadn’t been able to keep her here and turn the situation around would only add to the shaming regret eating at his sense of trust in God and himself. It would be the final nail in his coffin.

  “How do you think I made it the past seven years?” she asked through clenched teeth, her spirited gaze narrowing.

  “I’m afraid I already have an idea.” He thought about the medical items that had come up missing along with the other evidence that was piling up against her. “What about your daughter? What will you do with her?”

  She glanced down the hallway to where Ben had tucked Libby into bed, her gaze suddenly filling with doubt and apprehension. “She’ll attend school, of course.”

  Though a small part of him wanted to come right out and accuse her, something else, something bigger and unexplainable, stood like some thick barrier against the accusing thoughts as they made their way to his tongue.

  Was he just like those who’d accused her in the past?

  He remembered how timid she’d been when he’d taken her to church that first time. She’d feared judgment as though it had already been measured out for her in large doses, and she had only to take it. Sadness had gripped his heart at how petty those in the church could be, and now he wondered if he was being the very same way.

  But she’d betrayed him. She’d never been forthright about her past. This whole time he’d felt like maybe he was breaking through, now he wondered if he’d even begun to crack the thick layers.

  But she’d been betrayed, too. In the worst way possible, and maybe because of all of that, she was so set on protecting herself that she would walk away from all he could offer.

  “Did you like the life you shared with Max?” he finally asked, trying for a more reasoned approach. “Was it anything like you’ve had here?”

  “No.” She gave a snort, her gaze briefly sliding to the flames that licked at the dry wood. “But I made the best of it. I had to.”

  “And I suppose you’ll make the best of it again.” He sighed, frustrated by her inability to see things for the way they really were. “You’re just going to strike out on your own…with no more than a month’s wages to your name. And with a child.”

  Taking a step nearer, he rested his hand on the sturdy, beautifully crafted mantel Joseph had made when Ben had the house built three years ago. “Do you forget how you showed up here?” He dipped his head to get her attention as her long lashes whispered down over her eyes. Ben lowered his voice. “You were half-dead, Callie. If I hadn’t come along when I did, you’d be buried in some unmarked grave up on a lonely hillside.”

  “And I thank you for your care.” With an earnest gaze, she peered at him. “But that won’t happen again.”

  “How can you be so sure of that?” More, how could she be so careless with herself or her daughter? Either she was more naive than he’d ever imagined or she had well-laid-out plans. “Is it because you already have a safe, warm place to go where you’ll have your meals prepared for you, a wardrobe for your evenings,” he bit off, picturing her in the ruby-red dress she’d shown up in, and remembering how his stomach had turned seeing his mother’s locket framed in such gaudiness. “Well, I’m sure you’ll get plenty of attention where you’re going.”

  She shrugged, as though belittling the words he’d just spoken. Words that had come hard, tasting like some bitter draught on his tongue. “Your implication is harsh. Surely you can’t believe—”

  “I want to believe that the
shoe won’t fit.” He stood to his full height, watching for any kind of remorse or indecision or regret to flit across her face. He really wanted to see at least an inkling of those emotions in her gaze, not because he wanted her to hurt, but because he wanted a reason, a good, solid reason not to believe all of the things he’d questioned in his heart were true.

  She looked at him with that blank, unconcerned stare of hers. That stubborn wordless expression that shut off all vulnerability.

  Something snapped inside him, the worst of his suspicions now ricocheting through his head with conscience-numbing force.

  “I can’t stop you from making a bad decision for yourself, but I’ll do whatever I have to, to keep you from dragging Libby into a life that no child should have to witness. Or live in.” He crossed to the front door and held it open for her. “If you want to go and sell yourself, then you’ll do it without your daughter.”

  Had she stayed in his house a minute longer last night, Callie would’ve rained down on him like some wild woman on the loose. He’d insulted her dignity, her character, and he’d made himself some self-imposed guardian over her daughter.

  Ben was trying to control her life. Just like her father. Just like Max. Just like Mr. Whiteside. The insulting jabs, the questioning of her decision making, the I-know-what’s-best-for-you attitude…she’d heard it all before. And until last night she hadn’t really believed that Ben was capable of the same kind of behavior.

  How could he question her integrity like that? The very thought made her skin crawl.

  Last night she’d walked out on him, leaving with those disgusting words resonating in her head like some dread dirge. Even now she felt mad enough to spit. And she was a lady!

  Determined to tamp down her irritation before she sought out her daughter at Ben’s, she sat out on the front porch of the office. Where she’d huddled, sick and weary, against a blinding snowstorm just four weeks earlier.

  Had she known then what she did now, she wouldn’t have come anywhere near this place. She would’ve run as far and as fast as her legs could take her in the opposite direction, staying clear of his control.