Rocky Mountain Redemption (4 page)

Joseph set the box on the end table. “You're compassionate to a fault. Whether it's a stray animal or someone down on their luck, you'll take most anything in and not think a thing about it if you get bit in the process.”

Ben couldn't deny Joseph's words. Puffing out his cheeks on a sigh, he pictured the most recent strays that now shared his home.

“Yeah,” Aaron agreed. “Take those two starving kittens that showed up in your barn last summer. I sure wouldn't have wanted to get my hands close to them when they ate. The way they protected their food with those little, needlelike claws…” He demonstrated with an amusing amount of drama that had Ben chuckling. “And remember those pathetic, warning growls they'd make even while they chewed?”

“How could I forget? But now they're a good, healthy weight.” With gleaming black and white fur, full bellies and a lackadaisical demeanor that made Ben wonder if he'd spoiled them to the point of incompetence.

“I realize I'm taking a chance here, but I'm not going to take the locket from Callie. I just can't do that to her.” Somewhere deep inside his heart, his words rang true. “And, as far as the job goes, she's not going to take no for an answer. She obviously needs the money.”

Goaded by the lackluster vote of confidence in the stoic expressions on their faces, he raked his fingers through his hair, trying to see their side of things. They'd all four been betrayed by Max. Even so, there'd been a hope that existed among Joseph, Aaron, Zach and Ben that Max would come to his senses someday. That he'd return home to the family.

The idea that Max lay cold in some unmarked grave made Ben's chest tighten with ready sorrow. How had he failed so miserably? It should've been different. He
should've been able to turn Max around and get him to see reason.

When he thought of his brother's widow lying in the other room, her weakened body racked with fever and sickness, his heart wobbled off-beat. There had to be more to her than met the eye. And he wanted to be the one to uncover it.

“I think if you had the opportunity to talk to Callie, you'd see why I couldn't just turn her out in the storm.”

“Maybe,” Aaron conceded. “But why you feel like you have to go and give her a job, room and board, when it's pretty obvious she's trying to pull a fast one, is beyond me.”

“Keep your voice down.” Ben sliced another reproving look to Aaron and moved to stand next to him. “She won't take a handout. She insists on paying me back for her care, and I'm inclined to believe that she means it. You both know that I could use help around here. One good look at this place proves that.”

“I don't know…it all looks fine to me.” Joseph quipped good-naturedly, stepping toward them. He turned his head as though taking in the full measure of the place.

“This from a blind man.” Aaron rolled his eyes, clapping Joseph's arm. “Inspect things with those sensitive fingertips of yours, and I think you will change your tune.”

Ben chuckled softly. “I'm not arguing. We all know that I didn't inherit the ‘neat and tidy' ways in the family like you, Joseph.”

“At least you're right on that account.” Aaron quirked an eyebrow.

“Listen, I know how much guilt you carry over Max
leaving the way he did.” Joseph sighed, setting his focus dead center on Ben. “We all feel responsible in one way or the other, but we tried to get him to come back. Even doled out more money for him when it was obvious he'd been a fool and spent all of his inheritance.”

Aaron slid his hands into his pockets. “Pulling this little lady into things when we don't know her from a stranger could be barkin' up the wrong tree.”

Ben glanced over to the front window where the town slowly dug out from the foot and a half of snow that had fallen last night. In spite of the impeding snow that made movement outside difficult, at best, his brothers had been on his doorstep at ten o'clock this morning, checking to make sure he'd returned safely from his calls last night. The youngest, Zach, likely would've been here, too, but he was probably buried knee-deep in chores on the cattle ranch where he worked as foreman.

Ben valued the close relationship he had with his brothers. They looked out for each other, picked up slack when one was down. And they all felt a profound hole where Max had been.

His jaw ticked with edginess. “Max aside, Callie is obviously in need of a little help, and I'm going to do what I can for her.”

He remembered, with a sense of shame, the panic in her eyes last night when he had as much as accused her of stealing the locket. “You're right, though. She could easily be some fast-talking thief who knows an easy target when she sees one. And if that's the case, I'll do my best not to get taken, but until I find out more, she's staying right here.”

“T
hat is the
longest
uninterrupted stretch of sleep I've ever seen,” came the soothing, cellolike timbre of Ben Drake's voice.

“What time is it, anyway?” Indulging herself in the heady, restful feeling, she stretched beneath the warm covers. She edged a sleep-fuzzed gaze over to see him leaning against the wall, one booted foot draped over the other and his arms crossed in a relaxed fashion at his chest.

The merest whisper of awareness quivered down her spine.

“Eight o'clock.”

When he moved over to the bed, she focused on the way the sunlight danced about the room. “Hmm…the way I feel, I would've thought—”

“Friday. You've been asleep for over a day, straight.”

Horrified, Callie slammed her eyes shut.

“Catching up, are you?”

She'd had no intention of languishing for so long. This would only delay her in getting the job. Ben could've hired someone else, for all she knew. She had
to have this job so she could pay off the rest of Max's debt—before Whiteside came looking for her.

She glanced up at Ben, trying not to notice his fresh-shaven, squared jaw and the half grin tipping his lips.

And the rebellious trip of her heart.

She gave her head a hearty shake. “I apologize that I've taken up—”

“No apologies are necessary.” He settled a warm hand against her brow. “How are you feeling? You look much improved from the night before last when you showed up here.”

“I feel fine.” Folding back the covers, she hauled her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up.

“Hold on, there. Not so fast.” He braced a hand at her back and hunkered down, eye level. “You may feel better, but you're probably weaker than a newborn colt.”

“I'm just fine. And I don't need your help.” The sound of her own pulse surged like breaking waves through her head. Dizzy, she clutched the quilt to her chest and feebly pushed herself up to standing. She teetered, struggling for balance. “Better than ever.”

Her knees buckled and she started to fall, but his strong arms caught behind her with disarming comfort.

“Well, I'll give you this much, your stubbornness hasn't weakened one bit.” He lifted her into bed, his muscle-roped arms searing straight through her thin undergarments like a warm, mesmerizing flame.

She drew in a slow, pulse-calming breath.

“You must've grown up with a passel of brothers to stand your ground with, right?”

“Wrong.”

“Then what?” His eyes sparkled. “Let me guess, the middle child in a houseful of girls?”

“Wrong again,” she shot back, noticing, for the first time, a picture hanging on the wall next to the bed. Her gaze moved slowly over the photograph.

The image captured five boys, all neatly tucked in and trimmed for a moment in time. She stared at the hopeful faces. She recognized Ben, standing like some sturdy pillar, his dark hair dangling over his brow even as it did now.

“That's a picture of me and my brothers. I was thirteen, there.” He pointed to the middle boy in the frame, his long arms draped around his brothers.

She shifted her gaze from the image to Ben then back again, remembering how Max used to say that Ben had been so controlling. That he'd been harsh and demanding, squashing fun and taking his role as the oldest way too seriously.

“And this is Joseph, Aaron, Zach…” He pointed to each face then stopped at the boy to the far right. “And here's Max. He was nine at the time.”

She swallowed hard, seeing a much younger and far more innocent Max. “That spark of adventure was in his eyes even at that age.”

“That's for sure. He was always off doing something or other. It was hard to keep tabs on him,” he said, his voice low and tight.

She found it hard to disagree. Max would often be gone for days at a time, never disclosing his whereabouts when he left or returned.

Studying his image again, she noted the way he stood straight and tall, almost out of Ben's reach. He leaned away from his brothers, his arms folded stubbornly at
his chest, while the other boys seemed to take comfort in Ben's arms.

Tucking the covers under her chin, Ben sat down on the chair next to the bed and sighed. “So, did you have siblings?”

She picked at an errant thread on the quilt. “I was the only child born to my parents.”

“Spoiled, then, huh?”

She met his lighthearted gaze. “My upbringing was one of privilege, but little freedom to enjoy it. My mother died when I was five, and after that my father changed. Dramatically so,” she admitted, even still missing the happy, carefree way of life before Mama had died and her father exacted a strict existence for her.

Ben gave a slight nod. “I'm sorry to hear that, Callie. That must've been difficult.”

Swallowing back the familiar grief, she remembered just how difficult it'd been. To once delight in her father's love and care, only to have it replaced with a gruff demeanor and emotional distance. Her father's heart had been broken, of that she was certain. She'd often wondered if he'd been so fearful of losing her, too, that he'd hemmed her in so tight with his principles and rules that nothing ill could befall her.

Only she'd been desperate to escape the confines of her father's grief and frustration, and found ways around his stringent demands.

That's when she'd met Max and had fallen in love.

The man had fairly swept her off her feet from the moment their gazes connected. He was handsome, witty and—glancing at the picture again—had a spirit of adventure that had been like honey to a bee for her. With the elegant brushstroke of words, Max had painted
pictures of places that had her yearning to break free from the colorless canvas defining her life.

The moment her father had discovered she'd been stealing away to be with Max, he forbade her to see Max, drawing a hard, dark line of demarcation.

She'd dared to cross it.

It didn't take long after they'd married for her to learn that Max's charm and wit went as far as the door to their house. Inside their private life there had lived a man who seemed as different as night was to day.

The guilt she carried from the way she'd left home had been nearly unbearable at times. It was as if her choices had set into motion a lifetime of sorrow.

Ben cupped her chin and urged her focus toward him with a tenderness that loosed a shiver of comfort straight through her. “Do you think you feel up to a hot meal?”

Her stomach growled as if on cue.

“Say no more.” On a pulse-skittering wink, he crossed to a small table where he poured a glass of water. “You need to get your strength back so you'll be ready for what's ahead.”

She frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“The job…” He stood over her.

She gave an almost imperceptible nod, her heart thudding against her ribs. He was giving her the job? As thrilled as she felt, she masked the excitement. “So you finally came to your senses?”

His low chuckle warmed the room. “Let's see…that wasn't exactly how I was looking at it, but yes. I finally came to my senses.”

Callie eyed him as he leaned down next to her. He supported her shoulders with one arm as he helped her to drink. When he gently laid her against the pillow
again, she savored the residue of cool moisture by licking her lips.

His gaze fell to her mouth and lingered for a long, tenuous moment before he turned away as though embarrassed.

She barely noticed, though, since she was already calculating how long she'd have to work to pay him back for her care. “I'll work off my bill first. For the doctor services you've rendered.”

“Consider it a benefit that comes with the job.”

“Absolutely not. I told you before that I wouldn't take charity. And I mean it.”

“Hmm…I don't remember saying anything about charity. I need a cook and a housekeeper, if you haven't already noticed.” He swiped his index finger over the glass window panes, leaving a telltale mark. “Maybe even help with some medical calls. So, when you're well, I'll be expecting you to work for me. That is, if you think you can handle that kind of labor.” He pivoted to face her, his challenging yet enticing gaze advancing on her.

She tried not to fidget at the sight of him, but it was nearly impossible. The honest expression he wore and the hopefulness in his gaze seeped into the very pores of her skin.

She fingered the edge of the quilt. “I— Of course I can
handle
this. It should pose no problem at all.”

“You
can
cook, can't you?” He arched one dark eyebrow.

Callie stuck him with a prickly look.

“Apparently so.” His mouth tipped in a distinctly male, self-satisfied grin. “Then it's settled. For now, I just want you to relax and take it easy. As badly as I need help, I can't have you sick, can I?”

She shook her head in outward agreement. But inside, doubt filled her mind. Why was he being so kind? So unlike Max's description? It just didn't make sense.

Callie's heart twisted with bitter irony, remembering the last words that had passed through Max's lips before he died.

Find my brothers. Find Ben. He'll see to your needs.

Max had died then, leaving Callie confused, angry and laden with sorrow.

Certain that his words must've been delirium-driven, she'd ignored his dying sentiment. She'd grieved for her husband, for the life he could've had and for the unfulfilled dreams she'd never know with him. She'd grieved his untimely death.

And that of their newborn baby girl he'd buried almost nine months to the day they'd married.

But instead of wallowing in the insurmountable grief that permeated every thought and every breath, she'd had to begin working immediately, to make right on his debt.

She wouldn't be here now, except that she'd had nowhere else to turn. At the moment she felt too weak to even drag herself out of bed.
And
she was in debt to a man Max had said was controlling, a cheat and a liar.

Just as soon as she could, she was going to make right on what she owed Ben by cooking mouthwatering meals and cleaning till his office and house gleamed. Once she'd paid back Whiteside, she'd leave, thereby ridding herself of the confusion of it all.

“I'll bring over something for you to eat while we wait for Katie to arrive.”

At the mere thought of food, Callie's mouth began watering like a leaky pail. “Who's Katie?”

“She's my brother's wife. I thought maybe I'd have her help you with a bath. As long as you don't spike a fever before then, you can soak in hot, soapy water to your heart's content.”

She gave a contented sigh. “It's been so long—” She cut her words off. Ben certainly wasn't interested in the details of her bleak, almost nonexistent, bathing schedule.

“It'll probably go a long way to making you feel better,” he added with a brisk nod.

She barely hid her profound delight, finding it impossible to recall the last time she'd taken a full-fledged bath with hot water. Most of the time she'd made do with the invigorating yet harsh cold of a mountain stream or sponging herself from a pail of used dishwater. Twice, at the saloon, she'd managed an early morning soak after the customers had all gone home to their poor, unsuspecting wives and children. Even though she'd hated utilizing Lyle Whiteside's
girls'
amenities, it had been a memorable bit of pure luxury.

“That is, if you want to?”

“Oh, yes.” She touched her matted hair. “That would be wonderful.”

“Katie will help you. You'll like her.”

Instant humiliation ricocheted through her veins as she lowered her hand to her side. Her stomach clenched. She fingered the rough seam of a haphazard, angry-looking scar that blazed like a streak of lightning around to her back, a result of one of Max's liquor-induced tirades and a lasting symbol of betrayal that had embedded deep into their marriage.

Oh, he'd been somewhat remorseful for the way he'd treated her, but not enough to get her proper medical attention. Drunk, he'd awkwardly stitched the gaping
wound then stormed out the door, leaving for days while she struggled to fight off a wicked infection, alone. That had been a year ago, and though the gash had finally healed, the pain inflicted by his total disregard for her well-being stung, still.

“Callie?” Ben's voice cut through the dismal memory.

She jerked her attention back to the present. “I—I'm sure I can bathe myself.”

His eyes shrouded with doctorly concern. “Tell you what, when you're stronger and well out of the woods, I won't argue.”

“There's no need to bother her,” she shot back. “I can manage just fine on my own.”

“I'll rest easier if you have a little help.” Moving toward the doorway, he turned to her as he cleared his throat. “And by the way, room and board is part of the job. That is, if this bedroom here suits you well enough.” He gestured to her surroundings almost apologetically. “You can take your meals with me next door. Or bring them here and eat alone, if you'd rather,” he added as he stepped out of the room.

Callie gulped against the thick emotion clogging her throat. She hadn't slept in a bed so comfortable, had a room so cheery, or had the delicious promise of consistent meals for seven years. The accommodations were modest by her father's standards. But to a woman who'd spent the past years moving from shack to shack, sharing a bed with rodents and contenting herself with whatever food she managed to purchase, this was a castle. And for a short while, anyway, she was the queen.

 

Ben peered down at where he'd absentmindedly heaped a plate full of shepherd's pie for Callie. The way
her stomach had audibly growled at the mention of food, he felt confident that she finally had an appetite—just probably not enough to eat half a roasting pan of the tasty dish.