White Water Passion

by Dawn Luedecke

  The hope in Clint’s voice made her tense. Did men go about their day for the sole purpose of finding someone to knock fists with? Was this where male camaraderie went to cultivate, or die? If the female gender behaved like men did, the world would surely come to an end.

  Garrett’s dark hair peeked above a chokeberry bush just off the trail. The path veered to the right and opened up to a small clearing.

  “Ah, there you are.” Garrett held out the spare jacket he’d worn since he’d given her his large wool coat. Beth took his coat, and snuggled deeper into the thick warmth of the wool she wore and remembered his chivalrous move. It still smelled like him—a slight note of pine and wood shavings, with an undertone of Eau de Cologne.

  The men circled Wall and Garrett as they rolled up their sleeves and shook hands. She studied each man, concentrating on the sound of each voice as they spoke, but no luck. Each man spoke with a mountain slang, but not one had the same distinct timbered drawl as the man from the platform. The cold, nauseating pangs of nerves made her want to press her palms against her stomach. Did she think she could come and locate the saboteur on the first day? Hardly. Her plan was dicey at best, but she had to try.

  The two fighters began to arc around each other until Wall threw the first punch. She almost believed Garrett’s neck had broken as it slammed back.

  He gave a wicked grin, swiped at the blood trickling down his chin, and lurched forward with a left jab, followed by a hard right hook.

  Wall stumbled with the impact, but righted himself as Garrett threw another jab.

  They continued until Garrett stumbled, and Wall pounced like a mountain lion on a carcass. Beth held back a squeal as Garrett fell underneath his opponent, and Wall began to beat him ruthlessly.

  “You have to stop them.” Beth yanked on Dick’s sleeve, and then jerked her hand back when she realized her mistake.

  “Are you a hard case or a ninny, Brent?” Dick asked. “Garrett’s the best fighter we have. Wall ain’t no match for him, and Garrett will never back down. He’s just beatin’ the devil around the stump is all.”

  Clint chimed in, “Stay down, Gar. Let him get a couple good punches in before you knock his block off. ’Bout time we had a real show.”

  “Yeah,” Blue agreed. “Whip him, Wall!”

  The encouragement must have worked, for Wall shifted over Garrett and began to slam his fist into Garrett’s face. Blood squirted out of his mouth, coloring the dirt beneath their rolling bodies.

  Beth wanted to scream and ran to yank at Wall’s jacket in an attempt to dislodge him from Garrett. But a loud whistle echoed through the trees like a train through a desert canyon. Relief spread through her gut. She hadn’t gotten the chance to once again draw unwanted attention. Thank the Lord above. The men all stilled and turned their heads toward the sound. Wall, with fists raised and ready to strike, lowered his hands and clambered off Garrett, reaching down to help him stand.

  “Who?” Garrett asked, although she suspected he spoke to himself. Beth’s heart sank. Whatever the whistle meant wasn’t good.

  The men launched into a run toward camp, leaving Beth to follow in confusion.

  Her legs burned with each long stride as she ran to catch up with Garrett. “What’s going on?”

  “Something has happened at one of the sites.” He slowed and gave a quick glance in her direction. She saw the worry in his eye a split second before he turned back to the path.

  They didn’t take the usual route to camp, but veered to the right and headed up a steep trail. A large clear-cut area came into view with a small crowd in the center gathered around something on the ground. Garrett picked up speed and disappeared into the group of men.

  Beth fought her way to the center. A large man lay crumpled in the grass with a bone sticking out of his forearm as if it were merely a twig broken in half. His skin was white, and his eyes rolled back in his head, but his chest still rose and fell.

  She tried not to heave the little bit of breakfast she’d eaten this morning as Garrett kneeled next to the man and ran his hands over the body.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  A tall, gangly logger with brown teeth spoke. “He was in the middle of the back cut when a widowmaker fell. He tried to get away, but he wasn’t fast enough. A branch as thick as Tiny Pete’s leg fell on him and sort of crushed half his body.” The man motioned toward a logger the size of a bear. “The bulk of the branch missed his head by an inch.”

  “Take him to Aunt June. She can care for him until the train comes to take him to town.” Garrett stood. “You boys go make a stretcher.”

  The men gave a mumbled agreement and separated.

  When the crowd cleared, with the exception of a few stragglers, Beth slipped through to stand next to Garrett. “Who is he?”

  “A faller from the Bonner crew.” He turned to the tall brown-toothed man. “I’m going to warn Aunt June. Have the boys bring him down when the stretcher is ready, but don’t forget to bind his wound first. We don’t want it to break further.”

  The man nodded, and Garrett motioned for her to follow.

  Once out of sight of the crew, Garrett grabbed her hand to tow her behind him. His fingers tingled in her palm, and he squeezed. “The widowmaker is but one danger of the forest. I was a fool for leaving you with only Aunt June or Michael to watch over you. Aunt June is reliable, but she too has an adventurous spirit, albeit a bit more checked. Had you wandered into the cutting zone while you searched for the raft, you too could have been injured or killed. From now on, you do not leave my side unless Simon is with you.”

  A knot formed in the back of her throat, and she had to take a deep breath to stay the tears forming in her eyes. The vision of Garrett kneeling next to the wounded man played in her mind. The calm way he’d checked the man for life, the automatic deference for his word, the loyalty his men showed for him proved they all looked up to him. His autocratic demeanor was a guise—one she could see right through. He was a generous and kind man to those he loved, and he loved this camp more than anything else in his life.

  Chapter 7

  “The raft has what?” Garrett paced in front of Blue. Beth hid somewhere behind him. Her small frame flinched every time he spun around to head in a new direction. His heart melted each time he saw the fear in her eyes at his movements, but it couldn’t be helped. Sooner or later she’d find out what sort of leader she’d signed on with. His brash ways weren’t favored by women, but he was fair to his men, and they responded by working hard. “Where are the logs?”

  “I don’t know,” Blue answered. “The Bonner crew told us the barrier was cut on the raft, and some of the logs are floating out into the lake.”

  “Cut, not broken?”

  “Yes. Cut.”

  “Bloody hell!” Garrett headed in the direction of the raft, trusting that Beth would follow, and not worrying one whit about his language. Usually he’d take care in front of a lady, but today he hadn’t the fortitude for niceties.

  He didn’t need another accident, especially one that would prevent him from getting the logs to the mill. Was Jessip responsible? He thought he’d seemed genuine enough when he asked for the steady job, but maybe the lure of the thousand dollars got the better of him. “How many logs escaped?”

  “I haven’t counted. Enough to put the Bonner crew on alert.”

  “Find Simon,” he ordered.

  “I’ll go.” Beth moved to do as he asked.

  “Not you. Blue. You stay by me.” The last thing he needed was her getting lost and wounded, or worse. From now on she was his shadow, even at night.

  Blue ran off, leaving him and Beth alone. Garrett grabbed her hand to tow her behind. The rapid thump of his pulse leveled off at her touch. She did something to him. Grounded him, and allowed him to think clearly whenever her soft skin touched his. When he’d taken her hand the other
day, it was out of pure need to get her walking faster, but he’d liked the instant wave of serenity he felt when they touched.

  Never in his life had a logging season been so difficult, and only a week had passed since they rode the train up the mountain. The woman warming his palm was the reason. Since she showed up in camp, nothing seemed to work. He suspected the traitor stalking the trees held only a little responsibility in that aspect. Garrett couldn’t get his mind in the right place. Any other year, he could have identified the traitor, had him arrested, and already taken down one drive. Not this year. This year a woman shook his world enough to crumble his mountain of confidence and turn it into a whitewater river.

  The trees opened up to the lake, and he let go of her hand to take the lead.

  “What the hell happened here?” he asked the group of men gathered on the bank. Four men, all Devil May Cares, waged war against the logs with boats and peaveys as the wood fought to break free of the raft’s confines.

  “Someone cut the anchor line holding the boom logs.” The Bonner man who answered lifted a piece of line, sliced through.

  “How many have we lost?”

  “About a hundred, maybe two. It must have been cut sometime last night while we slept.”

  Garrett cussed under his breath. He kept one eye on Elizabeth as she moved toward the water’s edge and watched the mayhem. A large chunk of the raft was missing and would cost the mill at least a month’s worth of pay. It had to be Jessip. Who else could it be? “Who found it?”

  “Peter, from my crew,” one of the Bonner boys said, stepping forward through the men. “Said he come down this morning to take a piss and noticed a log slipping out.”

  “Tell him thanks.” Garrett ran his hands over his face. Where the hell did Jessip work? He needed to pay the man a visit.

  “What’s going on?” Simon asked as he ran up behind him. Oh, thank God. Garrett needed to focus. The only way to do so would be to leave Beth with her brother.

  Garrett excused himself from the group. Yanking Simon to a secluded area off the path, he checked over his shoulder to ensure he could still see Beth as she huddled with the men—afraid, by the look on her face. He turned to Simon and gave a quick account of the incident.

  “Shit.” Simon pursed his lip and turned to watch the men working to tie the outside boom logs together. “Jessip.”

  “We need to talk to him. Now.”

  “I’ll go find him.” Simon slapped him on the shoulder as he rushed past, heading toward the Bonner camp.

  What was he going to do with Elizabeth now? Drag her around while he confronted a potential criminal? Garrett massaged his temple and moved in the opposite direction to gather Beth, and then intercept the letter he’d sent to the mill earlier in the day, requesting the contract. With any luck, it hadn’t gone out on the morning train. He’d have to leave her in Aunt June’s care again. There was no other option.

  * * * *

  Elizabeth tossed a bucket of dirty water into the dense vegetation behind Aunt June’s cabin, and studied the trail Garrett had disappeared to after he left. She knew he was in no mood for tomfoolery, so she did as ordered and stayed to help Aunt June. Although every time she drew near the edge of the clearing, she’d study the trees for Garrett’s return. Her mind drifted to the fear and anger in his eyes when he’d watched the logs glide into the middle of the lake. She’d wanted to reach out and caress his cheek. Show him he wasn’t alone. She would have helped, but in doing so she would have overstepped her role. So she simply watched and obeyed.

  A twig snapped from halfway up a small hill behind the cabin. Garrett appeared from around a tall quaking tree, his shoulders as rigid and tense as before. Not a good sign.

  “Let’s go,” he barked as he walked past, leaving her to follow. Aunt June simply watched, her brows furrowed in concern, but she didn’t stop him from taking Beth away.

  Beth’s legs ached as she struggled to keep step. “Where are we going?”

  “Up. We’ll stop at the cabin first. I need to grab a few things.”

  Finally, she might get to tidy her bed and stow her belongings before the men came back. She entered into the small abode, and hurried to her bunk. She stuffed her bag below her bunk, and moved to make the bed, only to snap her hands to her chest as she yanked back the blanket.

  “What is that?” Beth took a step back, as Garrett leaned over her bed to stare at the slimy green creature now housed in her covers.

  “A slug.” He plucked it from her pillow and tossed it out the open window.

  She’d heard of the revolting creatures, but never encountered one herself. They didn’t often plague the town she lived in. “How’d it get here?”

  Garrett’s lips twitched as if he held back a smile, but his back remained stiff. “Most likely the men put it in here. A slug in the bed is a typical trick they play on the shave tails that come into camp. You can expect more things to happen, but I’ll try to make them keep it to a minimum.”

  “No, no. They are fine.” She tried not to bite her lip. If the pranks didn’t get much worse than this, she could handle it. Slimy and wet creatures, she could deal with. Anything with teeth, though, was a different story altogether. She lifted her chin with false bravado. “I signed on to be a riverman. I can handle it.”

  “I’m still going to talk to them later. Right now, we need to go.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and trudged through the open door.

  Once again, she followed. Her shins burned from the long strides and ill-fitting boots, but she wasn’t about to complain. Not with his clipped tone and stern expression. What happened between when he left her, and when he returned that made him move with such urgency?

  Her nerves hummed while she followed Garrett as he picked his way up a rough trail leading to the top of a large hill. The higher they climbed, the thinner the air seemed to be. An omen to the danger of the woods, or perhaps it was the dense sensation of a land undiscovered by man. Either way, it was eerily calming. Red strips of torn cloth marked the safe paths through the trees. “Did you put those there?”

  “No. I had Simon do it. That way you won’t go wandering where you can get hurt.” The tense way he carried his shoulders eased the higher they climbed. Did the crisp spring air affect him the same way it did her? Had the morning not started out with the missing logs, a day such as this could make one never want to leave.

  “How long until we ride the rapids?”

  “A week or two,” Garrett said over his shoulder as they climbed. “Today we’re going to The Deck. That’s what we call the area between The Grove, where they’re cutting the logs, and the chute. I need to see if Teddy saw anything this morning from the hilltop, and we can find out when the first drive is going to be.”

  Beth nodded and followed closer. Today she would finally get a chance to see the logging operation in action. Watch the men. Perhaps even identify the traitor. As they crested the top of the trail, a buzz of activity penetrated the fog of exertion assaulting her brain. Faller teams dotted the mountainside, and she kept her gaze steady. Any one of these men could be the man from the platform. Their spiked boots helped them jump from one log to the next. The thud of hammers on wedges, combined with the grating sound of crosscut saws biting into the wood, sounded through the forest.

  Two men cut at a tree, then leapt back as a third called out the warning, “Down the Hill.” The signal rang through the forest. The voice wasn’t the one she’d heard plotting against the company. She noted the man’s face, mentally eliminating him from the list of suspects.

  The tree screamed its protest as it plunged to the ground with a loud thump.

  “Why not timberrrr?” She sped up to keep pace. The back of her hand brushed against his when he slowed to turn toward her.

  Garrett sucked in a quick breath, tapped his offended hand against his leg, and took a moment before responding.
“No self-respecting timber man would be caught dead yelling that.”

  “I thought all loggers used the term.”

  Garrett laughed, his tense shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. “You have a lot to learn. For one, they don’t call themselves loggers, they are timber beasts.” He motioned toward the tall, dirty man working the horses. “And this is Teddy, we call him our chute monkey. He brings the logs from The Grove to the chute and sends them down to the lake.”

  “The man we’re going to speak with?”

  Garrett nodded his response. “He also decides when the raft is ready for the drive.”

  Teddy was a lanky, gawky looking man in his mid-twenties, good-natured judging by the smile he tossed their way. She could see kindness in his eyes. His team of horses looked as long and ragged as he did, but with the power to pull an incredible amount of weight over rough terrain.

  Beth and Garrett walked up to the man, and Garrett greeted him with a slap on the back.

  “This is Brent. Simon’s cousin,” he introduced.

  Teddy inclined his head in greeting, and Garrett turned him around to speak, leaving Beth alone in the middle of the field. Searching the grass, she set her sights on the gorgeous sets of mismatched horses tied to the slip-tongued wagon.

  Beth made her way to the four steeds. The two front animals looked alike, with dark brown shaggy fur while the sorrel horse on the back right contrasted with the large and powerful white draft horse. Beth stared longingly at the beautiful pale animal. What she wouldn’t give to have such an animal for her own, should she ever be in a position to own one herself. Perhaps the man she married would spoil her with her own buggy and horse.

  As she got closer to the team, she reached her hand out and stroked the horse’s muscular, white neck. She talked softly to the beast and twined her fingers through the soft, but durable mane. She circled the horse as much as she could, needing to get closer to the beautiful creature. The white gelding flicked his tail and it caught in the large bolt in the center of the wooden beam of the tongue. She waited to see if his tail would dislodge. It didn’t.