A Bride for Noah

by Lori Copeland

  Uncle Miles’s lips drew together into a tight bow. “I begin to see why Evangeline has become so ill-tempered at hearing that answer.” He paused a moment, during which time Noah bit his tongue against a heated reply, and then his face cleared. “Ah, well. No harm done. I shall visit the chief myself. I understand he’s a man of intelligence and honor.”

  The idea of Uncle Miles trying to make himself understood when faced with Chief Seattle’s perpetually impassive expression almost made Noah smile. But he had no time for amusement, not with forty more logs to scale.

  Uncle Miles turned to go, and then stopped. “One more thing. Where can a man go to have a drink in these parts? My brandy supply will run low before long.”

  One other aspect of Uncle Miles of which Noah was well aware was the older man’s taste for brandy. He sighed. “I’ve wondered when the subject would come up.” He softened his voice to deliver what he knew would be a harsh blow. “Arthur Denney doesn’t hold with strong drink, and doesn’t allow any in the camp.”

  Shock overtook Uncle Miles’s features. He slapped his chest with a hand and staggered backward. “Do you mean the man’s a teetotaler?”

  A smile struggled to break free on Noah’s face, but he wrestled it into submission. “I’m afraid so. All of the Dennys are.”

  “But…but…” The hand left his chest to wave in the general direction of the camp. “All those men, those lumberjacks. They accept this restriction?”

  “They do if they want to work here.”

  Uncle Miles considered the information, and then delight broke out on his face. “I’ve just had a marvelous idea. What this new town needs is an ale house. Why, the man who opens that establishment will be rich in a matter of weeks!” Noah didn’t have to answer, merely pasted on a heavy scowl, at which his uncle’s face fell. “I suppose not. It wouldn’t do to fly in the face of the town’s founder at the outset. Perhaps later. In the meantime, I’ll focus on my salmon until we can get the restaurant business settled.” He squared his shoulders once more. “I’m off to visit the Indians, my boy.”

  Shaking his head, Noah watched him saunter back into the woods. Someday one of Uncle Miles’s schemes would pay off. Who knew, maybe it would be pickled salmon. Or Evangeline’s restaurant.

  The thought of her brought her image clearly into focus. Her expression when he left the Denny cabin hovered in his mind. She seemed almost sad, her eyes dark with emotions that went unvoiced. He’d halfway expected her to ask to return to camp with him. Or maybe urge him to stay there with her. The thought wasn’t all that unpleasant…

  He snapped the ledger shut and picked up the stamp hammer. A ridiculous notion. She’d made it clear from the beginning that the only thing she wanted from him was his assistance in accomplishing her business goals. Denied that, she would rather avoid his presence.

  With a mighty stroke, he swung the hammer at the flat end of the nearest log. The iron dug into the wood with satisfying force. Sometimes numbers weren’t enough to clear the mind of unsettling thoughts.

  Sometimes a man had to exert his muscle.

  Eight

  Evie slept dry and cozy in Mary Denny’s cabin, though there wasn’t much room to move around after they’d set up four cots. Louisa and the two little girls climbed a ladder to a small loft, leaving the bed to Mary and Rolland. Apparently Arthur would sleep at the camp while Evie and the ladies remained guests at his home. She was determined that she would displace him for as short a time as possible.

  On her second morning in Oregon Territory, Evie awoke far more refreshed than the first. She opened her eyes to find Margaret standing over her cot, watching her with intense concentration.

  The child’s face lit, and she announced, “She’s awake!”

  Evie sat up and rubbed sleep from her eyes, her thoughts taking a moment to come into focus. When she looked around, she was embarrassed to discover that she was the last to rise. Ethel, Lucy, and Sarah had already tucked their cots and blankets out of the way, and were clustered around the table at the other end of the cabin. Mary, still dressed in a modest white flannel nightgown, stood over the stove.

  Evie sat up and threw her feet over the side of the cot. “My goodness! Why didn’t someone wake me?”

  Louisa’s face appeared over the edge of the loft. “You were sleeping so deeply we figured you needed the rest.”

  Little Margaret fixed a solemn gaze on her. “We had to be quiet until you woke up.” She lifted her face toward the loft and shouted. “But she’s awake now, Louisa Catherine!”

  Mary turned from the stove with a stern frown for her youngest daughter. “That is quite enough. Ladies do not shout inside the house, Margaret.”

  The child ducked her head submissively, but Evie had to hide a grin when she spied a rebellious twinkle in her eyes.

  “Would you care for tea, Evie?” Mary asked. “Or, as the jacks say, ‘swamp water’?”

  Tea! Oh, what a blessing. Ethel and the others at the table cradled earthenware mugs in their hands. “That would be wonderful.”

  She watched as Mary poured steaming liquid into a mug and accepted it with a thankful smile. “We brought tea with us from California. When I can get to the rest of my belongings, I’ll be happy to replenish your supply.”

  “No hurry. We’ve plenty to last a while.”

  Margaret took up a stance in front of her, hands clasped behind her back. Her hair had been brushed, and she wore a fresh frock this morning. “May I feed your chickens?”

  The chickens. She’d forgotten about them. “Yes, certainly you may help me. Have you chickens of your own?”

  Red curls waved as she shook her head. “The coyotes ate ours.”

  “Coyotes?” Ethel half-stood, alarm ringing in her voice.

  Louisa, dressed in a pretty skirt and waist shirt, descended the ladder. “That was shortly after we arrived. Now the coyotes don’t come near the cabin so much.”

  “Or the cougars either,” said Margaret.

  Evie caught Ethel’s eye and attempted a confident smile. The poor woman looked like she might jump out of her skin. “I’m sure it’s quite safe for people.”

  “Usually.” Mary spoke without turning from the stove. “Only we’re careful not to let the children wander outside without one of us nearby.”

  Blood drained from Ethel’s face as she sank back into her chair, leaving her skin a pasty color. “Lord, help us!” She snatched up her mug and took a deep draught.

  Evie’s confidence sagged. Of course she’d known wild animals were a given in an unsettled territory like this one. But coyotes and cougars? If they would attack a child, wouldn’t they also attack a lone woman?

  Louisa’s laugh rang in the cabin. “It’s not as bad as that. They mostly leave us alone. The trick is to make a lot of noise.”

  Sarah turned in her seat. “Why?”

  Louisa shrugged. “It scares them off, I suppose. David says we are not their natural prey, and our presence here confuses them. So most of the time they prefer to stay away from us, unless they sense that we’re weak and smaller than they.”

  “Where can I find a pair of stilts?” asked Ethel in a weak voice.

  That brought a chuckle from the others that lightened the tension in the cabin.

  Margaret remained quiet for a moment, and then said in a guileless manner, “I’ll bet those poor chickens are hungry.”

  Evie laughed and ruffled the child’s curls. “You’re right. Let me get dressed and then we’ll feed them together.”

  Lucy and Sarah rolled up her bed linens and tucked her cot out of the way while she dressed and tamed her hair into a semblance of order. From one of her bundles she extracted a sack of grain. Taking Margaret by the hand she headed outside, leaving the top half of the door open.

  Another sunny day awaited them. The morning air held a crisp, honeyed scent that sent her spirits soaring. At the far end of the grassy area surrounding the cabin a pair of black and white magpies splashed in the shallows o
f the gurgling stream.

  Margaret dropped her hand and covered the few yards to the chickens’ crate with her curls bouncing. She bent to peer inside the wooden slats and turned with a smile. “They’re still here.”

  “What a relief.”

  Chuckling, Evie started after the child. Something caught her eye, and she stopped. Leaning against the side of the cabin were three long poles. Designs had been painted on them in brilliant reds, yellows, blues, and greens.

  “Why, I don’t remember these from yesterday.” She stepped closer, bending to examine the intricate pattern painted on the one nearest. It was quite lovely, and the paint so vivid. She reached out a hand to touch one.

  “Stop!”

  At the urgency in Louisa’s shout she jerked her hand away. Turning, she found her friend standing in the doorway, watching her with an odd expression.

  “What are they?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure what they’re called, but they were made by Duwamish braves and left here during the night.” Rather than alarm, Louisa’s mouth quirked with amusement. “David told me about them. Apparently you’ve gained some admirers in your short time here. They’re an invitation of sorts.”

  “An invitation?” Evie turned to inspect them once again. The markings on each pole were unique, though all as colorful and intricate as the first. “To what?”

  “To marriage.”

  Her jaw dangling, Evie stared at her friend.

  “It’s a custom of the Duwamish tribe,” she explained, her tone dancing with mirth. “When more than one man is interested in a woman, they each make one of these poles and lean it against her tent at night. In the morning, she chooses her husband by picking up one of them.”

  Evie stepped back, her hands clasped behind her back. “Do you mean if I had grabbed that pole…?”

  Louisa nodded. “You would have selected your husband.”

  The earth wavered around her. “But…” She swallowed hard, staring at the poles as if they were serpents. “But what do we do with them?”

  The humor faded from Louisa’s face. She raised her head and scanned the surrounding woods. A shiver crept down Evie’s spine. Were there three braves waiting in the forest, watching to see which pole she chose?

  “Leave them,” Louisa advised. “There’s probably nothing to worry about, but we’ll need to send word to Arthur and let him know.”

  Probably nothing to worry about. Hair rose along Evie’s arms, and she folded them across her middle. Coyotes, cougars, and now amorous Indian braves. The Oregon Territory was turning out to hold dangers she had not anticipated.

  Probably, if she were smart, she should leave now.

  Evie made the announcement after breakfast.

  “I’m going to the camp and ask Mr. Denny about those poles. I want to get a look at the settlement site anyway, and check on my supplies.” She looked across the table at Louisa. “But I need someone to show me the way.”

  Margaret leaped up from her stool beneath the window, where Louisa Catherine had been showing her how to make her letters. “May I go with Evie?”

  Gathering up the plates, Mary shook her head. “I’ll not have you tromping through the woods. Your father would be furious.”

  “Oh, Mama.” The child sank back onto her stool, her lower lip protruding.

  Louisa took the stack of plates from her sister. “I’d be glad of the chance to visit the camp. It has been several days since I’ve seen David, and I miss him.”

  Sarah exchanged a grin with her sister. “We’ll go. I wouldn’t mind getting a closer look at that camp myself.”

  “I’ve never seen lumberjacks at work.” Lucy’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Besides, we might get a better look at those men.”

  Ethel, who had once again taken the baby on her lap and was letting him chew on her knuckle, gave an expansive shudder. “I’ll stay here, thank you. I saw enough.” She glanced at Mary. “That is, if it’s all the same with you.”

  “I’m glad for the company.” A frown gathered on her forehead, and she faced Evie. “But I don’t think you should disturb the men at their work. Arthur wouldn’t like it.”

  Disturbing the men’s work wasn’t her goal. She did want to let Arthur know about the Indian poles, but other than that she hoped to avoid spending any more time in the men’s company than necessary. For what she intended to do, she preferred not to have Noah hovering over her, scowling disapproval.

  “Noah, did you see this?” Arthur approached, waving a piece of paper above his head.

  The cutting site was alive with activity today. The men’s spirits seemed as high as the sky, and the air was filled with snatches of songs and good-natured jibes. More than once already the deep shout of “Timber!” had echoed in the forest, and now Noah was applying his ax to the limbs of a felled cedar tree.

  He set down his tool to give Arthur his attention. The Commodore had delivered a sack of mail, which Noah had sorted last night and distributed this morning. “Looks like a letter.”

  Arthur shoved it under his nose. “Yes, but look at the address.”

  The flourishing script read, Arthur Denny, Duwamps, Oregon.

  “Duwamps.” A grimace creased the man’s face. “Who dreamed that up, I’d like to know?”

  “Someone at the Territorial Legislature office?” Noah guessed.

  Arthur scowled. “A terrible name. Hideous. We’ve got to come up with something better.”

  “The Duwamish people call this place Skwudux.”

  “That’s even worse.” He slapped the letter against his thigh. “Think on it, will you?” He caught sight of something behind Noah and strode off, shouting, “You there! Anderson! Watch where you sink that wedge.”

  Shaking his head with a smile, Noah picked up his ax. That man had a million things going on in his mind at the same time. How he managed to keep them all straight was a mystery, but he never let a thing drop. Next week he’d probably come to Noah expecting a list of name suggestions for the settlement.

  Another shout, this one from high up, rang through the clearing. “It’s the women!”

  Noah jerked upright to scan the area. Sure enough, four ladies sauntered down the trail from the direction of camp, their skirts swishing around their ankles. Following closely behind was Uncle Miles. Noah slapped a hand to his forehead when he recognized Evangeline and Louisa in the lead.

  A silent pause seemed to grip the forest, and then the jacks erupted into a flurry of activity. Tools were dropped as men hurried toward the ladies. Men descended trees like a herd of squirrels, chunks of wood flying from the spikes on their boots as they maneuvered their safety straps with blazing speed.

  Arthur turned, his expression going stern when he caught sight of their visitors. His gaze sought Noah’s, dark with disapproval.

  Biting back a groan, Noah dropped his ax and hopped over the felled tree, intent on confronting that frustrating woman. He had no doubt that Evangeline was responsible for this impromptu visit. She knew his wishes on this, and Arthur’s too. Why was she determined to cause trouble for him?

  By the time he arrived, a cluster of lumberjacks surrounded the ladies. Making liberal use of his elbows, Noah pushed his way through until he stood inside the circle. Sarah and Lucy were all smiles and fluttering eyelashes as they answered the men’s questions concerning their comfort at the Denny cabin. Louisa extended her neck to its fullest, trying to see over the heads of the tall men surrounding them.

  But it was Evangeline who drew his attention. She stood silently, a half-smile on her face and her eyes dancing with mischief. When she caught sight of him, her jaw thrust ever so slightly forward.

  “There you are, David.” Delight lightened Louisa’s voice as she stepped forward to embrace her beau.

  Wearing a slightly stunned expression, David returned her hug and then held her at arm’s length to search her face. “What are you doing here? Is everything all right with Mary and the children?”

  “Yes, of c
ourse. They’re fine.”

  Noah stared at Evangeline, who refused to meet his eye. Instead, she watched Louisa and David with what might be described as a longing expression. The sight of it made Noah’s fists clench at his sides.

  “Something’s come up that we thought you should be aware of.” Louisa’s eyes grew round. “Evie has attracted some admirers.”

  “What?” The word came from Noah before he could stop it.

  Arthur’s deep voice took command of the situation. “All right, men, you’ve spoken to the ladies. Back to work.”

  A disappointed grunt answered him, and with sorrowful expressions the circle slowly started to break apart.

  Before he left, Pig Face stepped up to Lucy and asked hopefully, “Will you be staying for lunch, then?”

  “No.” Noah barked the answer, his glance daring Evangeline to contradict him. “They’ll be on their way in a few minutes.”

  He was the recipient of reproachful stares as the men slowly returned to work. David lingered, Louisa’s arm firmly entwined with his.

  Arthur waited until they were all out of earshot before asking in a low and surprisingly patient voice. “Now, suppose you tell me why you’re here.”

  Uncle Miles, who had remained quiet until now, stepped forward. “It seems some of our Indian friends have taken a shine to the ladies and have taken steps to proclaim their feelings.”

  Louisa turned to David. “Do you remember telling me about the poles? There were three leaning against the cabin this morning.”

  “Poles?” asked Arthur.

  While David explained, Noah studied Evangeline. It was not like her to remain silent so long.

  “What makes you think they were intended for you?” he asked.

  Her eyebrows arched. “I don’t presume to know who they were intended for. They may have been meant for Lucy or Sarah or Ethel.” She looked at Louisa. “Or even you, Louisa.”

  Louisa shook her head. “No, the natives are used to me. It must be one of the new arrivals, or maybe more than one of you. Perhaps they were waiting to see which of you choose a pole.”