Pamela Nissen - Rocky Mountain Redemption

The words fell from Callie’s lips, stiff and measured and loaded with things unsaid.

Ben faced her. “What do you mean? Max sent you here?”

“That was his last sentiment.” The words sounded as if forced from her lips.

“His last words were about me?” Rubbing his temples, he dragged in a deep breath.

The nod she gave was slow and painfully measured. And seemed meant to sever any further inquiry he might have.

“Tell me what this is all about, Callie. Why are you here, anyway?” His voice had risen a good notch. “Because, had I not come along when I did, you likely would’ve frozen to death on my doorstep. Why would you put your life at risk like that?”

When she slowly rolled away from him, he knew he’d pushed too far, too fast.

“I’m sorry. I’m just glad that you turned to me.”

When he pivoted to leave the room, he could’ve sworn he heard her whisper, “You were my last resort.”

loves creating. Whether it’s characters, cooking, scrapbooking or other artistic endeavors, she takes pleasure in putting things together for others to enjoy. She started writing her first book in 2000 and since then hasn’t looked back. Pamela lives in the woods in Iowa with her husband, daughter, two sons, a Newfoundland dog and cats. She loves watching her children pursue their dreams, and is known to yell on the sidelines at her boys’ football games, or cry as she watches her daughter perform. She relishes scrapbooking weekends with her sister, coffee with friends and running in the rain. Having glimpsed the dark and light of life, she is passionate about writing “real” people with “real” issues and “real” responses.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

—Romans 8:28

In loving memory of Mom

Your laughter delighted

Your generous love deeply motivated

And your courage…your courage inspired

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Help Wanted…

Callie blinked against the wind-whipped snow that swirled in curling waves onto the small porch where she huddled. She fastened her weary gaze to the simple black and white placard, staring at those two words: Help Wanted.

She’d gladly snatch up the job her brother-in-law, Doctor Ben Drake, advertised in the front window of his office. He certainly wouldn’t mistake her sudden appearance here for some heartwarming family connection.

Clamping her teeth against their chattering, she scanned down the road to the heart of Boulder. Only a few horses stood tethered to hitching posts, their broad, saddled backs flocked with fluffy, white snow. Apart from the welcome lantern’s glow spilling from a few windows into the dark of night on this early October evening, the town seemed as if caught in a dreamy, blissful slumber.

So where in the world was Doctor Ben Drake?

She’d never even met the man and already had a mountain of bias against him. The two long days she’d spent journeying from Denver to Boulder on foot, she’d recoiled at the thought of asking Ben Drake for charity like some beggar.

The idea of another debt hanging over her head sent repulsion snaking through her veins. If she could offer her services and get paid…now that was far more appealing.

Perhaps there existed a slim thread of hope in her frayed life. A second chance. An opportunity to start over and find some peace.

Callie gave a solid knock on the door, her icy cold hand throbbing as she waited for him to answer. She gave another determined knock then, with frozen-to-numb feet, hobbled left a few paces to the long window. Cupping trembling hands around her eyes, she peered inside. But there was no sign of life, just like the hollow, dark look in her husband’s eyes when he’d died in her arms six months ago.

Images she’d just as soon lay to rest swirled into her mind. Max, wracked with pain and delirium from a gunslinger’s fatal shot. His inconsolable groan for help, when it was clear he was beyond help. On a ragged whisper and dying breath, he’d said, “Find my brothers. Find Ben. He’ll see to you.”

Even then, in the midst of Callie’s frantic fight to keep Max alive, those words had stunned her as much as they did now. He’d wanted nothing to do with his brothers, so why would he drive her to their doorstep with his last breath?

Battling back the haunting memories, she peered inside the office again. No oil lamp flickered to life. Not even the weighted sound of hurried footsteps advanced this way.

Shaking and frustrated, she drew her lightweight wool cloak snug around her shoulders in a vain attempt to shield herself from the storm that barreled through the quaint mountain valley. The small, covered porch gave no protection from the sting of icy snow. The cast-off satin dress she wore from the brothel did precious little to insulate her from even the whisper of a breeze.

Even so, this didn’t seem half as bad as the uncontrollable hardships of the last seven years. At least now she had some control over her future, and if she froze to death, it would be because she decided to do so.

When a harsh cough tore through her lungs, she braced her pounding head against the siding. Irritation mounted with each frosty breath in winter’s threat.

“Where are you, Ben Drake?” Her words sputtered between chattering teeth.

Maybe he’d landed in some saloon, drinking and gambling away the night, just like his brother, Max.

Shivering, weak and exhausted, Callie slid down the thick clapboard. She tugged her cloak tighter and pulled in a deep, steadying breath to calm her irritation. When the bitter air hit her lungs, a spasm of wrenching coughs doubled her over, threatening to cave in her resolve.

Still, she closed her eyes and pictured herself snuggled before a warm, crackling fire. A soft groan escaped her lips as she imagined her hands cradling a steaming mug of cider—or cocoa, maybe. Nestling deeper beneath the thick luxury of a cozy quilt and sleeping till she could sleep no more.

A mean gust of wind whipped across the porch, slapping reality in her face once again. She didn’t have the job yet, and until she rectified the situation that loomed like some noose before her, she was a prisoner to her past, a slave to her present and a hostage to her future.

With a stuttering sigh, she closed her eyes. She should probably be angry that Max had left her standing alone down one of life’s dark dead ends, but really, she just felt numb. The irony of that sunk deep as she shivered, slipping slowly into sleep. Yes, she was definitely numb—she could barely feel her arms, her legs, or her heart.