Rocky Mountain Redemption

by Pamela Nissen

  Unwanted images of the gentle and tender way he’d cared for her when she’d been sick flashed through her mind. His big, strong hands had sheltered her so that she could breathe and rest for the first time in a long time. His warm, endearing grin had lit her days with promise and hope and anticipation for something more. And his arms had opened like some wonderful refuge when she’d been at her lowest.

  But she knew well how people could change. Her kind and patient father had changed dramatically after her mother had died. And wonderful, adventurous Max had changed within a few short months of marrying.

  At least she’d found out sooner rather than later with Ben.

  When a wagon rolled by the office, she glanced up to see Mrs. Duncan craning her neck, staring at her with that ever-watchful gaze of hers.

  Callie forced a smile to her face and waved as though it was a daily occurrence for her to sit outside every November morning. She was unwilling to give the woman one morsel, or even a crumb, to gossip about. If she looked forlorn or angry or irritated, the woman would take that to the bank, invest and build on it before the sun went down.

  Callie had to figure out what she would do. There was no way she’d leave Boulder without her daughter, but in less than two days Whiteside would be back. If she didn’t have the full amount then he’d make good on his claim and muscle Callie back with him to Denver to live as one of his girls.

  Her skin crawled with repulsion.

  And that Ben had insinuated that she’d already lived some compromised life selling herself sent bile from her stomach burning all the way to her throat, just like his words had burned all the way to her heart. She’d desperately wanted to defend herself, but why would he believe her? Furthermore, she in no way wanted to elicit sympathy from Ben. And if he knew the way she’d had to work in a brothel just to pay off Max’s gambling debt, he was sure to treat her with pity. And he was sure to feel worse about what kind of life Max had led. When she’d shown up on Ben’s doorstep four weeks ago, she’d been backed into a corner. She’d had nowhere else to turn and had been forced to follow her dying husband’s last words back home. To his home.

  To Ben.

  To comfort.

  To a family who really seemed to care.

  She couldn’t drag Ben or anyone else into the mess she faced. And no matter how unfair it seemed, she couldn’t wriggle her way out of the debt Max owed. When she’d married him, it had been for better or worse.

  With a heavy sigh, she wished once again that there’d been some better in the mix of it all.

  Her silent musings were broken when she heard the awkward clump of boots on the boardwalk, racing this way.

  Luke’s blond head bobbed a good block down, his thick hair hanging in his eyes.

  She rose, and as soon as she saw his frantic wave and heard his frenzied call for help she set off, running to meet the boy.

  “Luke? What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked when she was halfway down the block.

  He almost ran right over her, but stumbled back at the very last moment. His breath came hard. Fast. “Fire. There’s a fire.”

  Callie braced her hands on his shoulders. “Where?”

  “My house. My ma—she’s still in there.” His sweet face contorted in an effort to hold back tears pooling in his wide, fearful gaze. His lower lip trembled. “And the kittens—I tried to get ’em, but the smoke…”

  “Where is your ma, Luke? Where is she?” she implored, tugging the boy that direction as she set off at a run. She remembered what Ben had said about Luke’s mama, that she was often drunk and had kept a steady stream of men coming and going from her house.

  No way for a child to live.

  “In the bedroom. I tried to get ’er, but she’s too heavy when she’s out cold.”

  “And the kittens?” Callie swallowed hard. She pictured the way Luke would hold his fluffy little charges. Loving them and talking to them as though they were kin.

  “I keep ’em up in the loft. So’s they don’ bother Ma.”

  Dread crawled up Callie’s spine. She willed her expression to stay clear and focused for the boy, but all the while she prayed that God would spare the kittens and his mother.

  “Is there anyone else there to help?” Remembering the way the sorry little house sat like some lonely survivor on a forgotten street, she doubted it.

  Luke shook his head, his chin trembling.

  She skidded to a stop, pulling in a long breath. “Go. Get help. Get Ben.” She pushed him that way. “Run fast.”

  Sprinting toward Luke’s house again, she hoped that some merciful soul had arrived. Before she reached the remote, heavily rutted street, she caught a whiff of acrid smoke hanging in the crisp, frosty air.

  He’d said his mother was in there. And the kittens. When she turned the corner and saw smoke whispering from cracks in the walls into the morning, her throat seared with instant grief. She pulled up her skirts and ran as fast as she could, her heart faltering with each step when it was clear that no one else was around.

  She opened the front door as a wave of thick, gray smoke hit her square in the face like some knock-out blow in a back-alley fight.

  Callie pulled her skirt up and held it to her face, peering in vain through the smoke.

  Luke’s mama. She was in there.

  She pulled in a long breath, held it and charged into the burning structure. “Mrs. Ortmeier…are you in here?” She searched frantically through the smoke for the bedroom. “Mrs. Ortmeier…”

  The faint sound of a cough sounded to her right. She barged into the bedroom. The caustic air stung her eyes. She groped through billowing, choking smoke. “Are you in here…?”

  When the woman grabbed her arm, Callie felt a surge of relief. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

  She heaved her to her feet. Having had enough experience with Max when he would straggle home drunk, she couldn’t miss the unmistakable scent of hard liquor even through the biting smell of smoke.

  “The boy,” the woman choked. Grabbed her blanket around her. Fell into Callie, nearly knocking her down.

  “He’s fine,” Callie choked, struggling to pull Luke’s mama to safety. “Come on. We need to get you out of here.”

  Stumbling out of the bedroom door, fear gripped her heart. She could hear the crackle and pop of the fire across the room.

  She coughed, her lungs craving fresh air.

  When she found the door to the outside, she felt a surge of relief. “Go. Far from the building—” She gave a harsh cough. “I’m going to get the kittens.”

  Confident that the woman could make it on her own from here, she nudged her outside. Heaved in a gulp of what little fresh air she could grab.

  “God, if You’re listening, please help me get Luke’s kittens,” she whispered then held her breath.

  The smoke was thicker. She sank lower and felt for the ladder leading to the loft. She sprang up the ladder, taking the steps two at a time. She crawled forward and located the box of kittens near the thin pallet.

  Panic raced through her veins. She’d never be able to manage the cumbersome box down the ladder. And the smoke—its blinding effect had her feeling her way back to the ladder.

  Her mind searched frantically for a way as she gave a long, harsh cough. She had to get his kittens out.

  Her pulse pounded harder at the crackle of flames.

  Grabbing her skirt, she made a sling and scooped all five kittens out of their box, laying them in the makeshift hammock. She pulled it together. Held part of the thick wad in between her teeth to free both hands.

  Her heart swelled when she heard small mewing sounds coming from her skirt as she made her way back down the ladder. When her foot reached the floor her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. She coughed hard. Her heartbeat fluttered wildly inside her chest. She was almost outside.

  Her hope fell hard as she reached the doorway to find the heat of orange flames barring the way to safety. She had to get out. For the kitte
ns. For Luke. For her daughter.

  Libby… She couldn’t leave her daughter motherless, again.

  And Ben… She couldn’t leave this world without him knowing the truth. She couldn’t let him believe that she’d been some tramp who thought so little of herself that she’d sell her body.

  Turning, she crawled toward the back of the house, groping around in the unfamiliar dwelling for another way out. When her hand touched the wall, she rose to her feet to find the morning’s crystal light filtered in a faint, hopeful stream through dense smoke. She blinked hard against the sting burning her eyes, fumbling for a door handle. She tugged it open. Stepping into the fresh air where she was safe, she fell to her knees, coughing, sputtering and thanking God.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Callie’s in there?” Ben’s heart fell hard as he locked his gaze on the bright orange flames leaping at the side of Luke’s house. His pulse thundered through his veins at the dark, ominous smoke billowing into the sky like some ill-begotten sacrifice.

  “Oh, no…” Luke’s strained voice brought Ben’s focus around. His face contorted with grief. “What if I kilt her, Ben? What if she died savin’ my ma or my kittens?”

  Ben took hold of the boy’s shoulders and dipped down, eye to eye. “Callie’s fine, Luke. We’ve got to believe that.”

  Ben ran headlong toward the house, spotting Luke’s ma lying on the ground ahead of him, her slumped form barely clad in a flimsy nightdress. He pulled his coat off, rushing over with Luke close at his heels to lay it over her, even as his stinging gaze drifted to the burning structure.

  Callie must’ve gone back in there for Luke’s kittens. The thought sent a swell of emotion so deep through him that he had to struggle to catch his breath. “Luke, stay here. I’m going in for Callie.”

  When he felt a faint touch against his leg, he glanced down to see Luke’s ma peering up at him, her heavily painted eyes fluttering open as she let out a harsh, ragged cough. She struggled to pull him close. “T-take care of my boy, won’t you?”

  Her whispered, ragged words seized his heart. Luke had already suffered so much and now he could face the loss of his only kin. That wasn’t fair. Not to Luke. And not to his ma. She’d miss out on raising a young boy with dreams and hopes and love. He wouldn’t let her do that.

  He braced her with a steady gaze. “You’re not going anywhere. You’ll see Luke grow up to be a fine, honorable man.”

  Pushing himself up, he sprinted to the burning dwelling. He broke a window and crawled inside. Glass scraped, shredding his shirt and arms as he lowered himself through the small window.

  Flames snapped, angry. Ravenous.

  “Callie?” he called above the fire’s menacing roar. “Callie, where are you?”

  Peering blindly through the thick smoke and searing hot air, his hope nearly caved.

  He dropped to his knees to stay low. Inched forward. Braced himself against the heat and smoke. “Callie? Please answer me.”

  His heart thudded with frantic madness inside his chest.

  “Callie, are you in here?”

  A large crack sounded above him. He jerked back. Glanced up.

  Something heavy cracked over his shoulder and neck. White-hot pain seared through him. He teetered on his hands and knees. Crumpled to the floor, the last glorious image drifting through his mind of Callie.

  “Miss Callie!” Luke cried. “Ben found you!”

  “Ben?” She coughed, staggering toward the boy.

  Luke knelt beside his mama again. “I thought somethin’ might’a happened to ’im just now when I heard that crash.”

  Callie turned and peered at the house, emotion piercing her already raw throat as she recalled hearing the sharp crack followed by a crash. Her breath came in desperate gasps as the boy’s words hit her full force.

  She blinked against the stinging pain in her eyes as she peered at the broken window. It hung like the mouth of some ravenous predator, poised and ready to devour another soul.

  “B-Ben is in there?”

  She turned to see Luke’s eyes widen to twice their size. He nodded, thick tears springing to his eyes.

  Callie knelt and carefully dumped out the kittens from her apron next to where Luke sat with his still, unconscious mother.

  “Check your kittens over, Luke. And watch over your mama,” she said, her voice sounding all raw and rough from the smoke. She set a hand to his shoulder. “But don’t go near your house. Do you hear me?”

  “Here, take my coat.” Luke grabbed her arm and pulled her to a sudden halt. Tears streamed down his face as he shrugged out of the coat Ben had given him a couple of weeks ago.

  “All right.”

  Spotting an old pan sitting in the yard with a generous melting of snow pooling in the bottom, she ran over and dipped the coat into the pan of icy water. Then dashed toward the broken window.

  As she approached the burning building yet again, a sick feeling crept through her at the thought of losing Ben. He’d been nothing but good to her. He’d taken her in, fed her, clothed her, cared for her when she was sick. He’d done more for her these past weeks than Max had done the entire seven years they’d been married.

  Yet she’d spurned Ben. At every single turn, she’d spurned him. She’d held Max’s reputation over Ben as though it were some instrument of torture passed through the family.

  If something happened to him it’d surely be her fault. Had he not gone after her, he’d be safe from the flames and smoke.

  Pulling a long breath into her already raw lungs, she climbed into the window, shielding her eyes from the heat and smoke and flames. She nearly landed on Ben. He lay facedown on the floor. Mere feet from where heated flames licked at him.

  “Ben? Ben,” she called, kneeling down beside him. Fear singed her bravery when he didn’t move or speak.

  She smothered the flames inching closer to him with Luke’s coat. Then through the smoke saw a large beam lying over him. She reached down to lift it off, but the weight of the solid wood wouldn’t even budge.

  “I won’t leave you,” she choked out, coughing. “God, please help me…I can’t leave him here.”

  Panic wrapped her tight and suddenly the flames loomed too much. Too hot. Too big a foe for just Callie to take on.

  Desperate to free Ben from the weight of the crushing beam and burning flames, she heaved again. In vain.

  “Callie…” The voice seemed to come out of nowhere. She started then found Aaron hovering near her shoulder.

  Relief so great that she nearly cried washed over her in huge waves.

  “Aaron. He’s trapped.” She coughed, her lungs desperate for a gasp of fresh air.

  “I’ll lift. You drag him toward the window,” he yelled above the roar. Coughed. “Now. Move him now.”

  With a firm grip on his ankles, Callie tugged him back. Two seconds later, the beam crashed back down and Aaron was beside her lifting Ben in his arms.

  “Is there another way out?” he yelled.

  Callie motioned with her hand. “This way. There’s a back door,” she called over the angry fire’s fierce roar.

  Her face and skin burned. Pulling her skirts up from the fire, she led the way. Beating back flames with Luke’s coat as they rushed headlong through the house, desperate for fresh air.

  An eerie creaking resounded over the loud crackle and roar. Dread crept down her spine. She fought to stay on her feet, locking her gaze on the slim thread of light coming from the back doorway.

  She crossed the threshold, tugging Aaron and Ben with her as a thundering roar sounded. Then a deep, haunting groan. Lunging forward away from the burning structure, Callie looked over her shoulder to see the middle of the house swell as if taking one last dying breath, then sag and cave in a spray of bright orange sparks.

  She surged ahead, barely escaping the sparking roar of flames. Aaron followed and knelt next to her, struggling to pull in a gasp of fresh air. Callie’s knees began to buckle. She sank to her knees next to
Ben as Aaron laid him ever so carefully on the ground. Her burning, smoke-tinged eyes pooled with tears and her throat constricted tight as she peered down at Ben’s unconscious form then glanced up at Aaron.

  “Tha-thank you,” she rasped on a harsh cough.

  Her head swam. Chest tightened. She could barely hold a coherent thought as she willed herself to stay focused. Willed her burning eyes to stay open against the corrosive sting. Though her lungs burned and she struggled to capture a full, cleansing breath, she would manage. She had to. She had to make sure Ben was all right. The guilt and condemnation she already lived with would grow to insurmountable proportions. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to him.

  “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she rasped.

  On a bellowing cough, Aaron gave her a long, contemplative look. “You’re the hero here, Callie. Ben was right about you all along.”

  It’d been a good six hours since the fire, but it may as well have been a day for the fatigue Callie felt. She peered at the thick bandages she’d wound around Ben’s head, arms, and hands.

  Those hands had touched her with such tenderness. With such care and concern. They’d healed her. They’d brought her comfort. And his hands had made her feel again. Made her yearn for his touch, his gentle caress calling to life dormant, yet fully innate and glorious, sensations.

  She shifted on the padded chair Katie had placed next to Ben’s bed. She’d cleaned his wounds, stitched and bandaged them, and all the while Ben had wafted in and out of consciousness, mumbling step-by-step directions that would’ve put him in the grave, had she followed them.

  But since she’d patched him up, he’d been sound asleep, the raspy sound of his breath on each inhale and exhale worrying her. Had he taken in too much smoke?

  “He’ll be all right, Callie.” Joseph settled a hand on her shoulder. “He’s too stubborn to die.”

  She gave a hiccupping chuckle that turned into a cough. She blinked hard against her red eyes. “That’s what he said about me.” Her voice still sounded and felt raw and scratchy. Her hands bore angry, red burns where she’d tried to lift the beam, and her skin felt stretched tight over her frame.