Rocky Mountain Redemption (16 page)

“Yep. Teachin' 'em.” With one slim finger, he tapped the correction into his head. “I been figurin' it all out, how I'm gonna do that.”

“Oh, maybe I can help.” Libby wriggled her dainty fingers beneath her chin. “I'd be real good at it. I just know.”

Ben turned to Callie, fully expecting to see her face beaming with pride. But the troubled expression marring her beautiful features took him aback. When she caught him staring at her, he tried for a half grin and nodded to the children. “I'd say they're doing just fine together, wouldn't you?” he whispered.

“It looks that way.” The too-quick, bleak smile plastered on her face hit him like a heavy weight against his chest. “I'm glad she'll have a friend like Luke.”

He would've thought she'd be beside herself with joy. Her daughter was alive—very much so—and back with Callie where she belonged. Libby seemed to be adjusting so well, as if coming here to live had been a wonderful gift.

There were so many reasons to smile. To rejoice.

So why the long face?

Luke shoved himself up from the floor, jammed one stray tail of his shirt back into his britches. “Well, I'm not sayin' one way or t'other yet. Gotta see how ya fair with 'em. If'n they take to ya, then maybe.”

Libby sprang up and grabbed his arm on a muffled shriek.

“Maybe,” he reiterated with direct firmness.

Libby clamped her hands down to her sides, bunching her fists around the new pink dress Ben had bought for her yesterday. “My mama always told me I was good at everything.”

“Miss Callie?” Luke cocked his head.

“No.” She shook her head. “My mama back at my old home. She died right b'fore summertime.”

Luke shoved a hand in his coat pocket. He raised his eyebrows and peered at her in the most honest and earnest expression Ben had ever seen on the boy. And Ben was proud. Darn proud of the way Luke seemed to consider a six-year-old little girl's feelings.

“You still sad 'bout that?”

“Yes. 'Specially when I go to bed.” She turned and met Ben's gaze, and when she gave him a shy smile, he was sure his heart would swell right through his rib cage. “But Uncle Ben came and got me. And he's real nice.”

Ben's throat suddenly burned with a thick, raw lump. Seeing the adoring smile on Libby's face, he'd do it all again—paying the thick wad of money he had to bring the little girl home. She was worth every last cent.

So was Callie. He'd gone after the girl for Callie.

How could he not? When he'd heard the torture in Callie's cry? Seen the anguish in her crumpled features? Felt the agony in her rigid form?

The wrenching emotions had seemed to pour from some deep well that she'd stopped up for a long time—and they'd been there because of Max. Had Max not done something so cruel in the first place, Callie wouldn't have had to endure the past six years of grief.

As much as he hated to see her hurt like that, it was a relief knowing that she'd been freed of some of the
secrets of her past. But looking at her now, the way her eyes were shuttered, and the way she couldn't seem to manage much more than a wane expression, he wondered what had happened. Just a week ago, she'd been much softer toward him. But she'd closed herself off almost as firmly as before.

What secrets did she still hold?

Ben eased from his contemplation when he heard Luke clomping over to stand beside him.

“You better believe Ben's nice. Ben and me, we been friends fer a while.” Luke nudged Ben's arm like a puppy begging for attention. Folding his arms at his chest, he peered down his slightly crooked nose at Libby and added, “Actually, a long,
long
time. Prolly longer than you can even count.”

Ben laughed and set his hand on Luke's shoulder. “You're definitely my helper, aren't you, Luke?”

“Yep.” He worked his way into the crook of Ben's arm. “I'm his helper.”

Holding his free hand out to the little girl, Ben added, “And Libby can be my helper, too. A fella can never have enough helpers, now can he?”

With wary optimism, Luke peered at the girl. “S'pose not.”

She promptly took her place at Ben's other side, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her mama stood there, too.

Ben tried not to take notice, but the way Callie wrapped herself in a strangled hug, and the way she slid anxious glances to her daughter, she appeared as nervous as a cat in a room full of stomping boots. He didn't know how to help her. Didn't know what to do to ease her discomfort.

After Ben sent Luke and Libby off to traipse around
outside in the barn, he walked into the exam room where Callie was busily organizing an already perfectly ordered supply shelf.

“Is there something wrong?” He came to a halt behind her.

Her fingers stilled on the small tins she'd been moving. “No. I'm fine.”

Resting a hand on her shoulder, he released a sigh. “I can't claim to know you all that well, but if you don't mind me saying so, you look nowhere near fine.” Grasping her upper arms, he turned her around to face him. “Are things not going well with you and Libby?”

“We'll be just fine.” She shrugged, as if to remove his touch.

He refused to let her spurn his concern. He caught her gaze, wanting to find the same softness he'd seen there when they'd danced. When she'd softened to his gentleness. Melted to his touch. She'd felt so right in his arms, as if she'd been created just for him, and he for her. At that very moment he'd all but convinced himself that God had been masterful in the way He'd turned a very tragic, traumatic and tricky situation for good.

“Callie, what happened in the last few days?” He angled a concerned look down at her. “I mean, I know you've faced some big changes, but something is different.”

She set her focus just past him. “I don't know what you mean.”

“You were softening. I was hoping that maybe you were starting to trust me.” He ducked his head to meet her blank stare. “What happened to that vulnerability?”

What could he have possibly done to push her away? He'd gone to great lengths to make her happy.

But why was he so determined to earn her trust when he was still a long way from trusting her?

Just yesterday he'd discovered his small weight scale missing. A large item like that certainly wasn't something he'd just misplace. The stethoscope, the tweezers, the roll of gauze and even the bottle of iodine were items he could misplace. But a scale?

He wouldn't have drawn his conclusion to Callie taking them, if not for the fact that these things hadn't started disappearing until days after her arrival.

And then there hung the constant question about her past. Aaron had made enough crude remarks as to her morality. Then there was Pete's testimony. And she had shown up wearing a dress not fit for any kind of upstanding company. She hadn't even seemed ashamed, or embarrassed. As though the dress was part of her…just Callie.

But every time he allowed his thoughts to wander to that precarious edge of suspicion, he'd turn tail and flee the other direction. Nothing—
nothing
about Callie would point to that being some murky part of her history. She didn't flaunt herself as a harlot would. She didn't hold herself with that self-protection-dripping arrogance. She didn't look at men with that sultry, half-lidded gaze meant to reel in prey.

She was just Callie.

And regardless of the way things looked with the dress and the missing items and the eyewitness testimony, he wanted to believe she was innocent.

When he looked down at Callie again and saw the way she hiked her chin up a notch, in that sweet way he'd marveled at from the beginning, he felt his heart snagged again. The desire to take care of her overwhelmed him. He wanted to see her free—really free from the pain and
anguish of her past. To see her dream again. Because she'd likely not done any dreaming from the day she'd married Max.

“I don't know what's wrong with me, Ben.” Closing her eyes, she gave a slow, disheartened sigh. “I'm trying. Really I am.”

When he attempted to pull her close, his heart sank at the way she stiffened. “It's going to take some time for Libby to adjust. This is a big change for her, Callie. For you, too.”

She shook her head. “I'm so afraid I won't be enough for Libby.”

“You'll be more than enough,” he said, smoothing a hand down her arm. “You'll be a wonderful mother for her.”

“I don't know…” When Callie nibbled on her lower lip, Ben had to force his gaze elsewhere. “She doesn't seem to notice I'm around—not like she notices you, or Luke, or even Katie and Joseph.”

“I'm the one who brought her here, so she probably does feel that way, at least for now.”

She threaded her fingers at her chest. “I know that she loved her mother, Blanchard's wife…”

“She might be struggling with feeling disloyal if she gets too close to you.” He wished he had the words that would take away all of her apprehension. Especially when her brow furrowed even more, and she stepped away from his touch. “Just you watch, Callie. She'll be drawn to you soon enough. She'll be at your elbow wanting to bake bread with you or help you make supper.”

For a long time she stood there, close enough to reach out and touch, yet hundreds of miles away. She hugged her arms to her chest as she turned her head and stared at the freshly cleaned exam table.

“She said something yesterday when she was playing with her doll.” Wary indecision shadowed her fair, delicate features. “She didn't realize I was there listening, but I heard her.”

Ben pictured the doll that Callie had brought with her when she'd returned from Blanchard's place. He'd almost suggested discarding it. But Callie had gone to great lengths to repair the ragged doll that first night, when, instead of turning Libby in to an unfamiliar bed with another unfamiliar face, Ben had held the little girl for the entire night in the rocking chair by the woodstove, while Callie cleaned and repaired the doll. She'd painstakingly added stuffing by the dim lamp's glow, and had even replaced two of the doll's tattered limbs.

Her instant resolve to take care of her child in some way had been a wonder to watch, had warmed his heart from the inside out. When Libby had spotted the rag doll resting in the crook of her arm the next morning, her eyes had lit with wonder and amazement.

“What did you hear her say?”

Callie touched the dainty lace trimming the neckline of her dress. “Apparently—apparently he told her that her real mama and papa didn't want a girl like her.” The strangled sound in Callie's voice broke his heart. “She said that's why she had to live with him and her other mama…because her real mama didn't want her.”

C
allie swiped a solitary tear from her eye. It seemed that in the past few days she couldn't help herself from tearing up now and then. Watching the tender way Ben tucked Libby into bed even now, the way he'd read to her from the Bible…the story of David and Goliath just minutes ago. These things made Callie's heart and throat swell with ready emotion.

Truly, Max had missed out.

She'd missed out, too.

And she might continue to miss out if she stayed here. But every bit of her wanted to stay put in Boulder. In the safety of a family who'd been good to her. A man who'd been so very good to her.

“She's all tucked in.” Ben winked, setting her pulse off-kilter.

He shut the door behind him, his nearness commissioning a flurry of activity in her stomach.

She tried for a relaxed smile, but the expression felt forced. “Good.”

“Care to join me on the back stoop before I go home for the night?” The brush of Ben's arm as he edged
past her in the hallway's close proximity sent a shiver of delight inching through her veins.

She knotted her hands in front of her. “For what?”

He gave a long, lingering glance into the exam room, the way he usually did each night, in his silent and perceptive way, making sure all was as it should be. “Oh, just because it's a beautiful night.” He turned to settle his half-shuttered gaze upon her. “A little chilly, but beautiful, nonetheless.”

“Sure, let me get my cloak.”

After Callie secured the front door lock and grabbed her cloak from the wood peg, she peeked in on Libby one last time. Struck again by the sweet way her little girl slept, her arm cradled around her doll.

Prying herself away from the peaceful scene, she made her way out the back door and sat down next to Ben. Though she'd left a good foot between them, she could feel his body heat permeating her in an unseen wave of glorious comfort.

She was so aware of his presence—whenever he was around. She'd even go so far as to say she craved it.

Without a doubt, she'd become far too comfortable around him.

Sighing at her irrational, wandering thoughts, she watched her breath puff into the cool night air in tiny clouds. “I've never really appreciated the cold months.”

“Why's that?”

“I suppose because there was never enough wood for burning. I was always cold.” Always uncomfortable. Always seemed to be a breath away from freezing.

“Max should've taken better care of you. The way you deserve,” he breathed, his voice thick.

“It's not your fault.” She wished Max, even once,
would've taken responsibility, but for some reason he always blamed her for everything. For their lack of money, comfort, and general peace and solitude.

Ben's gaze lingered with hers, his eyes searching, looking deep into that part of her that she'd tried so hard to protect. Then he shifted his focus and stared up at the sky, his silken eyes shimmering in the moon's pearly light. “It always amazes me how much more stunning the sky seems on a cold, clear night.”

She tipped her head back to witness the breathtaking way radiant stars soaked the midnight-blue sky. “It is spectacular, isn't it?”

He settled a hand at her back. “Things are as clear as they've ever been.” The husky timber of his voice infused the placid night air with tangible intensity.

For some reason, she didn't think he was referring to the night sky. When he turned and settled that deep, searching look on her, she felt it every bit as much as if he'd pulled her into his embrace. Her pulse raced. Her cheeks warmed with an unwelcome blush. She averted her gaze, but not for long.

With tender affection, he set a hand to her chin and coaxed her focus back to him, her control rapidly—she swallowed hard—slipping away.

Desperate for a way out of this spiral of innate emotion, she jerked her attention back to the door. “Is that Libby I hear?”

She made to rise.

He set a hand on her shoulder, keeping her beside him. The low chuckle he gave swirled her nerve endings into a reverberating hum. “Either you're more innocent than I thought, I'm really bad at dropping subtle hints, or you're downright nervous about now.”

“What?” She gulped.

“Callie…” He cradled her cold hands in his. Hands that had gentled newborn babies, eased the passing of a patient and brightened the face of a cold and needy child with readily bestowed gifts. The warm, work-worn strength of his hands had been healing medicine to her. “You don't have to be afraid.”

He imprisoned her total attention. In fact, she felt as if some unseen force held her firmly, right there, a breath away from the man she'd tried so desperately to avoid.

Yet felt such a compelling draw to know.

“When you showed up here,” he began, rubbing the pad of his thumbs gently over her hand as if to still her wild, racing heart.

It didn't work.

“I didn't know what I was getting into, taking you in like I did.”

“Probably more than you bargained for,” she sputtered nervously. “Oh,
definitely
more than I bargained for. But you were worth it.” Setting his hand under her chin, he drew her nearer. His gaze fixed on her lips, sending a quiver straight through her that had nothing to do with the cool night. “You
are
worth it.”

“Ben, I—”

“For the first time in a long time I'm seeing things clearly.” Like a whispered word of care, he brushed a finger across her lower lip. “I want to kiss you, Callie.”

She struggled to take in the thick air caught between them.

He inched closer, a half breath away. “So if you have any objections, you better let me know now.”

Her breath hitched. Held. Her pulse whooshed like
steady waves through her head in an innate and age-old rhythm.

He settled his mouth against hers, a warm and tender claim.

Closing her eyes, she reveled in the moment. In the heady, cherished feeling.

His breath passed through her parted lips as if to infuse her vulnerable heart with hope and promise and whatever else he had to give her. His trembling hands rose to frame her face. She heard the breath catch at the back of his throat. Felt the rapid beat of his heart as he pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss that threatened to be her undoing.

“I think I'm falling in love with you, Callie.” His words filtered through her like warm fire.

Her eyes snapped open. “Ben…”

He drew just slightly away from her and stared down into her eyes with a deep, poignant look that had her quaking from the inside out. “I never thought I'd hear myself say that. I was content being a bachelor.”

Bracing an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close to his side. “I want to take care of you.”

The mellow, soothing cadence of his voice and his inspiring presence roused her long-forgotten dreams. Dreams of a shared love that could boldly withstand the winds of change, the storms of life and the drought that could strip a life bare. Love that could convey a thousand heartfelt sentiments without uttering a word.

He pressed a slow, warm kiss to her head. “I want to make sure you don't ever lack for anything, ever again, Callie.”

It was too much to withstand.

When he brushed his cheek against her forehead, her
heart slammed against her chest. “I want your daughter to be raised in a good, solid home.”

And would be way too much for her daughter or for Callie to ignore.

She hugged her arms tight to her chest, trying desperately to maintain control, but it was nearly impossible. His loving words, his gentle touch and his passion called to some long-ago, buried desire deep within her heart.

He was so good. Too good.

Too nice.

Too gentle.

Too strong.

Too willing to love Callie and her little girl. Too willing to promise things she'd dreamed of, but never had.

“I want to give you the world.” His whispered words against her head set her hair on end.

Max—he'd said that…
I want to give you the world.

She could barely breathe as she remembered how he'd waxed eloquent with all of his talk of adventure and love and lifelong devotion, and at the first hint of challenge a few months after they'd married, he'd abandoned every pledge.

And now Ben, Max's flesh and blood, made the exact same pledge.

She'd vowed never to make herself vulnerable again, and here she was, lapping up Ben's nurturing words as if she were some hungry kitten lapping up a bowl of rich cream.

Before she lost any more of her heart and resolve, she sprang up from the step and darted back inside. Closing the door, she locked it, wishing she could just as easily lock out the wholly consuming feelings that rocked her entire being.

Making her way to where her daughter slept soundly, she tiptoed across the room, berating herself that she'd so easily fallen prey to Ben's intoxicating presence, just as she had with Max. While she stared down at the peaceful, content way Libby slept she felt desperate to escape the compelling draw before he so completely won over Libby that the girl would never want to leave. Before he snatched away Callie's freedom—just like Max had done.

 

“Looky what we have here.” The sound of Lyle White side's low, gravelly voice coming from the alleyway brought Callie to a faltering stop.

And immediately blocked out the sun's warmth.

“You're looking real nice, Callie. All gussied up. You didn't go working for somebody else, did you?”

She made a slow turn, bracing herself for the man's snapping black eyes to land on her like a vulture's sharp talons to prey. She'd never met anyone who could wound so with a mere look. It was his way—with the girls back at the brothel and with any other poor soul who dared cross him or owe him.

“But I'm disappointed.” He lunged out of the shadows. Crowded her close. “You walked out on our agreement.”

Callie willed her hands to stop trembling, her stomach churning at the scent of his stale breath. “No. Of course I didn't.”

She wished now that she hadn't parted ways with Ben and Libby a block back. While Libby had shadowed Ben into the mercantile, Callie strolled down the street to the milliner's shop. After what had happened last night, when Ben had kissed her and made the declaration he
had, she'd jumped at any chance to be as far away from him as possible.

Whiteside drew a hand up to her face and snagged a lock of her freshly washed hair between his thumb and forefinger. He rubbed it as if inspecting it for some clue.

She half expected him to sniff it.

His thin lips tipped in a sardonic smile. “Sure you made an agreement. Remember?”

She refused to let him intimidate her. “I didn't agree to anything more than paying back the debt. And I intend on doing that.”

“But we agreed that you could get that done faster on your back.” He trailed his meaty hand down her cheek to her arm. “And then I come to find out that you up and left.”

Callie clutched her reticule tight to her chest, mentally tallying the amount she'd saved so far. She could give him what she had, but the amount was still not enough. And if she was going to leave Boulder as she'd decided last night, then she'd have nothing with which to make her way.

She slid back a step. “I left you a note.”

“I didn't find a note.” He nailed her with one of his deceptively nice, understanding kind of looks.

Callie struggled to stay composed instead of flinching as she often had in his presence. She forced herself not to run. “I wrote you a note explaining everything.”

“Notes aren't my way, Callie. You should know that I perform most of my business with my mouth.” He laughed at his own sick sense of humor while she fought off the urge to vomit all over his shiny shoes.

She'd never do what he asked. Even if a girl stooped to that low a level and paid him back by sacrificing
herself, she'd never find her way back to freedom. And Callie would never, ever allow that. She had Libby now, and would do whatever it took to keep her daughter safe from the likes of Lyle Whiteside.

She forced her gaze to meet his. “I'll have the rest for you by the beginning of December.”

Shaking his head, his large jowls jiggled.

“I will.” She grabbed the sleeve of his expensive coat before she thought better of it. “I'll have the whole debt paid off by then. I promise.”

He looked down at where she held his coat then seized her hand and squeezed so hard that Callie stumbled forward against him. “Why would I want to wait when I could be getting my money's worth by having you pay on your back now? You'd have that debt paid off in no time, Callie. Just think, you'd be free to do whatever you wanted.”

“Please.” She pried his fingers loose from her hand, trying to hide her discomfort from an older couple passing by. Not wanting to be any kind of embarrassment for Ben, she smiled as though she was enjoying the present conversation. “You'll have the rest soon.”

“The men might even front a good sum for you, the way you're looking.” He raised his bushy brows. His beady eyes sank into his thick, red-blotched face as he held her hands out to the side, looking her up and down in a leering perusal. “If you do well, I might even throw in a bonus. Maybe a fancy new dress or two, instead of this awful get-up you're wearing.”

“I like the dress I have on just fine.”

“Come now.” With stealthy precision, his hands slithered up to part the cloak Ben had purchased. “You can't be serious.”

“Of course I am. This dress is lovely. And appro
priate.” Forcing the bile back down her throat, she met his gaze. “And I won't do what you're asking. I'll have your money for you, but not like that.”

The way he shoved her away from him, as if he were done playing with a toy, almost sent her into a wild frenzy. He'd do that to his
girls,
toying with them then leaving them unsure of their status with him. It was his way.