Rocky Mountain Redemption

by Pamela Nissen

  “Your arms and head and hands…do you think they’ll heal?” Her concern penetrated his heart.

  He nodded, taking in the beautiful, faint way her fingertips trembled against his cheek. “I’m sure they will.”

  She turned his hand over in hers and stared down at the bandages. “You’ll have scars.”

  “Probably,” he agreed, raising her chin with a crooked finger. “But everybody has a scar or two, somewhere.”

  He couldn’t miss the way her hand strayed as if by some involuntary force to her side. And the protective way shame shuttered her vulnerable gaze, leaving him feeling as if she’d stood up and swept out of the room.

  If he was going to help her and free her, then he’d have to take a risk. “I know about your scars, Callie.”

  “What?” She threaded her hands, white-knuckle tight.

  “Katie told me about them after she’d helped you with that bath. At first I couldn’t imagine the scars were from Max, but now I know. They had to be from him. And I’m sorry.” He lifted her gleaming auburn hair from her forehead. When he lightly brushed his fingertips along the red puffy scar marring her hairline, he struggled to reconcile how a man—how Max—could be so cruel. “So sorry you had to endure that kind of treatment.”

  Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she tugged his hand away from the scar. “That’s in the past. It’s all in the past. And it’s surely no fault of yours.”

  He pushed up to sitting, not quite able to take the words to heart. “Well, I’m not likely to believe that anytime soon. I’m sorry for the things I said last night. I care about you, Callie, and I want to spend every minute I can showing you just how much I care.”

  He desperately wanted to reach that part of her, the area of her heart held back by some powerful, unseen force. “When I look in your eyes I see things that make me hurt. Right here.” He pointed to his heart.

  The look she gave him, that look that begged to be rescued, was like some pleading cry he could never, ever ignore.

  “I want to help, but I can’t if you won’t let me,” he said, his voice low and tight.

  He wondered if he might never be able to unlock that prison. That maybe he had to trust God to reach her and free her from the chains that held her so firmly.

  He settled his searching gaze on hers, looked deep enough to see the longing in her eyes, a desire that was meant just for him. He loved Callie. Not because deep down she yearned for love. Not because she was Max’s poor, mistreated widow. Not because she needed to be loved.

  But because God had led her straight to Ben’s heart.

  Because she was perfect for him.

  Because she was just Callie.

  “You’re right…the scars are in the past. And Max did plenty wrong, but one thing he did right…he sent you to me.”

  “What is all of that?” Ben asked, catching the distinct stench of smoke as he peered down into the bag Aaron had dragged in with him. “It smells like you’ve been digging around in the fire rubble.”

  “I have.” Aaron settled his hat on the back of the chair with a bandaged hand.

  “Why would you do something like that? There couldn’t have been much worth saving in that house.”

  From the burlap bag, Aaron pulled the charred remains of a stethoscope and the blackened skeleton of a medicine bottle.

  Ben’s face flamed hot. And when Aaron hefted out the small scale that had come up missing just last week, his heart skidded to a halt inside his chest.

  “These things were in the rubble?” He knelt down across from Aaron, taking the stethoscope in hand.

  “Yep. There were other things, too, but some of it was too burned to even recognize.” He plucked out the warped remains of tweezers. “The fire was so hot. Even a day out, and some areas were still smoldering.”

  Ben touched the heat-deformed pan to the scale. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered.

  He’d always seemed to give others the benefit of the doubt, but in this instance he’d listened to whisperings of accusation.

  “How did you know to look there?” he asked, perplexed. “I’ve never said anything to you about the missing items.”

  “Actually, Luke came to see me.” Aaron fiddled with the iodine bottle. “He’s been feeling mighty bad, because he’d only borrowed the items.”

  Ben sighed, sickened at how easy it had been to accuse and condemn—and how very unlike God that was. “Here I thought Callie had taken them.”

  Aaron met his shame-filled gaze with one of his own. “We’ve both been guilty of accusing her, Ben.”

  He gave his head a disgusted shake. “I should’ve been more trusting. I accused her—silently, but still, I accused her.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, you’ve never done anything but defend her honor—to me, anyway,” Aaron said, bracing a hand on Ben’s good shoulder. “Luke wanted to tell you himself. But he wouldn’t come in here. He thought you’d be mad at him.”

  Ben eased himself into a chair, his shoulder throbbing. “Please, would you mind getting him for me?”

  “Sure.” Stashing the items back into the bag, Aaron stood. “Ben, I’m sorry. I was way out of line in the things I said about Callie. It doesn’t matter what her past was.”

  “Her past was with Max. And as far as I’m concerned, that makes her one courageous woman. I just know that she couldn’t do what seemed obvious—no matter what proof points that way. She doesn’t have it in her.”

  “She showed more bravery than most men.” Aaron cleared his throat. “I don’t know why I was so determined to bring her down. I guess maybe she represented Max. And, well…I have some things to take care of as far as that goes.”

  “Believe me, I think we all probably have a bitter root or two stemming from our last couple of years with Max.” He eased a hand over his eyes, feeling the pull of the tight red skin. When he glanced up at his brother, he saw deep regret in Aaron’s repentant gaze. “Now that you know that, you can deal with it. And I know you will. You’re a good man.”

  “Thanks.” Aaron nodded. “For everything.”

  Everything? Regret and failure snapped at him as he remembered how incompetent he’d felt, how horrible he’d felt at not being able to turn the events for Aaron’s wife and baby. “I wish I could’ve done more for Ellie and the baby. I wish I could’ve saved them. For you.”

  “I know you do.” Aaron’s mouth formed a tight line. “You did everything you could. I don’t blame you, Ben.”

  Swallowing hard, Ben’s eyes filled with hot tears. “Thanks,” he ground out, his voice tight and strained with emotion. “Thanks.”

  Pulling in a slow breath, Aaron’s knuckles whitened as he grasped the bag. “Someday, maybe I’ll figure out why God thought it was best to take them when He did. Or maybe someday I’ll just finally accept that they’re gone.”

  Ben nodded, astonished at his brother’s dignity. “You’re going to make it. It’s going to be all right.”

  With the locket cradled in her hand, and purposeful strides, Callie walked over to Ben’s house where Libby had been keeping him company. She had to return the locket. And if worse came to worst, she’d have to humble herself enough to ask him for help. She didn’t have a choice.

  Maybe if she’d made it back home to her father, he might have loaned her the money, but that was a risk she couldn’t take. With Libby in her care now, she wouldn’t take off for her father’s home and risk Whiteside tracking her down and hauling her back with him.

  Since the fire yesterday, Callie had felt as if she’d been moving through life in slow motion. The entire Drake family and then some had been together at lunch today—a celebration of sorts. Even Aaron…

  He’d taken her by complete surprise and apologized. For being so harsh toward her. For assuming the worst. For hoping to sway Ben’s opinion regarding her. She’d felt oddly vindicated, yet still without the peace she craved.

  She was surrounded by all of the things she’d ever longed for
…a loving family, her beautiful daughter and friends who cared.

  But she didn’t have peace.

  “Your time’s up,” came Lyle Whiteside’s voice.

  Steadying herself, Callie turned to find him slinking a heartbeat behind her.

  “Did you hear me, girl?” He caught her arm in a meaty fist hold. “I’ve waited long enough. Either pay up what you owe now or you’re comin’ with me.”

  Callie blinked hard, trying to calm the racing beat of her heart. Intimidation snaked around her, threatening to suffocate her will and hope. For a moment, she couldn’t seem to grasp a single, coherent thought. When her frantic thoughts settled on her little girl, a fierce sense of protection rose within her. “I don’t have all of it—yet. But I won’t go with you.”

  God, please…I need Your help. Would God hear her this time? Would He help her? All morning long she’d prayed that He would turn the tide. Give her a second chance, just like He’d given Luke’s mama a second chance, because Callie would never sell herself. Never that.

  “I’m sure you don’t want me getting the law involved in this,” he cautioned, wrenching her arm so hard she barely bit off a cry. “You wouldn’t stand a snowman’s chance in a hot box with all the cheatin’ that husband of yours did.”

  “Please, I’ll have the rest for you soon,” she assured, struggling to keep the fear from her voice.

  Feeling the locket in the palm of her hand, she stuffed it inside the pocket on her dress. If Whiteside got his hands on it, she likely would never see it again, and she had every intention of returning it to Ben.

  “I have a good job now and the pay is good. I’m doing everything I can to make right on what Max owed you.”

  He yanked her toward the street. “Not everything. There’s plenty more you could do for me.”

  She fought to wrench her arm free. “If you’ll just give me another hour…”

  “Not another minute.” Whiteside tugged her toward the carriage that sat in the street like some fancy, black coffin. “You know me, Callie. I don’t like being put off. With the way you ran out on me like you did, you should consider yourself lucky I gave you an extra two days.”

  “Back away from her.” Ben’s strong, authoritative voice broke through the nightmare. “Now.”

  Whiteside glanced over his shoulder and pivoted. “This isn’t your concern.”

  Ben caught Callie’s eye with a reassuring look. “She is my concern. And I’m telling you now…you better release your hold and back away.”

  Whiteside tightened his grip on her arm. “It’s not that easy. She’s coming with me.”

  She shook her head. “I won’t go with you. I can’t.”

  Ben moved in closer. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re taking her against her will. And that could get you into trouble with more than just me.”

  “That’s right.” Aaron strode out from behind the house. “You’ll be in hot water with me, too. And probably the rest of this town.”

  “Let her go,” Ben commanded.

  “I’m telling you. She owes me.” Whiteside edged back a step. “And I intend to collect.”

  Ben stalked up to stand nose to nose with Whiteside. He placed a hand on her arm, like some warm, wonderful claim as he stared the man down. “Get your hands off her. Now.”

  Callie’s eyes grew wide as she shifted her gaze from Ben’s calm, collected look to Whiteside’s red face and his flaring nostrils. Ben obviously didn’t know how vengeful Lyle Whiteside could get—especially when someone dared to cross him.

  Ben drew a fistful of Whiteside’s crisp white shirt in a bandaged hand. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll step away and leave her alone.”

  Looping an arm around her waist, Whiteside hauled her against his side. “I’m not going anywhere without my money. And if she can’t pay up then she’s as good as money to me.”

  Ben advanced another step. “What are you talking about?”

  “He’s talking about a gambling debt, Ben,” she managed, her voice betraying her with a quaver.

  Ben sent her a confused glance.

  “It’s a long story. But Max…before he died, he’d stacked up a mountain of debt with gambling losses.”

  “And he’s making you pay?” Ben nodded toward Whiteside.

  She boldly met Ben’s gaze. “I was working at his saloon and brothel as a cook and housekeeper to try and pay it off before I came here. But then I—”

  “She was lucky I let her do that. I shouldn’t have gone easy on her. She could’ve made me a fortune.”

  Ben’s calm slipped away. She could see it in the way his jaw tensed. His eyes suddenly grew sharp with anger. He drew his grip tighter around Whiteside’s shirt. “Is this how you always do business? Swooping down on widows when they’re still grieving?”

  “She had a roof over her head and decent meals,” Whiteside barked, the words causing her stomach to churn.

  The tiny closet she slept in and the pitiful, half-eaten leftovers she was allowed were a far cry from decent. That he spoke of them as though he’d let her live in the lap of luxury stirred anger from deep within.

  “I suppose you gave her a clothing allotment, too?” Ben’s voice was so even and hard, Callie almost didn’t want to look at him.

  “Why, yes. She could have the best if she’d come back and work for me.” Whiteside tugged his head to the side in a useless effort to free himself from Ben’s grip. “I’m offering more than that sorry husband of hers ever gave her.”

  Aaron joined Ben beside the man. Callie didn’t think Whiteside stood a chance, but if he had a gun on him, then they were the ones without a chance.

  “You’re a sick man,” Ben confirmed.

  Her skin crawled thinking of all the girls back at Whiteside’s brothel, and how he’d convinced them that he was doing them a favor in taking care of them.

  Aaron gave a derisive snort. “Taking advantage of this situation for your own gain…”

  “Let her go,” Ben commanded.

  “He owed me plenty and I’m going to collect.” He hissed a breath through his clenched teeth. “He promised to pay up with her, but he backed out.”

  She jerked her head around to peer at him, her heart thudding in her throat. “What did you say?”

  In spite of his bandaged, injured hands, Ben locked a crushing grip on Whiteside’s hand and yanked it free from Callie.

  “He must not have thought much of you, girl,” Whiteside chided as he stumbled back a step. “’Cause he was willing to pay off his debt with you.”

  “No… Oh, no…” Bright splotches of light embedded in darkness bombarded her vision. Her head spun. She tried to steady herself. “He w-wouldn’t do that.”

  But even as she uttered the words, she knew that Max could. And probably did. He’d done it with his own daughter.

  “Said so himself,” he spat with a derisive snort. “Drunk as all get-out when he made the offer, but the idea was very tempting. Too tempting to pass on.”

  Ben hauled his arm back and pummeled Whiteside’s face, sending him toppling backward. An instant later, Ben was straddling him as he seized his coat so tight, Callie was sure Whiteside would suffocate.

  Aaron knelt over them, his hands clenched into fists. “You said the wrong thing,” he muttered. “I wouldn’t want to be you about now.”

  Through the tears clouding her eyes, Callie noticed Whiteside struggling to edge a hand to his side, under his coat.

  Dread shot up her spine. “He’s got a gun, Ben!”

  In a flash Aaron snatched Whiteside’s hand and held it tight as she pulled the gun from the holster and held it in her hands.

  “Get the sheriff, Callie,” Ben breathed, the pained look he gave her piercing her heart.

  He had to be about ready to collapse in his weakened condition. But mostly, he’d said more than once how responsible he felt for Max’s failings. This must’ve come as a horrible shock, as much for him as it was for her, to know that his brother w
ould suggest such a thing.

  “If Max wasn’t such a white-bellied chicken and gone through with it, he might still be alive.” Whiteside angled an intimidating, beady-eyed stare her way. “I may have felt generous enough to let him have a stab at you. For a reduced rate.”

  She held her breath. Stared at the man. Max had offered her as payment for a gambling debt, just like he’d offered his own child.

  But if he hadn’t had second thoughts…maybe he’d still be alive.

  She peered at the cold, heartless look in Whiteside’s eyes. “You killed him, didn’t you?” she heard herself say.

  “Surely you don’t think I would do that.” He raised his bushy eyebrows. “I will say, though…my establishment’s a better place without him.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Unless Whiteside was more forthcoming with the truth, Callie realized that she might never know for sure if Max had been shot because he’d refused to go through with his agreement.

  But this was certain…Max had betrayed her more than she probably knew.

  And—she swallowed hard—with his dying breath, he’d implored her to find Ben.

  Even if the sting of seven years of betrayals never fully waned, she could find comfort in knowing he’d tried to do what was right before his life slipped away.

  After the confrontation with Whiteside, Callie had sat for an hour in Ben’s office with Sheriff Goodwin and Brodie Lockhart, answering more questions than she’d heard both Libby and Luke ask, combined. Ben had been beside her for most of the questioning, offering her his good arm for support even when he had to be cringing with the information she’d disclosed. About the last few months with Max, the night he was shot, the way Whiteside threatened her if she didn’t work for him as a harlot.

  Pulling her cloak tighter, she walked next door, the crisp, early evening air invigorating her tired eyes a little. The sheriff had said that with as much time as had gone by since the murder, it might be hard to pin it on him. But the fact that he’d reached for his gun would be enough to put him behind bars for a while, anyway. Maybe with a little encouragement, the right people, those who knew the truth, would be brave enough to come forward and expose Whiteside.