Rocky Mountain Redemption

by Lisa J. Flickinger

  Preach tugged the reins, urging the horse to follow him up the path.

  “Go on ahead,” she said. The idea of walking back alone wasn’t appealing, particularly the nearer it came to sunset, but at least Isabelle wouldn’t have to explain why she had gotten angry.

  He froze, turned to her. “There’s no way I’m leaving you to walk back to the camp alone. It wasn’t safe when you left this morning, either.”

  Isabelle planted her feet on the trail as Preach and the horse sauntered toward her. “I made it didn’t I? And I will again.”

  “If you’re so sure of everything, then maybe you can tell me what your aunt is going to do to me when I show up at the camp and tell her I left you in the woods to make your way back.”

  He had a point. There were bound to be repercussions already for taking off the way she had. And, considering the telegram, the repercussions wouldn’t involve Aunt Lou sending Isabelle home. “Fine. I don’t feel comfortable on the horse, I’m walking. You do as you please.” Her foot faltered on a root as she turned and started up the trail.

  Preach and the horse fell in behind her.

  Five minutes later, they arrived at the road and continued walking for over an hour without speaking. Preach’s long legs kept pace with Isabelle’s, and the horse followed a few lengths behind.

  “We should stop and have some water,” he said. “We’ve got another hour to go.”

  Isabelle licked her lips. She was thirsty.

  Preach fetched his canteen from the saddle bag, unscrewed the lid, and offered it to her. She took several long sips before handing it back.

  Preach held her gaze as he tipped the canteen back and swallowed. After wiping his mouth, he replaced the lid. “Any chance you might explain what happened back there?”

  It was none of his business. She could tell him that or she could tell him she didn’t want to talk about it. Either response would probably shut the inquiry down. He hadn’t pressed her until now, which said a lot about the man’s patience and his character. Maybe it was time she finally told someone.

  Preach had meant to kiss her when they’d stopped to take in the view back down the trail—before she’d interrupted him. Perhaps he did feel something for her. And for a brief moment, when his handsome face had bent toward hers, she’d welcomed it. Until his face had turned into Daniel’s and Isabelle’s breakfast had threatened to spill from her throat and onto the ground.

  Preach already knew there was a reason Isabelle’s father had sent her to the camp. Aunt Lou had made sure of that. And now that he had seen the telegram, he would be putting a story together in his head. Isabelle might as well give him the right one. Her tale would take care of any future thoughts Preach had about kissing her and protect his reputation from being sullied by the likes of her, too.

  Isabelle gestured for Preach to pass the canteen over again. The cool water barely touched the burn building in her throat. She bent and coughed.

  “You all right?”

  Isabelle straightened and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. There was no way she was telling him the story face to face. “I’m fine.” She rotated to continue walking up the road. “My father sent me here hoping I would recuperate and also hoping I would bend to his will.”

  “I figured it probably had something to do with Daniel and your not wanting to marry him.”

  “I supposed you might, from the telegram.” Isabelle waited for Preach to make a further comment, anything that might ease her into what she was about to say. His steps continued to crunch on the mixed stone and clay of the road, but he didn’t utter a word.

  “I couldn’t marry Daniel, not after he…” Her courage faltered. She took a deep breath, tried again. “I’ve been sick since the spring, barely able to leave my room.” And even when Isabelle felt well enough to leave, she didn’t want to. “My family tried various cures, but none of them worked.” How could they work when her illness wasn’t physical?

  “Hmm.”

  The man wasn’t making the telling easy. “My father was worried about how thin I’d grown and Aunt Lou was his last resort.” Isabelle lifted her skirt and let it drop. “I used to actually fill out my clothes. I lost my appetite after…the incident.” Incident—a tidy, sterile word for what Daniel had done. “Coming to the camp has helped, partly because she’s worked me so hard and partly because her cooking is so delicious. For the first two days, I lay in bed, just like I had at home. And then Aunt Lou said there would be ‘no more of that.’ The next morning, she hauled me out to the kitchen counter to peel a bucket of potatoes. I didn’t think I would ever get through them. It took me half the day.” Two weeks later, Isabelle could peel the same amount in a quarter of the time.

  Maybe Father had been correct in sending Isabelle to her aunt.

  “Your aunt is a force to be reckoned with. And the incident?”

  Isabelle tipped her head back and stared into the deep green of the forest lining the road. Her stomach rolled and pitched. “I-I made a grave mistake in judgment.”

  The horse’s hooves clip clopped on the road behind her.

  “I never should have gotten into the carriage.”

  A hawk screamed as it dipped and soared on an air current above their heads. She flinched at the sound.

  “What happened?” Preach’s voice was soft—understanding.

  She couldn’t look at him. “I was taken advantage of.” Isabelle’s voice dropped away as she spoke the words. They walked on for several paces. “I knew it was wrong to get in the carriage unescorted with Daniel, but I trusted him.”

  If Isabelle had done the right thing in the first place, Daniel’s indiscretion never would have happened. The familiar shame tingled both her cheeks. “That wasn’t the end of it either. One of the girls in my circle of friends discovered something had happened and took great delight in sharing her version of the event.”

  She closed her eyes to fight the memory away, but its clutches pulled her in.

  * * *

  Isabelle turned the tap and wrung her hands as the cold water poured over them for several minutes. She then splashed water over her face. Who cared about the skillfully applied face powder, lip stain, and light brown eyeshadow?

  Her legs throbbed. She lifted her petticoat, crinoline, and tugged at her monogrammed drawers, which fell in a torn and bloodied heap to the floor. She kicked them into the corner before a sob escaped her lips. Using a cloth from the cabinet, Isabelle rubbed the inside of her thighs until angry welts appeared. Why had he done it? As far as both families were concerned, it was only a matter of time before Isabelle and Daniel would have been married.

  Isabelle collapsed on the toilet and dropped her head. Her shoulders shook as she wept.

  When a knock sounded, she jumped.

  Please go away.

  “Are you all right?”

  Stella, the last girl Isabelle wanted to see. Isabelle pressed her eyes and steadied her voice. “If you could give me a few moments.”

  “Isabelle, is that you? I wish I could. I’ve been waiting out here for ten minutes and… Well, you know with our corsets extra tight.”

  Isabelle looped the rinsed cloth over the brass towel holder before opening the door.

  Chapter 9

  The truth was just as Preach had feared. He dropped his head and scrubbed his fingers across his brows. Regret filled his chest. “Lord, she’s no kind of wife for a pastor.”

  Isabelle gasped.

  Oh, Lord. He’d not meant to speak those words aloud. The tears trailing down her cheeks jerked at his heart. If he could, he would grab the words he’d muttered and toss them under the horse’s hooves.

  No other words passed between them on the remaining journey to the camp. When they arrived, Isabelle veered toward the cook shack, shoulders slumped.

  He’d added to her burden.

  Preach led Rosie toward the corral. “You deserve some grain and a good brushing down don’t you, girl.” He pulled the saddle from the horse’s back and
slung it over one of the crude partitions separating the stalls. “Although, you’re probably wondering why Isabelle and I walked half the way home. Isabelle was afraid, but it’s not your fault.” He pulled the blanket off and tossed it beside the saddle before reaching under Rosie’s forelock and rubbing the white patch above her eyes. Rosie dropped her head and pressed her nose against Preach’s chest.

  “Whose fault is it?”

  Preach whirled around. Snoop leaned against the door frame of the barn, arms crossed and a scowl pulling at the corners of his mouth.

  “Whose fault is what?” As usual, the man’s questions got under Preach’s skin.

  “That Isabelle was afraid.”

  Preach turned from Snoop to remove Rosie’s bridle. Isabelle’s story was none of Snoop’s business. It wasn’t Preach’s business either, he’d already decided they couldn’t marry before he knew the details.

  It was the thing he liked least about being a pastor. It sure didn’t feel like a privilege to carry around the sordid details of other people’s lives. They laid heavy on his heart. Lord, forgive me. He had enough sordid details in his own life he wanted to forget.

  “I suppose you’ll have to ask Isabelle about that,” Preach said, “if Lou will let you anywhere near her.” Not likely, at least she shouldn’t. Snoop had no respect for women, even if he could put on a good enough show to get what he desired. Preach’s conscience took a jab at his thoughts. It hadn’t been all that long since he’d behaved the same way. Preach hung the bridle on a nail by the others and picked up the curry comb.

  “Did her being afraid have anything to do with you?”

  Preach’s hand stilled on the horse’s withers. “What are you implying?”

  “I ain’t implying anything. I’m just asking. You’re a pretty imposing figure.”

  Preach continued brushing the chestnut brown of the horse’s coat. “Imposing, am I? I didn’t know you felt that way, Snoop.” The man had a hot temper. The words just might be enough to make him storm off and leave Preach alone.

  Snoop guffawed.

  Guess not.

  “Your size don’t mean anything to me, but it might to a woman.”

  Snoop’s comments were no longer about Isabelle, and it was about time Snoop let it go. Preach hadn’t gone sniffing around Lavinia once since he’d been saved—nor did he intend to in the future. He’d left that life behind, Lord willing. Snoop could have Lavinia all to himself. Preach turned to look Snoop straight on. “Is this about Isabelle or—?”

  “What did you do, Preach?”

  Preach’s fist tightened around the handle of the comb. It wouldn’t be the first time he and Snoop had gone at it. The man was meaner than a snake and just as wily. Snoop would get in some good licks, Preach didn’t care if he did.

  Lord, give me patience. It wouldn’t help Isabelle’s heartache any if Snoop and Preach roughed each other up.

  “How long did it take you to find her?”

  Preach laughed. “A whole lot less longer than it took you. I spotted her in town before noon.”

  “Noon. Why’d it take you so long to get back here?”

  Air filled Preach’s lungs as he pulled a slow breath between his teeth. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? How are the men in the bunkhouse doing?”

  “You weren’t too worried about the men when you took your sweet time getting back.”

  The men had crossed his mind once or twice, but it wasn’t as if much was going to change whether Preach had been here or not. Spending time with Isabelle had been a welcome shift from the bunch of whiners.

  “You folks take a detour?”

  Snoop had gone too far. Preach turned and took a step forward, raising his fist.

  “Charles Thaddeus Bailey.” Lou marched into the barn, her arms jutting out from her hips. “You’ll lower that fist right now, if you know what’s good for you.”

  Apparently Alvin couldn’t keep a secret. Preach had shared with him one night around the fire how Preach’s mother insisted on naming her boys after the twelve apostles. There wasn’t a ma in the whole country happier that one of her sons was preaching the gospel than his ma.

  After catching the smirk that flashed across Snoop’s face, Preach stepped back. Rosie whinnied and turned to nudge his shoulder.

  “What’s going on in here?” Lou asked.

  “I’ve just been asking Preach where he and your niece were all afternoon,” Snoop said. “I covered the country three times over in the time it took for them to get back to the camp. I was getting worried. I thought maybe something had happened to her.”

  Snoop was more likely to be worried about whether Isabelle would come back so he could collect his winnings.

  Lou’s dark eyes stared into Preach’s. “Did he answer your question?”

  Another smirk. “Nope, maybe you can get some answers. She’s your niece.”

  “Well, Preach,” Lou said, “why don’t you tell us where you and my niece have been all day? And then you can tell us why she walked into the cook shack with tears running down her cheeks. The poor girl didn’t speak a word before she locked herself away in her room.”

  Preach had disappointed Isabelle, but he wasn’t the only one. “Why did she take off in the first place, Lou?”

  Lou’s nostrils flared.

  She could be as tough as one of the men. Preach would be in trouble if Lou and Snoop decided to hang a lickin’ on him.

  “You can thank me for finding her and bringing her home when you get around to it,” Preach added. “One of your mincemeat pies should take care of it.” Preach turned back to the horse so he wouldn’t see the expression on Lou’s face, which was guaranteed to be loaded with guilt. There was no need for her to see the same look on his face. She could stew for a while and believe Isabelle’s sorrow was all her own doing.

  A minute later, Lou still hadn’t come up with a retort. Preach continued to brush the horse.

  “Lou, are you going to let Preach get away with this?” Snoop demanded. “Maybe we should bring Isabelle over and find out why she’s so upset.”

  “Let the girl be, Snoop,” Preach’s words held as much warning as he could give them.

  “Why should I?”

  “She’s feeling poorly enough without us asking her all kinds of questions.”

  Lou sighed. “Why did she come back, Preach?” she asked, her voice heavy. “I’m assuming she made it to town, and once she got that far…”

  “She sent a telegram, and her pa said she couldn’t come home.” It was up to Isabelle to tell her aunt the condition of being allowed to rejoin the family. Not that it mattered. According to Isabelle, she wasn’t going to marry Daniel. A fact that relieved him more than it should.

  “I thought as much. Look, most of the men are feeling a lot better. I imagine their appetites will be returning, and they’ll be clamoring for food by morning. I’m going back to the cook shack. I’ll leave the two of you to take care of them. There’s a cold plate for you in the dining room, Preach. ”

  “That’s it? You’re not going to get to the bottom of why Preach and Isabelle have been gone so long, Lou?”

  “You heard me,” Lou said. “The men need taking care of.”

  “But—”

  “You’re needed in the bunkhouse.” The sounds of Lou’s footsteps faded away after she left the barn.

  Preach smiled as he patted Rosie’s side. It was about time Snoop didn’t get his way. Lou seemed to have a soft spot for the man—annoying as he was.

  Preach would give the horse some grain before he went to the dining room. The bunkhouse could wait. “Don’t let me hold you up,” he said to Snoop as he slid a halter over Rosie’s nose.

  Snoop mumbled something Preach didn’t catch and stomped out of the barn.

  Fifteen minutes later, Preach stepped over the threshold into the bunkhouse. It was a whole different scene from what it had been over the last week. All but Mack were dressed and either reclining on their bunks or talking with th
e others. If you looked past all the faded spots and crusted blisters around their mouths and on their hands, it looked like business as usual. A good thing, Preach was tired of being their nursemaid.

  “Here he is, boys, the other hero,” Will called out from his bunk.

  The men cheered and clapped, yelling out Preach’s name as he tugged the door closed. Preach extended his arm toward the men. “I don’t think I did any more than what the rest of you would have done.” Dropping his arm to his side, he continued. “I’m glad to see most of you are feeling better.” He glanced at Mack, lying still, eyes closed, and blanket pulled up to his chin. “It’s been a long week.”

  “A week!” Horace’s thick eyebrows shot up his forehead. “We’ve been down for a week?”

  Snoop strutted to the center of the bunkhouse. “Six days, and me and Preach have been here taking care of you for every one of them. Except today.” Snoop glared at Preach. “Why don’t you tell the men where you were this afternoon? I’d be interested in knowing myself.”

  The men’s gazes swung to Preach as if they were watching a trapeze artist.

  “I went to town. Snoop’s sore because he went the wrong way and wandered around in the woods.”

  “Went the wrong way for what?” Snoop asked.

  He had him there. Preach cleared his throat and sat on his bunk. “I’m tired.” He stretched, grazing the ceiling, and followed the stretch with an exaggerated yawn. Maybe the men would grant him mercy and let the telling go.

  “I guess he’s not going to tell you, Preach was chasing the wood nymph.”

  The room gave a collective gasp, and the men’s necks twisted as they looked from one to another, some shrugging.

  “You mean she’s real?” Perley asked. “Is that true?”

  He had the most to lose, his odds were four to one she didn’t exist. “Maybe.” Preach slipped his boots off while the room filled with I knew its and It’s not possibles.