Читать книгу Rocky Mountain Redemption - Pamela Nissen - Страница 11

“That 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.

He dropped the wooden spoon in the pan and braced his hands against the counter, attempting yet again to convince himself that he was merely concerned for her as a patient.

Hauling in a deep, stabilizing breath, he glanced down as Molly and Smudge meowed sweetly at his feet, curling their thick tails in feline affection around his legs.

Who was he trying to kid?

He felt an unrelenting draw to her that plagued his every thought, making him wonder if he might well be getting himself in too deep.

The empty sadness he’d seen waft like some dark wraith across her face when she’d spoken of her upbringing tugged at his heart. What secrets did her past hold?

She’d grown up with privilege. And she was clearly uncomfortable with any action that could be viewed as charity. He couldn’t miss the way she’d flinched at his touch. Nor had he missed the way her eyes had lit with awe then instant shame when he’d mentioned both the meal and bath. It was as if she didn’t want to make herself vulnerable enough to receive help…so much like the strays he’d taken in. Often times he’d have to coax them to eat, even when their ribs protruded in glaring proof of starvation.

Ben recalled the way he’d found Callie that first night. In spite of her tangled hair, tattered appearance and puzzling background, he’d felt pulled by some unseen force to help her.

To save her.

Just like the scrawny kittens that had shown up.

He gave a short laugh and loosened his fists, reflecting on how this little lady had loosened his ordered world a few notches, turning his life upside down in less than two days.

Maybe he was the one who needed saving.

When he peered down at his feline companions, Smudge gave him one of those I’m-as-cute-as-a-button squinty-eyed looks while Molly stared wide-eyed up at him, as though he owned a pond full of tasty fish for the eating. He hunkered down and stroked their fur, tracing the ragged scar on Molly’s neck that had been a festering wound when she’d come to him. He looked at the irregular kink crooking Smudge’s front leg, saddened to think of what these two had suffered.

He couldn’t help but open his heart to them when they’d shown up. And they seemed to know it, too, because like most all the animals that came his way, these kittens had somehow known they could trust him.

He peered through the kitchen window toward his office, and his chest tightened. Was Callie one of those strays? Had she scraped her way through life and, by providential design, landed on his doorstep?

Callie’s pride prickled from head to toe. “I could never take these garments from you, Katie.”

Katie sat on the bed behind her, gliding a brush through Callie’s freshly washed hair. “Sure you can. Besides, I really want you to have them.”

She ran a hand over the sturdy, attractive fabrics. “They’re far too nice to give away.”

“Ben said something about you being stubborn,” Katie remarked, threading her fingers through Callie’s hair. “He just didn’t say how stubborn.”

Having figured out long ago that her existence hinged on a firm resolve to keep moving forward, no matter what, she’d gladly embraced stubbornness like some lifeline.

When she slid her gaze from the lavender day dress to the emerald-green dress and then to the soft, white eyelet undergarments, she knew each item would be perfect. She hadn’t seen clothing like this for seven years. And she sure hadn’t felt cared for like this in almost as long.

But she already owed Ben—even though he’d said it was part of the job. She didn’t want to take charity. Didn’t want to be in debt to someone else. Not for a single cent. Not even for a single stitch of much needed clothing.

“Barring some unforeseen fortune splashing at my feet, it’d be a month’s worth of paydays before I could afford a new dress, let alone nice undergarments,” she admitted reluctantly. Even when she’d paid off Max’s gambling debt, she wasn’t about to spend her earnings frivolously on new garments. She had her future to think of.

Katie smiled. “Then you can look at this as a timely provision. But with the way you swim in this nightdress,” she responded, plucking at the cream-colored flannel material, “I’m worried if the other items will even fit, you’re so slight.”

The simple nightdress whispered against Callie’s skin like luxurious silk. “This is very comfortable, Katie, and I’m sure the other items will be absolutely fine. But I—”

“I’ve already shortened things a few inches since Ben said you weren’t much over five feet. If they’re still too big, then I’ll help you alter them.”

Her chest grew tight and her eyes stung with ready shame. In all the years of living on the edge of destitution with Max, she’d avoided charity, while Max would seek it out.

“I want to tell you something.” Katie drew the covers back, gesturing for Callie to lie down. “I don’t know how long you’ll be here working for Ben—”

“I’m not sure either,” Callie noted with a sniff as she scooted down into the fresh linens.

“Well, however long it is, the Drake family is first in line when it comes to helping others. Believe me…I’m blessed to have married into such a wonderful family. And you are fortunate to be employed by such a fine man as Ben Drake.”

Everything she’d ever heard from Max would lead her to suppose the exact opposite. She’d already made one severe, life-altering error in judgment regarding Max’s character. She wasn’t about to be fooled like that ever again.

But three days with Ben, and already she had inarguable reservations as to Max’s sordid opinion.

Not just because of the tender way Ben had cared for her or the gesture of kindness he’d shown by not taking the locket, but it was the unsettling look of gentleness she’d seen deep in his eyes that stood in direct contrast to what she’d believed.

She sighed. She couldn’t deny Ben’s sincerity. And certainly couldn’t seem to escape his earnest gestures of compassion and care, though she’d tried.

Maybe she could enjoy just a few days of refreshing. Time to collect herself, heal and firm up her determination to make the best of what lay ahead. To find out who Callie Drake really was after years of being first under her father’s strict hand, then Max’s harsh one.

Though until she left Boulder, she’d just have to stay alert, keep a watchful eye. If she let her guard down completely, she could well walk out of this town with nothing, not even the scrap of dignity she clung to like some shredded lifeline.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…” Katie’s voice slipped through Callie’s thoughts. “That if for some reason you oppose the idea of others looking out for you and treating you well, you might as well let that go right now, because it’s bound to happen more often than not with the Drake family.”

Callie nibbled at her lower lip, unsettled by how emotionally raw she’d felt the last couple of days.

“Believe me when I say that Ben has needed help around here for quite a while. He’s talked about hiring someone for months, but has never gotten around to it.” Katie moved to the knotty pine chest at the foot of the bed then began laying the garments she’d brought inside it. When she closed the chest with a quiet click, Callie felt utterly helpless to summon an argument. “That man keeps so busy that it would take an enormous weight off him to know that things here and at his home are being tended to as they should.”

At those words, an instant swell of compassion-driven duty rose within Callie. After all, she owed Ben. Not just because he’d cared for her while she was sick, but also because he’d taken her in. A total stranger. And he’d tended her with a gentleness that had her broaching tears more than once. If the truth be told, he’d probably even saved her life.

Pulling her damp hair to the side to dry across her pillow, she decided that just as soon as she was the slightest bit stronger, she’d get to work cleaning and cooking. She’d steer clear of him. Fade into the background, as she had the past six months at the brothel. Hopefully he’d forget that she was even here. No one would give her a second thought.

“You know, Callie,” Katie began, perching her hands on her hips. A wistful smile stole across her face as she eyed Callie in a way that had her squirming. “I think that you may have arrived just in time for Ben.”