A Bride in the Bargain (22 page)

She wasted no time in lighting the oven and starting on the bread. Working feverishly, she whipped up potato pancakes, boiled eggs, crispy bacon, and dandelion dressing. She sliced up tomatoes from the garden and washed several more.

Never in her life had she slept late. Even on board the ship, she would awaken before dawn. Would Joe be angry? He may like her well enough, but she was first and foremost his cook and she had a debt to pay. Setting the bread dough aside, she ran to the barn in search of a wheelbarrow.

She flew past the chicken coop, the pigpen, and the milking cows. The wheelbarrow was way too cumbersome and smelled of animals. But in the stall where Joe slept was a barrel, two chairs, a deck of cards, and a child’s wagon. Briefly wondering why Joe would need a child’s wagon, she pulled it behind her, its bed jumping in protest to her rapid pace.

Once back at the house, she glanced at the mantel again. Almost ten o’clock. No time to repair her person. The men had been in the forest for hours now and needed something to eat.

Leaving the bread dough to rise, she lined the wagon with cloths and filled it with her trappings. It wouldn’t all fit. Spinning in a circle, she searched for another container, gave up, then dashed to her room for a pillow sack.

Packed and ready, she forced herself to walk at a reasonable speed so as not to topple the wagon or damage the eggs and tomatoes slung in the sack across her back.

The closer she came to the logging site, the more embarrassed she felt. And all because of that silly gown.

She’d wanted so badly to see it complete. So she’d stayed up. But nothing went as it should, and the next thing she knew, it was only a couple of hours before she’d need to rise again and the gown still wasn’t complete. She sighed. She’d thought to catch only a little bit of rest, not sleep all the way through breakfast.

As she topped the rise her thoughts came to a halt. The bowl-shaped area in which the men worked was rife with activity. Fish and Wardle sliced up felled trees into logs. Ronny used a long pole with a blade at the end to strip bark from the cut logs.

Gibbs, in floppy hat and galluses, poked a pair of oxen with a stick. “Hump, you, Shelley! Move, Keats!”

The giant animals towed a pair of logs to the skid road. Already a pile of them were lined up end to end waiting for their journey to the sawmill.

Young Milton—whom the boys called Bunny due to the size of his two front teeth—ceased trimming the ends of a log to help Gibbs with his load.

Thirsty worked an ax into a pine tree. A man called Pelican was overseeing construction of the chute.

In the middle of the site, Red and Joe stood high up on springboards, each opposite the other and sawing a mighty redwood with the crosscut Joe had sharpened on Sunday.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Sweat poured from both men, but it was Joe who drew her attention. His back and shoulders bulged with each pull of the saw, his knees bending in rhythm to their movements.

She wondered where the stairway of springboards was. Red had one board below him. But Joe had none. He stood on a solitary plank two dozen feet above the ground. How on earth had he gotten up there?

“Miss Ivey!” Thirsty tossed down his ax and jogged up toward her.

As a group, the men stopped what they were doing and looked her way. She glanced at Joe in time to see him leap into the wedge of the redwood, jerk his springboard free, toss it to the ground, then jump.

“You all right, Miss Ivey?” Thirsty asked, taking the wagon handle from her.

She looked again to assure herself Joe had landed safely, then turned her attention to Thirsty. “Am
I
all right? What about you? You must be practically dying of hunger. I’m so, so sorry I overslept.”

“Oh, now, that’s all right, miss.”

Ronny sprinted up the hill. “Is that food you got in that wagon, Miss Ivey? I surely hope it is. I’m so starved my belly thought my throat was cut!”

Thirsty rounded on him and laid him out flat with one punch.

Anna gasped. “Thirsty! What on earth?”

Before she could get to Ronny, he jumped back up like a jack-in-the-box and touched his jaw. “What was that for, Thirst?”

“You were talking when you should’ve been listening, so I reached you one.” His tone was mild. Affectionate, even. “If you don’t mind your manners, I’ll finish this conversation with my hands.”

Ronny said no more, just worked his jaw back and forth to be sure all was intact. A goodly portion of the crew had caught up and acted as if nothing at all had happened. They simply unpacked the wagon and pillow sack, then started passing around the food. Whiffs of their repast unfurled and blended with the smell of fresh air and wood shavings.

“Are you all right?” Joe’s voice was low and very close to her ear.

She glanced up over her shoulder, then ran a hand over her braid and the mess of tendrils that had escaped it. “I overslept. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m just glad you’re all right.”

“It won’t happen again.”

He hooked some hair behind her ear. “No harm done.”

She didn’t know if it was the touch or the tenor of his voice, but a rush of bumps skittered up her arms. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You looked so peaceful, I didn’t have the heart.”

Her breath caught.
He saw me? In my bedroom?

She bit her lower lip. “You’d better get something before it’s gone.”

He tapped her on the chin. “Oh, I plan to, Miss Ivey. I definitely plan to.”

Clasping her hands in front of her, she pretended not to understand his implication. But she did understand. And the anticipation that sprung up within her terrified her more than his words.

He’s pledged to another,
she told herself. So long as he stayed that way, she should be safe.

Joe helped himself, then again took up his place behind her. He bit into a potato pancake wrapped around a boiled egg. “Mmmmm. You want some?”

She shook her head.

“Go on. I’d wager you haven’t had a thing to eat yet.”

Her stomach chose that moment to growl.

Grinning, he brought the rolled pancake within inches of her mouth. But he didn’t offer her the end that hadn’t been bitten. He offered her the end he’d eaten from. She hesitated. He waved it under her nose. Holding his hand still with hers, she took a bite. He gave her a hooded look, then popped what was left in his mouth.

The rest of the men had settled in a circle on the sawdust-covered ground. Several tawny-striped chipmunks rushed out from the brush and gathered at their feet, darting from one booted foot to another.

Anna backed up and bumped into Joe’s solid mass. “Won’t they bite?”

“No, those are our pet chipmunks. They come every day. They’re particularly fond of Thirsty. Watch.”

She looked Thirsty’s way just as one of the furry creatures ran up his back, onto his arm, and helped itself to the boiled egg he held in his hand. The seasoned lumberjack lowered the critter to the ground.

Sitting back on its haunches, the chipmunk finished the egg, wiped its mouth with its tail, then licked its tail clean. Never had she seen such a tender expression on Thirsty’s face.

She wondered suddenly if he had family or if he was alone in the world. Just like her.

“How did Thirsty get his nickname?” she asked.

Red threw Joe a tomato she’d not had time to slice. He caught it, then took a bite as if it were an apple. Dark red juice dribbled out of the tomato. Placing his lips against it, he caught the juices with his mouth, closed his eyes, and sucked, his cheeks inverting.

Inside, her stomach felt like a ball held long underwater that finally shot up to the surface. She placed a hand against her waist but could not suppress the buoyant commotion.

“Several winters ago,” he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, “we ran short of grub. So I sent Gibbs and Fish to town to buy us some supplies. When they returned we were near starving.”

She took a calming breath. “What does that have to do with Thirsty?”

“Well, when we went to unpack the goods, we found several cases of whiskey and only two loaves of bread. We all stared in shock until Thirsty snorted and said, ‘Now what’re we going to do with all that bread?’ ”

She blinked. “You’re teasing me.”

“I’m not.” His eyes shone with amusement. They were dark green today, like the leaves in the forest.

“No dessert, Miss Ivey?” Ronny asked, then leapt out of Thirsty’s reach.

She moved away from Joe and to the men’s circle. “I’ll make some extra tonight. I promise.”

The men began to clean up, but she shooed them away. “I’ll take care of this.”

The chipmunks receded back into the forest, and all the men but Ronny returned to their work. The boy refused to leave the cleaning to her, insisting on helping her. Acquiescing, she stacked two bowls in the wagon and chanced to look up.

Joe had just stepped onto his springboard, which he’d anchored only a few feet above the ground. He drove his ax deep into the trunk above him, grabbed tightly to the ax handle with one hand, and hung suspended from it while pulling the springboard free and inserting it into the notch above him.

The muscles in his arm bunched. Once the board was firmly in place, he put both hands on the ax handle and hauled himself up, swinging aboard the plank with ease.

He repeated the action over and over on his way up to the place he and Red had been sawing before. Arms, shoulders, back, and legs all stretched and flexed beneath his shirt.

When he reached his final position, he looked down at her, winked, then leaned a shoulder against the tree and waited for Red—who stood on one board while inserting another above him, then pulled himself up that way. Impressive, but not anywhere near as stirring as what Joe had done. And the impossible man knew it.

Ronny stepped up next to her. “He can jump farther, spit straighter, kick higher, run faster, and shout louder than anybody I ever saw.” His tone held some of the awe she was feeling.

Seeing Joe out here today was much different than when it had been just the two of them on Sunday. Then, he’d been tinkering. Today he was in his element. The vastness of the forests he invaded, the forces of nature he had to combat and control, the sheer size of the trees he brought down, all helped define the man.

And if challenged, she had no doubt that he’d channel that strength and resolve with single-minded ferocity until he’d proven himself and achieved his goal. The thought gave her pause.

Red reached his position. Joe jumped into the air and did an about-face on the springboard, then sprinkled oil on the saw. The two men settled into a crouch and began to work the blade back and forth.

“Do you see that stake out there, sort of to the left?” Ronny asked, pointing.

She scanned the hill.

“Waaaaaaaaay down there,” he said.

Squinting, she put her hand over her eyes. “Yes! Yes, I see it.”

“Joe put it there. He bet Red that when the tree comes down, the upper end of the trunk will fall on the stake and drive it straight into the ground.”

She looked at Ronny with shock. “How could he possibly know that?”

“Our lives depend on him being accurate, Miss Ivey. A tree that twists and slides backward off its stump has made many a wife into a widow.” He grinned. “Still, hitting a stake that far out is gonna be tough.”

She turned her attention back to Joe. They’d stopped their sawing while Red oiled the saw. Joe slipped his suspenders from his shoulders and peeled off his shirt, tossing it to the ground. He wore no undershirt. Snapping the suspenders back in place, he nodded at Red, his golden torso shining with sweat.

“Why are they so high up on the tree?” she asked. “Why don’t they stay on the ground to chop it down? Wouldn’t that be safer?”

“Well, for one thing, it’s a whole lot thicker down at the base. That’s also where all the pitch settles.”

“What’s pitch?”

Ronny whipped his head around, his expression horrified.
“What’s pitch?”
He let out a snort. “I thought even city girls knew what pitch was.”

Joe flipped his ax backwards and hammered a wedge into the cut of the tree. Wiping his forehead, he took up the saw and the men resumed their cutting.

“Pitch is the sticky stuff inside the tree that snags the saws,” Ronny said.

“Sap, you mean?”

“Not exactly, but kind of like that.”

Rapid popping sounds, like corks shooting out of a hundred champagne bottles, came from the unsawed part of the redwood.

“Here she goes,” Ronny whispered, pulling her back.

For the first time, Anna realized the havoc the gargantuan tree could wreak if it fell anywhere other than the direction Joe was aiming for. Terror gripped her, squeezing her breath. The top of the redwood quivered and swayed.

“Joe needs to get down!” she exclaimed. “He needs to get away!”

But he and Red were already jumping.

“Timber-r-r-r-r-r!”
Joe bellowed, landing on the ground with a roll and a run.

A piercing, cracking noise reverberated through the glen. The tree leaned to the east, leaned some more, and then it was falling, crashing to the ground with a roar rivaling any sound she’d ever heard. The earth shook. The bowls in her wagon rattled. She grabbed Ronny for support.

Dust and debris exploded into the air, masking the sunlight that pierced into the newly forged opening. And then all was still. The men. The animals. The very earth. As if in respect for the death of one of the forest’s royalty.

A bloodcurdling shout rent the air.

Anna gasped. “Someone’s hurt!”

Ronny grabbed her arm, stopping her.

She whirled around, slapping at his hand. “Let me go! Let me go! It was Joe! I know it was!”

“Miss Ivey. Miss Ivey!” Ronny bracketed her arms, giving her a gentle shake. “You can’t run over there. Not unless you want everybody to know you’re in love with him.”

She stilled. “What?”

“If you make a big fuss, everybody will know you’re in love with him.”

“In love with him?”

“Well, sure. Besides, he’s not hurt. He hit the stake, that’s all. See?”

She glanced down the hill. Sure enough, the stake had disappeared beneath the tree’s corpse. “What makes you think I’m in love with him, Ronny?”