Rocky Mountain Redemption

by Lisa J. Flickinger

  “Please, bring your company,” Josephine said. “Mother won’t mind.”

  No one would mind. Isabelle was no competition at all.

  “Thank you. The eight of us will be more than happy to accept your invitation.”

  “Eight?” Josephine squeaked.

  Preach couldn’t possibly mean to take the men with him. Josephine had the appearance of a woman from a civilized home.

  Preach’s mouth didn’t hold the slightest suggestion of a smile. He hadn’t meant the response as a joke, which only made it more amusing. Isabelle compressed her lips to stifle the laughter tumbling in her chest.

  “Yes,” Preach said. “Isabelle has managed to convince six of the men to join us for the service this morning.”

  Josephine’s flicker of a smile made Preach’s words feel vulgar. Why had Isabelle even bothered to attend church?

  “They’ll be delighted to know you’ve extended your hospitality. It’s not really a crowd for folks used to feeding four growing boys, but I’m sure you already know that.”

  Josephine’s shoulders drooped as though resigning to the idea that a meal spent with Preach would have to be spent with many. “I look forward to it,” she said.

  Preach nodded. “Please excuse us. I need to speak with Miss Sophie before the service.” He stepped back to take Isabelle’s elbow again and led her up the pathway to the double doors of the church.

  Several paces away, Isabelle spoke under her breath. “Do you think it’s wise taking the men with you for lunch? I don’t mind returning to the camp with them.”

  Preach dipped his head before responding. “We both know that’s not true. The men are relentless, and if today’s lunch engagement doesn’t end Josephine’s fascination with me, I don’t know what will.”

  So Preach wasn’t interested in Josephine’s attention. Isabelle whispered, “Most men would be flattered if a beautiful young woman like Josephine wanted to spend time with them.”

  “I guess I’m not most men.”

  If he could resist a woman like Josephine, he surely was not.

  Preach sought out Miss Sophie and asked her if she would keep Isabelle close during the service. After embracing Isabelle in a surprisingly firm hug, Miss Sophie clutched Isabelle’s hand and led her to a polished wooden pew in the second row. Other parishioners were filling the pews, and the din of conversation rose around them.

  Several minutes later, the heavy clomp of boots and male banter indicated the other loggers had arrived. Preach directed the men to the back pews. His warning to behave themselves carried across the room, causing more than one eyebrow to rise.

  At the beginning of the service, Preach towered over the oak pulpit as he led the small congregation in a prayer. After the joint ‘amen,’ an older gentleman with a stooped back stepped to the pulpit to lead the singing of hymns.

  Twenty minutes later, Josephine’s mother, Phyllis, dropped the cover over the piano keys with a resounding thump. The final hymn had been a loud, toneless version of Amazing Grace. Did Phyllis play the instrument the same way every Sunday, or had Josephine informed her mother on the extent of the crowd joining them for Sunday dinner? If it was the latter, Phyllis wasn’t pleased with Preach’s machinations.

  Preach returned to the pulpit and asked everyone to open the scriptures to the third chapter of Romans, verse twenty-three. Miss Sophie leafed through the pages of her dog-eared Bible and smoothed the center crease before sliding it halfway onto Isabelle’s lap.

  There was no need to share the scriptures for that particular verse. Isabelle had memorized it as a child, as had everyone else in the Sunday school. “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.”

  Had Preach planned to speak on the verse before, or had he chosen the topic of his sermon after Isabelle had agreed to accompany him? If so, the notion burned. Isabelle knew she was a sinner—knowing that fact had never been a problem.

  Every stolen peanut from the grocer’s bin, every denial of having eaten the missing biscuits—they’d all been met with swift punishment and the writing of lines. Just closing her eyes, she could bring to mind pages and pages of carefully inked repetition of Romans three twenty-three.

  But the childhood incidents of wrongdoing didn’t begin to compare to the episode with Daniel. Isabelle’s stomach tightened into a knot as the familiar gloom played at her feet. The bottomless hole of shame, whose only promise was to swallow her up and send her tumbling away, away from everything she loved—away from God.

  Miss Sophie slid her hand under the folds of Isabelle’s skirt to press her gnarled fingers around Isabelle’s.

  Isabelle returned the grip. The pain of Miss Sophie’s sharp ring was a distracting sensation. The shame hadn’t haunted Isabelle since she’d arrived at the camp, and she’d forgotten the strength of its dread.

  Preach’s words grew distant as Isabelle focused on remaining calm and convincing herself not to flee down the aisle and out of the doors. It felt like only moments before the congregation was standing for the final hymn.

  Isabelle bid Miss Sophie a hasty farewell and turned to retreat outdoors, away from the closeness of the room threatening to make her ill.

  “Miss Franklin,” Preach called to her back.

  Isabelle rotated to face him. Both of his eyebrows were raised in question. What was he hoping? She would give him a positive comment on his sermon? Thank him for reminding her she was a sinner? “Yes?”

  “You don’t look well. I was wondering if I should take you—”

  A perfect opportunity to be excused from lunch. “You’re right.” Isabelle wouldn’t have to witness Josephine or Phyllis pandering to Preach, nor would she have to discuss the topic of Preach’s sermon. Isabelle hadn’t heard most of it anyway. “I don’t feel well. I’m sure Miss Sophie wouldn’t mind my companionship while you’re at the Thorebourne’s.”

  “Of course not, dear,” Miss Sophie said as she brushed the cameo at her collar.

  “It will be much quieter,” Isabelle added. “You can pick me up when you’re finished.”

  “I don’t mind missing the meal. The boys could join the family, and I could take you home.”

  Home. The word sounded out of place in reference to the camp, but the thought of curling up with a book on her bed for the afternoon was tempting. The innocent expression on Preach’s face revealed he didn’t fathom the way Josephine and Phyllis would make Isabelle pay for absconding with their prize guest. Isabelle knew better. “You go ahead and enjoy your visit. You can find me at Miss Sophie’s when you’re done.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll see you later. Miss Sophie, are you ready to leave?” Isabelle looped her arm through the older lady’s and accompanied her down the aisle and through the doors to the fresh air of the afternoon.

  As Isabelle and Miss Sophie passed the loggers who were milling at the back of the sanctuary, the one Isabelle knew as Snoop followed them down the steps and onto the pathway.

  “Could I have a moment, miss?” The upturned corners of his lips as he bowed before them and removed his hat made his gesture appear more ridicule than respect.

  Had Isabelle become suspicious of everyone?

  “Good afternoon, young man,” Miss Sophie said before patting Isabelle’s arm. “Isabelle, if you don’t mind, I need to ask Clara Fuller a few questions about our booth in the fair. I’ll just be a few minutes, and then we can walk home.”

  “Of course.”

  Miss Sophie dashed after a woman dragging a small boy across the grass toward a waiting carriage.

  As Snoop chuckled, Isabelle darted a glance at his narrow face. The laughter hadn’t traveled as far as his piercing gaze.

  “We haven’t met yet.” He extended his right hand.

  “I’m Isabelle Franklin.” She placed her gloved hand in Snoop’s.

  “They call me Snoop.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her curled fingers longer than polite society allowed.

  Isabel
le tugged from his grip. “I’ve been told.”

  Another low chuckle rolled from his throat as he brought his gaze to hers—a challenge.

  What had given Snoop the notion Isabelle would allow the impudence? Had Preach been talking in the bunkhouse? Surely not. Her story would have been kept in confidence. “I’ll bid you good day, sir.” Isabelle bunched the skirt of her dress in her fists and turned to follow Miss Sophie.

  As she stepped away, Snoop grabbed her elbow and dug his thumb into its crook. Isabelle stilled. His hot breath tingled her ear as he whispered. “Your pastor friend is not as innocent as he makes himself out to be. Ask him about Lavinia.”

  Isabelle wrenched her arm from his grip, ignoring his rude snort, and started across the lawn to join Miss Sophie.

  Miss Sophie’s gaze swept over Isabelle’s face. “Was that young man bothering you?”

  Yes, he had bothered Isabelle, but she wasn’t about to tell Miss Sophie. “He’s from our camp.”

  Miss Sophie tilted her head, urging Isabelle to continue.

  “He’s a bit forward.”

  “I thought perhaps he was. I’ve observed him approaching Josephine Thorebourne.”

  “Josephine?” Preach’s Josephine? “I don’t imagine Miss Thorebourne was pleased.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know, dear.”

  Chapter 12

  Preach yanked the wagon to a halt in front of a white two-story three blocks over from the church. The house sprawled across a wide lot, and a narrow veranda with decorative posts ran the length of it.

  Will let out a low whistle. “They’ve got a nice place here. I’m looking forward to a hot meal.”

  “What are you talking about, Will? We can’t complain about how Lou feeds us.” Preach jumped from the wagon to tie the horses to the metal ring in the hitching block at the road’s edge.

  “Ya, but Lou don’t look like that.”

  The other men’s heads turned toward the house. Josephine, an apron tied to her narrow waist, stood at the front door waving. Will and Alvin removed their hats and shook their raised palms like a couple of frenzied fools.

  “You boys ever seen a woman before?” Preach muttered under his breath.

  “If I’d known our hostess was as pretty as that,” Snoop said, “I wouldn’t have been as reluctant to leave Miss Franklin at the church.” He slung a leg over the wagon side. “It’s a wonder you didn’t mention it, Preach. I just might get used to this church going.” He followed the remark with a laugh and a slap to Preach’s back.

  Preach squeezed the lead rope in his fist. Isabelle’s looks could hold their own against Josephine’s any day, and Snoop was dreaming if he thought Isabelle would give a man like him even five minutes of her time.

  “Quite the conversationalist, your Isabelle.”

  Snoop wouldn’t get Preach riled up again. There’d been no sign of Isabelle, or Miss Sophie, when Preach had left the church to drive the boys to the Thorebournes’ home. “Sure, Snoop, I believe you had her eating out of the palm of your hand.” Hopefully Snoop caught the sarcasm dripping from Preach’s words. “I never said she was my Isabelle.” Nor would she ever be, but the last thing she needed was a man like Snoop anywhere near her.

  “You boys hear that?” Snoop said, “Preach says Miss Isabelle is fair game for the rest of us.”

  Preach should have hit Snoop in the barn when he had the chance.

  Perley removed his cap to slick back his shoulder-length brown hair. “Maybe the two of you could leave off competing for every woman within fifty miles of the camp. Give the rest of us a chance, would ya?”

  “Ya, and you can start with the woman on the front porch,” Will said puffing his chest and dusting his sleeves before strutting down the front walk.

  Clearly, bringing the men to Josephine’s home had been a poor idea. If Isabelle were here, at least Preach could have shared the afternoon with her. Now, it would be spent with the usual buffoons, only they’d be even more obnoxious as they competed for Josephine’s attention.

  Preach followed the men to the front door, where Josephine welcomed them in and led them to the front parlor before escaping to the kitchen. Lyman and Logan, Josephine’s fifteen-year-old twin brothers, shared a curvy backed divan of material so delicate it looked as if it couldn’t survive the rigors of one teenage boy, let alone four. Picture frames of mixed sizes spread on the wall above the boys’ heads. The images ranged from family photographs to sketches of hunts to a map of Stony Creek and the surrounding area.

  Judging by the quality of the furnishings in the room, the logging business had been good to Mr. Thorebourne. Either that or he was good at keeping up appearances. Perhaps the family’s extravagance also explained why Mr. Thorebourne was looking for prepayment on his logs. It wasn’t Preach’s business to ask him about it though.

  Alvin’s smirk indicated he was thinking the same thing.

  The fact that Mr. Thorebourne owned a rival camp was one of the reasons Preach had never agreed to visit the home before. It wasn’t anything personal, but the camps on the mountain didn’t tend to mix. It usually led to wild accusations and fierce brawling.

  Josephine’s father sat in a plump wingback chair by the window reading the paper. He removed his spectacles and placed them on a varnished walnut table before looking up and acknowledging the men’s presence. “Welcome,” he said. “Preach, why don’t you introduce me to your friends.”

  Preach swallowed to moisten the dryness in his throat. “Mr. Thorebourne”—he nodded to the wide eyed young men—“boys.” It was apparent Josephine’s brothers weren’t accustomed to having their home overrun by a crew of loggers regardless of their father’s business. “I’d like you to meet Horace, lead chopper at the camp.”

  Horace nodded before perching on another wingback opposite Mr. Thorebourne.

  “Will’s his son. It’s Will’s first year at the camp, and we’re pleased to have him. Alvin’s our best teamster. Perley and Ernest both chop for us. And this here is Snoop.”

  Snoop threw Preach a black look. The slight served Snoop right for his comments about Isabelle earlier.

  “Jasper Rice, sir.” Snoop stepped toward Josephine’s father, his hand extended. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Thorebourne.” Snoop and Mr. Thorebourne shook hands before Snoop made a display of shaking both of the boys’ hands and taking a seat.

  No one called Snoop by his real name except Lou and only when she was hopping mad. Snoop was making a fool of himself trying to impress Mr. Thorebourne.

  Preach’s gaze darted around the room, wondering which piece of furniture would hold his bulk before deciding on a sturdy oak-and-leather chair near the twins.

  The loggers kept up a steady exchange in response to Mr. Thorebourne’s questions while the twins sat quietly, taking it all in, until Josephine appeared at the dining room archway and invited everyone to be seated for lunch.

  Hardly possible, but the dining room was even more elaborate than the parlor. A fire snapped and crackled under the polished mantle of a towering mahogany fireplace. Delicate stencils of birds and curlicues swooped beneath the white corner molding on the ceiling.

  Preach’s mind ran to the second sparrow he’d started carving for Isabelle to replace the one Lou had broken. If he had some time in the evening, he’d have to continue to add to the fine detail of the wings.

  Mr. Thorebourne sat at the head of the table across from his wife. The two older boys sat next to their father, and the twins sat on either side of their mother. Josephine took the seat next to the closest twin.

  Preach rounded the table and gripped the ornate pressed back chair next to one of Josephine’s elder brothers. The boy wasn’t his favorite person in the room, but it was better than appearing to be attached to Josephine.

  “Preach, why don’t you take the seat next to Josephine?” Phyllis crossed her arms like she did when she meant to have her way.

  “I’d be happy to sit next to your beautiful daughter, Mrs. Thorebo
urne,” Snoop stepped onto the lush carpet of the dining room.

  “Preach, sir”—Phyllis gestured to the empty chair next to Josephine—“if you wouldn’t mind.”

  Snoop’s gaze held a warning, but Preach wasn’t likely to defy Phyllis Thorebourne in her own home. He rounded the table to the chair Phyllis indicated.

  Snoop pressed his lips into a grim line. “Well, I guess I can sit across the table. Makes it easier to see Miss Thorebourne’s pretty face.”

  Several of the men chuckled as they took their seats. Mr. Thorebourne suggested the guests hold hands as he offered up a prayer of thanksgiving. He kept at it long enough to cool the vegetables mounded in bowls on the table. Half the time, Preach didn’t know if he was impressed or annoyed by the officious examples of devotion to the Lord he’d witnessed since becoming Stony Creek Chapel’s pastor.

  He was annoyed, however, with Josephine’s tight grip. He coughed so he could cover his mouth and break her hold.

  At Mr. Thorebourne’s rousing amen, everyone around the table tucked into the mounded bowls of mashed potatoes, carrots, and creamed peas. They passed a plate layered in thick slices of roast beef and poured pools of gravy from a leaf-patterned pitcher.

  “I think you’ll find, Preach, my Josephine’s beef gravy would be hard to outshine.”

  “Mother, please.” Josephine dropped her chin and glanced sidelong at Preach from under her lashes.

  It was delicious gravy, but Preach would have to be under duress to admit as much. Impress the others, Josephine. There won’t be any courting between the two of us. Preach had all he needed, where? He’d already decided Isabelle couldn’t be the woman for him.

  Snoop smacked his lips and drew his sleeve across his mouth to remove bits of potato from his mustache before turning to Phyllis. “It’s a shame Miss Franklin couldn’t be here to join us for this fine meal. You and your daughter put on quite a spread.”