Breathe Again

Chapter 4

One Month Later

Sterling wiped a well-worn handkerchief across his sweaty brow and took several deep breaths resting momentarily from chopping wood. Muscles ached, and his lungs burned from the chore. He propped the handle of the ax against his thigh and scanned the forest around him.

The sun shone brightly overhead in the clear blue sky, and a hawk let out a piercing cry as it swooped down into the cover of the forest. Sterling's dry cough broke the eerie silence that followed.

He rubbed his throat and surveyed the vast quantity of fresh-cut wood he had produced. A lopsided grin bent his lips. There was a chance it would take the next two years to burn through it all, but he wouldn't have to worry about being cold this winter.

Another coughing fit had him doubled over in seconds. It was a wonder he hadn't coughed up his lungs yet. Ever since the fire at the Griggs, he'd been troubled by a persistent, irritating cough whenever he over-exerted himself, and today was no exception.

When the coughing spell ended, his lungs itched and burned. Wheezing had become a nearly constant sound to his ears with any amount of hard labor. It was damn aggravating that the fire had affected so many aspects of his life.

Sweaty strands of hair stuck to his neck and stubbled jaw, regardless of his attempt at tying his long hair back at his nape with a leather thong.

His old, dirt-stained white shirt was damp with sweat from the strenuous labor.

Closing his eyes with a grimace, he rubbed a fist against the large burn scar stretching from his right shoulder to the swell of his left pectoral in a strange pattern that reminded him of a broken bird's wing.

Against his will, his thoughts drifted back to the day of the fire and the devastation it had wrought.

Louisa had arrived unannounced at Sterling's office at his lumber mill two weeks after the fire, intent on hiring the best crew he could put together to begin building immediately.

Dottie and Louisa would never know it, but he was paying for the new house. He owned a thriving lumber mill, which happened to be the only lumber and sawmill in town for the past fifteen years.

The materials would be coming from him anyway, so every payment Louisa made toward their new home, he quietly deposited back into her bank account.

There were wrongs he needed to atone for, and this was one way to take care of Dottie and her family without them burdened by any financial strain of building a new home.

Except for the few possessions stored in the barn, they lost everything in the fire. So, the town donated what they could to help Dottie and Louisa get by.

In a stroke of good luck, the Griggs large barn escaped any severe damage. Not wanting to be a burden on anyone, the Griggs set up their temporary home in a portion of the hayloft.

With the only access to their new living quarters being a ladder, and the very thought of Louisa and Dottie struggling further, made it a top priority for Sterling to have a stairway built in its place.

Now, with the stairs, the women could easily traverse up and down throughout the day.

Once the remains of the fire were thoroughly cooled and men cleared them away, preparations for the new home began.

Much to Louisa and Dottie's surprise, work on the new foundation with an extensive root cellar accessible below the kitchen, started the next morning.

In any way he could, Sterling wanted to make the experience as stress-free as possible. And he would do everything he could to ensure their new home was as comfortable or better than their old house had been.

The weeks immediately following the fire had been rough for him, due to the slow healing of the burns. But he refused to wallow in his pain when there was so much to do. If his presence was required, he tried to focus on the construction or organizing the crew and materials — anything to have the home built as quickly as possible.

And when he wasn't required to be there and had finished with his duties at the mill, he would find himself there anyway, hoping to catch a glimpse of Dottie before heading home.

Almost daily, she sat with her infant son on a blanket in the shade, observing the construction. Since the fire, he'd tried to keep himself away, watching from the shadowed forest edging their property, ensuring they had necessary provisions and were safe.

Glancing down, as though he could see the skin beneath his shirt, Sterling rubbed at the ache in his chest. A portion of the burn still gave him troubles and hadn't fully healed yet. He'd doctored it up using what knowledge he'd gained from a myriad of wounds acquired over four years of war.

What was one more puckered blemish among all the others he'd collected over the years? Granted, this one was the grisliest looking scar adorning his body.

The constant ache plaguing him became a reminder of Dottie and the misery he would have known had she died that day. Nightmares of being too late still tormented him. He could only hope that one day, he would find relief; that his tortured soul would heal, and he would finally be able to find peace where Dottie and his heart were concerned.

His biggest worry, after making sure she and the baby were safe, had been concerning her reaction once she learned of his presence at the fire that day. As far as he knew, Louisa had kept her promise and hadn't revealed his involvement with their rescue.

How different would his life be if he—

Sterling straightened, straining his ears as the hairs on the backs of his arms rose in a warning. A menacing, low growl-hiss came from just ahead; its owner hid in the thick shadows of the forest. Gripping his ax, he glanced to where his rifle rested and cursed himself for a fool at leaving it out of reach.

Slowly, he backed toward the gun, hoping he might be able to reach it before the animal decided to attack. He exhaled a slow breath of relief and reached down to grasp the rifle just as a blur of fangs, golden fur, and two blazing eyes belonging to a mountain lion leaped from the shadows and tackled him to the ground.