Bethany stopped at the mill site. Workers hooked onto a huge spruce log and pulled it from the pond using the cinch and a three-rope block and tackle. It slid along a platform and rolled into cutting position. The men cheered. Every log was a victory; for the job they did held potential danger for a careless man. She loved to see the mill in operation and breathed in the smell of wet wood. To the right side, she noticed a pile of outer cuts, sold cheaply and used for a variety of low-grade jobs. She fingered the boards and noticed the thickness of some – so close to being eligible for prime sellers. Probably the stack consisted of the final skim off the tree before the workers began to measure the clean wood that filled the many construction contracts. This thickness would be perfect for building a new room onto the Quinn house. The girls and boys took the only two bedrooms in the cabin, squishing Drake and Angela into the loft of their own home. Their sacrifices went unnoticed by many. Surely Bethany could figure out how to send some of these misfit boards their way.
“Morning, Bethany,” said Wernicke as he moved in beside her. “Starting the cut for Jacob’s order.”
“Pleased to hear that. The man is getting antsy about having his house perfect for his bride.”
“Not too sure if the woman is a figment of his imagination. Never saw him spooning a gal around town yet.”
“Not our place to judge. As Henry Forester would say, business is business.”
“Yes, Miss. Notice that you and Troy are keeping company these days. Sparks other than from the saw blades cutting into your time?”
“The good deputy and I are officially courting. We shall see if the man has enough stamina to keep the pace.”
Wernicke Webb roared laughing. “That’s a good one. Seen you looking at the boards. Everything all right?”
“Splendid. You run a fine operation down here. But I was wondering if we could set some of these thicker pieces to the side. I’d like to donate them to the Quinn Orphanage for a room construction. Eight bodies crowded in that tiny space is unimaginable.”
“Better than living out in the weather,” Wernicke said.
“Yes, but they deserve a bit of comfort the same as the rest of us,” Bethany said in her best boss voice. “Please set them aside to dry, and when you have enough saved, let me know.”
“No problem. Was wondering what to do with yesterday’s scrub-lot, anyway.”
“Good, then it’s settled. And I also wanted to let you know I will be in and out this afternoon. You have your assignments, so I doubt you will need me for anything. But don’t be afraid to ask Trudy if you have a problem.”
“I reckon we fellas can make it through the day on our own without too much trouble.” He winked, and Bethany frowned playfully.
“Now, don’t be showing off that chauvinistic attitude, Wernicke Webb. You’re far too nice a gentleman to harbor such prejudices.”
“None in my body, Bethany. You’ve provided value to the company, same as any pant-wearing employee on the place.”
“Thank you. As much as I’d love to stay and watch you cut that log, I must return to the confines of my office. I am certain you boys have the better part of this job: To watch each step from raw timber to beautiful structures. Can’t be anything more thrilling than that.”
“The payroll at the end of the week is a mighty close second, so don’t belittle your job. We wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”
“True. Good day, Wernicke. Keep everyone safe.”
Back in her office, she hurried to complete a full day’s work in the morning hours. No one disturbed her, and when her stomach growled, she gazed out the window. Time to put her plan into motion. Tossing her lunch into her handbag, she gave final instructions to Trudy and left the Forester Mill office. She headed down the dirt road that led to Main Street, the heart of Spruce Hill.
As Bethany approached the center core, she sauntered, scanning the people who milled about either visiting or carrying out business transactions. It appeared spring fever consumed the entire community today, for many doors opened wide to embrace the warmth, with Densley’s store being no exception. Bethany welcomed the change in the weather. A sunny spring sky lifted spirits and brought new hope to a settlement coming out of hibernation.
When Bethany noticed Jane Fletcher coming out of the hotel, she flattened her body against the boarded wall and slid unnoticed inside the store. She worked into the far corner, preoccupying herself with viewing the bolts of material on the table while she waited for the hermit to arrive. When he did, her fingers stiffened, and Bethany clutched the fabric with a rigid grip. Leaning against the wooden display table, she inhaled and exhaled to regain stability, never considering that his presence would create such expectancy in her heart.
“Howdy, Christopher. How was the winter?” asked Mr. Densley from behind the counter.
“Cold, but lots of wood up there to keep the fires going.”
“Roof still holding out?”
“Fixed the holes and patched it solid as a rock long before the snows came.”
“Any visitors up there?”
“You mean intruders? I live there for a reason: Privacy. Don’t need folks nosing around.”
“Never could understand a man liking his own company day in and day out. I’d drive myself crazy.”
“Got a list.” Christopher handed it to Densley and glanced around the store. Bethany ducked her head, not knowing if he’d recognize her and hurt their chances of talking later. His eyes halted mid-scan, which answered her question. She watched as a shadow darkened his face and knew he’d labeled her. No sense hiding now. She moved forward and watched as white-knuckled fists clenched at his side.
“Good afternoon, sir. Don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you?”
“You haven’t. Let’s keep it that way.”
Densley glanced up from viewing his list. “Now, Christopher, that’s downright rude. You remember how to treat civilized people, don’t you?”
He looked at Bethany, and she saw an older version of the handsome stranger in the photo. She wondered if he had a son. “Pardon me, Miss. Just going about my business. Don’t mean any disrespect.”
“None taken. I’m used to men who speak their minds. I work at the mill.”
“A lady logger?”
“I wish. I’m stuck in the office. Have you been by to see the operation? The inventor behind the process is quite the mastermind.”
“I cut my own wood. Takes longer, but I got time.” He turned his attention to Densley. “I’ll be back around one to pick up my order. Heading home this afternoon.” He tipped his hat to Bethany. “Nice meeting your acquaintance, Miss Forester.”
He did know her. She’d not given her name during the short encounter. Looking around the counter for a quick purchase, she grabbed a cold drink from Densley’s icebox then strolled back onto the road. She’d sit at the river for a few minutes and eat her lunch. One thing she’d discovered at the store was his time of departure. That would be helpful. But his closed mouth gave her reason to doubt that she and Troy would weasel anything of value from him concerning that long-ago day at Lookout Rock.
As she passed the café on the other side of the road, she saw Troy wander inside, casual-like, as if it were any typical day for a man to grab a bite to eat. She continued on to the river and sat on a stump. The ripping sound of the saw cut through the air and relaxed her. She gained strength from these familiar sounds and pondered how new knowledge would better her life at this stage. Perhaps she teetered on a fool’s errand and should quit before anyone caught wind of her search for the man who obviously wanted to stay lost. Her head screamed, yes, but her heart objected to abandoning the quest to learn her mother’s secret. Bethany needed to find the closure that had never been offered to her as the deceased woman’s five-year- daughter.
Chapter 8
Follow the Clues
At ten minutes before the hour, Troy rushed in. He slammed the door shut and hurried to Bethany’s desk. “Can’t f
ill you in now. Talking to Christopher Bascall will not get us the information we need, but following him home might. I think our answers are there.”
“But the man hates people. Probably shoot us as soon as we set foot on his land.”
“The perks of being a lawman. He won’t shoot me, and the damage will be done. We’ll have discovered his lair.” He leaned over and kissed her quickly on the mouth. “Are you up for this?”
“With you, I feel I can accomplish anything.”
“Keep that thought. Now race home, get a warm jacket and good hiking shoes; maybe a hat with screening to cover your face and neck, too. The bugs will be on the attack in the forest this time of year.” He turned back toward the door. “Maybe give Ms. Fletcher the heads up that you’ll be very late. I’ll meet you where the road forks north toward Puffin Point. And stay out of sight.”
Bethany locked the office door then raced homeward, taking shortcuts through yards and arriving at her back door within ten minutes. Inside, she gathered what she needed and started for the door. Finding a piece of paper, she scratched a quick note.
Ms. Fletcher. I am with Troy on an important errand and will be late. Do not worry. He will keep me safe. Remember, I am 18 years old and quite capable of handling myself.
Where the road ended, and the trail headed upwards in a northerly direction, Bethany shimmied into the dense foliage. Leaning against a tree, she hugged her legs and wondered who would pass by first; Christopher Bascall or Troy.
After a few moments wait, Bethany heard footsteps approaching – one set. She’d be safe in assuming it was not a man saddled with supplies. Peeking out she saw Troy and called out to him. “I’m snuggled in here.”
He joined Bethany on the ground. “The man is loading a cart. He has a brute of a horse to pull his load up the hill.”
“And since you never brought us a ride, I assume exercise is on the agenda again?”
“This hill is one you’ll wish you never tackled, woman. If it gets too much, I’ll go on alone,” said Troy.
“Thank you, gallant sir, but I’m sure I can keep up.”
“You are one adventurous lady with nerves of steel. Dare I say, an excellent choice for the wife of a lawman.”
“You may say what you like, but that doesn’t make it so.”
“Cool as a cucumber. I like it,” said Troy.
Bethany leaned in and kissed his cheek. How could she hope to build a case in her heart against such a man? No woman in her right mind would even want to. “I like you, very much, Troy Spencer. Now tell me what you overheard in the café before our man shows up.”
“It appears the retired lighthouse keeper is related to your Jane Fletcher. She called him uncle several times.”
“Odd, she never let on she had relatives in the area. Then again, she never speaks much about herself. Father may be aware, but they told me to mind my manners. I knew nothing except that the housekeeper would clean my house and cook the meals, and discipline me according to the guidelines given by her employer.”
“My poor, sweet lady. I shall do all I can to make up for that lack in your future.” He grinned and cleared his throat, exposing his back-to-business face. “At first the two just conversed, caught up on the events of her life mainly. The bit he shared sounded like he lives in a remote wooded area – no directions given, unfortunately. But I suspect he’s not alone out there, and that’s the interesting part. I’m also certain if we confronted him on the trail, he’d reveal nothing. The identity of his houseguest is what I want to know. That compulsion led to the invitation for this field trip, Miss Forester.”
“Thank you for including me, Deputy Spencer. From what I heard at the store; a hermit describes him well. A grumpy old hermit,” Bethany added. “Did Ms. Fletcher not ask about how his life was going?”
“Appears she also respects his privacy. The only hint that all was not well in the forest came when she asked if his situation on the home front had improved any. To which he answered – only when left alone.”
“That’s vague. Could mean a person or anything for that matter.”
“If all goes well, we shall soon see. It’s a four-hour hike through thick vegetation and high elevation along the edge of the bay. Your last chance to back out.”
“I think I hear the rumbles of cartwheels now. Let’s do this.” Bethany grabbed his hand and stared into the warmest expression of concern she’d encountered her entire life. She pondered if this man could care more for her than those living under her own roof? Surely not! Perhaps just differently, like a man towards a woman he is falling in love with. She could not deny the excitement she felt in his presence, and the first spark of hope, that love could conquer the doubts and rein happily ever after, ignited in her soul. Yes, she could use a dose of forever-love. But submitting to the customary wifely position was a heavy price to pay.
Just before the horse reached their hiding spot, a voice shouted from behind. The cart stopped. Jane Fletcher hurried on foot around the first curve and joined Christopher on what was little more than a winding footpath.
“Christopher, I forgot to give you this. I almost lost it but found it in Bethany’s chest.” Jane passed him the piece of wood with Simone Charter’s name whittled into it. “It might help.”
“I remember the work that went into this piece. You’d have sworn the gift was an heirloom. Thank you. It may help, but I doubt it. Too far gone now.”
From a peephole, Bethany witnessed Jane Fletcher hug the man and noticed that he lingered in her embrace for a moment.
“You are a blessing, Jane.” The man slowly turned away, clucked at the horse, and set the cart into motion. Ms. Fletcher watched until he disappeared around the next bend before she turned to head back to town.
The two trackers remained still until all noise ceased on the trail, then gathered their sacks and moved back onto the path. When Troy attempted to relieve her of her burden, she shook her head, no, and nodded forward. “Onward march,” she whispered, and Troy moved up front to lead the way. The trail wound back and forth, jutting close to the edge and then diving back into dense vegetation. Bethany’s legs ached, but she forced them to imitate Troy’s steady steps while dodging the ruts created by the cart. At one point, she grew tired of carrying the coat and slipped it on. Occasionally a ray of sunshine flashed through to comfort them along the trek, but, most times, the light failed to reach the pair trudging under the thick canopy of green foliage. It covered them like a blanket, and with that picture fixed in Bethany’s mind, sleep threatened to overcome her defenses. For all her big talk, this excursion was proving to be a difficult climb.
“Are you all right?” whispered Troy when she slackened her pace.
“Truthfully? I’m exhausted, but I figure if that old man ahead of us can do it, so can I.”
“Good girl. Puffin Point is off to the left. You can catch the light streaming through the trees now and then. The ground is leveling out, so the rest of the trip should be easier. Bascall’s cart is starting down a new path to the right. Hopefully, we’ll reach his cabin soon.”
Bethany grinned. “At least the second half of the trip home is all downhill. That’s something to look forward to.”
Troy nodded and then turned his attention back to the trail. “I can scarcely hear him. I think the bush is squeezing in tighter. Not sure how that’s possible, but watch the twigs on your face. They’re sharp.”
Bethany removed her straw hat with the screening draped over it from her bag and smiled. “I came prepared.” She tied the ribbons tight under her chin and tucked the netting under the collar of her dress. When done, her eyes lit with excitement. “We’re almost there, Troy. I can hardly wait.”
“We are. Stay close.”
Within twenty minutes, the noise from the cart had stopped, and faint voices reached their ears. Troy motioned to the side, and they crouched behind a thin row of cedars. She could see the mosquitos swirling around the fragrant bush, gathering forces to zoom in and feast
on new blood. She ignored the sudden urge to swat any uncovered areas and focused on the clearing. A small yard housed a dilapidated shanty, a shed, an outhouse, and a poor excuse for a barn. The only thing that saved the cabin from total shame was the front veranda, where two uninhabited rockers sat illuminated by the late afternoon sun.
At the rear of the yard, she saw movement. A second man, with his back to them, knelt in the dirt swaying back and forth. She couldn’t see in front of him but acknowledged the piece of wood from the chest when his hands lifted it high into the air, then lowered it as he bowed to the ground. Groans accompanied every rise of his arms toward the heavens.
So engrossed in their surveillance, Troy and Bethany jolted at the gruff voice that pierced the air. Christopher appeared overhead; the barrel of his rifle aimed directly at them.
“What are you doing?” yelled Christopher.
Troy stood and held out his hand in greeting, totally ignoring the weapon pointed at his head. Bethany scrambled to her feet and held her breath. The man stared at Troy, who casually drew back his shirt to display his deputy badge. Slowly he lowered his gun but did not take the hand troy offered.
“The Sheriff’s office has some questions concerning a case we were hoping you could shed light on.”
“I live a peaceable life out here. Can’t help you.”
“This happened years ago when you lived in town.”
His nervousness showed. He pushed the butt of the rifle in the ground to hold him up and help avoid his shaky fingers from pulling the trigger. His eyes peered through the netting covering Bethany’s face and terror hit.
“What’s she doing here?”
“I brought her along. The case concerns her.”
“Not in the talking mood.” He glanced into the yard, and a piece of the mystery fell into place. “Is that your son, Mr. Bascall? The one who loved my mother?”
The man stormed off, and Troy followed with Bethany close on his heels. At least the man respected the law enough not to shoot them. They continued to follow him inside the dingy house, and Bascall appeared surprised to discover they still dogged him.
A Liberating Love (Keepers of the Light Book 3) Page 7
