Читать онлайн книгу «Rocky Mountain Redemption» автора Pamela Nissen

Rocky Mountain Redemption
Pamela Nissen
Indulge your fantasies of delicious Regency Rakes, fierce Viking warriors and rugged Highlanders. Be swept away into a world of intense passion, lavish settings and romance that burns brightly through the centuriesPamela Nissen is an award-winning author with a love for creating. Whether characters, cooking, scrapbooking or other artistic endeavors, she delights in putting things together for others to enjoy. While homeschooling her children in 2000, she started handwriting her first novel, and after finally stepping into the computer age, she won first place in the 2007 Heart of the Rockies Inspirational Romance category. Since then she hasn't looked back.Pamela lives in the woods in Iowa with her husband, two boys, her Newfoundland dog, cats and one churlish bunny. She loves watching her children pursue their dreams and can be found cheering on the sidelines at her boys' games or being moved to tears as she watches her grown daughter perform on stage.If she's not writing or serving lattes at the local Starbucks, she enjoys scrapbooking weekends with her sister, coffee and conversation 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.



“Your brother told me to find you.”
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.”

PAMELA NISSEN
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.

Pamela Nissen
Rocky Mountain Redemption





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
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

Contents
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

Chapter One
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.
“Ma’am?” A deep, mellow voice stirred her senses. “Are you all right?”

“Ma’am?” Ben Drake tried again, keeping his voice low.
The woman raised her head, sending a wave of relief washing over him as a stark curtain of snow lashed across the porch.
She was alive—that much was good.
When he’d arrived home just moments ago and had spotted a dark form huddled here on his office porch next door, a sick sense of dread had roiled in the pit of his stomach. The thought of someone seeking him out for help, only to die waiting for his return, would likely haunt him for the rest of his days.
“Come on…let’s get you out of the cold.” He scooped up her rail-thin frame.
With a grunt, she stiffened arrow straight, squirming out of his arms. When her feet met the floor with a dull thud, she sliced a sharp breath through her teeth. “Oww…”
“What’s the matter?” He hunkered over to get a look at her as she sagged against the building. “Are you hurt?”
From beneath a tattered hood, the young woman peeked up at him. “My feet. They’re cold as ice.” The woman’s unfamiliar, raspy voice hit him square in the heart.
“Well, then, let’s get you inside.” He made quick work of unlocking the door. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”
“Are you Doc—Doctor Drake?” Her teeth chattered.
“Yes, I’m Ben Drake.” When he braced an arm at her back, she dodged it as though he meant to hog-tie her. “Have you been waiting long for me?”
“Long enough,” she muttered, shuffling inside, each shivering, wobbly step piercing his heart more than the last.
She pulled her cloak tighter, but the way it puddled on the floor, hanging like a big, old drape, he wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed to maneuver ten feet in such a garment.
The lingering feel of her thin, quivering frame and her wariness to his touch sent compassion thrumming through his veins, especially when she produced a harsh cough.
“That cough of yours sure doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s nothing,” she answered, her teeth chattering. “Just an everyday kind of cough, that’s all.”
“Well, it sounds like more than that to me. Good thing you came when you did. Follow me,” he said, leading the way through the dark waiting area into the exam room where he lit a lamp. “I’ll get a fire going so we can get you warmed up.”
When he wrapped two warm quilts around her quivering frame, he had to hold his confusion in check when she shrugged them off as though they were some disease-ridden rags. She possessively clutched her arms around something as though he might snatch it away, and he tried not to react. This woman was mistrustful and guarded and set against a little help. She eyed him as though she’d seen his face plastered on some Wanted poster.
“Why don’t you sit down here by the woodstove so you’ll be close to the heat?” Gesturing to a chair, he barely contained a wince when she avoided his outstretched hand as though he meant her harm. “It shouldn’t take long for the place to warm up.”
She sat on the edge of the chair. Bunching her shoulders up tight, she made a valiant effort to stop shivering, but as long as she kept that thin and wet cloak on, she’d likely never warm up.
While he banked the coals and loaded fresh kindling in the stove, he stole furtive glances at her shadowed, pale face, looking for signs of bleeding. Or broken bones.
She coughed then grabbed her side, and Ben’s blood ran cold through his veins. His hair prickled at the back of his neck. That she might be another unfortunate bride of some no-good excuse for a husband, who treated his wife worse than his livestock, made him push back a ready curse.
When her whole body heaved with a sudden cough, he hunkered down next to her. “Easy, now. That sure doesn’t sound like an everyday kind of cough. How long have you had it?”
At her dismissive shrug, he gently laid the back of his hand against her forehead, concern mounting at the heat that met his touch. “You’re fevered, too. That’s not good. I hope you’ll forgive me for not coming sooner.”
She flicked her gaze to him, cagey as a mouse in a barren field. Edging away, she angled her focus downward, intent on unknotting tattered ties that held her cloak together by mere threads.
His heart squeezed. He had to bite back a groan of sympathy at the sight of her shabby, wet shoes that poked out from her cloak. When she tipped her head back, nudging her hood off a mat of auburn waves, his throat grew tight.
And when she glanced up at him with the most beautiful almond-shaped blue eyes he’d ever seen, he struggled to gather his wits. She looked like an ethereal waif who’d been to the depths of darkness and back.
The glassy-eyed look veiling her gaze quickly snuffed out his fascination.
He struggled to find his voice. “I think you could use some hot tea about now.”
Her focus skidded to a halt at him, her lips lifting at one corner with the faintest look of pleasure.
Ben swallowed hard, then set to work measuring out a dose of sassafras tea he kept with his medical supplies. When he set the kettle on to boil he was thankful to find heat already radiating from the woodstove.
“So, what’s your name, ma’am?” Straddling a chair directly across from her, he silently tallied her respirations, unable to miss the way she breathed in shallow, raspy rhythms.
“Callie.”
“Callie…” he prompted.
“Just Callie.”
“I’m Ben Drake. I’m the doctor here, but then I think we already covered that.” He offered her a reassuring look. It was nearly killing him to take up precious time with niceties, but as skittish as she was, he didn’t want to risk having her walk out the door. “Are you from around here, just Callie?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not.”
“Well, how can I be of help to you? You must’ve come about that cough, am I right?” He dipped his head in an unsuccessful attempt to catch her attention. “How long have you had it?”
“Not long.” Callie slowly rose from the chair, the dingy flour sack grasped firmly in her hand. A wince, so slight he almost missed it, crossed her face as she stood ramrod straight, her chin held high, a heartrending contrast in vulnerable fatigue and determined strength.
“So, you must be in need of a doctor?” he attempted again, inward alarm mounting at the unhealthy flush of her sunken cheeks. “You came to the right place. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Her perfectly shaped brows creased in a stern look over red-rimmed eyes. “I’m not here for medical attention. I—I want to speak with you about something of pressing importance.”
Smoothing a hand over the day’s growth of stubble on his chin, Ben bit back the sympathetic look that was close to surfacing. There was just something about her show of strength, about the way she wore bravery like a suit of armor five sizes too big that tugged at his heart.
“Well, whatever it is must be important for you to seek me out in a snowstorm like this.” He resisted the urge to stand when she stared at him as though he was some wily predator. “So tell me, how can I help you?”
She coughed, and a definite wheeze threaded through the harsh sound. Turning, she shrugged her cloak off and laid it on the chair along with her sack, then faced him once again. “I’m here to offer my services to you.”
Ben slammed his gaze down to the floor. Fumbled to cover his shock, but the sight of her standing before him…it was nothing short of shocking.
He braved a glance up again to see a ruby-red satin dress hanging on her thin frame, the gaudy ruffles and lace worn almost beyond repair in places. And the scoop neckline—he swallowed hard—plunged way too far down to be considered appropriate.
Ben averted his attention to the floor again. Frowned in confusion. What could this woman possibly offer him?
When he sneaked another glimpse and took in her tattered but risqué appearance, he had to steady himself as a ghastly glimmer of understanding enlightened him.
Did she mean to sell herself?
Gritting his teeth, he prepared to set her straight right here and right now. He may be a twenty-nine-year-old bachelor, but he hadn’t ever, nor would he ever, resort to using a woman like that.
“I’m sorry. But I’m not interested in that kind of thing, Miss…Miss Callie.” He forced himself to meet her cautious gaze as she clutched something at her neck. “If it’s money you need, I’m glad to give you some. But I would never think of paying for female companionship.”
Her red-rimmed eyes widened as though she’d been scandalized. “Doctor Drake, you misunderstand me.” She squared her shoulders. Grasped the front of her dress, yanking it up in an awkward, unnatural angle for such a garment. “I’m here to inquire about the job. You do have a sign at your window advertising for such, am I right?”
Her bravado ended on a fit of coughing that sent him bolting to her side.
“I do.” He forced his hands to remain at his sides when she instantly sidestepped. “But for the life of me, I’m trying to figure out why you’d inquire about the job this late at night. In a blizzard. And in such poor health. I am looking for help, but I think that before we discuss anything like that, we should first get you well.”
On a wheezing breath, she slapped him with a reproving glower.
She was proud—that was for sure.
He inwardly kicked himself for saying what he had. But she’d dressed the part—though now that he thought about it, her skittish behavior and repulsion to his touch didn’t correspond with a woman of that line of work.
But her dress…
“I’m here about the sign you have in your window, Doctor Drake.” She nervously toyed with some trinket at her neck. “I can start working immediately, if that suits you.”
“First of all,” Ben began, glancing at her neck. He expected to see some worthless bit of whatnot hanging there, but when his tired gaze settled on a small silver locket, an icy chill doused his weariness. His heart ground to a stuttering stop. His breath caught.
He’d recognize that locket anywhere.
It was one of a kind. Handmade for his mother by his father who’d dabbled in jeweling throughout the years. The locket had been a priceless treasure. A gift deeded to Ben by his mother shortly before she’d passed twelve years ago.
Memories surfaced with breakneck speed, shooting up from a miry depth he’d tried to ignore all these years.
The constant run-ins he’d had with his brother, Max. The way Max would milk Ben’s compassion for his own ill-reputed gain. The way Max would venture off for weeks at a time, returning with tales of some young harlot. And then that night seven years ago, when Max had come home thoroughly drunk. It had been a final, awful conflict. Max had destroyed anything he could get his hands on, furniture, dishes, relationships…
After Max had forced a lewd, unwanted kiss on Aaron’s sweetheart, Max and Aaron, the fourth in a line of five Drake brothers, had gotten into a terrible fight. By morning, some of the money Ben had set aside for medical school had come up missing. Along with the heirloom locket. And Max.
A sharp stab of betrayal cut deep as he stared in disbelief. Max had stolen the locket and now here it was, hanging on the neck of some woman who was dressed for more than just baking bread.
Was this the young harlot Max had told them about? The one who’d likely lured him away for good, leading him into a sordid lifestyle of gambling and drinking?
Callie lifted her chin a notch, her slender fingers clamping around the silver locket. “The job, Doctor Drake… What about the job? I can assure you that I would be a good—”
“Where did you get that?” He took one step closer, craning his neck to get a better look. The fine, detailed filigree and etched scrolling shone even in the dim light, a testament to his father’s talent.
She slid back a step. “Get what?”
“The locket.” He nodded toward the object, forcing himself to remain calm.
“This locket is no concern of yours.” She flattened both hands over the locket, her dress slipping down to a brazenly improper draping.
He clenched his jaw tight, furious that his dear mother’s locket hung from this woman’s neck.
“And it certainly has nothing to do with my being here. Like I said, I’m here about the job.”
“Oh, it doesn’t?” He gave a sarcastic laugh, infuriated at her bold censorship. “Funny thing, that locket. It looks just like one I once had.”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. This was a gift given to me. There’s no way it could belong to you.” She coughed again, glancing over her shoulder toward the door. “Now, about the Help Wanted sign.”
He shifted his focus to the door, suspicion creeping up his spine, and setting his hair on end. What if Max lurked out there? Waiting for her? Maybe this was all just some ploy to make off with more money.
That possibility had Ben’s blood boiling red-hot.
Resisting the urge to open the door and see for himself, Ben stepped closer to Callie. “Forget about the job for now, ma’am. Where did you get that locket?”
She balled her fist around the locket, inching away. “I told you, it was a gift.”
He pinned her with an intense stare. “Who gave it to you?”
When her sunken eyes widened with the smallest hint of fear, a subtle sting of remorse pricked his conscience. He’d never spoken like this to a woman—ever. Even if she was a conniving thief sent by Max, she was a thin, sickly, delicately beautiful one, and he could’ve gone a little easier on her.
She drew her lips into a silent, grim line.
“My mother gave me that locket twelve years ago,” he said evenly, determined to remain controlled. “On her deathbed.”
Her fine features creased in a frown.
“The last time I saw it was just before my brother Max took off with some harlot over seven years ago. Do you know Max? Is he out there now?” he probed with a brisk nod toward the door.
Callie opened her hands. Slammed her gaze down to the silver locket, and for a split second he thought he saw her perfectly shaped lips quiver.
That worked the slightest bit of unwanted softening in his heart. He’d rather disregard the vulnerability he saw there, but try as he might, he couldn’t banish the pathetic image of this woman huddled on his porch. Clad in nothing more than dirty rags. Doomed to freeze to death had he not come along.
“Let me put it this way.” He took a step back and held his hand out. “That rightfully belongs to me.”
Panic shuttered her eyes. “But I—”
She blinked with deliberate concentration, once, twice, her face paling as white as the stark snow whipping through the valley. She sidestepped. Teetered like some piece of fine china hanging over the edge of a high shelf.
When her eyes began a slow roll back, Ben lunged forward, catching up her light frame just before she hit the floor.
Callie draped limp in his arms, her hand slowly slipping from the locket and flopping down toward the floor. From the way her body burned with fever, she’d be here for a while. And despite her interest in the Help Wanted sign, he was positive that she hadn’t come here for a job.

Chapter Two
Callie struggled to force open her heavy eyelids. She stared through a fuzzy haze up at the ceiling. Pain pounded her head. Her eyes burned, but still she inched her gaze around the room, trying to remember where she was.
Bits and pieces came to her… Trudging through the snowstorm, huddled and waiting on a porch. Strong, capable arms holding her…
A strangely familiar man, tall and dark-haired, came into focus next to her.
She shot up in bed. Regretted it instantly when her head spun and her stomach roiled.
“Whoa there, miss.” Ben eased her shoulders back to the feather mattress. “Not so fast.”
“I need to get up.” She weakly wriggled from his unsettling touch.
Sighing, he crossed his arms at his chest. “I would strongly advise against doing anything of the sort. You’re in no condition.”
When she looked up at him, the world spun out of control. She closed her eyes and hoped he wasn’t observant enough to notice her condition, because the absolute last thing she wanted was to look feeble and needy in front of this man.
“Seeing as how I’m not your patient, I believe that I’m more than capable of making my own decisions.” She pulled her chin up a notch, wincing at the thin, raspy sound of her voice.
“Like it or not, you’re my patient now.”
Averting her focus from his steel-blue gaze, she recalled fainting. And just before that, she’d been arguing with this man over—
“My locket! Where is it?” Dragging herself up to her elbows, she scanned the room. “And my box! Where did you put my things?”
When she spotted her box snuggled in the old flour sack atop the bureau, she tried to quell the frantic beat of her heart. But the idea that this man could’ve taken the few possessions she had left in this world seized her heart with utter, unexplainable panic.
At the cool touch of silver against her chest, she discovered the locket was where it had always been and dropped back to the pillow.
“You see.” Ben drew his mouth into a grim line. “The locket’s still there. Around your neck.”
Peering down at her chest just to make sure, she screeched. “My dress!” She jerked the quilt clear up to her chin, being clad in nothing more than her paper-thin chemise and threadbare drawers. “Did you—”
A violent cough had her bracing herself, but she still managed to glower at him. “You undressed me without my consent? How dare you!”
His steady gaze didn’t flicker an ounce. “Your dress was soaking wet, ma’am, and the weather prohibited me from summoning my sister-in-law’s help as I usually would have.”
“But still, I—”
“You’re not the first woman I’ve tended to and you won’t be the last. It was in your best interest that I get you as warm and dry as possible. And I can assure you that I honored your modesty in every possible way.” He emphasized the last three words, his low, rich voice reverberating right through the layered quilts and chemise, to her bare skin.
Huddling tight beneath the covers, Callie turned and stared at the fresh cream-colored wall. A wash of shame spread through her like some dread disease. She hated reducing herself to this kind of ungrateful behavior, but she didn’t even know this man.
Max, though no saint himself, had never spoken one kind thing about his family—especially Ben. Callie didn’t have a single reason to like him. After all, Max’s bitter edge surely didn’t exist simply because of some innocent family sparring. He’d had a long list of reasons that fed his loathing.
She grasped the locket, recalling Ben’s adamant claim that it belonged to him. Apparently this was one of those situations that Max had referred to…when his brothers would edge him out of something for their own gain. She’d like to give Ben a dressing-down about that, but since she had nowhere else to turn, and desperately needed the job, she decided to go for a more mild-mannered approach.
Plastering on an awkward smile, Callie attempted a pleasant look. But it felt so odd and she was pretty sure her expression didn’t come off pleasant at all.
The sting of his words—that Max had married some harlot—came racing back, barging into her mind and producing instant outrage.
A harlot?
The very reason she’d come crawling to Boulder had been to avoid becoming just that—a harlot. She’d had nothing else to wear, but the cast-off dress Lyle Whiteside had thrown in her direction six months ago when she’d started working as a housekeeper at the brothel. He’d burned her other dress, saying that he didn’t want some lowly-looking scullery maid walking his halls, scaring off the paying customers.
Callie could almost feel her eyes darken with indignation. “It seems there’s some confusion about this locket,” she tried to say sweetly, but failed miserably.
He quirked one dark eyebrow. “There’s no confusion as far as I’m concerned.”
She stifled a ragged cough, her ire kicked up a notch at the sight of his steady, grating calm. Regardless of the fact that she needed this job, she nailed him with the most threatening glare she could muster. Held his penetrating gaze for a lengthy moment.
The man was wily, of that she had no doubt. Probably as clever and intimidating as the oldest, meanest wolf living in the Flatirons.
“Look, let me make this easy for you.” He crossed his arms at his broad chest. “I can prove the locket belongs to me.”
“How?”
“There’s an engraving on the inside.”
Prickly heat crept up her neck. Her pulse slammed in her ears as she grasped frantically for some argument. “How do I know you didn’t inspect the locket while you were—while I was unconscious and you undressed me?”
“You don’t, I guess,” he managed with an insignificant shrug.
“Exactly.” She swiped at a wayward, fever-induced tear rolling from the corner of her eye. “How do I know what went on then, Doctor Drake? I mean, having been dead to the world as I was, I would’ve been none the wiser had you sniffed and pawed through my things.”
She grappled for control, but, horrifically, felt it slipping through her hands.
“The engraving says All for Love.” The oddly tight and low sound of his voice arrested her attention. “It was something my father used to say to my mother.”
Swerving her focus to the ceiling, a memory staggered into her mind. Shortly after she’d met Max, he’d given her the locket as a pledge of his love. She remembered the gloriously heady feeling she’d had as she’d stared at the romantic engraving.
She’d loved Max.
Even in the darkest hours of their seven-year marriage, she’d loved him. She’d held out hope that he’d change, and return to the wonderfully adventurous Maxwell Drake she’d fallen in love with. Before bitterness ruled his moods. Before he’d taken to gambling, drinking and the other things that followed.
Hot tears pooled in her eyes. She could only hope that they would pass off for a fevered symptom instead of betrayal’s bitter sting.
She’d been deceived. Again.
She could stubbornly stand her ground regarding the locket, but even as a lame argument began forming in her mind, she felt her feeble case sinking beneath unsteady footing. She’d love to believe that this was all just some innocent mistake, but she knew she’d stumbled onto another one of Max’s lies, and for some reason the discovery wasn’t any easier than the last time.
Or the time before that.
Or before that.
Disgust knotted her stomach tight. Just moments ago the locket had hung as a precious symbol of first love. Now it burned with dishonesty’s harsh reality against her skin. It took every bit of poise she possessed to resist the unrefined urge to rip it off.
The sound of Ben dragging a chair across the room jerked her from her thoughts.
He sat beside her bed, looking almost as tired as she felt. On a yawn, he dragged a hand over his face. “We can talk about this another time, Callie. You need to rest.”
The concern-filled way he responded tugged at her heart. It could easily be her undoing if she let it. But she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
He definitely was not safe. He had a way of getting to her that was nothing short of a threat to her strong resolve.
When a deep cough tore through her throat, she winced at the merciless pain. Squeezing her eyes shut, she drew quivering hands to her neck, scrambling for a foothold with this bothersome sickness.
And this man.
Before she knew it, Ben had his strong arm wedged behind her shoulders as he held a glass to her parched lips. “Here, try to drink some water.”
As much as she didn’t want his help, she just didn’t have the strength to spurn his gesture. Especially as the cool moisture touched her lips and slid down her throat.
“There you go. That’s the way,” he soothed, settling her against the pillow again. “Better?”
She nodded, feeling a small bit of relief. Blinking hard, she avoided Ben’s penetrating gaze and instead lugged her focus to the gleaming dark hair that dangled loosely over his brow.
He scooped up her wrist and monitored her pulse. Though his eyes were watchful, his touch was gentle and respectful, even kind.
Uncomfortable with his attention, she struggled to push herself up again. If she set her mind to it, she could make herself get out of this bed.
With a slow shake of his head, Ben eased her back to the mattress. “Would you please just lie still? You have no business getting out of bed.”
He smoothed a lock of hair from her face, the simple gesture bringing her a foreign sense of comfort.
Sighing, he gently tucked her arm beneath the thick layer of quilts. “It’s three in the morning and the snow’s coming down harder than ever. And you are very, very sick. If you have plans to move on in the middle of this blizzard, you might as well walk out there and dig your grave in the nearest snowbank,” he added, biting off a yawn. “Though, frankly, I think you’re too stubborn to die.”
“I can’t be sick.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt stuck. Trapped. Dratted sickness! Why’d she have to fall ill now, of all times? “I have to work. The job. Is the job filled yet?”
He gave a tired chuckle. “If you mean, has someone else ventured over here tonight in the middle of a heavy snowfall to interview for this job…” He furrowed his brow as if trying to recall. “No.”
“So does that mean you’re hiring me?”
“Tell you what, Callie…” The tired droop of his eyes almost made her feel sorry for him. “We’ll talk about the job when you’re feeling better. All right?”
“I’m feeling fine now. Really,” she rasped, her voice catching on a cough that wrenched her entire body.
The calming weight of his hand on her arm sent a small, soothing rush through her.
“I’m not sick,” she argued, noticing the rugged, masculine scruff of dark beard growth on his face. “It’s nothing. Just a bad cough.”
After a long, unreadable look, he stood and walked over to the window. He parted the lace curtains that bracketed the cloudy, paned glass and leaned his arms against the frame. “A bad cough and a fever that’ll be the death of you, if you don’t get adequate rest. I’ll repeat it again…you’re in no condition to get out of bed.”
Callie stared at his broad, strong back, then she sliced a glance to her dress on the bureau, an unwanted prickle of sensitivity working through her. In spite of the way he felt about her dress, he’d folded it. Neatly.
She tried to brush the feeling aside. Within a year of marrying Max she’d learned that she was better off not expecting anything in the way of care or loving concern. She’d buried her needs and feelings right along with her dreams. Couldn’t allow things, good or bad, to affect her. She would’ve never managed the past seven years, otherwise.
She blinked hard. She had to get better soon or Ben might hire someone else, since he certainly hadn’t made any move to hire her. Yet.
Had she any other option when she was back in Denver, she would’ve taken it, but given Max’s history, she had little chance of getting a decent, wage-earning job. When she’d married Max, any bridge to her father’s good graces had been burned. Even the church had turned away from her when she’d inquired about a position in the orphanage. Though she’d never once partaken in Max’s sordid hobbies, she supposed that in their eyes she was guilty by association. She was the shunned widow of a sinner.
And for all she knew, God must look at her that way, too. Because since she’d disobeyed her father and married Max seven years ago, her life had been one hardship after another.
Coming to Boulder had been out of necessity alone. Without a job, she’d have no money and no hope to escape what awaited her back in Denver if she didn’t pay up.
Max had barely been cold in the ground when Lyle Whiteside had come knocking on Callie’s door, hanging the significant gambling debt like a noose before her. Since then she’d been working feverishly to pay it off by cleaning his saloon and brothel, but the payback hadn’t been fast enough to suit him. Three days ago he’d stared her down with those snapping black eyes of his, demanding that she pay off the rest upstairs on her back.
He’d vowed to be her first customer.
She could not—would not—slide her neck into that rope and drop to that low a level, no matter how desperate the situation. No matter how risky it was to run out on such a powerful man.
“I’ll be up and moving by tomorrow.” Her hoarse voice barely sounded. “I’ll make sure to compensate you for your doctoring. And room and board.”
He came to stand next to the bed, peering down at her with a certain compassion that had her averting her gaze. “If it’s money that has you concerned, don’t worry about that right now. It’ll all work out. I won’t charge you a thing.”
No matter how destitute she and Max had been over the years, she’d never taken charity.
Callie gripped the bedsheets when another deep, brutal cough commanded her strength. Maybe she was flirting with death to even think about getting out of this bed. The way her head and body ached, she couldn’t imagine walking twenty feet.
“I have nothing to pay you with.” She set her jaw. “But I don’t—won’t—take charity. You can just subtract what I owe you from my wages.”
“Your wages?” he echoed on a bemused chuckle.
“Yes, my wages.”
When she absently set a hand to the locket, she caught herself, suddenly wishing that she’d never been given the gift.
She lifted her head from the pillow and fumbled for the clasp. If it belonged to Ben Drake, then she’d promptly return it because the lovely piece of jewelry had obviously never belonged to her. Or Max.
His brow furrowed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m giving this back.” She steadied her fingers enough to undo the clasp. “Like you said, it belongs to you.”
His hands lightly grasped hers, stilling them, his face a mask of confusion. “No. Please, don’t take it off, Callie.”
She couldn’t move, couldn’t look at him. Inside she was in an all-out war for control. She was deeply hurt, betrayed by Max, though he was six months gone. And Ben wore self-assured confidence like some fine evening coat fitted to a T. Yet he showed concern and compassion.
“It’s not mine,” she declared, weeding out any sign of self-pity from her voice. “It never was and I—”
Her words died on another violent fit of coughing that paled all others. It wrenched her chest, her shoulders, her head. Every muscle convulsed.
She was barely aware as Ben slipped an arm behind her shoulders. She felt his strong arms cradle her as he whispered soothing words while she fought to gain her breath. When he pulled her closer to himself and wedged another pillow behind her head, his warmth seeped into her. And much needed relief slowly settled over her as he lowered her to the pillow.
“That really didn’t sound good.” Ben hunkered down to eye level with her. “At all. I’m very concerned.”
“I’ll be fine,” she rasped, with painful effort.
She wasn’t sure if her throat felt like it was closing up because of her cough and sore throat or the emotion his tender care evoked. For the first time in a long time, she might be experiencing what it was like to have someone care about what happened to her. To care for her.
But how could that be? Max had done nothing but speak ill of his brothers—especially Ben.
She pushed away from Ben, thinking about how Max must’ve been wronged and how things could’ve been so different if only…
The bitter sense of betrayal and pain and unfulfilled dreams stripped her bare. There was no way to change the past, but she could be unwavering in her quest to carve out a future of her own making.
After she’d paid off the debt.
Her eyelids drooped heavily, blatant fatigue demanding every bit of her attention. She could barely hold a coherent thought, but as she drifted closer to the blessed brink of sleep, Ben’s face flashed in her mind.
He deserved the truth about his brother. Especially if she was going to be working for him. It was only right.
Forcing her eyes open, she yawned. Coughed. “I need to tell you something if I’m going to be working for you,” she managed, her words sounding far away, though Ben’s presence felt almost as near as her next, ragged breath.
He leaned in just a bit closer.
“That woman Max ran off with…that was me. I’m your brother’s wife.” She gripped the sheet as she worked down another painful swallow. “I was married to Max.”
Ben’s strikingly handsome features creased in a disturbing wash of pain and anger. “Was? What do you mean, was?”
She quickly stuffed down the raw emotion. “Max was shot in an alley for double-dealing. He died six months ago.”

Chapter Three
The news of Max’s death echoed in Ben’s head like a gunshot in a deep mountain canyon. He’d not heard one thing. Not one thing.
When Callie had uttered the words a few hours ago, his emotions had warred between deep anger and grief. The death was an utter waste of a life so young.
And a mark of shame for Ben.
If he’d been able to turn his brother around, Max might still be here.
Ben let out a stuttering, remorse-filled sigh. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, and tried to relax his tight muscles, calm his beating heart, but it seemed useless. His entire being had been drawn into a knot of unrest and regret in hearing the news.
He would’ve questioned her further had she not drifted off to sleep. He wanted some proof of marriage or of Max’s death, but the longer he sat here staring at her—his brother’s widow, a young woman whose brow even now furrowed in pain—the more he questioned his need for evidence.
He didn’t know one thing about Callie. Had no reason to trust her. Still, she didn’t strike him as someone who’d lie about something so severe.
Ben had a volume full of unanswered questions regarding his wayward sibling. Twice as many misgivings. If he could learn even a little about what had transpired in the past seven years, then maybe, just maybe, Ben could put to rest the painful remorse.
He doubted he’d ever find peace about certain things, though. With Max dead, there were some bitter words Ben had said that could never be taken back: that Max was good-for-nothing, a stain to the Drake family name and the worst of scoundrels. Sitting on this solitary side of things, he had no idea what kind of damage the last words he’d said to Max could’ve done.
The shameful memory pierced Ben like buckshot, shredding his already shaky confidence. In the past six months his assurance in his work as a doctor, and his trust in God, had been dealt some rough blows.
First, he’d been unable to help his brother Joseph after an accident that left him blind. Ben had doctored him to the point that Joseph demanded to be left alone. The sleepless nights Ben had spent worrying, praying, and reading anything that might be a key to Joseph regaining his sight had been to no end.
He swallowed a thick knot of guilt. The inability to produce a winning outcome did something to a man who was supposed to be an instrument of healing in God’s hands.
Then his brother Aaron had been dealt a double blow when his newborn baby and his wife died within a day of each other. Complications of childbirth. Ben had done everything he knew to change the course, but it hadn’t been enough.
And now this.
Surely, had he done things differently with Max, spoken some sense into him, things would’ve turned out differently.
He blinked hard as he stared at Callie, asleep and burrowed in a thick cloud of blankets and pillows. The frown that had creased her brow had smoothed out to reveal a feminine softness. And the stern, unrelenting purse of her lips had relaxed to render a full pout that made his mouth tip in an unprovoked, tired grin.
For a petite little thing, no more than five feet, two inches tall, she’d put up quite a fight. The bold determination he’d seen in her eyes and stubborn set to her jaw belied her small stature.
She’d felt alarmingly thin in his arms when he’d cradled her limp body and settled her in bed last night. He’d removed her cold, damp dress, its tattered hem caked with snow, to make her more comfortable. But her lightweight undergarments did nothing to conceal the fact that this woman probably hadn’t seen a decent meal in a very long time. And they did nothing to hide her undeniable, womanly curves.
Forcing his thoughts elsewhere, he snapped open his pocket watch, flicking a glance at the hour. It was already nine o’clock in the morning, and though he’d dozed a time or two in the chair beside her bed, Callie’s ragged breathing and rattled cough had kept him on the alert.
While he switched out the warm oil of camphor–soaked compress at her chest, he realized that as much as he didn’t trust her, he felt drawn to this young woman. Wanted to make sure she received the best care he could provide.
Bracing his forearms on his legs, he monitored her breathing, watching her chest rise and fall in small breaths. All the while wondering what he was going to do with her once she was well. If he didn’t give her the job would she hightail it out of Boulder?
It was painfully apparent that she needed help.
And it was no secret that he desperately needed an assistant. But was he willing to hire a young woman he had a deep interwoven history with, yet, until a few hours ago, had never even met?
Ben quietly crossed to the bedroom’s lace-draped window and peered outside through the cloudy panes. The snow had finally tapered off to a light dusting of flurries that glistened like tiny diamond chips in the morning sun. He squinted against the stark brightness, his eyelids drooping over his eyes, weighted by fatigue and by the bright glare spilling into the room.
Kneading his forehead, his thoughts strayed to the past seven years. They’d tracked Max down several times, finding him in saloons, slouched at gaming tables like some permanent fixture. Though Ben had never met Callie—didn’t even know her name—Max had lamented about how he’d needed to play the tables to keep his demanding little woman clothed in finery and frills.
Turning to glimpse the bleak condition of her ragged dress and threadbare cloak, he couldn’t imagine that anything of the sort had been true.
Remorse regarding Max hovered over him like a coffin lid suspended, just inches from closing. He’d done his best to set Max’s feet on the straight and narrow, but Max had given the term maverick a whole new meaning, dodging responsibility at every turn, thumbing his nose at right living and common sense, and bucking hard against anyone who tried to bridle him. He was nothing like the rest of the Drake boys, and for that Ben felt a guilt-laden weight of responsibility.
Ben had promised his folks before they passed on that he’d see to his brothers. Make sure they turned out to be the fine, upstanding men his parents had intended.
Moving over to the bed, he refreshed the compress at Callie’s chest, praying that it would ease her deep cough.
When she stirred then dragged in a ragged breath in her sleep, he was grateful to see that it didn’t catch on another cough. With attentive medical care, she might just be all right. The idea of any other outcome made his throat go instantly tight. There was something vulnerable hidden behind the inflexible front she’d worn that begged for release, and he couldn’t ignore the strange desire he felt to be her liberator.

“You’re going to do what?” Aaron protested, his voice likely cutting through the closed door to where he’d just peeked in at Callie.
“Keep your voice down.” Ben shot his brother a glower of warning then tugged him farther into the waiting area. “I said, I’m thinking about giving her a job as a cook and housekeeper.”
He glanced at the second-oldest brother, Joseph, whose brow creased in an unmistakable, disagreeing frown over his sightless eyes.
His brothers’ forthright responses contrasted dramatically with the quiet, solemn grief they’d shown an hour ago when’d he’d broken the news of Max’s death. There were plenty of regrets to be had regarding Max. The tension-filled years preceding his disappearance. The betrayal prompting his leaving. And the futile times when Ben and Joseph had tried to coax Max home.
All the years growing up hadn’t been that way, however. There’d been good times, when all five of them had roamed the backyard on stick horses, as though the ground yawned like some wide-open range. When they’d worked together with their father to build houses for the steady stream of settlers moving West. When they’d hunkered down in eager anticipation of Christmas morning.
Those fond memories made it almost impossible to imagine Max dead. With nothing of his brother’s life left to redeem, Ben was left feeling helpless.
“A cook and housekeeper?” Aaron’s eyes widened.
“You want me to throw her out?” Ben queried, irritated.
Aaron splayed his hands in an it’s-not-my-problem kind of gesture. “It’s your call, but the whole thing sounds fishy to me. I mean, her showing up here in the middle of the worst October snowstorm I can remember, and then asking for a job? There’s gotta be a good reason for that kind of behavior. If that’s not fishy, I don’t know what is.”
“What other information did you get out of her, anyway?” Joseph inquired.
“Not much. She isn’t very talkative.” Ben’s admission rankled a little, especially as he remembered how stubborn and evasive she’d been. “She’s pretty sick. In fact, we need to make this brief so I can get back in there to see to her.”
“If it were me, I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her.” Aaron’s sure look altered to an instant frown. “Well, maybe not, seeing as how she’s such a tiny thing.” He nudged Joseph’s arm and whispered conspiratorially. “As small as she is, Joe-boy, a fella could fit her into his coat pocket.”
Relishing descriptions, however lame, Joseph grinned at Aaron’s remark.
“You’re all talk, Aaron,” Ben dismissed. “You couldn’t turn your back on her either, and you know it.”
“So, what if you’re wrong about her?” Aaron folded his arms at his chest. “If I were you, I’d get that locket from her before she takes off with it.”
“She already tried to give it back to me.”
“Well, then…” Aaron held out his hand. “Why don’t you have it?”
Ben met his disbelieving gaze. “I didn’t have the heart.”
“Oh, for the love of—”
“Go easy, Aaron,” Joseph cautioned. “You never know how hard something is until you walk it yourself.”
“I’m not arguing that. It’s just that Max pulled the wool over Ben’s eyes more than once,” Aaron responded then turned to Ben. “And I think we all know that he left because of this woman.”
With a tentative shake of his head, Ben raked a hand through his hair. “That might be what he said, but how do we know it’s true? How can you judge her, if you haven’t met her?”
“Facts are facts, Ben. And it was as clear as a mountain stream that Max got in with the wrong crowd,” Aaron bit off, his jaw tensing. “He always was wild on the vine. I just never thought he’d go so far as to steal from his own kin then walk away without ever looking back. If you ask me, I’d say that little lady in there had to have played a part.”
Ben peered down at the box Callie had brought. He hadn’t wanted to take it from her room, and sure wasn’t about to look inside at the contents, but he had to know if it was the box Joseph had made for Max years ago. That would be just another point of proof in her favor. “I know it doesn’t make sense. And I can’t say as I trust her, but—”
“I’d be disappointed if you did.” Aaron snorted. “I wouldn’t put it past some young, sickly thing sent by Max, to try and con you out of money.”
Joseph shifted his long cane from one hand to the other. “Knowing how hard it was for you to come to grips with the way Max took advantage of you, I’m not sure why you’d want to take that risk again.”
“I’ll admit, I’ve been wrong a time or two.” Aaron took the box from Ben. “But the lady came here with this one box and the locket. Lord knows she could be lying through her teeth about being married to Max—even about him dying.”
“Why would she lie about something like that?” Ben asked.
“I don’t know. Why would Max steal from his own brothers? And, when he was sloppy drunk and barely able to stand, kiss my girl?” Aaron’s jaw ticked. “People with no conscience do the unthinkable.”
“Just take some time to think this over.” Joseph grasped Ben’s shoulder. “Don’t make any rash decisions.”
“Why you’d want her workin’ for you, I’ll never know.” Aaron scuffed over to a rounded-back chair and plopped down.
“Believe me, I wondered the same thing, too—when I saw the locket, anyway.” Ben sank into a chair next to Aaron. “I don’t have a single, solid reason why I’d say this, but I think she’s telling the truth.”
“And I think you’re gettin’ all thick in the head.” Aaron placed the box in Joseph’s hand after Joseph sat down.
“You’re a bleeding heart, Ben. Always have been.” Securing his cane on the floor next to the chair, Joseph traced his fingertips over the walnut box. “It’s been ten years since I made this for Max, and it’s just as I remember.”
“It’s beautiful,” Ben commented, impressed by his brother’s talent. Even now, with his sight gone, he did flawless work. “You were good back then, and you’re even better now.”
“Taught him everything he knows.” Aaron gave a self-satisfied wink.
Half grinning, Joseph shook his head and sighed. “That joke is getting old, Aaron. We’ve heard it…I don’t know…what would you say, Ben, hundreds of times?”
“At least,” he answered with a chuckle.
“Maybe try it out on someone new next time.” Joseph’s eyes grew wide with exasperation.
“You know I only say it to convince myself.”
“That’s better. Best to remember your place.” With a wink, Joseph took in the detailed carving with his fingertips.
“It looks to be in good condition.” Ben angled his head to examine the box again.
Aaron rose and scuffed over to the doorway leading from the front waiting area. He peered down the hallway to where Callie slept. “You better make sure you keep a close eye on her. You never know what she might steal.”
The words stuck like a prickly burr, and had Ben narrowing his gaze at his brother, yet again. No matter that the callous comment could be true, it didn’t diminish the sudden, unexplained need to come to Callie’s defense.
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.”

Chapter Four
“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.”

Chapter Five
“I was about to send the cavalry after you.” Ben left Joseph in his wake, meeting Katie as she entered the front door of his house. “What happened? Did you lose Callie in the tub?”
She gave an innocent smile and edged around him. “She’s a slight thing, but no, I didn’t lose her. You know how girls can be.” Waving a slender hand in the air, she moved toward Joseph. “Talk, talk, talk.”
Ben pivoted, peering out a side window to his doctor’s office next door where Callie was now. He turned and followed Katie to the dining table. “I was beginning to worry.”
“Beginning?” Joseph focused his sightless gaze at his wife then arched an eyebrow Ben’s way. “You started worrying the minute you left her side and came over here to wait. You’re a dead giveaway when you’re nervous, you know. Pacing and clearing your throat the way you do.”
Ben produced a half-hearted frown. “And you are too observant for your own good.”
With a self-satisfied grin, Joseph lifted Katie’s cloak from her shoulders and draped it over the chair. “I can’t help it that my other senses are so sharp. I come by it naturally.”
Ben sighed. “Katie, maybe you ought to give him a lesson in humility. Seems like he’s a little weak in that area.”
“Believe me, I don’t need her to do that. All I have to do is make an embarrassing mess of things, like last Sunday at church, and my feet are firmly planted on the ground.” Joseph raked a hand through his chestnut hair.
“What happened this time?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Well, sure I do.”
On a heavy sigh, Joseph shook his head. “I was introducing myself to a newcomer and I reached out to shake her hand, but it wasn’t her hand I touched.”
Ben grimaced. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” Joseph pinched the bridge of his nose. “I touched her—her bosom,” he ground out. “That’s not even polite to say in mixed company. Sorry, darlin’,” he added with absolute sincerity to Katie.
The way she looked up at Joseph with undeniable adoration was something to see. And snagged at Ben’s own yearning for the same.
At twenty-nine, he could’ve married several times over, but after a difficult end to a relationship while he was away at school, he’d decided to bypass that aisle. And with as much as his practice had grown, he could easily distract himself from the loneliness he felt at times, by throwing himself into his work and his patients.
Unfortunately a certain five-foot-two-inch, auburn-haired, blue-eyed patient residing in the living quarters of his office next door presented a bit of a problem. He was distracted completely by Callie’s presence.
“I could’ve crawled out of the church,” Joseph finished.
Grabbing the two empty mugs from the table, Ben couldn’t help chuckling. “So, what did you do?”
“Apologized. What do you think? Then held my head high and made some small talk as if nothing had happened.”
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think she realized you were blind until…well, until that,” Katie offered, stacking the plates and bowls and setting them in the basin, too. “She looked as shocked as you did.”
“There’s the silver lining.” Ben clapped his brother on the arm. “You’ve been working hard at gauging where to aim your focus. Sounds like you’re doing a great job—at least where your eyes are concerned, anyway.”
“Very funny.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, Joseph shook his head. “Next time I’ll remember to hold my hand out and let the other person do the grabbing.”
Inwardly, Ben was thankful to see the ease with which Joseph was handling his blindness. He was adjusting well. Though he could see some dim shadows, he was pretty much dependent on his other senses. And with the help of his wife, who’d come to him as a teacher of the blind, he’d made huge strides toward independence.
“So, Callie is back in bed, right?” He swung his focus back to the conversation.
“I gave her a fresh glass of water and tucked her in. Satisfied, Doctor Drake?” Katie teased.
Ben gave one swift nod. “As weak as she is, I want to make sure she doesn’t overdo it.”
“She didn’t. We were just getting to know each other, that’s all. She seems very nice, but you were right. She’s a proud young woman.” Katie tucked strands of blond waves into where she’d swept it up at the back of her head. “She almost refused to take the clothes I brought over. And she’s determined to pay you for everything. Once she’s on her feet again, I’m guessing she’ll be a tough one to corner long enough to get her to open up.”
He frowned. “That’s what has me worried.”
“I thought so,” Joseph gibed with one raised brow. “You’re taken by her, aren’t you?”
Ben shrugged off the brotherly taunt. “Well, something about her has snagged my attention, that’s for sure.”
“Like I’ve said before,” Joseph measured out, patting his chest. “You’re a bleeding heart.”
Ben dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’m just worried about her, that’s all. It’s obvious she doesn’t have anywhere to go from here. As much as this area has been built up with the railroad coming through and all, a young woman trying to find her way alone is as good as a death sentence. It’s clear that she needs a leg up in life.”
“You’re right to be concerned.” Katie threaded her arm through Joseph’s.
“What do you mean?” Ben’s pulse prickled through him at the way her features pinched with concern.
“I have a feeling that if you want her to stay safe, then you’re going to have to find enough things to keep her busy right here. But most importantly, you need to treat her with great care.” Her voice grew suddenly soft and strained as Joseph wrapped her protectively in the crook of his arm. “Even though she tried to hide them, the awful scars I glimpsed on her body are a horrid indication that her past is something she’d like to forget.”

The thought of Callie enduring a cruel beating, even once, touched every part of his mind and heart, stirring up anger so hot his blood still thrummed with furious force through his veins. Images of her being mistreated thundered through his mind, unearthing fierce rage and the innate need to protect her.
“Callie? Are you awake?” Ben spoke low as he gently knocked on the bedroom door and awaited her reply.
After several silent moments, alarm barged into his head, dominating all reasonable thought. He opened the door, peeking inside.
He hoped he hadn’t seemed rude when just moments ago, he’d eagerly ushered Joseph and Katie out of his house. But from the second Katie had returned from helping Callie with her bath, he’d been chomping at the bit to get back over here to his patient.
Especially after Katie had mentioned the scars.
A few old scars. Some newer ones. The bold signs of chronic abuse that had been hidden beneath her tattered undergarments. He’d been fortunate enough to get her out of her wet and dirty dress after she’d arrived. But since then, every time he’d attempt to examine her, she’d flat-out refused, wrapping the covers so tightly around her, he thought she might cocoon herself in them permanently.
Completely missing the glorious opportunity to break free as a beautiful butterfly.
He gulped hard, sliding a trembling hand over his mouth. That thought had come out of nowhere. The delicate image of Callie emerging and spreading her wings to fly had his insides drawing up taut.
Every step from his house to his office, he’d kept telling himself that his was just a doctorly kind of concern, making sure she hadn’t taxed herself too much or spiked another fever. But the way his heart thudded inside his chest as he quietly slipped into her room, he knew he was fool—
He stopped cold in his tracks when he glimpsed her nestled safe in a fluff of quilts and pillows. His throat constricted. His pulse skidded to a halt, staring at her as though he’d never seen her before. He was so taken by her innocent beauty that he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away, even if he tried.
He advanced one step closer, growing increasingly uncomfortable at the way his thoughts were so caught up with this patient and the intense need he felt to protect her.
And wholly compelled by the way her auburn hair fanned across her pillow like rich strands of fine satin, gleaming in the sunlight. The late-afternoon glow poured through the windows in warm, comforting streams, lighting on her face to reveal a freshly scrubbed, pink tint there. Revealing also a small, ragged scar at her hairline. He’d missed it before with her matted hair, but now in the soft glow, he could see it. And the sight fixed a tight cinch around his stomach.
He gritted his teeth. Fisted his hands as images of this delicate woman being mistreated whipped through his mind once again. Any man who’d do that to a woman wasn’t worth his weight in gold, and must’ve been raised by the devil’s minions. Had it been an employer? Her father?
An appalling suspicion brought him up short.
Surely not Max. Max may have come by lying and cheating and drinking and gambling easily enough, but surely he couldn’t have found it so easy to physically harm his own wife.
Or could he?
Ben seethed with fury that Callie had been treated with such abject disregard.
When she stirred slightly and gave a small, distressed moan, he stepped nearer, instantly troubled by the way her brows creased in a frown. The way her mouth turned down at the corners in a distinctive look of fear.
Hunkering down next to the bed, he gently braced a hand on her shoulder. Instead of easing her distress, she jerked hard. Gasped in fear as her eyes flew open. She scrambled to the other side of the bed. Heaved a pillow over her head as if she meant to defend herself.
“Callie?” he spoke low, noticing how the covers quivered with the force of her heartrending trepidation. “Callie, it’s me. Ben.”
Her fingers blanched white with force. Her breath came now in short pants as she inched the pillow down. She slid a terror-filled gaze to him and blinked hard, once, then again as if bringing him into focus. He saw the light of awareness dawn in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as she swung her gaze aside, fastening it to the wall as though holding the structure in place. “Are you all right?”
“What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?” Heaving a big sigh, she shot up to her elbows and glared at him. “Do you always do that to your patients?”
“I didn’t sneak up on you.” He kept his voice low and even. If she’d suffered abuse, then it would certainly account for her skittishness around him. He’d have to tread lightly when it came to touching her. “I came in to check on you. Just like I would any other patient. You’ve been sick, remember?”
The way she studied him out of the corner of her eyes as he raised his hand to her forehead to feel for a fever, one would think he had a gleaming scalpel poised, ready to make a deep incision. But the way she jutted her chin out in obstinate refusal to show weakness pierced his heart straight through.
“Well, next time knock, if you would, please.” She summoned her rose-colored lips into a headstrong pucker that brought to mind dainty rosebuds.
“I did knock.” He wrangled up his patience and his good sense, even as unsolicited images of those perfect lips touching against his drifted through his mind. He was pretty sure she hadn’t meant to convey that, but darn if his thoughts didn’t find their way there. “You must’ve been having a bad dream.”
“I was not,” she retorted.
He tried to hide his dismay at her stubbornness. “You feel cool to the touch. I’m glad for that.”
When he withdrew his hand, silky strands of hair whispered against his fingertips, kicking his pulse up a notch. He busied himself, pouring her a fresh glass of water as he forced himself to focus on her needs as a patient.
“I hope you didn’t overdo it with the bath.” He offered her the glass, his errant gaze locking on her lips as she took several generous sips. “I probably should’ve waited to make that suggestion.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m just fine.” She fell back to the pillow. “In fact, I can’t believe how much better I feel. I’ll be up and working probably by tomor—” Her proclamation was interrupted by an unceremonious, lingering yawn.
“No, ma’am. Not tomorrow, you won’t.” Ben shook his head, trying hard not to grin at her strength of will, and the small glimpse of innocence he saw right then in her cute frown. “Not the next day either. I’ll let you know when you’re well enough to begin work.”
When she knit her brows together even tighter, he had the distinct feeling that he’d probably just stepped on her pride. He’d do it again, since he was a stickler for enforcing ample recovery time. And in her case, much needed rest.
“Thank you all the same, but I am fully capable of judging that for myself.” She crossed her arms at her chest. “And I feel more than ready to tackle the tasks that need to be done.”
“You are stubborn enough that you would, too.” He gently grasped her wrist to feel her pulse. “But I’m a doctor. And, honestly, I question whether you’re in the habit of making sound decisions regarding your health.”
With a protesting huff, she jerked her hand back.
“And before you go thinking that I just insulted you, let me assure you that it wasn’t meant as such,” he cut in, distracted by the way her soft skin remained imprinted on his. “Given the way you showed up here, I’d say mine is a fair assessment, don’t you think? No one in their right mind would have braved that kind of weather in the condition you were in at the time.”
Crossing to the dresser, he eyed the locket lying atop her worn garment. “Nothing is worth that.”
An uncomfortable silence filled the space between them and since he’d given her his back, he could only guess what her reaction was. But the one thing he’d learned about Callie, thus far, was that even though she’d make gallant efforts to hide her emotions, the uncertainty that churned inside her pretty little head was evident on her face.
“Your brother told me to find you.” The words fell from her lips, stiff and measured and loaded with things unsaid.
He faced her. “What do you mean? Max sent you here?”
Suspicion, thick as mud, overpowered the compassion that had just moments ago pervaded his mind. Joseph’s and Aaron’s strong words of caution echoed through his mind. Maybe they were right—that he was too trusting at times. That he was too much of a soft heart. That he opened himself up to get taken.
But when he peered into Callie’s distressed gaze, he couldn’t bring himself to make that kind of outright conclusion. Not without direct proof, unshaded by doubt.
“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, promptly pricking his irritation.
“Tell me what this is all about, Callie. Why are you here, anyway?” His voice had raised 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?”
Hauling her chin up a notch, she glared at him as he advanced on her. Flinched as if he might haul out to strike her. Then gave him a hollow kind of look.
And that had him inwardly kicking himself.
When she slowly rolled away from him, he knew he’d pushed too far, too fast.
“Listen, I didn’t mean to sound so—” He braced a hand at the back of his neck, feeling every bit worthy to play the evil part of the nightmare he’d found her in when he’d entered the room just minutes ago. He gently adjusted the quilt at her back, tucking it in so that she wouldn’t catch a draft. “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.”

Chapter Six
For the past hours those words, You were my last resort, had marched through Callie’s mind like dark shadows marking out her future. She’d hoped to eliminate Ben and the disturbing effects of his concern from her thoughts, but his subtle, piney and masculine scent lingering in the room infused her every sense with his memory.
She’d lost track of time as she’d crawled out of bed and slowly made her way around the room. She grasped the satin-smooth furniture to steady herself, studying the few other framed photographs hanging about the room. Raw emotion squeezed her heart seeing the way a much younger Max seemed bent on puffing his chest out in some kind of stubborn refusal. As she inched her gaze over a picture of Max, looking close to the age she’d first met him, she trailed a fingertip over his charming yet devilish grin. That smile had once drawn her, like some forbidden fruit.

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