by Ginny Aiken
A sudden thought burst in his head. He wondered if life with Roger was for Mrs. Nolan a war of some kind. On occasion, he’d seen spurts of panic in her eyes, flashes that she’d quickly masked, wrapping herself in her calm, cool dignity, and displaying a regal bearing so much at odds with the man she’d wed.
Those forest-green eyes of hers always wore a sadness that tore at Nathan’s heart. In spite of all he’d witnessed and experienced during the war, he’d never found himself truly desperate. He’d always known his father had provided for him, and funds to start a new life were waiting for him in the Bank of Bountiful. What must it have been like for that young woman to find herself without any alternative? How could she have reached a point where Roger was all she could see as an answer?
Nathan didn’t know. But one thing he did know. Faith Nolan was twice the person either of the brothers would ever be.
And, with his suspicions growing at full steam, he decided to keep an eye on the goings-on at the general store.
A week after the fiasco with Mr. Bartlett’s missing supplies Faith had gone outside to gather a basketful of dried wash, when a strange commotion made her drop one of Roger’s clean shirts. She swooped down to scoop it up before it soiled again, crammed it into her basket, and hurried toward the barn. Before she got there, however, she identified the source of the noise.
Plodding toward her were the three little mules, Maisie in the lead. “How on earth did the three of you get out of the pen?” She hurried toward them, but came to an abrupt halt when she saw the tear in the flimsy fence around the pen at one end of the barn. She’d asked Roger at least three times to repair the weather-beaten boards tacked haphazardly to posts made of the stripped trunks of slender pines. She knew the two brothers had enclosed the area when they’d first homesteaded their land, but they hadn’t made any repairs since.
At least they’d done a better job with the snug, sturdy cabin that served as business and home for the three of them. She and Roger made use of the sleeping loft upstairs and the kitchen and tiny sitting area that took up the right side of the building. Theo’s quarters were in a shedlike structure attached to the left side, the general store side. Not that he seemed to spend much time there.
To Faith’s intense relief.
Something about the way her brother-in-law looked at her made Faith’s skin crawl. He’d never done anything untoward, nor had he said anything inappropriate, but the look in his eyes always made her feel…dirty—dirtier.
Hard to imagine, since marriage to Roger had done that from the first night.
Maisie trotted up to her side, nuzzling the thick wheat-colored braid in which Faith kept her hair for sensible comfort. The mule’s trademark whickery bray nearly deafened her.
“You are a troublemaker, aren’t you, Maisie, my girl? Now I’m going to have to keep the three of you locked in the barn all day until Roger takes the time to fix the fence. Not that he’s likely to, I’m afraid.”
As she spoke, Daisy nudged her shoulder, trying to get as close to both Maisie and Faith as she could. She scratched the two animals, surrounded by their affection. Even the grim reality of life with Roger didn’t dim the pleasure she got from her animals. That got her to thinking. Where was the third mule? He had been there a moment ago. She couldn’t see him in the clearing, but she heard the heavy plodding she associated with the ornery male. “Lazy!” she called. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”
The plodding continued. But it didn’t come closer. Instead, it moved farther away from where she stood with the two girls. She craned her neck, searching the tall pines that surrounded the Nolan spread, but couldn’t see Lazy. She glanced from Maisie to Daisy, and hesitated. Did she take the time to lock them up in the barn and risk Lazy wandering too far into the woods? It was past four already, and sundown came fast this time of year. Weak sunlight did little to illuminate the space between the trees much farther than five to ten feet in. The thought of searching for the mule in the dark and cold was more than she could abide.
She shuddered, pulled Roger’s old coat tighter around her, and set off after the rapidly escaping mule. “Lazy! Stop your nonsense right now.” She glanced over her shoulder to find the girls following after her. “You’re supposed to mind, you two. I’ve enough with Lazy to cope with.”
But of course, Maisie didn’t slow a bit. Daisy, as always, followed right behind her dearest friend. And so, Faith took part in the most unusual parade she could imagine.
Which embarrassed her no end when she realized she was no longer alone in the clearing. “Oh, goodness! I didn’t see you there, Mr. Bartlett.” She looked to either side of the lumberman on the horse, but saw no sign of her runaway mule. “Um…was there something you needed from the store?” She blushed, thinking of the man’s missing supplies. “Or…did you come for your order?”
The logging camp owner doffed his hat and shook his head. “No, ma’am. I figure it’s not here yet, or surely Roger would have sent word up the mountain, right?”
Warm brown eyes the color of fresh-brewed coffee pinned her to the spot with an intense stare.
She shook her head. “No, sir. The shipment won’t be into Bountiful for another week, maybe ten days. I’ll be sure and have either Roger or Theo take it all up to you. No reason to make you come down yet a third time for what you bought and paid for, and expected days ago.”
“Roger? Theo?” A knowing grin tipped up the corners of his mouth. “Are you sure one of them will be bringing the supplies up the mountain?”
Faith’s cheeks heated. “Well, I reckon it will end up being me who brings your things. If you don’t mind, that is. Because if you do, why, then I’ll make sure one of them does it.” No matter what kind of excuse those two came up with, and she knew they could come up with plenty.
She squared her shoulders. “Yessir, Mr. Bartlett. I’ll make sure you get your supplies as soon as they get here.”
“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you up at the camp with your three mules—speaking of them, I only see two. Did something happen to the third one?”
Her cheeks blushed hotter still. “They got out of their pen, and Maisie and Daisy came after me. But Lazy plain took off. Who knows where he’s gotten to by now.”
Mr. Bartlett grinned again. “Maisie, Daisy, and Lazy? Hm…interesting names.”
“You can ask Roger about that. He’d named them before we…married up. He did do well naming them, though. Especially that scoundrel, Lazy.” She started off in the direction where she’d last heard the male’s hooves tapping away. “If you will excuse me now, sir. I’ll be after finding my missing mule.”
Faith heard Roger’s bellow before she saw him stomping down the trail behind her. “What have you done with my animals down there, woman? Don’t you know they’re what keeps food on our table? Why, if you weren’t a woman I’d—”
“I certainly do hope you’re not threatening a woman, Nolan,” Mr. Bartlett said, his voice calm, measured, but full of warning.
Roger stopped short and jutted out his chin, covered in stubble. “What’s it to you, Bartlett? She’s my wife. And don’t you go getting no ideas about her. I don’t cotton to no indecent—”
“Roger!” Faith cried, horrified.
“I’m sure you didn’t mean that comment as it came out, right, Nolan? Your wife has done nothing but greet me as any good storekeeper would greet a customer. I am your customer, or have you forgotten that already?”
Roger had the decency to flush a dark red. “Well, no, I ain’t forgot nothing. Just making sure everyone knows what’s what.”
“About that mule,” Mr. Bartlett said, changing the subject, to Faith’s relief. “Your wife was trying to find it when I came through on my way back up the mountain from Bountiful. It would seem there’s a problem with the fencing around your animals’ pen.”
Roger frowned. “A problem? What kinda problem?”
Mr. Bartlett gestured for Faith to speak.
She grimaced and turned her gaze do
wn to the ground. “I…ah…told you the fence was coming loose in a couple of spots. Two or three times, I…ah…told you.”
Out of the corners of her eyes, Faith saw Roger shrug. “I been busy.” He puffed out his burly chest. “Earning a living, you know. I’ll get to it soon’s I get me a minute or two.”
“Seems to me,” the logger said, “you might be a mite late already. Your mules broke it down and were running loose when I rode up. Your missus has the two females, but the male’s taken off. Let’s not waste any more time finding him. It’s getting dark.”
“Of course,” Faith said, her voice sounding more courageous than she felt. “I’ll put the girls in the barn, and go look for Lazy.”
“No, ma’am,” Mr. Bartlett said. “The forest’s no place for a lady, especially not at night. Roger and I will find the mule. You go take care of these two, then go on inside.”
“But—”
“Now, don’t you fret, Mrs. Nolan. We’ll find the runaway. You go ahead. I give you my word.”
A sideways glance told her Roger wasn’t pleased, but he was also not about to take on the man who paid him the bulk of his earnings, the man on whose property the Nolan brothers had squatted. Illegally, at that. She’d heard the two brothers mocking the gentlemanly logger one night after they’d consumed enough whiskey to float a tugboat upriver.
She turned toward the barn, and heard the familiar pattering of two sets of hooves behind her.
“Come on, now, Nolan,” Mr. Bartlett said. “Let’s find that mule of yours.”
As she bolted the stall door closed after the girls went inside, Faith didn’t need to wonder what would happen when Roger returned.
Faith gave the potatoes and chunks of sausage sizzling in the skillet another stir and tried not to fret over the missing Lazy. As unwilling to work as he was, he was also that ready for mischief. Not that the girls fell far behind. She suspected Maisie was the guilty party in the matter of the torn-down fence. Nothing made the leader of the pack happier than to follow Faith as she did her chores.
Unfortunately, Lazy wasn’t so inclined. He loved to wander.
A quick glance at her pocket watch told her it was taking the men longer to find the runaway than she’d hoped. On the other hand, their search put off the time when Roger would return to the cabin.
“…but she sure does make up some fine vittles,” Theo said as he stamped his boots this side of the kitchen door.
Faith’s heart pounded. She knew well what cruelty Roger was capable of meting out, but Theo remained a mystery, one she didn’t want to try to solve.
Without so much as a greeting for her, Theo went on. “And it smells like she done made us some already. Two strangers followed him inside. Hector Swope, Theo’s fellow sluggard, brought up the rear.
Panic struck; Faith saw no escape.
“Evenin’, Missus Nolan,” Theo said, his voice a taunt, his eyes leering. “Me and my friends, why, we’re in need of feeding.” He checked the table. “I’m seeing here where you only have three plates set out, but now I’ve brought company home with me, we’ll be needing us four. Get another one, and dish up fast. We’re hungry.”
Faith caught her bottom lip between her teeth. What should she do? Although she always made a bit more than she expected the three of them to eat, in case the two brothers were especially hungry, she didn’t have enough in the skillet to feed five men. She knew Roger would be famished when he returned, as was the case every single night. He wouldn’t be happy to find his supper eaten by his younger brother and the three visitors. On the other hand, she doubted she could hold off these fellows until Roger returned.
So she picked up the heavy iron skillet with a hand wrapped in a towel, hurrying to dish up. She’d have to peel more potatoes and open another jar of the sausage she’d put up last August. She prayed the second batch cooked up quick. At least the Excelsior cookstove had plenty of fuel, and was hot as could be. It might not be so bad, if Roger took a while longer to return.
But no matter what time her husband found that rascal Lazy, she would be alone with the four scoundrels until he came home again. A quick glance toward them left her no doubt as to their thoughts. She’d seen that same unholy light burning in Roger’s eyes many a time in the years since she’d married him.
She turned away, quaking inside. At the stove, she thudded the skillet down, the clatter surprising even her. “S—sorry,” she said, her voice weak to her own ears.
Another glance, this one at Theo, made her shudder. His small, dark eyes were narrowed more than usual, and he stared at her, intensity in that dreadful gaze. “What’s wrong with you, woman? Can’t a body and his friends eat in peace around this place? Don’t you go forgetting I own this place as much as Roger does.”
His three friends laughed as though he’d told a funny tale. Faith saw nothing of humor in his rude words, much less in the implied threat behind them.
Knowing Theo would likely take advantage of any sign of weakness, as his brother always did, she squared her shoulders, and met Theo’s insolent stare. “Nothing. The pan slipped from my hand, is all. Go on. Go on and eat, please.”
As the men lost interest in her response and resumed their meal, she breathed a touch easier. She peeled and sliced two small potatoes, then mixed them with sausage and onions in the still warm pan. While it all cooked, she turned to her washbasin, filled it with hot and cold water, and shaved slivers of yellow soap into the pan. Once swishing them with her fingers had dissolved them, she washed and dried the lone coffee mug she’d used earlier when she’d come in after the escapade with the mules. Until the men had eaten she wouldn’t have anything further to keep her busy. She whispered a prayer as she twisted the dish towel in her hands.
“Father, don’t leave me now. Hold me in the palm of your hand and protect me from all harm. If it be your will, please end this torment in the best way possible…”
The cabin door banged open again. Faith looked over her shoulder to see Roger and Mr. Bartlett enter the room. Oh, dear. Would she have yet another man to feed with more food barely started?
Before she had a chance to ask, Mr. Bartlett noticed Theo and his companions. “Sam, Lee! What are you two doing here? Did you come after me? Is something wrong back at the camp?”
The two loggers pushed away from the table, their cheeks ruddy, their eyes darting from corner to corner, their hands swiping their lips clean of grease.
“Aw…well, see…it was like this, Mr. Bartlett—”
“Well, no, boss. We was making our way back with—”
Both stopped at the same time and glowered at each other.
Roger tore his stare from the half-empty plates and turned it toward the pan of fresh-sliced potatoes and chunks of sausage on the stove, to Faith’s rapidly blanching face, and roared. “Where’s my supper? Ain’t I toldja time and time and time again I need food when I git finished with my work? I come home after slaving to provide for ya, and this is all what I get? Today! Especially today. Today I had to chase after them silly mules you’ve taken such a shine to. You’re s’posed to be watching them, ain’t ya?”
Faith shook her head, made every effort to maintain a calm appearance, shrugged. “Theo came with his friends, and…why, I…um, reckoned you’d want me to show guests here at your house the proper hospitality.”
“Hospitality?” His face turned redder with each syllable. “With my supper? Why, I’m going to show you what hospitality—”
“Mr. Nolan,” Mr. Bartlett said from where he still stood at the threshold to the room. “I wouldn’t fault your wife for feeding hungry visitors. It shows you’re a wise man, wedding someone like her. She’s quite a compliment to your good taste.”
At first, Faith wondered if the man had lost his mind. Then she saw Roger relax, puff out his chest, rub his belly, and smirk.
Her husband leered at her. “She’s right easy to look at, too.”
Theo let out another of his snorts of laughter.
The lumbermen next to him chuckled until their employer silenced them with a stern glare. “I do believe,” Mr. Bartlett said, “that we’ve overstayed our welcome.” In a respectful gesture, he nodded to Faith. “’Evening, ma’am.” He donned his hat, and with a friendly smile, tapped two fingers on the brim as he faced Roger again. “Please let me know when our order arrives, Nolan. I’ll make arrangements to have some of my men pick it up. Don’t want to impose on you.”
Roger shrugged without much interest. “Like I said, I’ll let you know.”
Theo let out another laugh. “Your order…sure, Roger’ll let you know.”
The logging camp owner looked ready to say more, but he instead gestured for his employees to follow him. Roger trailed along behind them to close the door as soon as they stepped outside. He turned to Faith, a mean light in his eyes.
“So, Missus Nolan…are you having a hard time recollecting who you wedded?”
As if she could ever forget. “No, Roger. Of course not.”
When she turned back toward the sizzling food, he went on. “Well, you make right sure you keep on recollecting, hear?”
She didn’t turn, but made a production of stirring the food. “Of course, I will.”
“Hmph! And now, what’s that about my supper? How’s about you showing me some of that there hospitality you show so quick-like to Bartlett’s men? Where’s my food?”
She jabbed a thick slice of potato with her knife. Relief filled her when the metal pierced right through with ease. “It’s coming right now. As soon as I set out a clean plate for you. Do you want to take time and wash up, or are you ready to sit?”
The sound of the chair legs scraping across the wood floor was Faith’s only answer. She set a blue-and-white enameled tin plate in front of Roger, and handed him a clean fork. A moment later, she returned from the stove with the skillet full of savory food. He barely waited for her to finish dishing up the generous mound before he fell to it.
Back at the stove, Faith slid the pan to the back, where her portion would remain warm but not overcook, in case she felt the slightest bit hungry later on. “Here’s a glass of water and the pitcher of milk. I’m going to feed Lazy, since I fed the girls after I put them back in their stalls. I won’t be long.”
