Free Rocky Mountain Redemption by Pamela Nissen Page A

remain strong, she dragged in a steadying breath. She’d need to be firm with Ben, especially after he’d decided that it was his place to tell her what was best for her.
    Ha! As if he knew.
    He had no idea.
    She clenched her teeth, riled in an instant at the memory of his pushy, self-important ways. Twisting a corner of the quilt between her fingers, she remembered how her father had played that role. He’d been like one large, prickling burr to her side at social functions, scaring off any and all suitors with his gruff, unfriendly exterior.
    Max had been much the same in his control, only he’d used force when she tried to exert her will. A hard backhand to her face, a rough shove into the wall, or his hands clasped like iron shackles around her wrists.
    But his cutting words…they’d been the worst.
    Apart from a few short seasons of seeming sanity, he’d remained the antithesis of the man she’d married.
    Trembling now, she tried to shut out the bitter memories. Having seen her father take up residence in a stronghold of bitterness and resentment after her mama had died, Callie knew she could never stomach herself if she grew to be the same.
    There had to be hope. Even if she couldn’t see it, andeverything around her looked hopeless, there had to be hope.
    There were times throughout the past years when she’d felt a quiet wooing, a gentle calling, to pray. To climb above the darkness that seemed to surround her.
    But then the clear and dismal message she’d gotten about God, growing up, would haul her back down with ruthless force. Her father had jammed Scriptures down her throat and demanded she quote them to ensure her standing with God. The minister at their church had beaten his meaty fist against the thick, wooden pulpit weekly, decrying God’s fiery wrath and judgment. And then Max, he’d barely given God a second thought unless he’d lost his shirt in a poker game, then he’d railed at God to the point that Callie would cover her ears and hide, fearing retribution.
    Was God fickle? Was He liable to punish her at the hint of wrongdoing, as the minister back home often said? Had God sent all the heartache she’d gone through the past seven years as payment for her mistakes?
    The very thought made Callie’s heart pitch with deep sorrow. Just as she began to feel nearly overwhelmed by it all, she heard a rustling sound behind her back.
    Rolling over, she rose to an elbow and found a boy staring back at her. Blinking hard, she took him in.
    He was probably eleven years old or so. His dirt-smudged face and thick mop of dusty blond hair that hung almost to his eyes made her think of a sheepdog pup. The image lifted her heavy heart a bit.
    â€œHow did you get in here?” she asked when he made no move. She swiped at the moisture rimming her eyes.
    His hazel gaze grew wide as he took a step toward the door.
    â€œIs there something you need?”
    â€œI—I was jest—” His focus cut from one thing to another in the room, finally landing on her face. “Lookin’. That’s all. Who are you?” He gave an audible swallow then anchored his lips off to the side.
    Pushing up to sitting, she leaned against the walnut headboard. “My name is Callie. And you are…”
    â€œLuke. Luke Ortmeier.”
    â€œIt’s a pleasure to meet you, Luke Ortmeier.” Nodding, she smiled, hoping to coax one from him, as well.
    Instead, his eyebrows crept like small golden caterpillars into a suspicious scowl as he settled his fists on his waist. “Does Ben—Doc Drake know you’re here?”
    â€œYes, he does. Does he know you’re here?”
    â€œDoc Drake’s my friend.” He folded his arms at his chest, revealing threadbare holes in the elbows of his muslin shirt. “Fact is…we’re best friends, him and me. He lets me come to his office here and have a look at his things. All the