Rocky Mountain Match. Pamela Nissen

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      “I hope you’re right. You know that I’ve read everything I can get my hands on. But like I told you yesterday, the more time that passes with no change, the less chance there is for restoration,” Ben said, his voice tight. “I know this has to be hard, but if your vision doesn’t return, what then?”

      That question had staked out territory in Joseph’s mind for the past three weeks. That his entire life could be permanently altered infringed on his well-planned life like some dark omen.

      In a softer tone, Ben continued. “Will you refuse help even when it could make things easier for you?”

      Every muscle shuddered with anger. “I—don’t—need—help!”

      Even as the declaration crossed his lips he knew he might be deceiving himself. But the thought of being trained in the simple aspects of life rankled like nothing else. He’d always been self-sufficient. Always.

      Joseph forced himself to stop shaking. “Wire the man and let him know he doesn’t need to waste a long trip like that.”

      Awkward silence draped heavily between them, making Joseph’s skin prickle and a foreboding creep down his spine.

      Ben sighed, slow and heavy. “I—I can’t do that.”

      “You can’t send a telegraph wire?” His pulse pounded in his ears. “Why not? It’s not that hard.”

      When his brother stepped back, Joseph loosened his fists, unfurling them one finger at a time. Ben could be stubborn, but so could Joseph—and he had a long history of winning arguments.

      “Miss Ellickson,” Ben called out toward the street. “Why don’t you come on up.”

      Joseph froze. “Tell me what’s going on,” he demanded, his heart slamming against his chest. “I mean it, Ben.”

      Ben came to stand directly in front of him now, so close that Joseph could smell his brother’s subtle, clean scent. “Your teacher arrived by stage two days ago.”

      Hearing the faint clicking of boots across the boardwalk, a trembling shook Joseph to the core. Unbidden, he pictured an old schoolmarm clad in a dowdy brown dress, a severe knot of mousy-brown hair clinging to the back of her head and rimmed glasses perched on her long nose.

      His jaw muscle ticked. “Why wasn’t I informed? This is my life we’re talking about here.”

      “You’ll probably never forgive me for this. And I knew that you’d refuse, no matter what sense I tried to talk into you. You’re stubborn, Joseph, too stubborn for your own good. As your brother and doctor, I made the decision for you.”

      “That’s just great! I get to have my life planned by you now.” Joseph gave a mock laugh. “I may have lost my vision for a while, but I haven’t lost my mind. Send the woman back!”

      Just shy of Joseph’s height, Ben leaned closer, his voice dropping to a stern whisper. “I also knew that as a perfect gentleman, you wouldn’t give this dedicated young woman a hard time.”

      The distinct sound of the front gate clicking shut and the woman’s slow, light steps coming from the walkway sent Joseph’s heart racing inside his chest. His breathing grew ragged.

      “Listen, Joseph, she comes highly recommended, with a glowing letter sent by the school she’s been working at for the past five years. She’s Sven and Marta Olsson’s niece,” Ben added as though that tidbit of information would make him agree.

      Well, he was anything but agreeable. The last thing he wanted was some teacher coming in and watching him stumble around his own house.

      He tensed, only faintly aware of his sore ribs. “It’s a waste of her time,” he said in a harsh whisper.

      Ben firmly gripped Joseph’s shoulder. “Whether you gain back partial vision or no vision, she can help you right now. She’s used to this.”

      “Used to what? Seeing someone make a fool of himself?”

      The soft treading of the woman’s shoes up the stairs sent a quaking through Joseph’s entire being. Beads of sweat trailed down his forehead, soaking into the bandage.

      “I wouldn’t be so quick to make a judgment,” Ben urged. “You never know, she might just be the answer to your prayers.”

      The answer to his prayers? Katie mused silently.

      Clutching her instruction books tight against her chest, she stepped up to the porch and stared at Mr. Drake who stood legs braced wide, fists clenched at his sides and his chin set in stubborn defiance. She slid her gaze up, noticing that even though bandages shrouded his eyes, they couldn’t hide the fact that he looked none too happy. An unmistakable, aggravated scowl creased his forehead.

      The answer to his prayers… I’m probably more like his worst nightmare, she admitted, swallowing hard.

      Hope had bloomed on the long journey from Iowa to Colorado, but now uncertainty choked out eager anticipation like a dense thicket of weeds invading tender spring flowers. Never had she questioned her ability to teach and certainly she’d never shied from taking on a challenging student, so why should she now?

      “Miss Ellickson, I’d like to introduce my brother, Joseph Drake.” The twinkle in the doctor’s gray-blue eyes belied his simple brown attire and had put her at ease when she’d met him yesterday, but now he appeared anything but confident.

      Slipping her fingers over each fine pearl button trailing down her powder-blue waistcoat, she grappled for confidence. “Good morning, Mr. Drake. I’m pleased to meet you.”

      When she reached for his tight-fisted hand, he drew back as though she’d seared him with a hot iron. His mouth was set firm and hard. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, his leg muscles bunching beneath camel-colored britches. And as he drew his shoulders back, his chest stretched wide, revealing a well-defined muscular build beneath a white cotton shirt.

      Embarrassment flushed her cheeks and she quickly averted her gaze to the fresh coat of dark gray paint that gleamed like icing on the porch floor.

      “You may not feel ready for it, Joseph, but Miss Ellickson is prepared for a full day’s work.” The doctor gave her a lame look of encouragement, then shifted a wary gaze to his brother. “I know you’re probably mad enough to spit nails, but give it two weeks. At least until you see the doctor in Denver.”

      While he continued with a halfhearted pep talk, Mr. Drake remained grim. His commanding presence filled the small porch, sending a quiver of unease down her spine. And a brief, unwanted flash of fear through her mind.

      Nervously she smoothed back wispy strands of blond waves, wondering when the unbidden memories from the past year would stop haunting her. When would she be free of her attacker’s vile grasp? Even months later, she could still feel his hands pinning her down to a dire moment in time that would never end.

      Her chest pulled tight, the same painful questions swirling through her mind…. Where was God then? Why hadn’t He helped her? Why hadn’t He protected her?

      She wanted to trust God, wanted to rest knowing that He was watching out for her. But it seemed a mountain СКАЧАТЬ