Rocky Mountain Redemption

by Lisa J. Flickinger

  Snoop better be able to explain himself. “Didn’t think what was fair?”

  “You acting all high and mighty when we both know you’re no better than the rest of us. Lavinia wasn’t the first woman you—”

  “I know my history.” Preach wasn’t proud of it either. “But I don’t get the high and mighty part.”

  Snoop’s guffaw was swallowed up by the dense brush. “You’re kidding yourself if you don’t. Ever since the start of the season, you’ve been acting like you don’t know what it is to lose yourself in a bottle or partake of the delights in Miss Babby’s fine establishment.”

  The picture of a smoke filled room, men laughing, and women’s low cut blouses snuck into Preach’s thoughts. His stomach burned. Snoop had no business bringing up Preach’s old life. “You know I don’t do those things anymore. I’m not sure why you need to remind me I did.”

  “Cause I think you’ve forgotten.” Snoop snorted. “You used to be just like the rest of us.”

  Snoop didn’t know what he was jawing about. “What makes you think I forgot?” Lord knew how the images of his former life haunted him every day.

  “It’s not just me. You don’t think the rest of us figured out your sermon on Sunday was aimed at Isabelle? The poor girl was squirming in her seat.”

  “What?” Preach rubbed the two day’s growth on his chin.

  “The whole ‘we’ve all sinned thing.’ You didn’t need to bludgeon the poor girl. I haven’t figured out why her father sent her to the camp yet, but no doubt it’s not because she’s an innocent.”

  Preach squeezed his eyebrows together. “My message wasn’t pointed at her. You, of all people, know some of the things I’ve done.”

  “It sure sounded that way, and Isabelle got your message loud and clear.”

  Snoop was trying to get him riled up again. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  Snoop threw his head back and laughed. “Ha. You’re the one who doesn’t know what they’re talking about. I heard them, Isabelle and Lou, conversing Sunday night.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me. You’re always nosing in on conversations you’re not a part of. You’re worse than a small child. What do you think you heard?”

  “It wasn’t like that. I went to the cook shack to ask Lou for some hot water. I could hear crying. Lou was trying to console Isabelle, who was blubbering on about how everything was her fault. That all she ever did was disappoint people, including you.”

  “Me? Why would she think—?”

  “Why wouldn’t she? Why should she be any different from the rest of us? You think you’re better than all of us.”

  Preach tried to swallow. He had belabored the point “all have sinned,” but not because of Isabelle. He thought back to several of his sermon points: we are all worthless, wretched beings. If we’ve broken one law, we’ve broken them all. We all deserve to die. If she thought he was critiquing her because of her confession she had it all wrong. His gaze found the trail leading back to camp. “I’ve got to go talk to her.”

  “We’ve still got an hour left. Our count will be down.”

  Preach grabbed his lunch bag and swung his axe over his shoulder. “Our numbers are already higher than the rest of your week. You do what you want, I’m going back to the camp.”

  Preach threw his last words to Snoop over his shoulder. “You can thank yourself for my leaving.”

  Half an hour later, Snoop’s words still gnawed at Preach’s conscience. It was no wonder the girl hadn’t talked to him since Sunday. If what Snoop said was true, Isabelle must have felt betrayed. He’d invited her to church, coerced her even, only to condemn her from the pulpit. He could kick himself for not seeing it.

  The path opened to the camp’s clearing. Preach headed for the bunkhouse to deposit his axe before finding Isabelle and trying to straighten out the whole mess. Snoop was right. She shouldn’t have to suffer because of his ignorance.

  “What are you doing back here?” Joe Pollitt stood outside the office door, a sheaf of papers clutched in his fist.

  Showing up at camp early was a cardinal sin if somebody wasn’t half dead. Preach cleared his throat. “I came back to talk to Isabelle.”

  Joe shook his head. “I guess that girl’s leaving. I told her she wasn’t to encourage anyone, although I’m surprised it’s you.”

  “She didn’t encourage me. I’ve got to clear something up is all.”

  “Seeing as you’re here, I need to talk to you.” The office door squeaked on its hinges as Joe stepped over the threshold and motioned for Preach to follow him.

  “But I got to—”

  “Inside.”

  It appeared Joe was in no mood for argument. Preach stepped into the office and took the chair next to the wall. Joe sat at the desk and lifted a paper from its surface. A stack of twenty dollar bills lay next to a cotton bag.

  “I’ve been making up the month’s paychecks and thought I’d do an inventory on the supply box. According to your records, we’re short two pairs of pants and five blankets. You forget to record some of the boy’s purchases?”

  Preach had forgotten to ask Joe about the blankets. Apparently Joe wasn’t the cause of the shortage. Preach could look into it later though, Isabelle was more important.

  “Maybe you’ve got another tally somewhere, and you neglected to write it down on the record.” Joe tapped on the desk waiting for Preach’s reply.

  Stealing had been a problem last season, too, and Joe had run off the previous foreman because of it. “No. I write it all down when I hand the stuff over.”

  “You keep the box locked, don’t you?”

  Preach did, but it was easy enough to borrow the key if a man wanted to be sneaky. He hadn’t seen anyone with a new blanket in the bunkhouse lately. The goods were probably being sold at another camp.

  Leaning forward, Joe rested his elbows on the desk and clasped his fists. “You’ll find out who stole the merchandise or you’ll leave.”

  Preach didn’t want to leave Joe’s camp. He’d worked with this crew for six years, and, other than Snoop, they were a fine bunch. Isabelle was at the camp, too. The thought of not being able to see her wrenched his innards, even if it shouldn’t. “Don’t you think that’s harsh?” Preach flicked out his chin. “I’ll find out who’s doing it. If I don’t, you can take what’s missing out of my pay.”

  “Look, I made you foreman because I thought you could handle the men. Making sure there isn’t a thief in their midst is part of that. You came back this season different, Preach, and I’m depending on you.”

  Preach would tie the key around his neck if that’s what it took to prevent anymore thieving, but how would he figure out who had already helped themselves to the inventory? He’d scoured the whole camp and the surrounding bush last week for a crate of raisins Lou had claimed went missing. She had suspected the woods might hold a barrel of the fruit well on its way to becoming moonshine but Preach’s search hadn’t turned one up. Somebody in the camp was thieving and it was up to him to solve the problem. “I understand. Can I go and find Isabelle, now?”

  “I’m only letting the girl stay because she said she has nowhere to go. But that won’t be my problem. If you come back early again, she’s gone.”

  “Agreed, am I excused?”

  Joe leaned back in his chair. “She’s not here.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She and Carl left for town after lunch. Carl was doing the supply run, and the girl was helping out at the church.”

  The fundraiser for the new windows—Josephine had babbled on about it over Sunday’s dinner. “You mind if I take one of the horses?”

  “You’re puttin’ in a lot of effort just to clear something up.”

  So what if he was, Isabelle deserved it. She deserved a whole lot. “You going to answer my question?”

  “Pick up some more blankets while you’re there.”

  Chapter 15

  Isabelle’s gaze stayed glued to the mute
d colors of the tapestry she’d missed seeing on her other visits to Miss Sophie’s home. The scene, hanging above the horsehair settee, shot spasms up her backbone. A young man, blond hair unfashionably long, extended his gloved palm to a woman ascending the steps of a carriage parked on a wide drive. Lush trees, moonlight reflecting off their leaves, and twisted trunks marred by shadows bordered the image. The woman’s head tilted at a strange angle.

  Run. Don’t take his hand. You can’t trust him.

  “Isabelle?” Miss Sophie said. “Are you sure you’re well? Here’s some more tea.”

  If she had to drink. One. More. Cup. Isabelle swallowed to tame the nausea building in her stomach.

  Wrinkling her brow, Miss Sophie pointed toward the brocade sofa. “I think you should sit down.” She rushed over to fluff the red pillows nesting in the corner before gesturing for Isabelle to take a seat. “You’re very pale. Has the willow bark helped your headache yet?”

  Nothing would help. Nobody could protect her. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can stay.” Isabelle thrust the saucer back into Miss Sophie’s knobby fingers and spun toward the door. Where could she run? To the camp? Father and Daniel might arrive within hours. To the church? It wouldn’t be long before Josephine inflicted more of her cruelty

  “Of course, dear, you’ve had a trying afternoon, perhaps I can help.”

  Help? A single tear escaped Isabelle’s eye and slid down her cheek. She was beyond help. Nor would her warning to the woman in the tapestry have any effect. The repulsive scoundrel would have his way with the unsuspecting lady, and there was nothing she could do about it. Her hands shook in their familiar tremor. She missed Preach’s calming influence. If he hadn’t been so self-righteous, they still might be friends.

  “Isabelle, I really must insist you sit down.” Miss Sophie placed the saucer on a side table and gripped Isabelle’s quaking shoulders before turning them and pressing her to sit down on the settee under the tapestry. Miss Sophie’s eyes were full of concern as she hovered from the matching chair.

  Isabelle stared at the clenched fists in her lap. When would she be free from Daniel’s grip on her thoughts? She could not bear seeing him.

  Not only was he coming to Stony Creek, but he was bold enough to arrive with her father. The father who didn’t know the real reason Isabelle hid away in her room for five months, the reason she hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept. The reason fear was now her constant companion.

  The reason she would never be a fit mate for a decent man.

  Perhaps their arrival together could serve a purpose. Isabelle shifted on the settee. Daniel deserved to witness Father’s face when she told him what Daniel had really done. Today, she could break her silence. Daniel’s future at Franklin, Owen, and Sons would be over. If word got out, his reputation would be irreparable elsewhere, too. Daniel had made a grave mistake in convincing her father to bring him to Stony Creek.

  “Isabelle, dear, tell me about Daniel.”

  “Pardon?” Had Miss Sophie read her thoughts?

  “Josephine seems to think you have a fiancé named Daniel.”

  Isabelle’s stomach lurched. “I can assure you, Miss Sophie, Daniel and I will not be getting married.”

  Miss Sophie’s narrow eyebrows pulled into a vee. “Why is Daniel coming to Stony Creek with your father then?”

  A good question, as bravery didn’t suit Daniel. “I’m not certain. Daniel and I only courted briefly.” The words sounded too polite considering how the relationship had ended.

  Miss Sophie patted Isabelle’s hand, urging her to continue.

  Isabelle picked at a stray thread from the seam on her sleeve. Why had it been so easy to share with Preach? The words had tumbled out, flowed, until the end of Isabelle’s story when Preach had looked at her with pity, near disgust, and said the words. The words that had pierced her heart and confirmed what she already knew to be true about herself.

  Isabelle swallowed the pain of Preach’s rejection. He had nothing to do with Daniel.

  “Perhaps all is not lost, Isabelle, Maybe he’s coming in hopes of renewing your relationship.”

  The man was mad if he thought so. “It’s not possible, Miss Sophie, nor will it ever be. We parted in very difficult circumstances.”

  Miss Sophie’s remarks raised a question. Why was Daniel coming to Stony Creek? For that matter, why was Isabelle’s father driving to the camp when he’d made it clear the week before she was not welcome at home unless she accepted Daniel’s proposal. “I really don’t understand why Daniel and my father sent a telegram to say they were coming. When I went to the telegraph office last week, my father replied that I could return only if I accepted Daniel’s offer of marriage. That will never happen.”

  Miss Sophie tipped her head and scrunched her nose as she studied Isabelle. “I don’t understand, dear.”

  “My father doesn’t know what occurred between Daniel and me. I was so angry at my father’s answer, I didn’t reply.”

  “On the day I met you, you didn’t mention why you weren’t returning to your home.”

  No, Isabelle hadn’t, nor would she have now if not for the afternoon’s events at the church. “I’m sorry. I should have explained.” Life was much easier when Isabelle hid away in her room. She didn’t have to explain anything to anyone.

  “I don’t know how to say this kindly,” Miss Sophie said.

  Isabelle deserved it, the chastening for not replying to Father and causing the confusion. She dropped her chin to her chest before speaking in a whisper. “Go ahead, say it.” She tensed her back to receive the chiding.

  “Dearest Isabelle, don’t look so worried. I’m not unhappy with you.”

  Miss Sophie wasn’t angry with her? Isabelle let out a slow breath.

  “I’ve been thinking about this afternoon, and I’m wondering if Josephine and Iva might have done more damage than you know of.”

  Phyllis had rushed Miss Sophie and Isabelle from the cottage immediately after discovering Josephine’s part in the debacle. Phyllis had also promised to do what she could to set the matter straight. “What do you mean?”

  “Regarding Daniel.”

  Josephine’s unfounded jealousy over Preach had caused her a slip in judgment. What would that have to do with Daniel? “I don’t understand.”

  “There was an incident in town about three months ago. It caused quite a stir.” Miss Sophie turned to look out the parlor window.

  Isabelle’s gaze followed Miss Sophie’s. A bit of crumpled newspaper leapt in the wind and rolled across the empty train platform. The grandfather clock chimed four.

  “One of the local women, a matron really…well…a man showed up at her door unexpectedly with an offer of marriage.” Soft pink collected at the throat of Miss Sophie’s collar.

  “That sounds quite romantic, but how is it related to Josephine and Iva?”

  “It would have been romantic, I suppose”—Miss Sophie’s voice faltered—“if the situation had been different. The man in question received a telegram advising him the woman in question looked forward to his proposal, so he hastened to Stony Creek to offer his love to her.”

  “And?”

  “The young man—very young man—believed he had received the telegram from the woman with whom he had been corresponding. He and the woman had begun writing after he replied to a personal ad looking for companionship. However, the woman had ceased answering his letters when she discovered the young man’s age.”

  “Why did he receive the telegram then inviting his proposal?”

  “That’s the mystery. The matron was mortified to find an eighteen-year-old man—boy—on her front step, down on one knee, and holding a red rose.”

  Isabelle gasped. “Miss Sophie?”

  “It wouldn’t have been so awful”—Miss Sophie’s voice hitched—“if I hadn’t lived on Main Street and across from the train station where everyone in town could witness the scene.” Miss Sophie looked down and twisted her fingers in the cotton
of her periwinkle skirt.

  “Miss Sophie, I’m so sorry. How could someone be so cruel?”

  “It was a trying time. I think perhaps it was the Lord’s way of correcting a foolish old woman’s desire.” Miss Sophie smoothed the lap of her dress before continuing. “However, I would have rather He corrected me privately.”

  “How can you believe it was the Lord’s doing?”

  “I really don’t know, but now I suspect Iva and Josephine may have had something to do with it. Your circumstances today appear oddly similar.”

  She tipped her head as she studied her friend. “What are you thinking?”

  “Preventing the delivery of the telegram informing you of the men’s arrival today is indicting enough, but I suspect the girls may have also replied without your knowledge. In my instance, I telegrammed the besotted young man to inform him we would never be married and that our correspondence was over. If he had received my telegram, he wouldn’t have shown up at my door.”

  “You can’t blame yourself. If Josephine and Iva are responsible, they should be held to account.”

  Miss Sophie’s gaze rose to meet hers. “For both of us.”

  Isabelle’s stomach rolled into a tight ball. “Are you saying you believe Josephine or Iva may have telegrammed my father, and he and Daniel are coming to Stony Creek because they think I have accepted Daniel’s proposal?” Isabelle’s breath wedged in her chest.

  “It’s likely.”

  Josephine had appeared confident of her announcement before tea at the church. How had she dared? “What will I do, Miss Sophie? I can’t face Daniel. If he thinks I’ve forgiven him, if he thinks I’ll just forget what happened and go ahead and marry him.”

  Tilting her head to the side, Miss Sophie asked, “Why haven’t you forgiven him?”

  She closed her eyes as the memory assailed her.

  * * *

  Daniel eyed her with cold scrutiny when he finished having his way with her in the carriage.

  “Tidy yourself. I don’t want to arrive at the Allen’s with you looking like a guttersnipe. Isabelle’s arms trembled—pain coursed through her insides. She crossed her arms over her chest. If only she could disappear into the tufts of the upholstered bench. Or go back in time before she’d gotten into the carriage—before she’d ever met Daniel. How could she have believed he was a man of honor?