Where the Heart Is Romance Collection

by Andrea Boeshaar

  She pursed her lips. “I don’t think I care to set eyes on another train for a very long time,” she said, stifling a yawn as she laced her fingers through his. “But I did enjoy seeing Chicago and spending a night in La Crosse. That was an adventure.”

  A companionable silence passed. “Do you think your brother and his wife will like me?” she finally asked, the slight waver in her voice revealing her nervousness.

  “How could they help it?” He hugged her against his side and kissed her cheek. “Your husband is positively wild about you. And he does have some influence on the underlings.”

  Her light giggle erased some of the tiredness from her features. “How much farther did you say it was until we reach your place?”

  “Only a couple more days. We’ll probably have to sleep in the wagon the next two nights. I hope you don’t mind. You can rest on that pallet we fixed up whenever you get tired of watching the scenery. I promise to wake you when we’re almost home.”

  “Home. Now that does sound pleasant. If you’re positive you don’t mind, I think I will close my eyes for a bit. I probably won’t sleep, though. I’m far too excited.” She climbed over the seat back and stretched out. In less than a mile, she was sound asleep.

  Blake smiled to himself as a red-winged blackbird swooped in front of them, cavorting about in the fragrant spring morning. Somewhere off to the side a partridge drummed, and Blake was almost certain he’d glimpsed a robin. His thoughts drifted to other springs and summers, some of the pleasant times he and Matt had shared despite the often back-breaking labor and long hours they put in to build up their business.

  He hoped most fervently that Leah would find beauty in the raw landscape, would see beyond the present to the good life he envisioned for the two of them.

  Roused from an afternoon nap when the wheels jounced over a particularly rough section of the road, Leah rubbed sleep from her eyes and sat up. “I must have dozed off.” She braced herself against the bumps as she stood and climbed onto the seat beside Blake, her heart swelling with pride and love under the warmth of his smile. “Is it much farther to your place?”

  “No, just over that rise, actually.” He raised his gloved hand and pointed ahead, where the trace meandered through the thick woods surrounding them.

  Leah peered in the direction indicated, and her pulse rate increased. She knew she must look a sight, but the best she could do was tuck stray hairs inside her bonnet and smooth some of the wrinkles from her skirt, hoping to make a good impression on the couple who would be part of her new family. Glancing at her husband, she sensed a certain uneasiness in him, and she hoped his brother had kept everything running smoothly.

  At last the wagon emerged into a broad clearing, occupied by a small camp.

  A very small camp. And primitive. No one was about. She detected a glimmer of water through the trees, however, and concluded it was the Chippewa River Blake had mentioned. In the distance, she could hear the sound of axes and the occasional shout.

  Leah’s spirits sagged. Besides a collection of sheds which she surmised must house wagons, horses and assorted equipment, she counted a mere handful of more substantial buildings. One, likely the bunkhouse, was significantly larger than the others, but they were all plainly constructed and dwarfed by the huge trees that ringed the open area. She searched beyond them for a house, but her view was limited by the thick forest.

  “It’s kind of dead right now,” Blake told her, “but in a few weeks there’ll be so much activity it’ll make your head spin. You’ll see.” He halted the wagon in front of a tiny cabin made of logs and turned to her with a tentative, rather embarrassed smile. “Well, this is it.”

  “What?”

  “Home. Our place. This is where we live. It… isn’t much, yet.”

  Speechless at his understatement, she could only stare as he hopped down and held out his arms for her. It was no better than some hunter’s crude shanty.

  “From your expression, I can see it isn’t exactly what you were expecting,” he said apologetically, “but it’s only temporary. It’ll do until I have time to build something better.”

  Leah told herself she must be dreaming, having a nightmare. But as she got up and leaned into Blake’s strong hands to be set on the hard ground, it felt all too real.

  He scooped her into his arms and shoved the door of the tiny structure open with his boot, carrying her over the threshold.

  Into the hovel.

  Leah swallowed.

  A single, unadorned window emitted a sickly shaft of outside light into the drab walls chinked with moss and mud, low sidewalls, and a steep gabled roof. On one end, a sort of bunk made of pine boughs with blankets spread over them indicated the sleeping chamber. A stone fireplace occupied one wall, and in front of it, several pairs of woolen underwear and socks had been draped to dry over a rough hewn pole suspended from the ceiling. That would account for the peculiar odor, Leah reasoned caustically, then spied a heavy work jacket hanging on a rack of antlers beside the door. Wordlessly, Blake set her down on the plank floor.

  She couldn’t bring herself to speak.

  “I’ll… get our things and bring in the supplies,” he stammered and within moments carried in their trunks, valises, and the crates of goods they’d bought in La Crosse. “While you unpack, I’d better check in with Matt, spring the news of our marriage. We’ll eat at the mess hall tonight.” And with that, he was gone.

  Leah turned a slow circle in the dismal surroundings, noting the thrown-together table and two chairs, the open hearth where she would be doing the cooking. She had left her beautiful farm for this? She sank down on her trunk, buried her face in her hands, and wept.

  She didn’t know how much time passed. But the hot tears gradually subsided, overcome by the realization that she had come here of her own volition and now must make the best of the situation, make this rustic shack a fit place to live. There was no other choice. She gave fleeting thought to wishing she could tear Marty’s hair out for convincing her to come here, then quickly dismissed the less than charitable idea. For better or worse, she was married to Blake Malone. For life. And the fact that he treated her with the utmost tenderness and consideration during their trip here had caused her feelings for him to grow deeper by the day.

  But in her heart, she had expected he’d bring her to something a trifle better than this.

  A half-filled bucket of water sat near the hearth. Carrying it to the door, Leah spilled off the layer of dust which had accumulated on the surface, then poured some into a basin to repair her face. She felt somewhat better after washing up. Straightening her shoulders, she removed the hatpin from her bonnet and puzzled as to where she could put it and the other articles of clothing she’d brought. Well, unpacking her wardrobe could wait for some other time. Perhaps Blake would put up some pegs or nails for her use. Anything but more antlers!

  She set the stylish hat on the bunk and assessed her surroundings with a practical eye. Pathetic, perhaps, but it was all they had. There must be some way to make it more livable. Starting with airing the place out. She snatched the stiff underwear and socks from the pole and folded them. Then she opened the door wide and swept the small confines with the rough pine broom she’d seen in the corner. The ratty blankets she tore up for use in dusting and scrubbing.

  It seemed a shame to waste her pretty new linens and embroidered pillowcases on that makeshift pallet, but she’d only brought the few niceties she’d saved in her hope chest. She’d make some new ones later. The Log Cabin quilt her mother made brought a wry smile as she shook it open and spread it over the crisp sheets just tucked in place. Little had either of them known how appropriate the pattern would be. And the smooth linen tablecloth did wonders to hide the imperfections of the little table. Last, she unwrapped the painting of Laurelwood, somehow staving off the tears that sprang to her eyes at the very sight of the lovely old homestead she’d likely never see again. There wasn’t a nail where she could hang it, but the narro
w mantel above the fireplace would suffice. Propping it there, she stepped back to appraise her work.

  Blake chose that moment to return. She heard his manly strides crossing the compound from wherever he’d been. Was it was her imagination that they seemed to lose a measure of confidence as he approached the open door? He peered inside cautiously before entering. “Safe to come in?”

  Still standing there, arms crossed, Leah slanted a scathing look up at his hangdog expression.

  “I… hope you’ll forgive me,” he began, mercilessly crushing the brim of the hat he held. “I should have warned you, I know. I did try once or twice, I swear. But I couldn’t.”

  “Well, that’s a rather moot point now, isn’t it?” she asked evenly, already more or less resigned to her fate. It was a long, long way back to Pennsylvania.

  Blake came the rest of the way inside, and his sky blue eyes rounded as he looked around, a softly crackling fire and the warm glow of the kerosene lamp casting a soft golden hue over everything. “Man alive! You’ve done wonders with the place already. It looks nice. Real nice.”

  She gave a nod of mute concession.

  “And you must be starved by now. Julie’s got supper ready over at the mess hall. She’s anxious to meet you.”

  Until he mentioned food, Leah hadn’t realize what an appetite she’d worked up. Her stomach contracted painfully. “I’ll just freshen up a bit.”

  “No need, really,” Blake said. “You look fine. Julie isn’t one to fuss over things like appearance—and it’ll be just them and us anyway.”

  Leah’s shoulders sagged. She plucked her shawl from the back of the nearby chair and tossed it about herself as the two of them walked to the building adjacent to the bunkhouse. Rectangular in shape, it was also slightly elevated to fit the roll of the land, and they mounted the two steps to the door.

  The extended open room glowed from a profusion of lanterns positioned evenly throughout, and Leah noted its tidiness as she perused the three long tables with benches, plus what obviously was the cook shanty at the far end. The whole place smelled enticingly of hearty food.

  A smiling young blond woman approached, clad in men’s attire, with a large apron covering most of her. A protruding tummy indicated she was in the family way. “You must be Leah,” she said, her voice airy and decidedly feminine. “I’m Julie. I couldn’t believe it when Blake stuck his head in here and told me he’d brought a bride home with him! Please sit down and make yourself at home. Supper will be on the table in a jiffy. I’m so glad to have another female around here to talk to! And do excuse my clothes. I’ve sort of grown beyond dress seams, and Matt’s shirts are so much roomier right now.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Leah replied, taking an instant liking to the unpretentious girl as Blake smiled and gestured toward where several places had been set for the meal.

  Moments later, the door opened to admit a wiry young man with Blake’s fair coloring. He lacked several inches of his brother’s height but was equally handsome in his own way, with a grin as broad as his muscular shoulders and eyes a similar blue. He had a little tyke by the hand. The two stared at her all the way across the room as they came to the table.

  “Matt,” Blake said, “I’d like you to meet my wife, Leah. Leah, this is my kid brother, Matt, and his son, Timmy.”

  Matt grinned and reached to shake her hand. “Well, well. A pleasure to meet the gal crazy enough to take on my big brother. Remind me to ask you how you managed that, by the way.”

  Timmy sidled closer to his dad but offered a shy smile.

  “Have a good trip?” Matt asked Leah, but his gaze included them both.

  “Not bad,” Blake answered. “Leah’s probably worn out, though. Especially with unpacking and settling in. She already has the place fixed up nicer than it’s ever been.”

  “Anything would improve that cabin of yours,” Julie chided, bringing a platter of tasty venison steaks to the table. “If you’d have given us fair warning, I would’ve spruced it up a bit for Leah.” Shaking her head, she then went for the roasted potatoes and a bowl of green beans and set them near the plate of sliced bread. She took the place beside her son, giving him a hug.

  Blake offered grace, and they all dug in.

  “So you didn’t have any problems while I was gone?” Blake asked, slathering butter on the hunk of bread he’d taken.

  “Nothin’ we couldn’t handle,” Matt told him. “Almost didn’t make that last shingle order for Piersons, but finished up right under the wire. Frank and Mel came by to see if we’re hiring yet. I told them to check back in a week, which’ll be up any day.”

  “Hire ’em,” Blake said. “And anybody else who happens by. I need to get ahead on a few things.”

  His brother nodded.

  Leah felt Julie’s stare, and glanced up to meet the girl’s friendly smile. “How old is… Timmy, isn’t it?” she asked, looking at the little towhead.

  “He is in those terrible twos,” moaned the young mother. “Into everything, impossible to keep in one place for long. Sometimes I must resort to tying a rope around his middle and attaching it to the clothesline outside, just so I know where he is when I’m busy. He doesn’t seem to mind, though he’d rather be out ‘helping’ his daddy.”

  It was hard to imagine such an innocent looking child finding ways to get into trouble, but then Leah had not been around children very often. She chewed a bite of steak slowly, weariness of the long day catching up to her. Her thoughts drifted homeward, and she wondered how Will and Marty were getting along, if her father was still showing improvement, how Mom was coping. Just this short time she’d been gone, and it seemed like ages.

  Somehow she couldn’t picture herself writing a glowing letter to her family about her new life in Wisconsin. Not just yet, anyway. Did mail even make it this far? And how far away from the lumber camp was this aforementioned town called Eau Claire? Would she be shut off from civilization forever?

  “Would anyone like dessert?” Julie asked, interrupting Leah’s ponderings as she brought over a layer cake iced with chocolate.

  “Sounds great,” Blake said with enthusiasm. “And after that, I’ll take my little bride home. I think this day’s been long enough for her.”

  “I should help Julie with the dishes,” Leah said.

  “No,” the girl answered smoothly. “It’ll only take me a few minutes to clean up. Breakfast is at 5:30… unless you sleep in. In which case, I’ll fix yours whenever you get up.”

  As tired as she was, Leah wasn’t about to put up much of a fight. Perhaps tomorrow she’d be more help. With that tiny cabin of Blake’s to look after, obviously it was going to take something like aiding her new sister-in-law to occupy all the time she’d undoubtedly find on her hands. What on earth had she gotten herself into?

  Chapter 8

  By the time Blake finished giving Leah a tour of his lumber operation, her head was spinning with unfamiliar terms like sawyer, chipper, cant hook, froe, peavy, and skidding tongs. He and Matt demonstrated how trees were notched and then cut with a crosscut saw to fall in precise positions. She watched them lop off the slender tops and side branches, then put the Malone mark on the log with an engraved hammer. After that it would be measured by a scaler and labeled for the sawyer to cut into lengths between ten and eighteen feet, then skidded to the logging road to be hauled by horse-drawn wagons to the river. There, huge rafts of logs would be floated down to the sawmills in Eau Claire. “It’s ever so fascinating,” Leah told him honestly.

  He grinned and hugged her hard, planting a kiss on her nose. “Just wanted you to see what we do all day,” he said lightly.

  She admired the way Blake looked in his blue and white striped hickory work shirts, the stagged pants that were cut off at the knee and ran into the heavy woolen stockings worn inside the leather spiked boots. Somehow it added to the dashing picture she had in her mind of the man from faraway who had stolen her heart. This man who, she soon learned, left the warmth of thei
r bed at dawn every morning and did not return until a little past dark.

  The next few weeks found her cultivating her newfound friendship with Julie Malone, who at Leah’s age of twenty-two, lived for the sole purpose of making Matthew and their son happy. That, and keeping the newly hired workers at the mill fed. With the days slowly lengthening, the crew was putting in incredibly long hours.

  “So you had no idea you’d wind up married to a lumberjack either?” Leah asked incredulously. She sipped the tea Julie had poured for her while they chatted, mending their husbands’ worn work clothes. Timmy lay on the wood floor nearby, playing with a carved logging wagon, complete with horses.

  The girl flicked a lock of wheat-blond hair over her shoulder and giggled. “I was supposed to become a school-teacher, since I’d been raised all proper, with the correct qualifications and abilities. But the summer I graduated, I came here to visit my Aunt Jen and Uncle Zach, who was one of the top sawyers in the area. When he signed on with Blake, Aunt Jen took it upon herself to become the best camp cook who ever lived—or so all the men declared. Anyway, I started helping out. That’s how I met Matthew. One look from those gorgeous blue eyes, and I was a goner.”

  “I know exactly how you felt,” Leah confessed.

  Julie smiled and continued. “Auntie Jen was thrilled that I wanted to stay permanently. Especially after my uncle died in an accident on a log raft. She and I had grand times, up until she went out by herself picking berries for pies and got bit by a snake. Nobody went looking for her until it was too late. So… that left me, more’s the pity. I sure miss her.” A sigh as sad as her smile brought a pause. “My parents weren’t exactly enthralled with my choice, but they’ve since grown to adore Matt.”