Tess shoved the wrench in his hand. Typical. Her father's means of dealing with something he didn't want to face. Ignore it and it would go away. Well, this time it wouldn't go away. "Dad, I'm not going to let this rest. ."
"I did what I thought was right."
"Would you have prosecuted him if he hadn't gone away?"
Gib slowly backed from under the hood and faced Tess. "Yes, and he knew it. If you choose a life with him now it's your choice, but at the time you were in your teens, and Zak was a grown man, and he was using you." He looked at her solemnly then, and said, "I'm sorry, honey. All I can say is, I did what I thought was best for you at the time. Maybe it would have been different if your mother had been around, but she wasn't, so I had to decide on my own."
Tess looked into her father's eyes and realized that, right or wrong, he'd only been thinking about her. She shrugged. "I suppose I'll have to," she said. "I probably would have done the same if I'd had a wild thing like me for a daughter."
Gib smiled. "You weren't a wild thing, honey. Headstrong and willful, maybe. But not a wild thing."
Tess smiled back. "That bad, huh?"
"That bad." Gib wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Now, can we bury the hatchet and get on with our lives?"
Tess blinked away a mist of tears, and said, "I'd like that."
Gib grabbed a bundle of curls and gave her head a jiggle, and Tess caught the old glint in his eyes, and for the moment, she wanted to turn her back on the logging operation, skidder tires and land feuds, and just be Daddy's little girl again. And for the first time in years, she felt like the rift between them over Zak was finally closed. She also had second thoughts about bringing up the matter of the increased royalty, or Jean-Pierre de Neuville's threat about the trees, but decided it had to be addressed. They didn't need a law suit on their hands on top of everything else.
She went to the Jeep and got the survey map, but before getting into that, she told her father about the rock slide, the skidder tire, and finally about the feud between Curt Broderick and Jed Swenson. "What were Swenson and Broderick feuding about?" he asked.
"It has to do with where you had the men cut trees along the property line running between Timber West and de Neuville's property," she replied.
"Why were they feuding about that?" he asked.
Tess fingered the survey map. "Two more trees were cut on Jean-Pierre de Neuville's land. Broderick claims Swenson cut them, and Swenson claims Broderick cut them."
"What difference does it make. It's on de Neuville's land."
"That's my whole point, Dad," Tess said. "Jean-Pierre de Neuville didn't order the trees cut. You did. He claims you're cutting trees on his land."
"De Neuville doesn't know what the hell he's talking about," Gib said.
"Here's the map," Tess said, holding out the roll. "Just take a look and you'll see what he's talking about. It really does look like that strip of land is his."
"I don't care what de Neuville says, or what's on that map," Gib said, refusing to take the map. "I know where the property line runs, the same place the fence ran for eighty years. And I don't much give a damn what some nincompoop from the county surveyor’s office says."
"Regardless of what you believe, if the county and the judge disagree with you, you'll be paying the penalty for wrongfully cutting ten trees, and Timber West can't afford it. Now will you please promise you won't tell Herring or Dempsey or Broderick to cut anymore trees."
Gib looked at her, his eyes intense, and said, "No one, including Jean-Pierre de Neuville, or a judge, is going to tell me I can't cut trees on my own land."
"Then you'd better be prepared to pay out a whole lot of money," Tess said, "because Jean-Pierre de Neuville's about to haul you into court."
"Fine. He can do that. Any other problems?"
Tess sighed. "Yes, all kinds of problems. A broken hydraulic line on the Cat right after the landslide, trucks having to wait for the Cat, deadhead fees to the truckers." She looked across at her father. "And that's only the beginning. It looks like the rock slide was caused by dynamite. We found pieces of fuse in the rocks."
"Wait a minute," Gib said. "You're talking like someone's trying to shut us down."
"That's what it looks like," Tess replied. "Ever since I let Swenson go, everything started happening. I think he's trying to make it impossible for me so I'll quit and you'll hire him back."
"I'd never hire him back," Gib said.
"He probably thinks you would, and making it look like Curt cut the trees might get Curt fired, and him rehired," Tess said. "Who knows what Swenson has on his mind? He might just be getting revenge for me firing him in front of the men."
"Don't be too quick to accuse Swenson until you have some facts," Gib said.
"Well, I should have some pretty soon," Tess replied, "at least on whether the skidder tire was shot. Meanwhile, we have yet another expense."
Gib eyed her warily. "What other expense?"
"The royalty on the logs. It's gone up."
"Yaeger raised the royalty on us?" Gib said. "I didn't think he'd do that. But then, he's been trying to buy the place from me for years."
"Not Carl Yaeger," Tess said, "Jean-Pierre de Neuville. He bought the land between us and the ridge."
"I'd heard something like that," Gib said, "but I figured it was just rumor. Well, at least he's letting us go through. How much is the royalty?"
Tess's fingers curled around the map. "Ten dollars per thousand."
"What!"
"He's using the money to fix the road," Tess said.
"He's spending my money for nothing," Gib shouted. "That road's only an access road for hauling, not a freeway!"
"It's his land. He can do what he wants."
"He can go to hell! And if I want to cut trees on my land, I'll cut the damn trees. And you can tell that to Jean-Pierre de Neuville the next time you see him." He stormed into the garage, leaving Tess staring blankly after him.
***
When Tess arrived at the cook shack, the following morning, there was no aroma of coffee, and no biscuits baking, and no bacon or potatoes or eggs frying on the stove. Instead, she looked at a table devoid of plates or utensils, and saw a group of men standing around with scowls on their faces. "What's going on?" she asked. "Where's Ezzie?"
"Don't know," Herring replied, "but this is the third day in a row this week he's been late."
"Late from what? He only has to go from the bunkhouse to the cook shack."
"That's the problem," Herring said. "He's not coming from the bunkhouse. He's shackin' up with Becky."
Tess stared at Herring as visions of Ezzie courting a woman tried to form in her mind. "Becky Tyson from the Blue Ox Café?"
Herring nodded. "Ezzie's been picking up pies there."
"But Ezzie bakes his own pies," Tess said.
"Not anymore," Herring replied.
Tess parked her hands on her hips and smiled. "That old coot." Then her smile vanished when she realized she'd have to fix food for the crew. She looked around at the men and said, "Okay, boys, find something to do for thirty minutes while I fix breakfast."
The men grumbled and trudged out of the cook shack, while Tess started breakfast for eight hungry loggers. A half hour later, the men gathered around the table again. Tess barely finished grating yesterday's boiled potatoes for hash browns when the platter of last night's reheated dinner rolls that she'd just set on the table was empty. The room quaked with drumming fingers and tapping feet. "Pour yourselves coffee and hang in there," she said to the men, then turned to the counter to peel more potatoes to fry.
"Damn old coot can't even crawl out of the sack long enough to feed us," Mac groused.
"Come on Mac," Herring said. "He hasn't got many years of ruttin' left. Let him be."
Tess ignored the comments and launched a pan of biscuits down the long table, then followed with a platter of sausages and a bowl of gravy. Hands reached out, and within minutes, both platter and pan were empty and Herr
ing was swabbing the gravy bowl with a biscuit.
Tess slapped another four pounds of sausage onto the griddle and checked the oven for the next batch of biscuits. She dumped another round of well-browned-to-charred potatoes onto a large serving plate, slid the plate along the table, and finished turning the sausages. Meanwhile in the oven, the biscuits burned. By the time she opened the door, it was too late. Smoke poured out and rose to the ceiling of the cook shack. While on the stove, the sausages charred.
Damn Ezzie! She slid the platter of overcooked sausages and the rest of the burnt biscuits down the table. Nothing in life prepared her to cook for a crew of hungry men. "Sorry, guys, that's all there is," she said. Dusting her hands, she removed her apron, and said, "I'll see you at lunch." She slapped her apron on the table and left for Baker’s Creek and the Blue Ox Cafe.
An hour later, she gave up her search. No one in town had seen either Ezzie or Becky Tyson, and the cafe was closed for the day. Frustrated, she headed back to Timber West. But as she drove, her thoughts kept returning to Zak. In fact, she had trouble keeping her mind on anything but Zak. With all the problems between their fathers it seemed pointless to consider rebuilding what they'd once had, and after Zak's specious explanation about why he married so soon, she thought she'd put an end to that notion. Yet, she couldn't seem to set it aside.
In spite of what she'd said to him about their past relationship—sex without substance—she couldn't help thinking it was more. She also wanted to spend time with him, even found herself concocting reasons to stop by his place. Did he have any extra outdoor light bulbs? Could she borrow his loppers to clear some blackberries behind the cabin? Does he have a toilet plunger? But then she'd remember how senseless it would be. Even if she reconciled herself to his hasty marriage, his father's mandate that he marry a Basque woman would still hold, if Zak wanted to maintain his position as etchekoprimu. Which brought her full circle again...
She was still contemplating Zak when she arrived at Timber West. But as she was walking toward the cook shack, the sound of clattering metal in concert with the roar of an approaching vehicle brought her head around. Ezzie's old truck, dragging several strings of tin cans behind, rattled to a stop. Scrawled across the window in large letters were the words JUST MARRIED. When Ezzie stepped from the truck, Tess couldn't contain the wide grin on seeing him wearing a gray pinstriped suit with a white bow tie, and a pink flower in the lapel. She rushed over to the truck. "Ez," she said, reaching out to give Ezzie a hug. "And Becky." She moved around the truck to hug Ezzie's bride through the window. Becky's face was as bright as Ezzie's. "You look beautiful," Tess said. "When did all this happen?"
"About thirty minutes ago," Becky replied.
Ezzie wiggled his eyebrows up and down. "She was a hard woman to convince, but last week she said 'yes,' and I don't like long engagements. As pretty as she is, she could've been snatched up by somebody else." Becky blushed and said nothing.
Ezzie turned to Tess. "I'm sorry, TJ," he said. "I guess I sort of lost track of time."
Tess smiled at Ezzie. How could she possibly be angry with someone who grinned the way he was grinning. "You're forgiven this time," she said. "What are your plans now?"
Ezzie gave Tess a sheepish grin. "Could I maybe have tomorrow off so's I could add it to the weekend for our honeymoon? I promised Becky I'd take her to Crater Lake."
"Sure you can," Tess said, knowing she'd regret it come dinner time. Hopefully, Curt would keep things moving in the pole timber area while she concentrated on feeding the crew.
Ezzie's eyes brightened. "Thanks, TJ." He slid into the drivers seat, then waved to the crowd of men that had gathered to watch the truck as it rattled and banged down the dirt road. Tess grinned until they moved out of sight. But her smile faded when she turned toward the cook shack. At lunch, she was no more organized than she'd been at breakfast, even though she started preparations almost an hour before. She looked at the somber faces as she cradled a huge bowl of potatoes in the crook of her arm and whipped with quick, agitated strokes, but the lumps defied her. Plunking the bowl on the table, she said, "That's the best I can do."
Herring scooped out a wad of lumpy potatoes and looked at Tess. "You got any gravy, TJ?"
"Gravy! Damn!" Tess rushed to the stove as the smell of scorching gravy wafted through the cook shack. With a dishcloth, she grabbed the handle of the big iron skillet and headed for the sink, but before she could get there, the wet dishcloth steamed hot and she dropped the skillet, splattering scorched gravy around the floor. Tears of frustration stung her eyes. She had no idea how Ezzie did it, but she couldn't handle the job alone, nor would the men be satisfied with a meager plate of lumpy potatoes for lunch.
As she made one last trip to the storage shed to get what remained on the shelves, she was surprised to see Zak's truck pull in. He jumped out, leaving Pio in the truck, and walked toward her, a worried frown on his brow.
"I'm in a bind," he said. "I can't find Becky and she's suppose to look after Pio."
"Becky from the Blue Ox?" Tess asked.
Zak nodded. "How did you know?"
"Lucky guess. You missed her by about two hours. She and Ezzie were here."
"Here?" Zak said, incredulous. "Becky was here?"
"For a couple of minutes. She and Ezzie are off to Crater Lake for their honeymoon."
Zak stared at Tess. Then he combed his fingers through his hair, and said, "I knew I should have called and reminded her. I've got to meet my assistant for a couple of nest climbs, and I can't take Pio with me because it's dense forest where we’re going. And with Becky gone..." He paused, shifting his gaze to Pio in the truck, then to Tess. The frown deepened.
"How long will you be gone?" Tess asked.
"That's the problem. We'll be gone for two days," Zak replied. "I've left Pio with Becky before and he likes it there... even helps at the café some." He looked at Tess thoughtfully then, and she could almost see the wheels turning.
She shook her head. "Don't even think about it."
"It's only for one night," Zak said.
Tess glanced at Pio, then at the expectant look on Zak's face, and said, "You know how he feels about me. Besides, I've never looked after a six-year-old before."
"He doesn't take much looking after," Zak said. "He's really very little trouble,"
Tess wasn't sure she could cope with a young boy for two days, especially one who so openly disliked her. But Zak would not have asked if there had been any other way. And it was for just one night. Certainly she could look after one pint-sized adversary for that little time. "Okay," she said, "but if he acts up, you'll have to let me discipline him the best way I see fit."
"He won't give you any trouble," Zak assured her. He retrieved Pio and the boy's overnight bag from the truck and set it beside Tess.
Tess gave Pio and apprehensive smile, and said, "I'm glad you'll be staying with me, Pio. We'll try to do something special tonight." She extended her hand.
Pio backed away and looked at Zak. "I don't want to stay here," he said, "I want to go with you."
Zak crouched, pulled Pio toward him, and said, "I can't take you with me. I already explained that to you. If I could, I would, but it's not possible this time. I love you, son, and I'll be back in two days." He hugged Pio, then he said to Tess, "I'll make it up to you when I get back. I promise." He moved toward her, and lifted his hand as if to touch her face, then his arm dropped again and he turned and climbed into his truck.
Pio stood beside her until Zak had driven off, but when she tried to take his hand to lead him into the cook shack, he looked up with narrowed, resentful eyes, jerked his hand away, and ran toward the bunkhouse. And Tess was reminded again, how many obstacles there were between her and Zak. She heaved a weary sigh. Some things were just not meant to be.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next day, as Pio stood on a stool stirring the huge pot of beans bubbling on the stove, Tess eyed him dubiously. So far today there had been no major
incidents. But the night before, Pio tested her patience to the limits by stuffing toilet paper into the bowl and flushing it until the water rose and welled over the edge, cascading to the floor. She'd held her temper, but resolved to discuss the incident with Zak. She had no idea how to handle the boy.
Pio glanced around, and catching her watching, glared at her.
On the other hand, he'd been a model child with the men while they waited for breakfast earlier. They'd ruffled his hair and tussled with him, and he'd responded by laughing and wanting more. But once alone with her, Pio became sullen again. Tess willed herself to be patient, repeating silently that Pio's behavior was the result of being confronted with the prospect of having another mother when he still hadn't let go of the one he'd lost. She even considered assuring him that she was not, and would never be, a contender for mother because his father would only marry a Basque woman, and she wasn't Basque. But somehow she couldn't bring herself to have that conversation with him.
Still she couldn't help feeling disappointed. She'd hoped Pio would have warmed by now, but instead, he was more aloof than before, refusing even to talk to her. Shortly after lunch, Zak returned. When Pio saw his truck, he raced out of the cook shack to meet him. Zak caught him in a mid-air leap and the boy wrapped himself around his father. Tess stood in the doorway to the cook shack, watching. Zak looked past Pio at her and winked. "Thanks for stepping in for me," he said. "How did you two get on?"
Tess walked out to where Zak stood with Pio, and replied, "It was... fine. He helped some with meals. And the men enjoyed having him."
Zak looked at her as if to say, 'only the men?'
Tess shrugged and said nothing.
Zak held her gaze for a few moments, as if waiting for her to offer more, but when she didn't, he said, "Is it something we need to talk about?"
"No," Tess replied, "just a little touch of reality. Pio misses his mother."
Zak set Pio down and he scampered off to watch the men, who were leaving the cook shack. Turning to Tess, he said, "Tomorrow is the Taureau de Feu Festival in Navarre and I plan to take Pio to see it. He used to go to it in France. It should help lift his spirits some."
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