Rocky Mountain Redemption

by Lisa J. Flickinger

  Why didn’t he understand? Sorrow welled up in her heart as she whispered, “Unless, of course, one already knows the Lord.”

  “What?”

  “It sounds to me like you’re preaching that your sins are forgiven because you committed them before you knew the Lord, but I have to carry the loss of my innocence my entire life, and it wasn’t even my fault.”

  Isabelle pressed her eyes to slow the spring of tears.

  Isabelle’s words gripped Preach’s throat like a vice. She was right. He had kept himself from admitting how much he cared for her because of what Daniel had done. In his desire to appear more respectable, Preach had declared Isabelle unworthy to be his wife, even though she had every quality he admired: kindness, honesty, generosity, intelligence…

  He rose from his chair and rounded the desk to kneel on one knee in front of Isabelle. Sobs shook her narrow shoulders. “Shhhh.” He drew her hands from her face. With one thumb, he gathered the tears under each eye before taking her trembling hands in his own. “Isabelle, I’m sorry. I’ve been a judgmental fool. You’re right. I’ve treated you like you’re covered in some sort of shameful tarnish that can’t be rubbed off. It’s not fair. Jesus made you as pure and white as sheep’s wool.”

  Isabelle lifted her gaze to his. Delicate beads of moisture flecked her lashes. She’d never looked more beautiful.

  “The truth is, I fell for you the first day we met down by the creek. And since then, I’ve only grown to love you more, even if I was too stubborn to admit it.” Preach leaned close enough for Isabelle’s warm breaths to caress his cheeks. He swallowed. “You are the only woman I’ve ever wished to spend the rest of my life with. Would you consider becoming my bride?”

  Preach pressed his lips to Isabelle’s forehead and then each eyelid before hovering over her mouth.

  She leaned forward until her soft lips touched his.

  The kiss was just like he’d imagined it would be—sweet, breathtaking. Preach’s heart hammered against his ribs as he wrapped his arms around Isabelle’s shoulders.

  Isabelle sighed and burrowed her head against the collar of his shirt.

  “Is that a yes?”

  Epilogue

  Isabelle tugged at the delicate ivory chiffon at her wrists before adjusting the folds. Mother had done a remarkable job, working with her seamstress, to fashion such a pretty gown in one month’s time. Raising her eyes to the elegant dressing mirror in Miss Sophie’s guest room, Isabelle smoothed the layers of silk in the floor-length skirt accentuating her returning curves.

  Kittie’s reflection appeared in the mirror as she tidied the deep folds of lace cascading from the wide satin sash at Isabelle’s shoulders. “You couldn’t be more beautiful.” Kittie planted a kiss on Isabelle’s cheek.

  “Do you think so?”

  An imprint of lips from Kittie’s red lip salve blazed on Isabelle’s cheek. “Kittie. Look what you’ve done.”

  Kittie tittered as Isabelle swiped at her cheek, smearing the salve into two long streaks down her face.

  “I don’t think that’s helping.” Kittie’s shoulders quaked with mirth.

  “Please, you have to remove it.” Isabelle rubbed her cheek again, smearing the salve even further. “I look like a clown.” Preach deserved so much more.

  “An attractive clown on her wedding day.” Kittie’s laughter bubbled over as she snatched a hankie from the chiffonier and scooped up some cold cream. “Hold still.” She dabbed Isabelle’s nose and left a stark white blob at its tip.

  Isabelle stared at her reflection for a brief moment before joining Kittie in her mirth. Soon the two were bent over, clutching their stomachs and giggling.

  Just like old times in Isabelle’s bedroom at home.

  Two raps sounded on the door before Aunt Lou issued a warning. “It’s time to leave for the church.”

  Isabelle clutched her best friend’s hand in her own. “Kittie, I’m so grateful you could be here as my maid of honor.”

  “Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away. I’m happy you’ve found someone who truly loves you. Now let me fix your beautiful face.”

  Someone who truly loved her and was patient, kind, good, and gentle.

  Ten minutes later, Archie, the Franklin family’s driver, pulled the carriage to a stop in front of the Stony Creek Chapel. Alexander led his wife and sister inside before returning to escort Isabelle and Kittie to the narrow vestibule.

  Isabelle tightened her grip on her large bouquet. Within the sphere of purple cloth roses and off-white looped ribbons perched the second sparrow Preach had carved. Lord, thank you for teaching me I don’t have to be afraid and for caring for me as you care for the sparrows. I promise to love the wonderful man you’ve given to me and to help him care for your people the rest of my life.

  Preach shifted on his feet as he waited at the front of the church beside Samuel Gittens, the itinerant minister who’d led him to the Lord. The black wool suit he’d ordered from the general store pulled across Preach’s shoulders. His back was on fire. The sooner he could be out of the church and in the freezing temperatures of November, the better.

  Thinking the way he did, it probably wouldn’t be long before the Stony Creek Chapel regretted the decision they’d made to keep him on as pastor.

  A small group of congregants, headed by Miss Sophie, had arrived at the camp shortly after he’d let the elders know he was quitting. Miss Sophie had gone on at length about how much the people needed him and how the funeral for Horace had touched so many lives. Her words had come as a surprise. His mind had been muddled during the service, knowing that Isabelle had agreed to marry him the night before. Preach had tried to convince the group he wasn’t fit to lead others toward the Lord when Miss Sophie had said humility was a good quality in a preacher.

  After her comment, Preach had agreed to continue on as their pastor until he and Isabelle left the camp at spring break-up.

  Preach had also tried to convince Isabelle to let him set her up in a little house in town until then, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She’d insisted that, as his wife, her place was by his side always and not just on weekends.

  Isabelle had asked Aunt Lou to keep her on as assistant cook, and she’d agreed. Joe had offered his quarters to the couple and moved into the bunkhouse with the other men. Perley was already taking bets on how long it would take Joe to find better accommodations.

  Fidgeting in the third pew caught Preach’s eye. Lewis was jabbing Mack in the ribs. The two youngsters had gotten into no end of trouble since Mack had recuperated from his illness.

  Will sat next to the two, immobile. Horace’s death seemed to have set the young man adrift. It was as if he didn’t care about anything anymore. Against Preach’s advice, Ernie had agreed to take Will on the spring river drive to deliver Pollitt’s logs to the West Pine Timber Company down river. The money was good, but the work was dangerous, particularly when you were young and foolish. Preach hoped Ernie knew what he was doing. Will’s family didn’t need any more loss.

  At a signal from Isabelle’s Father, Phyllis struck up Pachelbel’s “Canon in D.” When she’d learned of Isabelle’s and Preach’s engagement, Phyllis had offered to play the piano for their ceremony. She’d also apologized for her daughter’s traitorous behavior. No one in town had heard from either Snoop or Josephine since their escape a month earlier, and the Thorebourne family home had gone up for sale to help cover the timber company’s loss.

  As the delicate notes drifted through the sanctuary, Isabelle’s friend Kittie began her walk up the aisle. Preach gulped at the vision behind Kitty walking toward him on her father’s arm. Isabelle looked like a fairytale princess, her hair all piled up, a sort of diamond crown on her head. He was the most fortunate man in the world. Lord, I thank you that the woman you’ve chosen for me is beautiful both inside and out.

  Preach’s heart danced as Alexander presented his daughter’s hand. Preach nodded his gratitude before slipping Isabelle’s tiny glove throu
gh the crook of his elbow. Her calm smile brought a surge of emotion to his throat.

  Together, they turned to face Samuel, the man who would unite them before God and all those present for the rest of their lives.

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  * * *

  Chapter One

  1898

  The Rocky Mountains

  A sharp squeal pierced the air, followed by a dull thud. What was that? Will tightened his grip on the tin cup of coffee as his gaze scanned the surroundings. Was someone in trouble?

  Mack shot out of the cook tent. Tight on his heels ran a woman—or perhaps girl was more appropriate—a long black braid coursing down her back.

  With a cast iron frying pan raised in one arm, she chased Mack toward the trees. “You’re going to regret that!”

  “I already do,” Mack said over one shoulder and rubbed the top of his head before stretching the gap between himself and his angry pursuer.

  Will’s gaze moved to the man, who looked around his pa’s age, perched across from him on the six-foot half-log deacon seat beside the crackling campfire. His stomach clenched. The man would be around his pa’s age, if Pa were still alive. “You figure those two are going to be all right?” Will thrust his chin toward the opening in the pines where Mack appeared to be aiming.

  For the first time that morning, the brim of the older man’s wool cap lifted, and his dark brown eyes bore into Will’s. “I ‘spect so.” The reply was more of a grumble than actual words.

  The last of the girl’s white apron strings disappeared into the forest. He tossed his cold coffee onto the ground. The vile stuff still hadn’t grown on him. He uncrossed his long legs and stood to follow the Mack and the girl.

  “You know that boy?”

  Mack was a year older than Will, and they’d both just finished their first season chopping for Pollitt’s Lumber up on Cougar Ridge Mountain near the town of Stony Creek. And they’d both been thrilled to be taken on for a spring river drive in the Rocky Mountains. The log drive would deliver Pollitt’s, and several other companies’, winter season’s logs to the West Pine Timber Company downstream.

  Preach, the foreman over at Pollitt’s, had given both Mack and Will a fine recommendation to join the drive. Will still wasn’t sure if he deserved it or if Preach simply felt sorry for him. “Ya, I know Mack.”

  “I imagine there’s a reason your friend was trusted for the work here.”

  Mack was scrawny, no doubt. Will carried more meat on him, but Mack’s agility and stamina were benefits for the long days and hard work of the drive.

  “He can probably manage his current predicament,” the stranger said. “Don’t you figure?”

  Will’s gaze drifted back to the woods. The man had a point. The girl was just a slip of a thing, and Mack usually deserved any grief he acquired. The boy was relentless in playing practical jokes.

  Will resumed his place before the fire. “My name’s Will. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  Not that they’d met anyone yet. Mack and he had arrived at Isaac Lake the afternoon before. Since then, they’d spent most of their time in the tent sleeping off the couple of days they’d caroused in Stony Creek to celebrate the last payday of the logging season.

  The pay was one of the reasons Will found the log drive appealing. He stood to make two dollars a day for three weeks. It would go a long way to cover his recent loss. He’d been rolled the last evening in Stony Creek, and the entire month’s pay had gone to a pretty face with some fast fingers. Now that pa was dead, Will’s ma depended on her three sons to take care of the family. Eight mouths were a lot to feed.

  “They call me Gabe,” the older man said. “It’s nice to meet you, son.”

  Will gritted his teeth to keep the term from twisting his features. No one had called him son since his pa’s death last fall.

  Gabe leaned back and snatched up a branch of spruce from a pile of deadfall behind the deacon seat. He shoved one end under a cogged leather boot, snapped the branch in two, and tossed them into the fire.

  The fire cracked and popped as it consumed the new fuel.

  Will swallowed to steady his voice before he spoke. If he took his time, it wouldn’t squeak like it usually did when his emotions were churning. The last thing Will needed on the river drive was for the men to think he was some kind of punk. At seventeen, he might well be the youngest, but folks said he looked older than his years. Will straightened his shoulders, “You have any idea when we might be heading out?”

  “More than likely in the next day or two. It’s expensive to keep feeding the drivers if they’re not working.”

  If river drivers ate anything like loggers, piles of food stuffs disappeared in minutes. It would take a lot for the drive’s cook to beat Lou Franklin’s cooking in such primitive conditions. She and her niece Isabelle had kept Pollitt’s men well supplied with cookies, pies, and—Will’s personal favorite—Lou’s raisin cake. “The cook any good?”

  Gabe huffed and sipped his coffee.

  Steam spiraled up, obscuring the deep crevasses lining his face, crevasses earned by spending a lot of years out of doors.

  “Shorty is one of the best. He won’t be too happy your friend ran off with his assistant. He’s got a lot of men to feed.”

  Will thought of the young woman who’d chased Mack out of the tent, her dark eyes snapping. Tall and willowy, like his eldest sister, Vesta, the girl’s heart-shaped face and narrow pointed chin held a determination Mack would be unlikely to outrun. “Seems like an unusual job for a girl that young.”

  Gabe’s eyes combed Will’s as the heat built up under his collar. It was a dumb thing to say considering Will’s own tender years. He lifted the gray wool cap covering his shoulder-length blond hair and slicked through the curls before he returned the hat to his head and cinched it low on his brow.

  Ernie, a fellow logger from Pollitt’s Lumber, had taken Mack and Will under his wing after he learned they were working the drive together. He had also crushed Mack’s hopes of a romantic entanglement when he’d informed him the same rules applied on the river drive as in the lumber camp—no single women allowed.

  “She married?” Will asked and chuckled at his own humor. There was no way a girl that young—

  “Widowed.”

  The information caught in Will’s throat, and he bent to cough as Gabe took another sip of his coffee.

  “Widowed?” Will’s voice squeaked. Drat! He coughed again. Maybe Gabe would think Will had something in his throat.

  “No more than two months. She’s still hurting. The drive will keep her busy enough, and that should help.”

  Spending time in the woods with a rowdy bunch of men was not the best choice for a grieving heart. He should know. More than likely it would find the girl another man to marry if she wanted one. It wouldn’t be Will, though. He was too young to be tied down. And he wasn’t particularly fond of having his noggin bashed with a frying pan either. “It’s a sad thing.” Will lowered his chin, hoping his face held the appropriate amount of sympathy to fit the poor girl’s loss.

  Gabe rose from the fire. “I’m going for a walk before breakfast. You care to come along?”

  Will shifted to his other foot so he could view the break in the trees where Mack and the girl had vanished. There was still no sign of the couple. It would feel good to stretch his legs and take his mind off his rumbling stomach. Breakfast wasn’t for another half hour. “Sure, I’ll come with ya.”

  Gabe’s tin cup clanked on the bottom of the white enameled dish tub, and Will passed the canvas cook tent. Cursing, muttered under a man�
�s breath, followed Gabe and Will as they stepped into the shade of evergreens no more than thirty feet tall, interspersed with flat topped stumps. The sharp musk of the forest wafted on the air. Branches snapped under their feet with every step as they hiked.

  They’d been hiking in silence for ten minutes when Will asked, “Do you know when the area was logged off?”

  “My pa, my brothers, and I logged here in seventy-eight. I wasn’t much older than you.”

  Will stared at Gabe’s broad Mackinaw blanket, the red-and-black checks a bold contrast to the emerald of the forest. “That would have made you about…”

  Looking over his shoulder, Gabe shot Will a retort. “Eighteen.”

  Will couldn’t help the disappointed grunt that escaped his chest. The girls in town had been lying to him for six months. “All right, you got me figured. I’m only seventeen, but that doesn’t mean I can’t put in a man’s worth of work.”

  “Did you hear me say you couldn’t?”

  Several jays took flight, the flap of their wings overhead, as Will lengthened his stride to catch up with Gabe. “I was a chopping over at Pollitt’s with my pa until…” Telling Gabe Will was the reason his pa was dead wasn’t going to bolster Gabe’s opinion of him.

  Gabe stopped and rotated to face Will.

  Will’s chest heaved as he attempted to slow his breath.

  Raising a heavy dark eyebrow, Gabe placed his hands on his hip. “Until?”

  Even though Will could only thank himself for bringing the topic up, it didn’t make the telling any easier. He lifted his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. Preach and the other loggers had been trying to convince Will it wasn’t his fault ever since Pa had died, but it hadn’t taken root. “I hate to say it.” Will swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “Until I killed him.”