Beth pulled up her pants, and trudged back inside, ready to prove to herself and the rivermen that she could handle whatever task they threw her way. Even the outhouse.
* * * *
“Who do you think is behind the attacks?” Simon asked as he hacked away at the base of a large pine tree. He stopped and leaned on the handle, breathing hard from the exertion.
“Someone who needs Big Mountain Lumber Mill to fail. My guess is it has something to do with the new contract to Boilson Mines.” Garrett lowered his eyes to a concentrated glare, took the ax from his friend, and continued where he left off. “The thousand will come to the man who actually destroys the company when the season ends and Big Mountain fails to keep good on their contract.”
“So this is all about the contract?”
Garrett nodded. “The big bugs from the rival mills are behind the thousand-dollar prize money, and probably more. Ever since Big Mountain signed with the Boilson Mining Company, the mill’s had nothing but problems.”
“We need to find out who the other person is before anything big happens.” Simon took a shot at the ax again. “I’ve been poking my nose around and asking questions like you suggested, but so far no one’s talking.”
“I figured as much. I paid the Bonner kid, Michael, to keep an eye out and report anything suspicious to me. I’m watching the operations closely as well. Hopefully the kid is inconspicuous enough to overhear something that the culprit might otherwise not say in the presence of an adult. I’ve an idea to at least prepare us in case something does happen, but first we need to talk with your sister.” Garrett stepped away, and pulled on his friend’s shirtfront to get him to do the same, as the tree fell. “There’s one for Teddy to take. Let’s go find Beth.”
Garrett heaved the ax over his shoulder, and rushed down the trail.
“Okay,” Simon said slowly. “What does she have to do with all this?”
“She knows something, and we need to know what.”
Much to Garrett’s relief, Simon followed the rest of the way in silence. The last thing he needed was his friend digging too deeply into his and Beth’s relationship, and finding out he’d stolen a kiss from her, and then come down the mountain to find out his father had sent him a potential fiancée, bursting all thought of asking for Beth’s hand once more. God. He felt like a fool. A failure. A woman like Beth deserved better than a liberty-taking coward like him anyway. He had to control himself around her.
The scene before them when they entered the meadow would have been comical, if it weren’t for his growing desire for Beth. She stood in the midst of the men covered in filth, holding a bucket and pile of rags. Her chin quivered, but she made a valiant attempt to appear unaffected as the men razzed her. The same way they did to any man wishing to be a part of the Devil May Cares. Except she wasn’t a man. She was Beth. Had any one of his men known her true identity, they’d trip over themselves to give her the moon, right after they ganged up to beat the tarnation out of him for allowing her to be on the river crew.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded. A quick glance at Simon, and Garrett knew he had to take control. The man was hell-bent on defending his sister and ready to pound the first man to speak. One thing was certain, even though Simon couldn’t be trusted with the farmer’s daughter—or even the mayor’s wife—he was fiercely loyal to his sister.
“We’re just teaching the shave tail here the ropes.” Wall and the Devil May Cares chuckled at their shared joke. “Your cousin needs a good whoopin’, Simon. He’s a little weak in the shoulders.” Wall punched the back of Beth’s shoulder and caused her to topple forward. She caught herself with her hands before her face hit the grass. She struggled on to her knees. Her small shoulders shook as she stayed in that position, head bowed, and no doubt fighting back tears.
“Mush-headed bastard!” Simon shouted and jumped onto Wall with fists flying.
Wall ducked, but not fast enough. Simon’s fist slammed into his jaw, sending blood spurting on the green grass as the two men toppled to the ground.
Beth stood to watch, and flinched several times as if she planned to intervene, but thankfully didn’t. As long as she stood back, the men wouldn’t look twice at the tears streaming down her filthy cheeks. He needed to get her out of the meadow before the men took notice.
A quick study of the occupied men, and Garrett grabbed Beth’s hand to tow her a few feet into the brush. The vegetation gave him enough coverage to run an eye over her body.
“My clothes are ruined.” Her voice shook with the tears she now let fall. “I tried to do what a man would. I tried to fight my way out, but when they tipped me upside down over the hole. I…I swore at them. I punched Wall, but I don’t think he felt it. He didn’t flinch or try to whip me for punching him.” She gave an angry growl. “Those mudsills.”
“Follow me.” If it had been a man in her position, he would laugh. Hell, he had laughed in the past when they did that to others. Normally he’d tell the shave tail to muck up or go home. Testosterone-filled days made events such as what just transpired an everyday occurrence, but she was a woman.
He led her to the edge of the water, and moved the ax to his other hand when he let go of her fingers. “Stay here until I get back.”
He waited until she nodded, and then ran to the cabin, leaning the ax against the post of his bed as he walked inside. Normally he wouldn’t touch the personal belongings of a woman, but this couldn’t be helped. He ripped open the top of her satchel and grabbed what he needed.
He’d almost made it out of camp when someone called his name. He turned as Victoria sauntered up to him. “Where have you been? I’m utterly bored. I tried to help Auntie June, but she shooed me away.” Victoria’s bottom lip jutted out in a well-practiced pout. She looped her arm through his and leaned into his side. In town, he’d been more than happy to escort Victoria around at the request of his parents. He’d taken her to balls and teas, even once to the county fair, but now he desperately needed to get back to the lake, and her presence was more of an annoyance than anything else.
“When I return, we’ll take up a game of poker.”
She released his arm and clapped excitedly. “Oh, yes, that would be positively wicked. I’ll be just like the woman who won the poker tournament on the Louisiana paddle boat last year.” She tapped her index finger on her rose-petal-pink lips. “What was her name? Miss Masterson. She was a wicked, audacious woman. Don’t you think, Garrett?”
He dipped his head once in response to her meaningless prattle. “If you’ll excuse me, I have something pressing I need to attend to.” And being away from her was one of those things.
“Of course. Business awaits.” She gave a regal nod so he did the same, and ran to the lake where Beth tried valiantly to hide behind a large bush. Tension ebbed from his core at the sight of her—even covered in human waste, she was more the woman he envisioned when he thought of how his life should be. Not the woman he’d just left at the camp. Fate was a jealous shrew with a thirst for vengeance.
“Come on then. Hop in the boat. I’ll take you somewhere you can wash up.”
“A bath?”
“Yes.”
Standing tall, she took a deep breath and started toward the bateau. The ever-present determination she sported restored as she trudged to the water’s edge and climbed in the boat. She sat with a pin-straight back like a princess awaiting a carriage ride to the village—only a princess wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of Simon’s old canvas pants and spiked boots, an outfit she somehow wore with elegance. If the men on his crew hadn’t figured out by now that she was a woman, they were daft fools. How would they react once they found out?
Chapter 10
The hard wooden seat dug into Beth’s tailbone as she tried to touch the boat as little as possible while Garrett rowed. Her clothes were stained with things no woman should have to encounter, but
she supposed she’d brought this on herself. “Where are we headed?”
“You’ll see,” was all he said. He dug the oar into the water, turning the boat toward a distant shore.
The scene as they floated north following the lake’s shoreline calmed her and let her relax enough to enjoy the silent serenity of the tree-speckled, emerald-green mountains. Garrett gave her a sad smile. Well, she didn’t want him to feel sorry for her. She had to man up. They rode in silence, except for the gentle lap of the water against the side of the boat and the screech of an eagle off in the distance.
She studied the sun to gauge the time as they rode. Half of an hour ticked by before he angled the boat into a small cove across the lake from the logging camp.
Garrett leapt into the water and pulled the bateau onto the shore enough that it wouldn’t escape into the lake without them. “There’s a nice little area past the tall grass where you can bathe.” He reached into the bottom of the boat, pulled out the handful of clothes, and unfolded them to reveal her bar of soap. “I won’t look, promise.”
“Thank you.”
“I figured you haven’t had the luxury since before you came to camp. My mother used to say that a woman’s reputation is as unsoiled as the bath she took that day. I know you’re not supposed to be seen as a woman right now, but I figured you’d like a little more than a sponge bath in the outhouse.” He slid his gaze over her dirty clothes.
“How did you know that’s how I’ve been bathing?” Beth bit her bottom lip. She’d made a habit of sneaking into the outhouse with a wet rag at night in order to avoid the prying eyes of the men, certain no one knew about her clandestine outings.
“It’s my duty. I swore to watch over you, and I can’t do that if I don’t know where you are.”
“You followed me?”
“For your protection.”
She smiled and motioned toward her filthy clothes. “I’m going to—”
“Of course,” he cut her next words off, and extended his hand in the direction she should go. “I’ll be here.”
A quick look back down the grass-covered trail proved he didn’t follow, so she stripped off her clothes like she would if ants had taken residence in her britches. She chewed on her lips when she plucked the bar of soap from the pile of fresh clothes. She’d chosen her most masculine soap when she came, but it still smelled of honey and lemon. A fragrance the men might notice, especially since most of them smelled like the inside of a hog barn.
She’d chance it for a bath.
The cold water gave her goose pimples, but she didn’t care. She dipped down until the surface covered her breasts. With a sigh, she leaned back and let the cold water soak her body.
After a while, the water grew unbearable, so she washed and dressed. It was truly amazing how one little action, such as taking a bath, could boost her confidence and determination.
Garrett squatted by a fire built in a small pit made with large rocks. She neared, and he stood to wipe his hands on his pants. “I figured you would want to burn the dirty laundry. I can send for another pair of clothes, since you only brought the two pairs.”
Beth peered down at the pile of soiled cloth, wrapped in her long-john underwear—the only article of clothing that was even remotely clean. Garrett’s jacket she held with two fingers. “I’ve ruined your coat. I’ll buy you a new one when we get into town. I promise.”
“Burn that when the fire gets hot enough. You can have this one.” He took off his last coat and waited for her to toss the pile down on the ground, and then he wrapped the jacket around her shoulders.
“Thank you.” She smiled. She wasn’t used to the small considerations. If she were here with Simon, he’d simply let her suffer in her one set of clothes. It was nice to be taken care of in the little ways. Simon had always charged in and beat the tar out of anyone who threatened her, but he never thought of the little things in life. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
He tipped one side of his mouth up in a half grin, yanked a deteriorated log near the fire, and sat. “I’m sorry things aren’t going as well as you’d like. There’s a lot about this summer that is unusual, to say the least.”
“Like what?” The tone in his voice made her heart melt with the need to make whatever troubles he had disappear, and she’d been one of those troubles since she’d come.
He tossed a small stick into the fire and shook his head. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“I find talking out my problems helps me deal with them.”
He gave a crooked smile. “All right, but you’ve got to swear not to tell a soul. At least until I figure out who’s behind it, and what to do.”
“I swear,” she promised.
“There’s a bounty of sorts out for the log drive this summer.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve some inside information that some of the other mills have offered to pay a thousand dollars to anyone willing to stop the log drive. It seems there is at least one person in the camps willing to do just that.” He tipped his head toward her. “And the information you gave me at Mother Goose’s Cottage confirmed everything we’ve been told.”
“Who else has told you about the plot?”
“A man named Jessip from the Bonner crew approached us, but I don’t think it was him. He’s the one who let us know about the deal in the first place. I’ve a feeling that whoever’s behind the mishap is about to do something drastic; something that could have dire repercussions on the company, or even kill one of the loggers. Even the slightest misstep up here could lead to utter disaster. A huge incident could have catastrophic consequences.”
“You’re certain Jessip hasn’t been causing the accidents?” If she could get near the man, hear him talk, maybe this whole mess would be over. Maybe she could go home. But then she wouldn’t be able to wake every morning and see Garrett. The man who had stolen her heart with a kiss, and then grown distant the moment Victoria had slithered into camp.
“As certain as I am that you look quite endearing with your hair spiked like that.” He didn’t make eye contact with her when he spoke, but kept his gaze on the dirt between his feet. Thank goodness. Her cheeks flamed with a heat as hot as the fire in the pit, and her heartbeat doubled in speed.
“So he’s already almost killed someone with the widowmaker?” she asked.
“The widowmaker was an accident. The boom logs, now those were intentional.”
“How can I help? If I can do anything to expose the traitor, I will. I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“You’re a rare woman.” He spread his legs out in front of him and relaxed against an old tree branch that jutted out the top of the log, but the vein at the base of his neck pulsed frantically. “What can you tell me about the man you saw on the platform?”
Beth circled the fire and sat next to him on the part of the weathered log that wouldn’t cave under her weight. Did he still have feelings for her, or was he nervous to be alone with a woman who wasn’t his fiancée? More likely the latter. If she were engaged, she’d not want to be put in a difficult situation like the one she just put Garrett in by allowing the men to best her at the outhouse.
Stop it, Beth, she mentally chided herself. Chances are he was anxious to get the traitor, and it had nothing to do with her. She shook her head to clear it. “His voice wasn’t deep, but not high pitched either. He had a very slight accent, but only on certain words. Like he was from the North.”
“A lot of the men are from the North.”
“Far North.” She pinched a blade of grass between her fingers and began to tear it apart. “Sorry I can’t tell you more.”
“And his features?”
“It’s difficult to say.” Because I didn’t see him. She left that last part out. What if Garrett knew she didn’t actually know what the man looked like? He’d put a stop to it all and
send her packing. She had to play along with her lie or risk everything she’d worked for. Only problem was, she hated lying to him.
Garrett ran his hands through his hair, and then dropped them to his lap. “You may remember something else later. We’ll keep an ear out. If I hear someone that has a voice with a deep timbre and a northern accent, I’ll let you know.”
“A medium timbre,” she corrected, but uncertainty niggled in the back of her mind. Did she still remember the voice? She thought she’d never forget, but now she didn’t know. How long could she pretend to have seen the man before Garrett realizes she’s only telling half of the truth?
“Right.” He nodded, curtly. “A medium timbre. If I remember anyone matching that voice description, we’ll go have a casual conversation with him, and you can see if he is the one you saw.”
He doesn’t believe me. She fought the need to bite her lip. “What do we do after we identify him?”
“We do nothing. You go home. I will take care of it from there. I don’t want you getting any more involved than necessary. I wouldn’t be letting you dig your pretty little nose this far in if we had any other options.”
“You think my nose is pretty?” She touched the tip of her nose with her middle finger. Never before had a man complimented her nose. Such an odd feature to praise, but flattering, nonetheless.
His answer was a blush that made his tanned skin color. She recognized the feeling. It mimicked her own. Although he’d fought her coming, he’d let her in. Accepted her as much as he could into his world, and kissed her. A kiss she would never forget. Would he do it again?
“I know how difficult it is for you to let me help.” She tossed her soiled clothes into the fire. The fabric sizzled, and the flames licked at the material until black holes burned through the middle and spread. “You’re used to being the one to carry the burden of others, aren’t you? Have you always been so protective?”
White Water Passion Page 12
