Rocky Mountain Redemption

by Pamela Nissen

  “Course, the welcome wagon sets the tone there. If a body makes folks feel welcome as they join our town, those folks’ll turn around and do the same.” She gave a swift, confident nod then added, “At least that’s what I’m always preachin’, bein’ the Chairwoman of the Boulder Welcome Wagon, as I am.”

  “You must be making quite an impact.” Callie nibbled her lower lip.

  “My friends certainly tell me I do.” Mrs. Duncan’s full face creased in a pleased-with-herself kind of grin. “So, what brings you to Boulder?”

  Ben cleared his throat as he took the tray from Callie’s hands. “Callie’s my assistant. She’s here working for me.”

  As if struck by a sudden case of dropsy, the woman’s face fell. “Well, now, I can see that just as clear as a church bell, Ben Drake,” she scolded, her beady-eyed gaze not leaving Callie for an instant. “What I’m meanin’ is—”

  “Mrs. Duncan, I believe you came here about your toe. Am I right?” He gently tapped the lady’s brown-booted feet poking out from under her skirts.

  “My toe?”

  “You said that it’d been giving you some trouble. You thought you might have an infection?” he added as if to jog her memory.

  “I did?” The woman’s face pinched in squeamish distaste. Peering down her nose, she stared at her feet as if unsure whether they belonged to her.

  When Ben turned and gave Callie another wink, her stomach launched into a flurry of activity. His playfulness, and the ready, warm smile he always seemed to have for her, constantly caught her off guard.

  “We would hate for you to go walking around town with an infection.” Pushing his sleeves up, he scanned the display of medical instruments. “That wouldn’t do at all. Would it, Callie?”

  “Not at all. In fact—”

  “So, girl…do you have a husband? Family?” Mrs. Duncan’s loud voice interrupted. “Setting a good example as Boulder’s welcoming committee, I surely wouldn’t want to miss them on my rounds. I make it my personal business to get to know the new folks in town.”

  Callie ventured a guess that there was more to her work than met the eye. Mrs. Duncan struck her as a woman who definitely made it her business to not only meet folks, but to get to know every little thing about them, as well.

  “No family,” she answered carefully.

  “She’s part of our family,” Ben added.

  “Well, now, that’s not unusual for you Drakes,” she dismissed. “Especially you, Ben Drake. You’d take in most any wretched thing.”

  Callie clamped her jaw tight, wondering if she’d actually heard the woman say something so tactless.

  “I hear tell from Mr. Peter O’Leary that he’s seen you before?” A distinct element of accusation threaded through the woman’s words, sending dread snaking through Callie’s veins.

  Swallowing hard, she suddenly craved fresh, cool air. Maybe from some mountain over on the next range. A heated blush crept slowly up her neck. She’d do most anything to keep it from advancing all the way to her cheeks, but it was no use. Her cheeks started burning even as the thought popped into her head.

  She chided herself for responding as if she’d been caught red-handed in a crime. She had nothing to hide. Sure, she’d not been forthcoming with Ben about the details of her life with Max, or about some of Max’s activities, or about the fact that she’d carried Max’s baby. But knowing how difficult it must be for Ben and his brothers to learn of their estranged brother’s death, she hadn’t wanted to add to their misery and grief. If his brothers had composed their own pile of bad memories with Max, then she wouldn’t want to add to it with her own unpleasant recollections.

  In the strange, misplaced sort of way that had ruled her actions for seven years, she felt as if she had to protect Max. Or at least Max’s memory.

  “I have no idea where Mr. O’Leary would’ve seen me, ma’am,” Callie finally said, her voice steady.

  With a dirty sense of shame, she remembered the way the man had looked her up and down as though she was one of Whiteside’s ‘girls.’ The leering gaze he’d given her had made her stomach convulse with instant dread.

  “Really, now?” the woman uttered slowly. “No idea?”

  Ben cleared his throat, the muscle at his cheek pulsing. “Could you slip your boot off for me, Mrs. Duncan? More than likely, you’ve got one of those sore spots again, and I’ll probably want to do some cutting around the nail. What do you say? We might as well get at it.” He picked up the same scalpel Callie had held. “Callie, could you please get me a clean towel. Maybe some thread for stitching while you’re at it.”

  Mrs. Duncan shoved her thick frame off the table, landing with a heavy thud on the floor. “Actually, my toe is feeling better already.” She stomped her foot. “You see. It don’t give me a lick of pain. I’m sorry to take up your time like this, Doctor, but I do believe I’m feeling much improved.”

  “Callie? Are you awake?” Ben’s voice sounded from across the room, followed by a knock on the door.

  “Ben?” She turned over in bed, forcing her heavy, sleep-laden eyes open.

  “I’m sorry to wake you at such an hour.” Urgency permeated his words. “May I come in?”

  She tugged the blanket up to her chin. “Yes, of course.” Blinking against the dim lantern light penetrating the dark room, she brought him into focus. “What time is it, anyway?”

  “Just past two o’clock.”

  Callie rose to her elbows. “Is everything all right?”

  “That’s why I’m here.” He knelt down next to her. His nearness, the warmth of it and the way his breath fanned feather-light over her skin, sent every nerve ending humming to life. “I was hoping that you could help me with a delivery. Mrs. Nolte’s oldest boy, Travis, showed up at my place a few minutes ago. His mama’s laboring.”

  “She’s having a baby?”

  “Yes. And I’d feel better if I had extra help on this one since her husband’s out on the range. She had a hard time with the last baby.”

  Sitting up, Callie rubbed her eyes and stared at Ben’s whisker-shadowed features. The flickering lantern light played across the strong, masculine angles of his face, knocking her heartbeat off-kilter. Had the night’s nipping chill not sent a quiver of reality down her spine, she might’ve thought she was in some wonderful, breathtaking dream.

  She gathered her wits about her. “Yes, of course. Just give me a couple of minutes. I—I’ll be right there.”

  Callie made fast work of getting ready. But with each inch the wagon traveled from town, her stomach knotted tighter and tighter. She’d never attended a birth except when she’d been an active participant in the delivery of her very own baby girl. The wee hours of that night had been a blur of pain and suffering. One that had left a deep chasm in her heart she feared might never heal.

  She’d barely spoken of the baby girl in the past six years. Max hadn’t tolerated her tears or any of her nostalgic musings. Not even when anguish and sorrow threatened to consume her. She’d had to pull herself up from the trauma and move on. But, silently, she’d grieved plenty.

  There were no guarantees with pregnancy. But never in a million years would she understand why it had been her baby girl who had been taken.

  Had God punished her for defying her father? Had He made the past seven years one continuous, humiliating consequence born from one hasty decision? If so, there might never be a second chance for Callie. A second, life-changing chance to find the peace she longed for.

  Perhaps Mrs. Nolte also had done something that was grounds for punishment. Would this woman lose her baby, too?

  Hoping to allay her growing fears, she grasped her cloak tight around her and asked Ben for a detailed description of what she could expect. She found great comfort in the methodical, calm way he explained the process. His knowledge of the situation went a long way to quelling the insecurity and apprehension creeping around her heart.

  Ben pulled the buggy into a small ranch yard where the full m
oon’s gentle, pearly light illuminated a generous-size house that sat amidst two large barns.

  He set the brake. “If you can gather the items we’ll need, I’ll check her over to see how close she is to delivering.”

  “All right,” she responded, mentally going over the list of things he’d told her to prepare.

  “Travis should’ve made it back by now, and Dillon will be here,” he said, grabbing his bag from the floorboards and helping her down. “But since they’re just eight and four, it’d be best if you could coax them back to bed.”

  Callie agreed, her heart going out to the little boys. Before they were even at the door of the clapboard house, she could already hear a woman’s anguished cry coming from inside.

  Her heart sank rock hard and fast. Her stomach lurched while brisk, northerly winds whipped mercilessly across the front yard.

  When the door opened, a young boy, his eyes wide with fear, stood before them. “Ma’s hurtin’ real bad, Doc.”

  “It’s a good thing you came for me, then, Travis,” Ben answered, hunkering down to eye level with the youngster. “Your pa will be proud of you.”

  “I sent our ranch hand out lookin’ for him.”

  “Good thinking.” Ben gave the lad’s shoulder a squeeze.

  “Thee’th thith way,” came a soft voice from the shadows. The younger of the two boys stepped forward in his nightclothes, his chest stuck out proudly even as he clutched a blanket in his chubby little hand.

  “Thank you, Dillon.” Ben gave the boy a gentle pat on the head then passed a sobering glance Callie’s way before he disappeared behind the door.

  “Why don’t you boys come with me?” She bent over to catch their attention. “My name’s Callie.”

  Almost in unison, the two boys turned and peered at the door behind them. The staid and brave way they held their ground, like two little soldiers guarding a sacred monument or a beloved patriot, had her struggling to keep her composure.

  From the bedroom their mother cried out in pain once again. Callie motioned for the boys to follow her as she made her way to the kitchen to boil water. While she located clean rags and other linens Ben had requested, she tried to distract the boys by asking questions. She also found herself praying for the woman as pain-filled moans filled the dwelling.

  After she tucked the children into bed, she loaded up her arms and carried the hot kettle and rags into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  “Just pour the water into the basin there, Callie,” Ben instructed, his hand bracing the pale woman’s shoulder as she toiled for each short panting breath. Perspiration had plastered the poor woman’s light brown hair against her head. Tiny rivulets streamed down her face. “I’ll need your help on the other side.”

  Willing her heart to slow its frantic pace, Callie did as she was told, each step toward the bed a silent victory.

  “Mrs. Nolte, this is Callie, my new assistant.” Ben felt the woman’s pulse at her wrist. “She’s going to be helping us tonight.”

  “Hello,” Callie offered.

  The woman’s eyes fluttered open and she braved a smile. But her face almost instantly contorted with the arresting pain of another contraction. She stared up at Ben, pleading with a fearful gaze for him to help.

  “It’s all right. Just take deep breaths,” he uttered, his voice like a gentle, calming touch.

  Callie sat on the bed opposite Ben, patting the woman’s face and neck with a cool, damp cloth.

  “Good, Callie.” He nodded her way. “Just keep her as comfortable as you can.”

  As the moments ticked by she felt her control slipping from her desperate grasp. She silently berated herself. If she couldn’t maintain her composure in this situation, she could well risk losing her job. Ben needed her to keep her head.

  And this poor woman…she needed her, too. Callie had only to focus on the pleading, fear-filled look etched in Mrs. Nolte’s kind face to testify to that.

  Ben glanced up at Callie every now and then, offering her an encouraging look. She found that if she kept her eyes on him, watching the way he worked with quiet direction and confidence, she was able to maintain her focus.

  Just seeing how tender Ben was with the poor woman as she battled through each contraction made Callie’s heart swell with gratitude. He handled Mrs. Nolte with a gentle strength and wisdom, challenging every last, lingering question as to Ben’s character.

  The tenderness she witnessed called up a heartbreaking contrast of bad memories. When her own nightmare barged into her mind, Callie’s tender world jerked off its axis.

  Six years ago this had been her. She’d labored for a day and a half. There’d been no doctor, not even a midwife. Max had refused. And she’d struggled alone through every pain and contraction. She’d been exhausted at the end, much like this woman. And it had been with the final push that she’d lost consciousness.

  The woman gasped, jerking Callie from the agonizing memories. “Oh, dear… Please. Help me. I can’t—” Mrs. Nolte clutched Callie’s arm with such force, as if a pack of ravenous wolves were nipping at her flesh. She cried out in pain, but this time it merged into an almost animal-like grunt as she bore down, pushing.

  “Lift her shoulders, Callie. Prop another pillow behind her.” Ben moved to the foot of the bed.

  “You’re doing fine, Mrs. Nolte,” he spoke above another gasping cry. “Just make the most of each contraction, all right? You’re almost there.”

  Callie looked up and found herself pinned by Ben’s concerned look. In spite of her best attempt to keep every emotion shuttered deep inside, he must have sensed her unease and raw emotion. He was like that, and where it had strongly irritated her just a few days ago, now it almost gave her a strange sense of comfort.

  “Are you all right?” he mouthed while Mrs. Nolte sank with relief, albeit brief, into the feather bed as that contraction subsided.

  Callie nodded, probably a little too vigorously since Ben cocked his head as if to say Are you sure?

  She had to be all right.

  Ben needed her.

  Mrs. Nolte needed her.

  When the woman began growing restless again, Ben braced a hand at one of her knees. She clawed at then gripped the bedsheets, her perspiration-beaded brow furrowed in pain and concentration with the onslaught of another labor pain.

  “Garrett is going to be proud of you when he gets off the range, ma’am. Just keep up the good work and the little one will be here before you know it.”

  Callie heard Ben’s encouraging words to the woman, but all she could seem to see was her own worst nightmare playing out in her mind. The helpless moans. The intensity of each tormenting contraction. The fear that permeated the room. The evening was wrought with stark reminders of six years ago.

  She could face anything. Blood. Gaping wounds. Protruding bones. She just didn’t know if she could face the most natural and beautiful moment, when a newborn child entered the world.

  It loomed as a horrifying reminder, a shameful testament to the fact that she’d been unable to last out the labor to see her child born safely. Maybe if she could’ve held on for a few more minutes—even seconds—she might’ve given birth to a healthy baby girl. Maybe if she’d taken matters into her own hands and insisted on help. Maybe if she’d never made the decision to marry Max in the first place…

  But then—then she’d never have known the intimate honor of carrying her baby for nine blessed months.

  With the wound still gaping in her heart, she had to wonder if nine months in the womb was better than nothing at all.

  When she peered down and saw Mrs. Nolte sinking into the bed as though she was unable to last through another second of labor, Callie felt overcome with desperation.

  “Mrs. Nolte… Don’t—don’t give up now, ma’am,” she managed through clenched teeth and a thick throat. “We’re right here with you. Just make it through this one. That’s all you need to think about right now.”

  Ben’s head snapped
up. He stared at Callie for a lengthy moment then gave her a single nod of appreciation. “That’s right. Just this one contraction,” he echoed.

  The next minutes seemed to blur by for Callie. Mrs. Nolte made it through the last few pushes with one encouraging word after another from Ben and Callie. And when her newborn boy finally emerged, Callie felt a shared sense of enormous relief.

  But the relief was swallowed whole in the next few moments. Her blood ran cold. Dread and raw fear pulled down all hope like a lead weight.

  The baby was bluish in color. He wasn’t moving. Wasn’t breathing. Wasn’t making a sound.

  While Ben focused completely on tending to the newborn, Callie’s hands trembled uncontrollably. She tried to calm Sarah Nolte’s growing panic. Tried to stuff down her own seizing panic. But she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from the little baby, wondering if this was what it’d been like when her little girl had been born.

  When the newborn finally let out a small whimper what seemed like minutes later, Callie’s stomach surged. The cry of relief that came from Mrs. Nolte, and the quaver Callie heard in Ben’s voice as he assured the woman that all was well, brought ready tears to Callie’s eyes.

  She might’ve cried a river then, but she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. If she let herself break down now, she might never, ever stop up the deep well of tears that capped off all of these long and anguished years.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ben was still shaken inside.

  Though it’d been three hours since Sarah Nolte had given birth to her baby boy, and the little guy was doing just fine, the tenuous moments when it seemed the baby wasn’t going to breathe still tromped over Ben’s weakening confidence.

  This baby, the third boy in the Nolte family, had been bigger than the first two. Probably close to nine pounds. And he’d come face up and with the cord wrapped around his chubby little neck. Sarah had been courageous throughout, and by the look on Garrett’s face when he flew through the door an hour ago, he wholeheartedly agreed.