“Aunt June makes those decisions. I’ll let her know you’re interested in tasting another one of her meals.” If he mentioned Carrie’s cooking again she’d scream. The man was incorrigible.
“I’d be mighty pleased if you would,” Thomas responded. Thankfully not giving her more false praise.
Carrie peeked over to Jake as he stepped beside her, brushing his arm against hers. She mumbled the expected answer to Thomas as they stepped off the path into the cook camp. She pointed toward the fire. “You can set the water over there. Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure, Miz Carrie.” He set the bucket down. “If you ever need me to do anything else for you, let me know. There ain’t nothing I wouldn’t do for a woman who can cook as good as you.”
“You’re mighty fond of Aunt June’s food, aren’t you?” Carrie said, not bothering to check her manners. Why should she? She was in a logging camp for heaven’s sake.
“I like the food, but I also like the cook.” Thomas winked as his friend stepped up beside him, but Jake remained silent.
To Carrie’s relief, Aunt June bustled out of the cabin holding a large cast-iron pot.
“Aunt June,” she said, trying not to show the relief she felt at the woman’s presence. “These gentlemen were impressed by your supper the other night and would like another taste.”
“Would they now?” Aunt June heaved the large pot onto the table and stretched her mouth in one of her mischievous grins. “I think I might be able to find a spot at my table for two strapping young lads such as yourselves.”
Carrie tried not to groan. The older cook wasn’t going to quit. Once the men left, she’d need to have a talk with the meddling woman. She’d agreed to Aunt June’s plan to get Simon up here, but that was as far as she went in forced compliance.
Thomas sauntered over to the fire and began to woo Aunt June with compliments, leaving the ever-silent Jake behind.
“Miz Carrie,” Jake started, and then cleared his throat. “May I call on you tonight after you’re done here?”
“Oh…I…” Carrie fumbled. “That’s sweet, but Aunt June usually keeps me busy. I don’t have the time to be courted this season. Perhaps if you’re in town this winter I can save you a dance at the mayor’s annual soirée.”
The man’s face grew red, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I understand.”
Although the logger made her uneasy with his silence and astute stare, she felt bad. One thing she hated in life was disappointment. “I’m terribly sorry.”
He shook his head as Thomas returned. “We’d best get back to the Grove. Wouldn’t want to tick off the Bull.”
She nodded her goodbye and waited for the men to leave before turning to her godmother. “Please stop inviting them to supper.”
“Oh, bosh.” Aunt June swatted her with the towel she kept slung over her shoulder. “I’m not doing it to make Simon jealous. That is a happy extra. If the boys love my food, who am I to keep them from the eats?”
“There’s something about the silent one that gives me the chills.”
Aunt June studied the trail where the men disappeared. “He is a quiet one, but he’s new. I suspect he’s easing his way into the order of things.”
“Or he’s a rat.” Carrie hung the large cast-iron pot over the fire and poured the water in to heat.
“That boy ain’t no river rat. I’ve been with those men my whole life. That boy has the look of a timber beast. No way he rides the river. There ain’t enough meat on his bones.”
“Either way, he makes me uneasy. I’d best not be around him if it can be helped.”
“After tonight, I promise I’ll stop.” Aunt June peered over Carrie’s shoulder. “Now, while this water’s heatin’ for the soup, run on up to the chicken coop and get that straggly red girl who don’t lay no more eggs.”
Carrie’s arms tingled, and she sucked her lower lip in to clench it between her teeth. Did Aunt June mean for her to kill the helpless animal? “Catch her?”
Her godmother handed her a small ax and a bag. “Take her to the block behind the cabin and chop off her head. Then yank out the feathers and put them in here. Mind you don’t get blood on the feathers. I hate the smell of a rotting corpse when I’m trying to sleep.”
“Aunt June, no, please,” she pleaded.
“Get to it, girlie. If you’re gonna be a cook in a lumber camp, you gotta learn where the food comes from.”
Carrie took a deep, shaky breath, grabbed the tools Aunt June held out, and slowly headed toward the chicken coop a few hundred yards into the trees, near the makeshift horse stables. How was she going to get through this? Last year Aunt June would disappear from camp and come back with the meat, ready to cook. This was the first time Carrie had ever been asked to perform such a barbaric task.
In a few breaths, she stood before the small coop and searched for her intended victim, the poor lady. Going about her business, plucking away at the ground, only to be tossed in a pot of boiling water.
The chicken wobbled around from behind the shed, and Carrie’s throat closed up. Unable to hold back a gag, she made her way toward the animal. The soft coo of other chickens sounded above her, and she glanced up to see three hens sitting haphazardly on a low-hanging tree branch.
She turned her attention back to the tattered red hen and crouched low as she stalked toward the animal. She had no more than a step to go to get her before the damned bird flapped her wings and ran away.
“Blast!” Carrie cursed, dropped the ax and bag, and launched into a run after the chicken. She chased the hen, running in circles until she grew dizzy and her breath came in shallow bursts. Giving up, she plopped right down into the middle of the white-speckled, muddy hen yard and slouched her shoulders.
Something flew into her hair, and she tangled her fingers into her loose tendrils, only to feel a slimy puddle. She lowered her hand to stare at the white droppings on her fingers as a deep, masculine chuckle reverberated into her thoughts. Simon. Lounging against the horse shed, in all his arrogant glory.
“How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to enjoy the performance.”
“And you didn’t think I might want help?”
He stood upright as the chicken ducked past him. “Oh, I knew you wanted help. It was more fun to watch you wallow in the filth.”
“How chivalrous,” she mocked.
In only a few seconds, he scooped up the hen and tucked her into his arms like she was a precious gem he protected. “I take it we’re having chicken for supper?”
She clambered to her feet, swiped fruitlessly at her soiled dress, and snatched up the ax and bag. “You’re as observant as you are gallant.”
“So you’re either saying I’m not observant, or that your previous tone was a lie and you believe me to be a white knight.”
“Uck,” she said, and followed as he headed toward the back of the cook cabin. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I thought you loved that about me.”
“I do.” She stuck her tongue into her cheek. The way he carried himself, the smile flirting with his lips when he’d poked fun at her. He seemed lighter. Happier even. But if the last year had taught her anything, it was that his moods could pivot like a spinster in a room full of ruined debutants.
He gave her a lopsided grin as he stepped up to the log round used as a chopping block, and turned to plop the chicken down on the block, neck extended. “I hope you plan on changing before tonight.” He held out his hand. “Do you want to do the honors?”
“Uh…I…” She bit her lower lip and took a deep breath. “Yes. I should. I am a cook. In all its disturbing definition.”
He chuckled, snatched the ax from her hands, and just as quickly decapitated the chicken for her.
She squealed and stepped back as the head rolled past her shoes.
&
nbsp; “You can do it next time. Ease into it.” He set the limp body on the block, adjusted two logs near it, and motioned for her to sit. “You can start today with plucking.”
Still stunned from the rapid murder of the helpless chicken, she slumped down onto the makeshift seat. She wasn’t mad at him for doing what needed to be done. More stunned at the rapid way it had all transpired.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never plucked a chicken.” He snatched the lifeless body from the log and dangled it by the feet.
“No. I haven’t. I grew up eating chicken, but I’ve never butchered one.”
“It’s simple. All you do is hold it steady, and start yanking.”
She took a deep breath to boost her determination, grabbed the chicken, and started plucking. After a few pathetic yanks, she glanced up at a smug Simon. “You’re enjoying torturing me this way.”
He stretched his legs out next to the chopping block and held out his hands in surrender. “I admit. I enjoy watching you bask in all your newfound squalor. It gives me some sick sense of satisfaction. Justice, maybe?”
“You, sir, are the backside of the chute monkey’s horse.”
“Such an eloquent way to insult me. I’ll take it.”
She yanked again at the chicken feathers. “What a mood you’re in today. Almost the man I knew last year.”
At that, his smile turned to a scowl.
She frowned with him. “And then I had to ruin it by saying something.”
He kept silent, but his sour look lasted only a few moments before his expression grew blank. “I’ll leave you to your bird, but if I were you, I’d clean up before tonight. Chicken droppings on a cook are not appealing.”
“I’ll clean myself up before supper. I am a woman after all.”
“I don’t care about how you look at supper. It’s after you’re done with your evening chores that I’m talking about.”
She tilted her head. “Why?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember my promise?” He pursed his lips as if holding back a wolfish smile. “Never mind.”
She mentally fumbled through every excuse she could think of to avoid what he no doubt referred to. She could fake an illness, disappear, or flat-out tell him to leave her alone. Then again, a part of her wanted to feel the experienced touch of Simon Sanders. The part of her that erred on the side of wickedness. No. A secret moment with Simon could never happen. She turned the chicken over in her hand and frowned. “You got blood on the feathers.”
Simon laughed as if he could read her thoughts. “Just pick the bloody ones out before you put them in the bag.”
Without another word, he disappeared around the cabin, leaving her to pluck the chicken alone. He had to be joking, right? He wouldn’t make good on his ill-made promise. Would he?
Chapter 6
“Miz Carrie.” Thomas handed her his plate. “Would it be all right with you if I were to come visit tonight? We’d stay near Aunt June, of course. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking anything untoward of you.”
Oh, good Lord. This was all Aunt June’s doing, no doubt. “I came up here to get away from that for a bit.”
“I won’t take no for an answer. Even a woman as hardworking as you needs to have fun once in a while.” He winked.
Carrie smiled at the easy way he spoke, but that didn’t mean she wanted a beau. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to take no for an answer.”
“Well, I’ll have to come back tomorrow and see if you’ve changed your mind.” His eyes twinkled with mischief and challenge.
Carrie was about to respond when Elizabeth’s voice sounded behind her. “Everything is ready for you. Garrett is filling it now.”
“For what?” Carrie slid the last of the dishes in the crate. What on earth was Beth talking about?
“If you’ll excuse me, ladies. I need to speak with those gentlemen over there.” Thomas bowed and turned toward a group of loggers huddled around the fire.
Carrie waited for him to leave before turning back to Beth. “What is ready?”
“Your bath. Simon said you wanted to bathe and asked if you could borrow the tub in our caboose.”
“He did?” She crossed her arms over her chest. Who was Simon to set up such an intimate affair for her? Of course, a bath in Beth’s giant tub sounded divine. She could have arranged it herself. The damned man planned to tempt her tonight. She narrowed her eyes and leaned over so she could better view the group of men ten feet away, by the fire. “Thomas, if you want to meet me by the fire in an hour, Aunt June plans to bring out her knitting. I think she’d love to sit with us.”
A grin stretched across the young logger’s face. “I’ll be here.”
“Splendid.” Carrie stood straight and faced Beth. “I’ll take that bath. Thank you.”
“What’s going on?” Beth asked.
“I suppose your brother is being a good friend by setting a bath up for me, but I didn’t request one. I was caught off guard, is all.”
Beth turned toward the railcar. “Don’t let him push you around. He can be a bully at times.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can handle your brother.” Carrie smelled the arm of her still soiled dress. “But he is right. I do need to clean up.”
“Leave your clothes outside the bath chamber and I’ll wash them for you. You can wear some of mine. I’m about to do some wash anyway.”
“I still can’t believe Garrett bought you such an extravagant railcar.”
“It was a wedding present from him. He said if we were going to live on the mountain as a couple, then at least we could do it in style.” Beth opened the door to their locomotive home. “It’s an improvement from the bath I had last year in Seeley Lake.”
“If it wasn’t for you, my life would be boring.” Carrie followed and tried not to sigh in satisfaction. A sitting area took up half the space within the railcar. Candles sat on sconces lining the walls, leading to a door halfway through the car.
“The bath is back there to the right of the bedroom. You can wear any of my clothes while I wash yours, or I can go fetch your spare dress. I wear trousers when I’m working on the mountain so I have little use for my wardrobe.” Beth walked into the backroom and returned with a wicker basket full of mud-caked clothes. She set it along the wall near the door. “I’ll leave you to your bath, but put your dirty clothes in here and I’ll be back in a few minutes for the wash.”
“I think I’ll borrow one of your dresses. Thank you.”
Beth headed toward the door. “If you need anything, let me know.”
Alone, Carrie walked into the small but comforting bathroom and eased the door shut. The tub stood near the wall, filling the room with steam. Last year, she’d sponge-bathed in Aunt June’s cabin, but this was a far cry better than a rag and pot of warm water.
A towel and bar of soap had been laid out on a stand next to the washtub and she recognized Beth’s favorite scent. Not that she hated the fragrance.
The main door to the railcar squeaked, and Carrie quickly undid her buttons down the front of her dress and stepped out of the top. Wrapping the towel around her, she grabbed the filthy dress.
“Beth, would you mind grabbing my soap from Aunt June’s cabin?” She struggled to hold her towel closed as she opened the door, leaned out, and dropped the dress in the basket.
“If you wanted your lesson earlier, all you had to do was ask.” Simon’s voice sent shivers down her exposed skin. Her stomach flipped and she snapped her gaze to the man now taking up all the space in the car. A smug grin dimpled his cheeks, and his eyes shone with mischief and passion. A look she’d only seen him wear once. In his parlor the night she drugged him.
“Simon!” She popped her head back into the room and slammed the door. “What in the blazes do you think you’re doing? Get out!”
His footsteps grew louder un
til he stopped next to the door. “You don’t really want that, do you? For me to leave?”
“Yes, I do. Who in Hades let you in?”
“I apologize. I thought you were still helping Aunt June. I didn’t know you were already in here. I have to do some darning tonight on my socks. I stopped by to get my sister’s sewing supplies. May I have them? You’ll find the kit on a shelf in the corner.”
Carrie searched the room frantically and found the offending kit. She focused on the door knob. “Now. Go away before someone sees you in here with me.”
“Oh, now. You know you want me to stay.” She heard his jacket rub against the wood panel of the door as if he leaned onto it. “It’s not like I won’t see every inch of your body in a few hours.”
“I want you to leave, and you will see nothing of my body. I know you set this bath up for me so you could try to seduce me later, but it won’t work.”
“Then why did you take the bath?”
“Because I am a woman.”
“Every inch a woman…from what I saw.”
“You’re a pig.”
“All men are.”
“Fine.” The rustle of his clothes against the wood sounded again as he stood. “I’ll send Beth with your soap.”
“No. Then she’ll know you were in here.”
“I don’t want to smell my sister while I’m kissing you. I’ll send the soap. Don’t worry, I’ll be discreet.”
“Leave it be, Simon,” she yelled, but knew it was fruitless. “Please? My reputation will be ruined.”
“By the end of the season, that will happen anyway. You wanted me here; well, here I am. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Me in all my carnal arrogance. Pony up, Carrie, it’s the law of the harvest. You reap what you sow.”
“You reap it!” she exclaimed, but it was too late. His footsteps receded along with any hope that she would come out of this situation without struggle. The damned man planned to make good on his promise to seduce her. She was doomed.
* * * *
Night settled over the forest, leaving the trees menacing pillars of ink against the moonlit night sky. Carrie stepped tentatively from the railcar and surveyed the dark. Yards away the flicker of Aunt June’s fire bounced off the low-hanging branches of the trees surrounding the camp. Men moved among the firelight doing whatever last-minute chores they needed to do before settling into their bunks for the night, their usual nighttime routine up here on the mountain. Some men sharpened their tools, some moved toward the bunkhouses no doubt to play cards or whatever nightly entertainment men were apt to do.
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