<< Go Back

To Carry Her Cross

By Tina Pinson

Order Now!

Chapter One
The corridors closed like arbors of pitch around him. Snakes of black mist slithered along tar walls, melding until but a glimpse of their silken, lucid skin remained, but Harrison's small torch acted as a dismal beacon to their whereabouts. Real or perceived, his senses, riotous, confused, felt them. The fine hairs on his arms and neck alerted him before the light trapped the sinuous apparitions on the wall.
A wiser man wouldn't have taken the tunnel. Wiser, he wasn't. No, only a poor, stupid coward, running from his fears, from the snakes. He went into the tunnel without thought, plan, or a proper torch. The material on the stick flickered, nearly died, reminding Harrison of the latter. When it sputtered to new life, he nearly yelped for joy.
Joy was premature. He still needed to find his way out.
Flecks of light danced on the corridor walls in the distance, hastening his steps.
Near exhaustion and madness, Harrison glimpsed daylight far along the path. He
stumbled toward its effervescence. Toward freedom. Unfortunately, freedom did not await him in the sunlight. Warm rays did not caress his skin, only the coarse binding of a noose. The taut, cruel hands of death.
He opened his eyes to face it.
"N-o-o-o." Harrison flailed against death. But Death's fingers wound about his neck, strong, unrelenting. No matter how hard he fought, they clutched harder, draining him of life. He fought for one last gasp and succumbed to its awesome power.
Unsure of his surroundings, or why his body felt detached from his head, Harrison followed the path of his mind and landed back in Topeka, Kansas. With someone he'd hoped to forget. Was this a dream, or reality? It felt real enough.
He groaned. He thought he'd taken care of the matter of Andrea Milliken back in June.
"Andrea, please."
She pulled from him so fast, Harrison chilled. The meeting went as badly as he expected. Were it possible, Andrea would have seared him with her icy glare. He studied her back now and thanked God for small favors.
Andrea may have reason to be mad, but her argument would not change his mind. What made her think she could rewrite his thoughts? She could yell at him until the cows came home, until the rivers ran dry, until Hades froze over. No matter the cliché, he couldn't marry her.
He didn't love her.
She whirled, cheeks flushed, blond curls bouncing, dissecting him with her gaze. "There's someone else?"
He shook his head. Brown locks fell like waves on his brow, into his eyes. He pushed them aside. Arrogance lifted her lips. She would not believe he carried no feelings for her, or any other woman, for now. Thankfully he realized it himself.
Sniffing, she crossed her arms high on her ample chest, and tapped her foot. "What now? And don't you dare tell me some fool story about a calling on your life."
He'd never make her understand. With a grimace, he bowed his head.
Thinking it a sign of contrition, she moved to him on a sigh and put her hand to his shoulder. "Oh, Darling, see? We can work it out."
He met her ocean-blue eyes; he used to get lost in them. His gaze drifted along her slender nose, over her lush, pink lips. Sweet lips. He'd tasted them. She was a beauty. Any man would be happy to call her his wife.
He wasn't any man.
"There are churches here. Daddy could be persuaded to build you a new one." Her fingers danced on the back of his neck, keeping rhythm with her words. "You could hang your shingle. Doesn't Doctor Harrison Caldwell sound lovely?" He didn't answer. She shrugged and walked around him, her thoughts captive of her own desires. "If not, there's the banker's position."
Andrea's hand snaked around to caress his chest. Her lips touched his ear as she pressed against his back. "You'd be here and we could be together." Her voice dripped, warm sensual honey. Stepping around to face him, she laid a light kiss on his neck and cupped his cheek. "What do you think?"
What did he think? He nearly choked. She didn't really care. It always came down to what Andrea thought and wanted -- a position at the bank with better pay and security for him, and hopefully control for her. She used the same argument in silken tones before. The same flutter of lashes with a dazzling smile. He'd been taken in before. Now her lures sickened him.
He'd been so gullible. Thank heaven he'd come to his senses. He didn't want to be a banker. His calling was not in Topeka.
Did it lie in a small mining town in the Rockies?
Covering her hand, he lifted it from his cheek. "I'm sorry you don't understand, but I have to go. Someday the right man will come along for you. It won't be me."
The color drained from her face, taking the syrupy smile with it. She took a deep breath and slapped him. "You claim to be a man of God. Yet you would leave me. How dare you? How dare you use me and cast me away like yesterday's trollop? Why I..." She prepared to slap him again. He grabbed her wrist, held it aloft and seized her other hand.
Bewildered, he studied her face, wondering at her audacity. He'd only kissed her, and she'd returned the kiss quite amicably. He never treated her in an ungentlemanly manner, never as a trollop. He hated to admit it, but the blush applied to her cheeks -- two red circles -- made her look like one.
She pushed against him, but couldn't free her hands. Unable to strike him like she wanted, she pierced him with words. "You wait, Harrison Caldwell. Wait till my Father hears about this. Wait till I tell him how you used me. How you left me," she crowed indignantly, her eyes grew to orbs. "There will be nowhere for you to hide. Nowhere. You don't toy with Horace Milliken's daughter and get away with it." She sniffed loudly. Her lips puckering, she lowered her lids to snakelike slits and gave him a moment to come to his senses, as she usually expected.
Her words held truth. Horace Milliken owned the bank and vast holdings in town. If his far-reaching hand couldn't get you, he'd fathered four large, brutish sons who could. But Harrison already possessed his senses; fear or lust would not sway him. He breathed steadily and shrugged, hoping to relay that message.
She shivered delicately. "I warned you." She looked at him like she studied pond scum. Having made her threat, and satisfied by his silence, she marched to the door, her skirts
fluttering as if caught in a storm. He waited for the imminent slam, listened as it reverberated through the room, then sat and put a hand to his head. Thank heaven, she'd finally believed him.
Andrea's threat echoed in his skull. He wasn't afraid. Only grateful to have it done with, grateful he'd opened his eyes to the folly of his ways before he did something really stupid. Like marry Andrea Milliken -- petty, arrogant, selfish, childish Andrea Milliken.
While he wasn't afraid, Harrison wasn't dumb. Perhaps Milliken's hand wouldn't reach to the Rockies, and Andrea's threats were nothing but hot air. But somewhere along the way, there'd be repercussions -- he felt it in his bones.
He'd have to leave it all in the Lord's hands, let Him handle this finding a woman dilemma as well.
From the looks of it, his tastes needed some major refining.
Andrea's pretty face and ocean-blue eyes swam into his thoughts again, mingling with the hangman's until the two were indistinguishable, until Andrea held the noose around his neck.
"No, no," he muttered over and over. Andrea tightened the noose. He pleaded silently for God to save him. Just when he thought he would never breathe again, Andrea disappeared.
When he opened his eyes, another face swam before him. Harrison couldn't make it out clearly, but one eye, the color of a gray dove, danced before him. The other lay distorted beneath a purplish swell. Those eyes soothed him nonetheless.
Harrison's whole spirit smiled. He closed his eyes thinking peaceful thoughts and dreaming of dove-gray eyes.

Order Now!

<< Go Back