Rocky Mountain Match. Pamela Nissen
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he growled. “Just leave, now.”
A moment of crushing silence was followed by the whoosh of Julia’s skirts as she walked toward the front door. “I can tell when I’m not wanted,” she spat, her voice laden with unveiled disgust as she stormed out, slamming the front door behind her.
“Mr. Drake? I’m terribly sorry about all of that.” Miss Ellickson slid her hand off his arm. “I’ll understand if you want to call it a day.”
Tilting his head down toward her, he wished he could see her. He just wanted one glimpse. From the moment they’d met this morning, she’d seen him at his worst, with behavior he didn’t even know he was capable of. She’d taken his rude, unyielding responses with a stiff upper lip. Why? Who was this woman who would sacrifice her own comfort and willingly endure the ugliest part of him?
Chapter Three
Unadulterated fear had shown like gaping holes in Mr. Drake’s stony wall of composure. From five years of experience working with the blind, Katie had learned to recognize the sure signs. And she’d never seen such desperation. All morning she’d witnessed it in his tensing jaw, tight fists and grim expression. She was worn out just watching him work so hard to fortify himself against the fear.
She stood for several moments on his porch, her legs weak as she clutched her books to her chest. He’d said that he’d lost his appetite. That he needed some time to think. And she knew when to let up a little. After all, this was all so very new and painful for him.
Breathing deep, she welcomed the soothing west wind filtering through her skirts, cooling her skin. For over three hours she’d remained stalwart in spite of his unyielding behavior, though she’d nearly bit her tongue in two when Miss Julia Cranston had shown up. It wasn’t Katie’s business who that woman was to Mr. Drake, but whatever her relationship, Miss Cranston wasn’t taking into account his vulnerable state. And for that Katie felt fiercely protective.
Compassion for him tugged at her heart. It was clear that this man of strength and self-sufficiency had been dealt a very difficult hand in life. Things were horribly unfamiliar to him. Maybe for now, anyway, he felt like a shell of what he had been.
Still, Katie could see an iron will there—and a fortitude that perhaps he didn’t even realize existed. He was unlike anyone she’d worked with. Decidedly stoic, yet beneath that stony exterior, a vulnerable man, scared to death. And she wanted to do everything she could to give him back his life.
Squaring her shoulders, she struggled to gather her wits before walking the distance back to Uncle Sven and Aunt Marta’s. She’d never hidden her feelings well. No doubt they’d worry if she showed up looking as distraught as she felt.
Brushing wisps of hair from her face, she started down the three steps, but came to an abrupt halt when Mr. Drake’s voice penetrated the solid walnut barrier.
“Why? Why me?” he choked out, his halting footsteps shuffling from the area of the kitchen where she’d left him, toward the front room. “How could you do this to me? What did I do to deserve this?” Mr. Drake’s voice rose in volume, twisting her heart with its mournful, almost terrorized sound. “Why, God? Why me? You have to let me see again!”
His deep, raw cry sent shivers down her spine and a piercing sword to her heart. When she heard him knock something over, her breath caught in her chest.
“Oh, God! You—promised!” Heaving sobs broke his words.
A heavy object slammed against the door.
Swallowing hard, she blinked back hot tears stinging her eyes. She could try to comfort him right now, but he’d reject it. She could do everything she knew to aid him in gaining physical freedom, but only God could heal his wounded heart.
Lifting a trembling finger to her face, she swiped a tear sliding down her cheek as she remembered his awkwardness this noon when he’d prayed. She didn’t need eyes to see that his relationship with God was being sorely tested. How well she knew that reality—her own trust in God had been pulled up painfully short in the past year.
“God, please help him,” she whispered. “Help me.”
From behind the door, Mr. Drake’s breathing came in audible gasps. “God, You pr-promised you wouldn’t forsake Your own!”
“Go ahead, Joe-boy. Hit me as hard as you can,” Aaron provoked, his words sounding more like he was offering to loan Joseph his boots, rather than his face.
“Hit all three of us till you can’t pull another punch if it makes you feel better,” Ben added in complete earnestness. “You need to do something. You’re about ready to explode.”
Joseph balled his fists and sucked in a slow breath, trying to hold his mounting frustration at bay. Since yesterday he’d felt like a tightly coiled spring begging for release. The reality of his inadequacy had hit him full force, and since then he’d been fighting just to stay clear of the bitter rage that nipped at his heels. In the past if he were angry, he might’ve laid a well-aimed ax to logs, splitting wood till he dropped, but now he couldn’t even seem to make it around his house without knocking something over or bumping into a wall.
Last night he’d successfully warded off his brothers when they’d shown up on his doorstep. But this morning they wouldn’t be put off. For the past thirty minutes Ben, Aaron and Zach had been trying to get him to talk about yesterday. They’d said that Miss Ellickson wouldn’t divulge a thing, but that Julia had given away plenty. She’d been loose-lipped all over town.
If he needed a reason to be mad, that definitely could’ve been it, but for some reason he didn’t really give a coyote’s hide. Whatever she’d said was probably true. He could hardly blame her for spouting off. Had he insisted that he be left alone to eat his meal, then she wouldn’t have had a thing to talk about.
Julia’s stories were to his benefit anyway. His blessed privacy would be ensured this way. No one would brave visiting if they knew how uncomfortable they’d be.
“Come on, Joe-boy, swing at one of us,” Aaron urged. “We’re standing right in front of you.”
“This is your chance, big brother,” came Zach’s low voice. At twenty, he was the youngest of the Drake brothers and had been striving to sow something other than wild oats. “I reckon you’ve probably been wantin’ to do this to me more than a time or two.”
“Ha! Are you giving us the opportunity, too?” Aaron guffawed. “Line on up, boys! Maybe we could knock some sense into Zach—keep him from making any more dirt-poor choices.”
Joseph could hear a scuffle in front of him and figured that Aaron was probably ruffling Zach’s hair or faking a punch. Like a couple of playful bear cubs, they were always messing around, but he knew it wouldn’t amount to much. Zach had made some bad decisions—decisions that had almost landed him in jail. They were just glad he was finally holding down a job as a ranch hand, and hadn’t gone the way of the third brother, Max, who’d taken off eight years ago with his inheritance and then some, and was living on the run.
“You two yahoos cut the bantering! We’re not here about Zach, we’re here about Joseph,” came Ben’s firm warning. “Come on, Joseph. We’re not kidding. Let loose—it’ll do you good.”
Joseph gave a low growl. “Would you three knock it off?”
Shaking his head, he pushed between them and with hands outstretched and clumsy, shuffling steps made his way to the dining table. He grasped the top rung of a chair, leaning heavily into it. “You might as well stop this charade. I’m not going to hit any of you. Never have, never will.”
Aaron came to stand beside him. “Maybe you need to haul out and hit us. We know you enough to see that you’re about ready to blow. I’ve never seen you so dog-gone angry.”
“I’m not allowed to be angry?” His jaw muscles tensed.
“No.