Rocky Mountain Oasis (11 page)

He looked at her over the rim of his cup, amusement dancing in his dark eyes as he sipped the brew casually.

“Don’t you have chores to do?” she asked, chin in the air.

He nodded but did not move.

She stepped back and set the pan of water heavily on the counter. Turning toward the table to clear it of the breakfast dishes, she stilled. Sky had come soundlessly to stand behind her and her face was only inches from his chest. She took a step back but felt the counter pressing into her lower back. She brought her palms together in front of her, fear coursing through her veins. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut?

All amusement now gone from his face, he stepped toward her.

She slid down the counter toward the wall until she could go no farther. Advancing steadily, he kept his eyes on her face. She wanted to look away but found she couldn’t pull her eyes away from his dark, serious gaze. She held her breath as he placed one hand on the back wall of the house and one on the side wall. He had her effectively cornered.

He leaned down so his face was directly on her level. “Would you rather be married to Jason?” he asked, his voice deep and resonant.

Her eyes widened as she let out her breath. This thought had not occurred to her. She shook her head.

He sighed, leaning heavily on his imprisoning arms. “Jason is...wild. He knows the way he is living is wrong, but he doesn’t seem to want to change. When I heard Jason was getting married, I didn’t want to get involved. But I believe God led me to the decision I made, so here we are. The only reason I
bought
you, as you put it, was because I could see no other way to convince Jason to relinquish his rights to you.” Standing upright, he folded his arms across his broad chest, looking down at her. “I’m sorry I made that remark about you being a mail-order bride. I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

“Purchased?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I only wanted to save you from Jason. You don’t have to do any chores you don’t want to do. And I don’t expect anything else from you either. I’ve told you that.”

She looked down. “I just—” She fluttered her hands helplessly. “It’s been a crazy year. I don’t expect you to understand. I’m sorry for saying those things. It came as quite a shock when I realized what he had said and...” Tears misted her eyes. “I don’t know what to believe. You have been so kind to me. I keep telling myself this can’t be real, that things are going to crash down around me any minute.” She stared at the wood stove, willing herself to remain in control.

Her voice choked with emotion when she finally spoke again. “I just feel like I have been living in the desert all my life and suddenly I’ve come upon this oasis. I don’t know whether it’s going to turn out to be a mirage or not.” She looked at him to see if he understood. The tender comprehension she saw in his eyes made her heart do an erratic flip.

Her mind groped for a change of subject. “I’ve got to wash the dishes.”

She moved toward the table, obviously not remembering that no one had eaten. She was brushing past him for the second time that morning, but this time he let her go, knowing she needed some time alone. He grabbed four biscuits and headed outside to do his own chores. As he walked, he said a prayer that one day she would come to know Jesus and understand what made him different than the other men she had known.

6

Shilo, Oregon, in the Willamette Valley

Rachel Jordan put one hand to the base of her throat and sat heavily on the couch which, thankfully, was directly behind her. She was suddenly grateful that Sharyah had stepped out to get some supper ingredients at the Mercantile. This was something she and Sean should discuss before they informed Rocky and Sharyah.

The telegram in her hand trembled for a moment and then sagged, limply dangling from the corner by which she held it. “Sean?” The word stuck in her throat and came out somewhere between a frayed whisper and a whine. She cleared her throat and laid the paper on the coffee table in front of her as she called his name once more. “Sean?”

“Yes dear? Coming.” She heard her husband’s voice from the kitchen where he was putting the finishing touches on her new screen door.

As she waited for him, she eyed the telegram warily, hands clasped tightly in her lap. She had read it twice. She knew what it said, but surely this was all a cruel joke. But Sky wouldn’t do that to them. Jason, on the other hand...

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Too much of the story made sense. This was just the sort of thing Jason would pull. And Sky was the sort to gallantly come to the lady’s rescue. She and Sean had taught him that. For one brief moment she regretted it but shook her head to ward off the thought. She looked up in time to see her husband walk into the living room, wiping his dirty hands on one of her dishtowels. When he saw her, his face immediately registered concern and he sat by her, taking her hand.

“Rachel? Are you all right?”

She looked deep into the blue of his eyes, needing to pull strength from him right now. At length she spoke. “I’m fine, but we’ve had a message from

Sky.” She indicated the paper on the table.

“Is he all right?” Sean blurted out. “What about Jason? What has he done now?” All these were asked even as he reached for the telegram on the table.

Rachel sighed as she smoothed the skirt of her yellow dress. “Just read it, dear.” She kept pushing at the imaginative wrinkle while she waited for Sean to finish the telegram, glancing at his face every once in a while to see what he was thinking.

Sean read the short message. She already had it memorized and knew exactly what it said.

Am married STOP Jason’s mail-order bride STOP She needs Jesus STOP Wounded soul please pray STOP.

Sky

Pierce City

Sean came to the end of the telegram but still sat staring at the page. He was just as surprised as she had been, but she only knew that because she had been married to him for twenty-five years. Sean was a master at concealing his features. He had to be—he was a lawman. But she knew his face.

Suddenly he blinked and looked over at her.

She smiled slightly. “We have a new daughter-in-law.”

He glanced back at the page in awe. “Yes, I guess we do.”

Suddenly tears sprang to her dark eyes and she reached up to pat her graying hair into place. “I only wish it was under better circumstances.” She pulled an ever-present hankie from the wrist of her sleeve and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I’ve prayed for so many years for the perfect girl for Sky and now...” She waved her hand at the message in his hand, unable to go on.

Sean patted her shoulder. “Remember, dear, God works all things for the good of those who love Him. And Sky definitely loves the Lord.”

She nodded, trying to staunch the tears flowing down her cheeks, and spoke in a choked voice, “We have to pray for them. They are going to need our prayers.”

“Yes, they are. Let’s do that now.”

They bowed their heads and lifted up their son and new daughter to the Lord. Asking Him to watch over them and protect them. To help them form a relationship as strong and lasting as could be. But mostly they prayed for Brooke’s eyes to be opened to her need of a Savior, and that God would help her overcome the wounds that scarred her past.

Brooke was running, running hard. Her breath came in great gasps as she leaped through the field grasses, her lungs burning. She had been holding her skirts up as she ran, but now exhaustion overcame her. So tired! Letting one side of her skirt go, she brought her hand to her chest as though she could help herself breathe easier.

She turned to look back. He was there. Looming just behind her with a wicked sneer, his amused eyes fastened on her. He was walking, not exerting any effort. Strolling even, one hand placed casually in his pants pocket, the other swinging easily by his side, and still keeping up with her frantic flight.

She turned back around, determined to keep going. To get away. But as she turned, she saw, too late, the log on the ground in front of her. Unable to avoid it, she tried to jump over it, but as her feet left the ground, Hank reached out and grabbed the skirt of her dress, pulling her feet out from under her. Falling on her back with a thud, she fixed her frightened eyes on the leering face of the handsome man who stood over her. Slowly he withdrew his hand from his pocket, and she saw the handle of Uncle Jackson’s quirt.

“You’ve done it now, Brooke, my dear.” His voice came from far away, sounding as if he was talking into an empty rain barrel. The man’s face morphed—one moment it was Hank’s, and the next it blurred into the visage of Uncle Jackson. “There was no dinner on the table when I came home tonight. You know what happens when there is no dinner on the table, don’t you?” The monster’s head tipped back in an open-mouthed laugh that sent chills of fear down Brooke’s spine. She did the only thing she knew to do— curled into a ball and put her arms over her head.

With the first blow of the quirt her body jerked and her eyes flew open. The room lay in semi-darkness. Peering out from between her arms at the side of the cold black stove only a foot away, she shuddered, trying to calm her breathing. Her body was soaked in sweat. Uncurling her arms from around her head, she sat up quickly, pushing her mass of curly hair away from her sweaty face. Her eyes jerked around the room, going from one shadow to the next, making sure she truly was alone in the cabin. Still in a hazy stupor, her befuddled mind slowly realized she was safe inside Sky’s house. Tears of relief burst forth. She sucked in air, trying to calm herself, but couldn’t stop the wracking sobs. She lay back down, burying her face in her pillow, her shoulders shaking with the cadence of agonizing anguish.

How long she cried she didn’t know, but when she could cry no more, she lay silently on her pillow, one hand by her face, staring at the side of the stove, seeing nothing. Nothing but the tormenting memories that paraded through her mind, one by painful one.

Smoothing the last of the tears from her cheeks with the flats of her fingers, she turned on her back to stare at the ceiling, her hair fanning out on the pillow. The rooster crowed, but she didn’t move. She hated days like this.

She had had them before. Many times. She wouldn’t be able to forget about the dream all day long. And the dream would bring back many memories, actual ones, that she had no desire to remember.

The only thing that propelled her out of bed was the memory that Sky would be in soon—and expecting breakfast to be on the table.

As it was, Sky came in sooner than she had expected and the meal wasn’t ready. Bacon still sizzled in the pan, the eggs hadn’t been cooked, and the coffee was just coming to a boil.

Sky paused, taking in her red, swollen eyes.

“I’m—” she gestured helplessly at the stove—“I’m sorry. It will be a few minutes still.” She spun around nervously, tapping her foot as if that could make the bacon cook faster. Finding nothing for her hands to do but poke and prod the bacon, she set the fork down and put her hands to use rolling up her sleeves.

Sky studied her intently. “Brooke, are you all right?”

“Yes.” She answered too quickly, trying to give a reassuring smile. “I’m fine.”

Her hands shook as she removed the bacon strips a moment later and began to crack eggs into the pan. She gave the eggs a stir and then turned to where he sat at the table. “I’ll run out and get the milk. The eggs should be done when I get back; then we can eat.”

His eyes held hers for a moment in question, but he said, “That’s fine.”

As Brooke went out the door to get the milk, Sky shoved a hand through his hair in vexation. Something was wrong. Very wrong, he could see that. It was so frustrating trying to understand this woman when he knew nothing about her. The only thing he knew was what he’d assumed from watching her react in different situations. Something was troubling her, but he had no idea what.

Suddenly he wished he was a little boy again and could call on his father to help him figure things out. But as the thought crossed his mind, he chuckled. “You got yourself into this, Sky, so you’re going to have to figure things out on your own.”

Getting up, he absentmindedly stirred the eggs, trying to figure out a way to let her know that he cared. That he wanted to help her. Would she ever come to trust him? She had obviously been mistreated by someone in the past.

How could he make her understand that he would never do such things to her, or anyone else for that matter?

He heard her come in the door behind him, picked up the pan of eggs, and began to move toward the table. But when he saw her expression, he stopped. She looked nervously from his face to the pan in his hand and back again. Quickly she set the can of milk on the table and gestured at the pan. “I can do that.”

He smiled. “I don’t mind.” In the minutes before she walked in the door, he had decided that the best thing he could do for her was to be himself. It would take time, but she would eventually see that he meant her no harm. He moved past her and scooped some eggs onto her plate. “Enough?” he asked.

She nodded, moving to get the plate of bacon. He noted that her hands shook as she set the plate on the table and took her seat. Pouring them each a glass of milk, he set the can on the floor and bowed his head to say grace. When he looked up from the prayer he found her nervous eyes on him. He smiled easily. “Smells wonderful.” Stabbing a forkful of eggs, he asked, “How did you sleep last night?”