Faith's Mountain Home Read online

  Aaron’s bedcover lay flat, the pillow fluffed in readiness. Nate’s gaze moved to the chair by the window. His brother reclined against the overstuffed cushion, his casted leg stretched across the footstool.

  Nate stepped into the room and settled on the edge of the bed, taking in the downturn of his brother’s mouth and the pallor of his skin. “How you feelin’ today?”

  “Ready to get this confounded cast off.”

  Nate let a smile tip his mouth. The same question, same response they went through every evening when he came by after work. “Ready to skin a bobcat?”

  Aaron snorted. “Any time now.”

  Now he sent his brother a full-on grin. Each time, he tried to come up with something different to ask for that second question. Something that would bring back pleasant memories from their younger days. Ready to ride a horse? Ready to go carp fishing? Ready to sleep under the stars? He had to keep Aaron focused on the good times they’d have once his leg healed and he wasn’t locked indoors.

  But Aaron’s expression lifted only for a second, falling again as his eyes turned hard and his mouth sealed.

  Nate leaned forward, propping his forearms on his knees. “I talked to McMillan about starting to train me on the big powder.” The blasters earned half again as much as regular laborers. He could cut a fourth off the time it would take him to pay off their debt.

  Of course, it wasn’t only his debt he was working off. The whole gang had taken part in the robberies, but since Rex had been shot dead when they were apprehended and Bill had been hanged for killing the sheriff in Settler’s Fort, he and Aaron were left to make restitution to the many folks and businesses they’d picked off. Until Aaron was back on his feet, the work was up to Nate.

  But he’d take the long, backbreaking days as long as his brother was safe and they could both have clean consciences when they lay down to sleep each night.

  “That’s good. When do you start?” The flatness in his brother’s tone stole any eagerness out of the words.

  Nate made sure his own voice held enough enthusiasm for the both of them. “As soon as they finish the stretch they’re working on now in the new shaft. Then one of the blasters should have time to train me. Another couple days, probably.”

  “Hmm . . .” His brother didn’t seem inclined to ask questions, so Nate brought out the other interesting tidbit he had to share.

  “When I was leaving the mine tonight, I found a bit of excitement.” As he unrolled his tale about the cave, he caught a glimmer of interest in Aaron’s eyes.

  But as soon as he spoke Miss Hannon’s name, his brother’s expression darkened. Even though it seemed like the two had formed an uneasy truce, Aaron still hadn’t forgiven her for firing the bullet that wrecked his leg. No matter that she’d been aiming for another man—Rex, the one pointing his pistol at her.

  They still weren’t sure if Aaron’s leg would heal enough for him to walk again, and his brother struggled to keep from sinking into melancholy during the endless days of pain and uncertainty.

  “So now Mrs. Bradley’s helping her get settled in her room.” As he finished his tale, Nate leaned back, propping his hands on the bed behind him for support.

  Aaron’s frown deepened. “I guess now she’ll get a taste of what it’s like to be locked up day after day.”

  Nate raised his brows. “They don’t keep your door locked.”

  “Might as well. Can’t go anywhere.”

  “How about if I move your chair out to the porch?” The sun had set, but the fresh air would be good for Aaron.

  “Too much trouble.”

  Nate worked to keep the frustration from his voice. “I don’t mind.”

  Aaron gave him a pointed look. “Too much trouble for me. Leg hurts enough as it is.”

  Nate leaned forward again, letting Aaron see the earnestness on his face. “Then what can I do to help? I know it’s hard sitting here day after day. What can I do to make it better for you?”

  A flash of grief crossed Aaron’s face, and Nate felt the crushing weight of it in his own chest. “I just want to walk again. If I can’t . . .”

  He broke off the sentence, but Nate knew what he feared. The thighbone had been broken in so many pieces, even a skilled doctor like Micah Bradley couldn’t promise the limb would work effectively when Aaron was finally freed from his cast. At least Aaron didn’t complain about the wound in his shoulder anymore. That bullet hadn’t struck bone, only flesh.

  And also hadn’t been inflicted by Miss Hannon.

  Nate gripped his knee as he willed his brother to hear him. “You will walk again, Aaron. We have to believe it. Keep praying God will mend the bone. He wants the best for us, the Bible says it.”

  Aaron’s mouth sealed shut again. Since that day right after they’d been brought to Settler’s Fort, when Nate had knelt beside Reverend Vendor in the little church at the edge of town and given his heart to the God he’d longed to know all his life, he’d been talking to Aaron about faith and how much it had opened up his life.

  Aaron had never spoken a word against Nate’s change of heart, but his silence when Nate talked of faith made his spirit ache. Surely Aaron would come to believe soon. Since the day they were born, twenty-eight years before, they’d done everything together. Watched out for each other when they were passed from one family member to another after their mother died, then later when their foolish choices forced them to stay two mountain peaks ahead of whatever lawman chased them at the time.

  Now, it could only be a matter of time before Aaron chose to step into faith with him. The peace of knowing he was forgiven from their crimes—both the big ones and those that seemed insignificant at the time—was the biggest blessing God could bestow.

  Unmerited grace.

  Aaron turned lifeless eyes toward the window. “You better get to your camp. It’s full dark out.” Then he nodded toward the bedside table. “There’s a biscuit in that top drawer.”

  Nate reached out and pulled the handle. A faint yeasty aroma greeted his nose, tightening the pinch in his belly. “Thanks.” He’d wait until he was on the road before he indulged. Since he put every pinch of his gold-dust wages toward their debt, he was doing his best to live without any personal expenses. He slept under a buckskin canopy in the woods and ate the meat and berries he could forage, along with whatever Aaron saved him from the daily meals here in the clinic.

  From the looks of the slight paunch of Aaron’s belly, his brother wasn’t setting aside as much as he could. But eating probably helped pass the forever-long hours, so he couldn’t begrudge Aaron the food. Couldn’t ever seem to begrudge him anything, really.

  The tie that bound them as twins was the one constant in the uncertainty they’d survived through. But as the elder brother by ten minutes, Nate felt the greater responsibility to keep them both alive and well.

  He’d not done so well at that when Aaron had been shot, but maybe it was simply God’s way of getting their attention. Of bringing them onto the straight and narrow. Now Nate just needed to help guide his brother all the way onto that right path.

  He rose and squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “Want me to help you back to the bed before I go?”

  Aaron shrugged, and probably didn’t mean the motion to shake Nate’s hand off his shoulder, but Nate removed it anyway. “Nah. Doc said he’d be back a little after dark to do it.”

  If only Aaron would let him help more. But he seemed to prefer for Doc Bradley to do the physical lifting when he needed it, such as moving him from bed to chair or using the chamber pot.

  He supposed a man should be allowed his pride.

  With a final farewell, Nate stepped from the door. He paused in the hall to let his brother’s melancholy mood slide off him. The murmur of female voices drew his notice down to Miss Hannon’s chamber.

  He’d like to know for sure she was settled in, that her injury wasn’t worse than a sprain. But he should leave her to rest in peace.

  Peace. A feeling
he craved every day. Even now that he’d found forgiveness, the full measure of peace still seemed just beyond his grasp.

  What more would it take to find that elusive goal?

  Three

  Laura kept the walking sticks nearby as she limped around the examination room, damp cloth in hand. Doc Micah had been taking patients all morning, and even though he cleaned up after himself, the place needed a thorough scrubbing at least every day or two. At least Doc Micah didn’t make as much mess as Dr. Stanley had, but the older physician had left Settler’s Fort at the end of summer when his health began to decline. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to spend the rest of his days nearer his children and grandchildren.

  But now all the doctoring fell on Doc Micah’s shoulders, and Laura did her best to help wherever she could. It was the least she could do in return for the room and board, as well as the safety, that the doc and Ingrid gave her. But since she’d been forced to stay in bed the day before with her injured leg propped up, she’d not been able to do this task that normally fell to her. Ingrid would have taken it on gladly, had she been in her usual condition.

  Laura couldn’t help a grin.

  She and Doc Micah had a baby coming. What joy would fill the Bradleys’ home and clinic. An infant would add a fair amount of work to Ingrid’s life, making Laura’s help all the more needed both in the clinic and with household duties. Was helping the sick and injured the purpose she’d been looking for? The fresh start—the new life—she’d craved? Maybe. Unfortunately, God hadn’t sent a host of angels to fill the sky as He’d done with the shepherds at the birth of Jesus.

  Make my path clear, Lord.

  “Miss Hannon?” Doc Micah called from the hallway.

  “Yes?” She laid the cloth on the work counter, then propped the walking sticks under her arms.

  “Would you be able to come in here and sit while you assist me?” He appeared in the doorway, but seeing her already hobbling toward the door caused the strong lines of his face to tighten with concern. “I’m not sure you should be up and about so much. I’ll do the cleaning when I finish with Aaron.”

  “My leg is much better.” Laura waved him off. Thankfully, this didn’t seem to be a full sprain. Already the swelling had gone down. With poor Ingrid usually either in bed or emptying the contents of her stomach into a washbasin, the doctor would have his hands full for the coming weeks.

  Laura straightened and pressed on a smile through the pain. She had to carry as much load as she could. If not, Doc Micah would likely shoulder all the work, whether it was too much for one man to manage or not.

  “I’m preparing to cut the cast from Mr. Long’s leg. If you can sit nearby and be ready to assist as needed, I’d appreciate it. You should be able to stay seated the whole time.” His gaze weighed heavily on her, judging whether this job would be too uncomfortable for her to take part in.

  Likely his worry was not mainly about her ankle, but whether the sight of the wound would turn her stomach. Nay, the challenge in this role would be whether she could force away her guilt over the fact that she’d been the one to inflict the awful shattering of bone, the mangling of flesh, the loss of so much lifeblood that he’d taken weeks to regain proper coloring. Even now, Aaron maintained a pallor that proved he wasn’t well, neither in body nor soul.

  Though her insides churned, she forced in a steadying breath and nodded, avoiding the doctor’s eyes. “Certainly.”

  “Come along if you’re sure, then.” He waited for her to swing past on the walking sticks, then fell into step behind. The devices were cumbersome and pressed hard into the tender flesh under her arms. Ingrid had said this was the exact pair she’d used when her leg bone had been crushed in a wagon accident on her journey to Settler’s Fort.

  Apparently, that injury was when she’d first met the doctor, and the story Ingrid told of that journey seemed almost too fantastic to be believable. But the love between the pair that had grown out of the adventure drifted like a sweet mist through their home.

  Laura held in a sigh. If only she could find a man who looked at her—who treasured her—the way Doctor Micah Bradley regarded his wife. If she could be married to such a man, working alongside him toward a common goal, would she then find the meaning in life she so desperately wanted?

  But she hadn’t found that elusive man, and she refused to put her life on hold until she did—if she did. She had to pursue meaningful work on her own. Had she found her purpose here at the clinic? Some days it felt that way, but other times . . .

  “Here she is.” The doctor’s voice filled the small bedchamber as they entered. “Now we can get started.”

  Aaron sat on the bed, his casted leg extending in front of him. A clean blanket had been placed under the limb, probably to catch stray plaster and other bits that fell away as they removed the cast. The other tools lay in a neat array at the foot of the bed, including a saw that looked as though it could slice through bone as easily as plaster. Laura cringed at the thought.

  A quick glance at Aaron’s face showed his jaw was a hard line, and his skin held an even paler hue than usual. He had to be nervous. Removing the cast would show them how well the bone was healing. Whether the leg would heal well enough to bear his weight, or if he’d forever be confined to a chair and walking sticks.

  Dear God, let the bone have healed. Please.

  If she’d forever maimed this man and altered the course of his life with her single quick reaction, could she ever forgive herself? Would Aaron ever forgive her?

  Being around Aaron these last months had been hard enough, but at least she’d been able to help care for him. Small acts of penance, but something still.

  Yet, if he could never walk again . . . how could she make that up to him? What if he ended up like Robbie? Oh God. An image flared in her mind of the stump that had replaced her brother’s leg, then his lifeless body after he chose to end it all. She had to keep Aaron from spiraling like her little brother had. No matter what she had to do.

  As the doctor bent over Aaron’s leg, she sat on the opposite side of the bed, within easy reach of the tools. From there, she could catch the cast when it fell away.

  “Should he take something for the pain first?” The bone had caused Aaron no shortage of agony through the healing process, although not as much lately. But removing the plaster holding the limb secure might introduce fresh discomfort.

  “It will itch a great deal as the blood flow is renewed, but I’d like to see how much pain he has before we mask it.” The doctor took up the saw with the fierce teeth, and her stomach clenched. He positioned the tool at the bottom of the cast near Aaron’s foot. “We’ll start down here and work our way up.”

  The tension mounted with each minute the doctor sawed. Each steady critch critch scraped across her raw nerves. It seemed like an hour passed as the saw broke through the thick plaster at the foot, then worked its way along the leg toward the critical place at Aaron’s thigh.

  Only once did she glance up at their patient. The sheen of sweat glimmering on his brow had formed a trickle down one temple. His eyes were closed, as though he couldn’t bear to see what lay beneath the hard encasement. A burn crept behind her own eyes.

  She didn’t blame him. As much as she, too, wanted to know whether his leg would heal, maybe not knowing would be better. Perhaps living in hopeful ignorance was better than the murder of hope if the bone had not healed.

  After all, when a section of bone the width of two of her fingers was shattered in hundreds of fragments, how could they think the body would grow that much new bone? How could it reattach strongly enough to bridge the gap?

  God made the human body to heal itself from so many illnesses and injuries, but surely a devastation of this magnitude would require nothing short of a divine touch to restore the leg to its former use—or even make it passably functional.

  And it was all her fault. Hot tears pressed behind her eyes.

  As Doc Micah sawed through the last section of
plaster, a layer of sweat formed across his own brow. She reached over and grasped the cast at the knee, holding it still to better allow the doctor to work.

  The saw broke through the final layer with a jolt, and a deep groan slipped from Aaron. Laura had to grab at the cast with her other hand to keep both sides from falling out of her grasp. The thing was heavy.

  The doctor took a deep breath, then released it, and she could feel the weight of his anticipation was as thick as her own. The result of Aaron’s healing would have little bearing on the doctor’s skill. How much could a physician truly do to repair a shattered limb, anyway? Yet, the welfare of his patients weighed heavily on him. He spent himself fully to give them the best quality of life possible.

  Heart thumping in her chest, Laura helped lift the leg as the doctor spread the cast down the limb and over Aaron’s foot. The thin layer of cloth that remained had protected his skin from the rough plaster and also covered the damaged area, so she couldn’t tell for sure whether the thighbone looked straight. The limb definitely looked smaller than before, but that was to be expected with no use of the muscle these past two months.

  The doctor glanced up at her. “You may go now. Thank you.” He would need to remove the last layer and reveal skin to assess the bone, and maybe that would be improper for her to see.

  But then he’d also need to have Aaron try to stand, to determine whether the leg could bear weight. He’d need her there to help with that. A glance at Aaron’s face was almost her undoing. With his jaw set like that, he looked so much like his brother.

  She pulled her gaze back to the doctor and gave him her most competent look. “I’ll turn away while you inspect the bone, but I’ll stay to help when he stands.”

  The doctor hesitated only a moment, then nodded and focused on the leg again. The doctor was a reasonable and practical man, two traits she could respect, especially if they allowed her to be here to find out the news firsthand about the damage she’d caused. No matter how many times Doc Micah or Ingrid told her she wasn’t at fault for Aaron’s injury, she couldn’t stop the need to do what she could to help his recovery.