Faith's Mountain Home

by Misty M. Beller

  She turned away from them, staring at the simple bureau positioned by the side wall. Instead of listening to the quiet rustling sounds coming from the pair behind her and the shaky breaths coming from Aaron, she focused on the drawers. Three, with simple round wooden knobs. The center drawer sat slightly askew, its corners not in perfect alignment with those above and below.

  Did Aaron use them for anything? When he’d been part of the group that kidnapped her and little Samuel, Aaron had carried a bedroll and saddle packs. He’d also had a saddle and horse, and the hideout they’d taken her to had been stuffed with crates and piles of stolen goods.

  She’d heard Lanton, the mercantile owner who was acting as Settler’s Fort’s lawman until a new sheriff could be found, had wired all the other towns in the surrounding areas to get a list of items stolen over the years. Everything possible had been recovered and given back to the original owners. Had the personal possessions of the gang members been sold to help pay back what they owed in restitution? Probably. Joanna, little Samuel’s mother and Laura’s first friend in Settler’s Fort, had said Nate would be working for a long time to pay back that debt.

  “Does that hurt?”

  The doctor’s words pulled her from her wandering thoughts. Remembering those days always brought a crushing tightness to her chest and a churning in her middle. But focusing again on the life-changing event happening behind her was hardly helpful.

  Aaron grunted, probably in response to the doctor’s question. Had he nodded or shaken his head no? She had to fight to keep from turning to look at his face.

  “All right. Let’s see you stand.” The doctor’s voice held no hint of what he’d learned so far. “Miss Hannon, you can come around if you’d like.”

  She spun to face them. The doctor lifted Aaron’s injured leg from the bed, then helped him turn and lower the foot to the floor.

  After scrambling up, she fit the walking sticks under her arms and limped around the foot of the bed so she could stand on Aaron’s other side.

  The doctor stood and moved to Aaron’s left arm. “Now, we’re going to ease up very slowly.” He put extra emphasis on the last two words. “Keep all your weight on your good leg first. Once you’re standing, we’ll slowly shift some of the weight to both legs.”

  She laid her walking sticks against the bed and prepared her hands to grab Aaron’s arm if he needed help balancing. She was on his good side, so balance should be all he needed.

  Aaron’s face turned to a mask of concentration as he braced both fists on the bed and pushed himself up. His body hovered halfway up at the point where he’d need to remove his hands. The doctor grabbed an elbow on his side, and Laura did the same. Though Aaron’s arm wasn’t the solid block of iron it had once been, his upper arm still possessed a fair amount of strength. The muscles flexed in her hands as he straightened to full standing.

  After he stood for a moment, balancing, the doctor spoke again. “Now, shift a little weight onto your left side and tell me how it feels.”

  She couldn’t breathe as she studied Aaron’s face for signs of pain as he did what Doc Micah said. The outline of his jawbone showed clearly under his skin, and the tendons strained as he grimaced. His arm trembled under her touch. From concentration or pain?

  “Does that hurt?” The doctor’s voice was sharp, as though Aaron wasn’t following orders.

  A grunt was the man’s only response.

  Then his body jerked. It happened so fast, Laura couldn’t do anything but grip Aaron’s arm, pulling upward with all her might as he tumbled forward and sideways, away from her.

  Onto his injured leg.

  The doctor cried out—or maybe that was Aaron—and Micah struggled to keep their patient from tumbling all the way to the floor. Tendons in the doctor’s neck stood out like cords as he heaved Aaron up, then helped him ease back down on the bed.

  Aaron sat with his head dropped, his legs tangled in front of him, and hopelessness sagging his entire frame.

  Four

  We don’t know anything for sure yet, Aaron.”

  Laura forced herself to breathe as Doc Micah used the magic he wielded so well to encourage his patients—a mixture of sincerity, honesty, and hope. “The leg didn’t like that much weight, but maybe it could hold less. We’ll start small and work up to it.” The doctor crouched in front of Aaron to make eye contact. “I’d like to have you do a few exercises with the leg before we make any decisions regarding the next treatment. Are you willing?” He waited, his gaze steady as he regarded Aaron.

  “As you wish.” The flat tone made it clear none of this was what Aaron wished, but the doctor didn’t wait for him to change his answer.

  After straightening Aaron’s legs, Doc Micah had him try to lift the foot on his injured left side. Aaron couldn’t even raise the heel off the floor.

  The doctor lifted the foot partway. “When I let go, try to lower the leg slowly.”

  But when he took his hands away, the limb dropped like an apple shaken from a tree. Only the doctor’s hands waiting underneath kept the foot from banging on the wood floor.

  The leg hadn’t healed. That fact appeared achingly clear to them all. Had any new bone grown at all?

  “I’ll be a cripple forever, won’t I.” The words weren’t spoken as a question, but a desperate plea. A clear longing for the doctor to declare him wrong.

  “Well . . .” Doc Micah drew out the word. “There is one other option. I’ve read of surgeons who’ve successfully inserted a metal bar, attaching it to both ends of the bone in a place where it’s healthy. I’ve never done such, but we could try the operation if you’re willing.”

  The weight pressing on her chest kept breath from moving through her lungs. An operation that required not only cutting through muscle and tissue to reach the bone, but also inserting a foreign object? The doctor hadn’t sounded nervous about the possibility at all, but such a surgery sounded dangerous. She flicked her gaze between the pair, waiting for Aaron’s response.

  Aaron raised his chin. “Will it let me walk again?”

  The doctor hesitated. “If the body accepts the piece, then yes, the bone should be strong enough to support you. You’ll most likely have a strong limp, but you should be able to regain most movement in time.” He paused, but the furrow of his brow showed he had more to say. “The surgery isn’t without risk. There’s always the chance your body will reject the metal piece. In rare cases, an infection of sorts sets in, and the limb has to be amputated.”

  Aaron raised his eyes to the doctor, and Micah leveled a strong look on him as he spoke again. “That’s only happened once that I’ve heard of, but you must understand it’s a possibility, however remote.”

  “Try it.” Aaron spoke without pause. Not even a hair’s breadth of delay after the doctor finished his warning.

  Concern flickered across Micah’s face. “Are you certain?”

  Aaron shrugged, an action that spoke more of belligerence than lack of concern. “I can’t walk now. The surgery sounds like my only option. And if it doesn’t work, maybe your God will be merciful and put me out of my misery.”

  Pain seared through Laura’s chest. Dear God, no. Tears rushed to her eyes, blurring her vision so Aaron’s form shifted before her.

  Just like Robbie. The baby brother she’d raised from the day he turned four. The one whose face she’d scrubbed and wounds she’d tended. The one she’d allowed to curl onto the cot beside her, his little body trembling when their father raged in his drunken stupors.

  “I can’t do this anymore, Laur. I have nothing left.” He’d turned those tortured green eyes to her as he sat on the edge of the bed, the stark absence of his missing leg glaring, even though he’d pulled a blanket over his lower half.

  If only she’d listened to him. Heard what he wasn’t saying. She’d been the only one he had left. The only one who could have saved him. How could she have missed his heart’s cry? His desperate plea for help?

  “You can do it,
Robbie. I have faith in you.” Such paltry encouragement she’d offered. No wonder he’d given up. She’d not been what he needed. She’d not been enough.

  The pain threatened to double her over even now, a year later. Though her throat tightened to where she could hardly breathe, she forced herself to push the excruciating memories aside.

  This was Aaron sitting on the bed. A different man entirely. He’d not lost his leg. The doctor had offered a possibility. He offered hope. Something that could restore him closer to the man he’d once been.

  This time the story would have a better ending.

  “Let’s get you back in the bed.” Doc Micah raised Aaron’s injured leg as the man worked himself back toward the pillows. “I’ll talk to your brother tonight and plan when we should do the surgery.”

  “Tomorrow.” Aaron spoke with authority, but that same belligerence from before still threaded through his voice.

  The doctor’s brow furrowed. “We should wait a couple days for the skin to adjust to being without the cast.”

  “Friday then.” Aaron nodded, as though it was all settled.

  But if Robbie had been given another choice than to lose his leg, he would have gripped it with such a tenacious hold that no man could have kept him from the chance. She could help make this happen for Aaron.

  “I can be here in Nate’s stead.” The words tumbled out before she realized they’d been more than a thought. “Friday, I mean. For the surgery. If he can’t get off work.” She took a step closer. “I’ll care for him as his brother would.”

  Doc Micah straightened and studied her a moment, then nodded. “Friday it is, then. We’ll start just after the noon meal.”

  This surgery would likely take much of the afternoon, and she’d be there for every agonizing minute. No matter what was required of her, she’d manage. She’d do everything possible to help repair the damage she’d caused.

  Nate did his best to push away his weariness that evening as he mounted the steps onto the clinic’s porch. He had to be at his best for this visit. Today the doctor had planned to remove Aaron’s cast, and his brother would either be finally happy . . . or his melancholy might have sunk to a new low.

  At the front door, he paused to prepare himself. Inhaling a steadying breath, then breathing out his trepidation and exhaustion with the spent air. Together, with God, they would face whatever they had to.

  He pushed open the door and stepped inside, then closed it behind him as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

  “Mr. Long.” The soft voice came from his right, and he turned to see Miss Hannon standing in the doorway of the examination room. She had a walking stick propped under her right arm, but she held a broom with both hands. Something in her manner made it seem her words were more than a simple greeting. She must know what happened with Aaron.

  “Miss Hannon.” His gut fisted as he took a step toward her, studying her face for any hint of news. “How is my brother?”

  She hesitated. Was it bad news and she wasn’t sure how to tell him? His pulse hammered in his neck. “Tell me. Please.”

  “The leg didn’t heal as we’d hoped. But the doctor offered a surgery that your brother is eager to try.”

  The words flew out so quickly, his mind wouldn’t process them at first. Then her meaning sank through. The leg didn’t heal. A weight pressed on his chest, pushing out his breath, leaving nothing behind but those words circling over and over in his mind.

  Dear God, please don’t let it be. His leg has to heal.

  As hard as these last two months had been for Aaron, a lifetime of being confined to a chair would be torture.

  A hand on his arm pulled him from his whirling thoughts. Miss Hannon had stepped nearer, and now stared up at him with concern. “The doctor thinks the surgery will help him walk again. He said it’s been performed successfully many times in the States.”

  Nate narrowed his eyes, struggling to understand what he’d missed. “What is the surgery?”

  As she explained how the doctor would attach a metal plate to the healthy parts of Aaron’s bone, his gut churned. But earnest hope shone in her eyes, lighting her face. She clearly thought this would be the best option for Aaron.

  But his own reservations made him pause. “Isn’t it dangerous? Putting a piece of metal in his body? What if it hurts him more than it helps?” What if it raised Aaron’s hopes only to dash them so bitterly that it stole the last of his will to carry on?

  “The doctor will explain the risk. There is some, but there’s a much greater chance it will work.” She hesitated, and the apprehension on her face made him desperate to know what she was holding back.

  “Please, Miss Hannon. Tell me.”

  “I believe your brother needs this hope. Without the surgery, there’s little chance the bone will heal on its own. He’s already made his choice to have it done. Having your support will be so much more important to him than you might know.”

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair, turning so he didn’t have to face her luminous gaze. “Of course I’ll support him.” He’d always done that for his brother. So much more than she even knew. “When does the doctor want to do it?”

  “Aaron requested Friday. The doctor plans to begin after the noon meal.”

  He nodded, as though the action could force his thoughts into order. “All right.” This was quicker than he’d prefer, but if it was best for Aaron, he’d do whatever he could to help.

  Anything to make things better for his brother—anything legal, at least. He’d spent too many years on the wrong side of the law to go back there.

  “You’re an outlaw, Long. That’ll never change.”

  Rex’s words from months before tried to make him doubt, but he pushed them away. God had changed him. Washed away his former crimes and given him a fresh start.

  Now they would make new lives for themselves. Good lives. If only Aaron could find the fresh start he so desperately needed.

  Nate plunged his hands into the icy water of the creek on his way to the clinic Friday evening.

  Waiting until the superintendent finally released him had been torture, but he’d done his best to focus his mental strain on praying for his brother. How soon would they know whether the surgery was successful? He’d forgotten to ask the doctor that question, and now it seemed one of the most important. How much longer must they endure the unknown?

  He scrubbed the grime from his face and hands and forced his thoughts on something more pleasant. His memory instantly conjured Miss Hannon, especially the feel of his arm around her as he helped her back to the clinic after he’d found her in the cave.

  When she looked at him, her gaze had sunk deep inside him. It wasn’t an innocence her eyes held, more a depth of knowing that could only come from living through pain and struggles. They made him want to know more. They made him want to be someone she would trust enough to share her history with.

  With all the distractions a few nights before, he’d forgotten to ask how her leg fared. How could he have neglected such an important question? She was up and moving, which must be a good sign. But was she supposed to be so active? Hopefully she wasn’t taxing the limb and slowing its healing. She’d been through enough already.

  Striding through the outskirts of town now, he gained on a group of miners who’d left before he did. Danvers and Sloane split off from the cluster at the café. Barlow, one of the blasters, raised a hand in farewell when he paused at the door to the boardinghouse. “See you in the dark, Long. Maybe we can have you start on the big powder tomorrow.”

  Nate returned the wave. “I’ll be ready.”

  He might have to rent a room soon, too, as cold as the nights were becoming. He’d planned to have a cabin framed out by the time the first snow hit, but between working most of his daylight hours at the mine, and spending almost every other spare moment with Aaron, he’d not done more than lay a square of logs for the base. But if at all possible, he wanted to avoid renting a room this winter. The mo
ney would be much better spent paying down the mountain of debt laid to his account.

  The clinic loomed in front of him, and a figure stood on the porch, leaning over the side rail. Mrs. Bradley, if he wasn’t mistaken, and she appeared to be looking at something on the ground. Rather intently.

  As he neared, her body heaved, and she leaned farther. Realization flashed through him. She must be casting up her accounts. He surged forward. Perhaps she needed help, although what he could do, he had no idea.

  Just when he reached the porch steps, the front door opened and Miss Hannon stepped out. Relief coursed through him. She’d know what to do.

  She gave him a quick glance but then shifted her attention to Mrs. Bradley, who’d straightened now and clung to the rail. “Ingrid, oh dear. Come in and lie down.” She stopped beside the doctor’s wife and rubbed a hand over her back. Miss Hannon spoke again, but her murmured words were too quiet for Nate to catch, even though he’d now mounted the porch steps.

  A moment later, Mrs. Bradley turned and shuffled toward the door. She gave him a weak smile as she passed, but her face was as pale as a sheet of paper. “Mr. Long. My apologies.” Even her voice lacked strength.

  He nodded to her, even though she’d already turned away from him to go inside. “I hope you feel better soon, ma’am.”

  As the door shut behind her, Miss Hannon released a long sigh from where she still stood by the rail. He turned to her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  She shook her head. “She’s in the fam—” Her words cut short and her mouth clamped tight as she blushed. “I mean . . .”

  Ah. One of the aunts he and Aaron had lived with had cast up her accounts daily when she was in the family way.

  He nodded. “I guess that’s good.” The doctor must be thrilled to have a child on the way. Their first, as far as he knew. Then he realized how his words must have sounded. “I mean . . .” Heat stung his ears. “I didn’t mean . . .”