by Judith Stacy
“Mr. Kruger?”
He looked back over his shoulder at Amanda, her gaze on him, her eyes wide, her head tilted slightly. The simmering heat in his body grew hotter. Jason knew he’d better stick to business. Before he kissed her. Or did something better.
“All right, Miss Pierce,” he said. “You can have your dormitory.”
She smiled, a big full smile. Jason’s chest tightened, inordinately pleased that he had made her happy.
“Thank you, Mr. Kruger,” she said, closing her satchel. “My brides will be so much happier this way. And you’ll profit from it, too.”
“I’ll get a crew on it.”
“Thank you,” she said again, and gave him another smile. “Oh, there’s one more thing.”
“Just one more?”
“I’m meeting with the prospective husbands tonight after supper and I’ll need a place to work. Will the cookhouse be satisfactory?”
Jason shook his head. “You can work here.”
She stopped and looked around the office. “Here? I thought you didn’t want me disturbing your work?”
“I don’t want you making promises to my men that you can’t keep,” Jason said. “I’m keeping a close eye on this whole thing, Miss Pierce.”
“Very well.” Amanda headed for the door, then stopped. “Oh, there’s something else.”
“Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“At supper tonight, could you seat the husbands at the same tables? I’d like to observe their manners so I’ll know where to start for their etiquette classes.”
“You want to eat with the men?” Jason asked. “Don’t you think you’re rushing things a little?”
Amanda gave him a small smile. “If you’ll remember, I’ve seen the men at mealtime. Getting too early a start isn’t possible.”
Jason shook his head. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Supper time is when the men relax after a hard day. Having a woman at their table can cause all sorts of problems.”
Amanda drew in a breath. “Mr. Kruger, are we going to argue over every decision that needs to be made?”
He looked at her. “Probably.”
She sighed. “Well, at least we agree on that.”
Jason watched her open the door and step outside. “Amanda?”
She turned in the doorway, looking back at him with an expectant look on her face. Jason didn’t know why he’d called her name. He hadn’t really meant to.
But there she stood, pretty, fresh and so very feminine, waiting for him to say something. He could have looked at her all night.
“You can eat with the men tonight, if you want,” Jason said. “But I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Another big smile came over her face, and Jason felt it down to his toes. Pleasing another person had never mattered to him before. Now, pleasing Amanda meant everything.
“Thank you,” she said.
Amanda lingered in the doorway for a few seconds longer, then left. Jason stood rooted to the spot, savoring the sight of her bustle as she swayed from view.
And he couldn’t help but wonder just how agreeable Miss Amanda Pierce would be in bed.
Chapter Eleven
Supper that evening consisted of big platters of ham, hot biscuits, bowls of peas, yams and corn. Amanda stood at the front of the cookhouse near the doorway, savoring the aroma. The food smelled delicious. Life on the mountain might be rough, but the lumberjacks ate well.
She heard the loggers’ chatter as they washed their faces and hands at the water trough outside after their hard day’s work bringing down the timber. Their talk died down and she heard only one voice, Jason’s, advising the prospective husbands to sit together at the first two tables.
A moment later when the men filed inside, Amanda smiled and nodded pleasantly. Some of the loggers nodded back, some tipped their hats, others just stared. All of which resulted in some pushing from the men at the back of the line to get inside. Gradually, all the loggers filed around the tables and sat down.
Amanda kept her smile in place as she approached the table closest to the door. “I hope you gentlemen don’t mind if I join you this evening?”
A strange hush fell over the whole cookhouse as heads turned to stare. Elbows punched ribs. Fingers pointed, and whispers rose.
The ten men seated on the benches at Amanda’s table froze. They looked at each other. Finally, a young man halfway down the bench dragged his hat off and pressed it to his chest.
“Why, yes ma’am, Miss Pierce,” he said. “We’d be proud to have you eating with us.”
Head nodding and a general grumble of agreement rose from the rest of the men seated at the table.
“Thank you,” Amanda said, then turned to the table beside her where the other prospective husbands were seated. “Good evening, gentlemen.”
A chorus of “howdy, ma’am” and “evening, ma’am” answered her.
Standing at the head of the table, Amanda suddenly realized she’d gotten herself into something of a dilemma. She had no place to sit—at least not properly. Long benches ran the length of the tables, and she certainly couldn’t climb over one of those—not if she wanted to keep her dignity.
She looked around, wondering what she should do, then saw Jason. He stalked toward her carrying a straight-backed chair.
Amanda smiled her gratitude and stepped away from the table.
He didn’t look any too pleased to come to her rescue. Jason scowled and plunked the chair down at the head of the table. Then he glared at the loggers.
“You’re supposed to stand until the lady is seated,” he barked.
The loggers scrambled to their feet. In the commotion, three men from the adjoining table squeezed onto the already crowded benches at Amanda’s table. A shoving match broke out. One of the benches turned over. Curses flew. Then fists started to flail.
Amanda gasped. Gracious! A fight had broken out! She’d never seen a fight in her entire life. All she could do was stand there and stare.
Suddenly an arm circled her waist and jerked her off her feet. A little scream slipped from her lips. Her hands grabbed the arm holding her captive, ready to dig her nails in. She froze. That muscled arm felt familiar. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that it was Jason.
He whisked her out of harm’s way and plopped her down—rather unceremoniously—in the doorway. She barely got her feet under her and he was gone, wading into the thick of the fight.
Jason grabbed two men by their collars and yanked them away from the table. Ethan appeared out of nowhere and jumped into the melee. Amanda plastered her hands over her mouth.
The Kruger brothers made quick work of breaking up the fight. Jason stepped up onto the bench that hadn’t overturned.
“Everybody sit down and shut up!” he shouted.
The men got to their feet brushing off their clothes, finding their hats. Two of them righted the other bench.
“Hey, how come we don’t get no woman at our table?” someone called from the back of the cookhouse.
“Yeah, how come?” another man shouted.
“Shut up!” Jason shouted again. He flung his hand at Amanda. “She’s not some sideshow freak for you to gawk at! Sit down and eat your supper, or else get out of here!”
A low rumble of complaints went through the cookhouse. Jason stood on the bench glaring at the men, then stepped down.
Amanda’s heart already beat fast, but when Jason turned his scowl on her it started to race. He stalked toward her, closing the distance with long, striding steps.
She wanted to run. In fact, it seemed like the best idea she’d had since she arrived on this mountain.
He bore down on her, scowling. Amanda gulped.
A wave of guilt washed over Amanda. She’d caused that fight to break out. Caused it by simply being a woman.
Amanda braced herself, ready for whatever Jason chose to let loose on her.
Instead, he gently took her elbow and urged her toward t
he table. Amanda didn’t move at first, just stared up at him, unsure of his intentions. Was he about to haul her to Shady’s freight wagon? Run her off of his mountain once and for all?
Jason increased the pressure on her elbow ever so slightly and walked her to the chair he’d placed at the head of the table. He held it for her. Amanda primly lowered herself into the chair.
“Sit down,” Jason snarled at the lumberjacks at the table. The loggers sat.
Jason went to the opposite end of the bench, yanked the young man off his seat, then sat down himself.
Obviously, he intended to stand—or sit—and guard over her table for the duration of the meal. Amanda was glad to have him there.
One of the cook’s helpers brought Amanda a plate, cup and utensils, and scurried away. The loggers dug into the food, spearing big slices of ham, grabbing for bowls of vegetables. Across the table of elbows and flying forks, Amanda caught Jason’s gaze. She gave him a grateful smile. He glared at her, then glanced away.
Well, she supposed she deserved that, for all the trouble she’d caused.
At the other tables, conversation slowly resumed. No one spoke at Amanda’s table. She wasn’t sure if the men were uncomfortable because of her presence, or Jason’s.
She dared not look at him again. He ate, but at the same time kept a watchful eye on the men around him. At their table, at all the tables.
Amanda had never known a man like Jason. Strong. Smart. So utterly in control of everything around him. Her stomach did a strange flip as she recalled how he’d jumped into the fight with no thought for himself. He’d just waded in, broken it up. But first, he’d made sure she was safe.
Another little jolt warmed Amanda’s stomach. How easily he’d lifted her—with only one arm. No man had dared to put his hands on her before. But Jason had done it without even asking.
She’d felt so powerless in his grip. Yet at the same time a feeling of power had hummed through her veins. How odd. She wasn’t sure what it was, but knew it was something Jason had caused.
That man was responsible for all sorts of feelings in her since the moment she’d arrived on his mountain. New feelings, certainly. Strange feelings, of course. Bad feelings? No, being on Jason’s mountain hadn’t caused her to feel bad about anything.
Except maybe the fight she’d caused. She’d been responsible for it, although technically she hadn’t actually done anything.
She doubted Jason would see it that way.
Halfway through the meal, Amanda had had enough of her own thoughts and the silence.
“I’m planning a get-acquainted social when the brides arrive,” she said.
The ten men seated at her table froze, forks halfway to their mouths, in midchew, midswallow. They all shifted uncomfortably, glanced at each other, then at Jason. He kept eating. No one responded.
Amanda tried again. “Do any of you gentlemen dance?”
After more squirming and furtive glances, one young man spoke up.
“Well, I do. Some, ma’am.”
“Wonderful.” Amanda smiled. “What’s your name?”
Beneath his tanned face, red showed through. He was barely in his twenties, with a slight build and a shock of unruly brown hair.
“Henry, ma’am. Henry Jasper,” he said, his cheeks turning a deeper red with each word he spoke. “My ma, she made me learn.”
“What about you other gentlemen?” Amanda asked. She glanced around the table.
Jason’s gaze bored into her, expressing his displeasure with her in no uncertain terms. No doubt he feared another fight would break out, and wanted to finish his supper in peace.
But she’d started this conversation, she couldn’t let it go. Amanda eyed the man directly to her right. “What about you?”
He rolled his shoulders around, then cleared his throat, and drew in a breath. “Well, ma’am, no. Sorry to say I don’t dance a lick.”
“And you other men?” she asked the table in general.
The loggers looked at each other, then at her, all shaking their heads.
“Does that mean we can’t have the social?” Henry asked, sounding a little worried.
“No, of course not,” Amanda said. “I’ll just have to teach you all how to dance.”
At the far end of the table Amanda saw Jason roll his eyes, and she could have sworn she heard him moan.
Amanda managed to keep a conversation going and by the end of supper the men didn’t seem so reluctant to talk to her. That pleased her. After all, teaching the loggers proper manners and dancing would require a great deal of time together. It would go better if she’d established some sort of relationship with them.
“I’ll be in Mr. Kruger’s office after supper to discuss your preferences for a bride. So if you gentlemen will excuse me?” Amanda said and rose to leave.
Jason rose from the bench. The loggers took their cue from him and clattered to their feet. Amanda smiled and walked out of the cookhouse.
She could have sworn she heard a sigh of relief when she left.
At the cabin that was now her home, Amanda freshened up after supper, picked up her satchel and headed for Jason’s office. The sun dipped below the treetops dappling the ground with patches of light. The air had grown cooler.
Amanda’s steps slowed as she saw her twenty-three prospective husbands crowded around the porch of Jason’s office. Men. All men.
She understood how isolated the women felt on the mountain. No wonder Meg had been so happy when she’d arrived, and so disappointed when initially she’d changed her mind about bringing her brides here. In Meg’s place, she’d have done most anything to get more women onto Jason’s mountain.
Amanda drew in a deep breath, put on a smile, and kept walking.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” she called.
They murmured greetings, nodded politely and opened a path so she could get onto the porch.
Shady stepped in front of her and tipped his battered hat. “Howdy, Miss Pierce.”
She smiled, genuinely glad to see him. “I didn’t realize you were looking for a wife.”
“Shucks, no. What would an old dog like me do with a wife?” Shady chuckled. “Nope. I just come by to see what was a-goin’ on.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Amanda said. “Would you mind giving me a hand?”
“Be proud to.”
Amanda opened her satchel and passed Shady a handful of folded papers. “These are numbered, one through twenty-three,” she said, speaking loudly enough that all the men could hear her. “Each man will take a number determining in what order he can request his bride. It’s the only fair way.”
The men nodded in agreement and crowded closer as Shady passed out the numbers.
“Can I put you in charge of the catalog?” Amanda asked.
“Them pictures of your brides?” Shady nodded broadly. “Yes, ma’am.”
Amanda pulled the catalog from her satchel and gave it to Shady. The men pushed closer.
“Take some time to look at the brides,” she said, “so when you’re called inside you’ll know what type of wife you’re interested in. I can’t guarantee that I can get the women who are pictured. There’s always a chance they’ve already found a husband on their own. But I’ll try the very best I can. Either way, I’m sure I can find each of you the kind of wife you’re looking for.”
She wasn’t sure the men heard her as they pushed closer to Shady, who jealously guarded the catalog, reveling in the authority he’d been given. She went inside the office.
Jason was already there seated at his desk. Amanda expected him to say something about the fight that had broken out at supper, but he didn’t. Still, he didn’t look all that happy to see her.
“I fixed you a place to work,” Jason said, and waved his hand.
Amanda turned. “Oh…”
Situated across the office were two sawhorses with a couple of rough planks stretched between them. A chair sat behind them, making a desk of sorts.
It was the most dismal looking thing Amanda had ever seen. She didn’t want to work there.
But she was tired. She’d already had a long, hard day cleaning the cabin, moving the furniture, inciting a near riot at supper. It had all taken its toll.
Pushing on, Amanda spread out her papers and pencils on the makeshift desk. She felt Jason’s gaze on her, even after he’d sat down in his desk chair and turned his attention to his ledgers.
He’d told her he intended to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t cheat his men. Apparently, he intended to do just that.
Amanda called Shady into the office.
“Would you please let the men know I’ll have time to take only five applications tonight?” she said. “The rest will be done tomorrow.”
“Sure thing, Miss Pierce,” Shady said.
“Send in the first prospective husband.”
Amanda waited by the doorway and listened as Shady passed along her instructions. She’d expected some complaints, but heard only a little grumbling. None of the men left, though. As she headed to her desk she saw them still crowded around the catalog.
The first prospective husband ambled into the office. He gave a nod to Jason, then sat down in the chair in front of what passed for Amanda’s desk. Bill Braddock didn’t seem to notice that it was planks and sawhorses as he gave his name when Amanda asked for it.
“Now, Mr. Braddock, could you tell me a little about yourself?” Amanda asked.
All muscles and brawn, Bill looked like the lumberjack that he was. Big, sturdy, deeply tanned face and unkempt beard.
He squinted at her. “Whatcha want to know that fer?”
From the corner of her eye, Amanda saw Jason glance up at her. She pretended not to notice him.
“So I can match you up with a wife who will share your same interests and beliefs,” Amanda explained.
Bill thought that over for a moment, then gave Amanda a rundown of his life, where he was born, his education, his religious beliefs, his family, the jobs he’d worked. Amanda nodded pleasantly, asked a few questions to draw him out, and noted everything on the paper in front of her.
