But he didn’t dare push his luck further.
The feel of her soft hair in his fingers imprinted on his senses. What did her lips taste like? He had to find out. Someday. But not now, and not here.
He cleared his throat, and her hand fluttered to smooth the curl he’d touched, and then rested on her necklace. Wall took a wider stance, and tried to hide the smile he couldn’t help but give. She was affected by his touch. At least as much as he was. He rattled her.
“Don’t do that again,” she said.
“Do what?” he asked and, just for fun, tugged on the curl once more.
He leaned down until her lips were mere inches from his. “I’ll see you in two days.”
Before she could form the words needed to fire him, he turned and walked out of the railcar, taking the stairs with a smug grin plastered on his face, but inside he reeled.
He couldn’t afford the disturbance she created. Not up here anyway. If something was going to happen, he needed to have a clear mind and strong arm to deal with the issue. The damn woman made him weak.
Chapter 4
“I can handle it.” Victoria paced before her father in her own office, and he sat behind her desk. “You promised Mother you’d take her to see her sister in Seattle. That’s what you’re going to do.”
“Are you certain? I don’t want to leave you if you’re not comfortable with running the mill.”
“I’ll be fine. I have Paul, Garrett, and even Wall Adair to help me out. You promised Mother years ago you’d take her to Washington, and now you have no excuses.”
“Good, good.” Her father stood and walked to the door. He placed his hand on the knob, but then stopped and turned back to her. “Wire me if you need anything. I’ll be on the first train home.”
“I will. We will be fine, though.” She said the words, but her heart tightened and the food she’d eaten that morning settled hard in her stomach. She didn’t tell her father of the man who’d died at the camp, or talk further of her concerns regarding Nichols. If she couldn’t handle this on her own when her father had done so many years past, she wasn’t fit to run the mill. Plus, she had Paul.
And Wall.
Although he was a rough cowboy, he did make her feel at ease whenever he was near. Helped her to focus and she took strength from his warm presence.
The memory of how he’d touched her hair caused her stomach to flip the way it had at that moment. Men often bounced her curls when charming her, but with Wall, it was different. She didn’t know if it was the feel of the gentle tug on her scalp, or the heat from the back of his hand that had shot straight to her lower stomach, but she’d struggled like a fool to take in air. He was a dirty cowboy. He shouldn’t affect her this much.
It was an odd feeling. Like standing on the back end of a caboose, with nothing between her and the harsh ground but a thin metal rail, as the train chugged up an exceptionally steep hill.
“Don’t worry about the season. I’ve experienced this before. There’s a pattern to these things, you know. One bad year, followed by two good ones. That’s why I’m fine leaving you this year. Last year was as bad as any I’ve seen, and you’ve got a solid plan and Garrett’s trains. This is set to be a bang-up year. I’ll give your mother your goodbyes,” her father said, bringing her out of her reverie.
Victoria nodded, and checked the clock as her father walked out. She needed to get going. Wall was due to be at the bridge late this afternoon, and she had to be there to speak with him. Assess the rivers and future of her log drives for the year.
Like most days at the mill, she’d left her corset and bustle at home, opting for more practical attire for riding up the mountain. Outside her window, a noise caught her attention, and she drifted to view the layout below.
At the tracks, her father boarded his railcar while a worker pulled a wagon up in front of the main mill building. Paul stepped near the horses, and held them steady as the man set the break and leapt down.
She snatched up her jacket and buttoned it, peering one last time at her reflection. Although not her everyday attire, she enjoyed wearing her split riding skirt more than the other gowns she owned. For the sheer simplicity, comfort, and ease of wear.
Outside, she stomped right to the awaiting wagon, holding a new-style bateau she’d discovered over the winter, as well as a few supplies for the rivermen. She mounted. With logging near the water and the railroad, they could get twice the load down to the mill. And twice the load meant new men and equipment. At least she could have the men test out the boat before she sent it up to the camp.
But first, they needed to see if the rivers were even high enough to take a log drive down. Blast! It seems even the earth was waiting for her to fail.
Today she’d let Paul drive without argument. Mostly because she had no idea where she was going. She knew the road leading up to the bridge was just outside the gates, but after that she was lost. Paul knew where to go, though.
He mounted and set the horses in motion.
“Is there any news about the man who died? Have you identified him?” Victoria held her breath, hoping it wasn’t one of the new men she’d taken on. Not that she wanted it to be a homeboy, but the guilt she’d harbor at having a man die in her camps on the very day he began to work would be too much. What would she tell his family?
“I received word this morning.” Paul maneuvered the wagon down the road leading up the mountain.
“And?” she prompted.
He shook his head. “His name was Brewer. He was a surveyor from the Montana Territorial office in Helena.”
“What?” Her fingers grew numb. A government man, dead on her property, could do nothing but bring her trouble.
“The man was up there assessing the property and operation.”
“What sort of assessment was he performing?”
“My guess? He was trying to find fault with the operation.”
“What sort of fault? My father led me to believe we ran a clean logging camp up here.”
“Aye, we do.”
“But?”
“After last year’s problems, we left a lot of debris up there.”
“Why should that be an issue? It all goes back into the earth anyway.”
“The government doesn’t see it that way. They believe leaving the dead branches behind increases the chance of a forest fire.”
“And what do you think?” Victoria pursed her lips together. The government was beginning to meddle to a disturbing degree. There was no way the man’s appearance in her camp right after the governor showed up was a coincidence. Was there?
“I think it’ll cost us a few months’ pay to get it cleaned up to their satisfaction, and after all of those new hires and equipment you’ve been purchasing lately, we don’t have the money to spend on cleaning it up.”
“You thought the new railroad logging was as good of an idea as I did, if I recall correctly. Is the government going to become a bigger problem now that their man has died in my camp?”
“It’s a fair chance. They’re going to want to put Great Mountain under fierce scrutiny. If they can find any reason to shut us down, they will.”
“And do you believe the man’s death was an accident, or was he murdered?”
Paul shot her a silent look, and then snapped the reins to get the horses to speed up a hill. “I think your father should have stayed behind.”
“You don’t think I can take care of the company like my father? Why? Because I expanded with the railroad? Why didn’t you say something to him?”
“That ain’t it, Miz Victoria. Your father’s been through trials and lawyer battles before. He’s better equipped to handle the legal aspect of it all, and I did tell him. He doesn’t think there’s any threat, and your mother is determined to go on vacation.”
“Well, I’ve got to learn sometime. Baptism
by fire is the fastest way to become proficient, I suppose.” Victoria placed a hand over her hat to keep it secured as a breeze mingled with the wind from the wagon’s motion. “And I have you.”
She smiled, hoping to ease the wrinkle in his forehead with compliments.
It worked, for he returned the grin. “I’ll help you out, Miz Victoria, don’t worry about that.”
“Thank you,” she said to the older man who’d become like an uncle to her over the years. Although he wasn’t connected to them by blood, he had been with Great Mountain since the beginning. She’d grown up watching Paul work next to her father, and keep the mill running. He was family. Great Mountain family.
A few hours later, Paul stopped the wagon on a small bridge and set the break. In the river below, Wall and his men stood from where they lounged, waiting, in the grass next to the river.
Wall dusted his pants with his hands as he walked up the steep incline to draw near the wagon. “What’s this?”
“I’ve brought you a surprise,” she said, and stepped off the wagon. Before she could put so much as a foot on the edge, Wall stood next to her and lifted her down.
Like before, her breath hitched and the air in the mountain grew even thinner. His strong hands heated her side where they touched and all she could do was focus on his eyes until he stepped back to admire the boat.
He motioned for his men to assist him, and then yanked on the boat as the other three Devil May Care boys took up positions next to him. They heaved the bateau out, and the Devil May Cares carried it to the water.
“How’s the river?”
Wall shook his head as Paul walked down following the Devil May Cares.
“We’ve had to blast a few forks.” It didn’t escape her notice when he rubbed his hand along his pant leg. A sign she’d seen him give before when nervous.
“But you’re worried.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“The river closer to the mill tends to have more rapids than up here. We’re probably going to have to blast almost every fork to divert the water enough for a drive.”
“A drive.”
“Yep. One drive. I don’t see us making more than one trip down this year.”
Victoria began to take the small trail beside the bridge, leading to the river banks.
Below, she found Dick, Clint, and Blue standing next to Paul.
She caught Blue’s eyes and motioned toward the supply crate. “Would you two mind grabbing the supply crates and loading them into the wannigan before Paul leaves?”
“Paul leaves?” Wall asked, his brows drawn together in confusion.
“Yes. I will be accompanying you the rest of the way down the river.”
“That’s not a good idea, Miz Victoria,” Paul said, walking up to her as the Devil May Cares did her bidding.
“I need to assess the rivers. You can handle the situation we discussed on the way here until I return in a few days, can’t you?”
“Yes, but the rivers are low. It’s no place for a lady,” Paul argued.
“I have to agree.” Wall stepped closer to her, dipped his head, and caught her attention. “I can report to you once we get back.”
Victoria stepped onto the wannigan. “No need. I will be here. I rode the river last year, I know what to expect.” She peeked into the small cabin on the rough raft. “However, I will be taking the cabin at night.”
“We’ll be fine near a fire,” Wall said. “But that’s not the point. You’re not prepared for a float.” He motioned toward her clothes.
“I appreciate the concern, but I can assure you, I am not worried about the details. We brought food enough for all of us, and that’s all that matters on the subject. Paul will take the wagon down and meet us at the mill at the end of the week.”
“What about your reputation, Miz Victoria?” The muscles on Paul’s face remained tense.
“My reputation will be fine. I am the boss of these men, and I wish to see for myself the difficulties we will have in bringing down a drive.”
Dick and Blue struggled down the small hill, and stowed the boxes in the wannigan.
“But, Miz Victoria—” Wall started, until she held up her hand.
“It’s decided.” She turned to climb into the wannigan. “Now if you will, gentlemen, we really should get going before we’re forced to camp here for the night.”
Paul grumbled, but Victoria ignored him until he climbed the hill by himself, and left in the wagon. She turned to Wall and the two Devil May Care boys. “Well, shall we?”
Dick, Clint, and Blue climbed into the new bateau, and shoved off as Wall stepped up beside her. The raft shook under his weight. “I don’t like this one bit.”
“Luckily for me, it’s not your call.”
“Victoria,” he said her name in warning.
“I’ll be fine, and so will my reputation. But my company won’t be unless we get a substantial amount of logs to the mill this season.” She took up an oar and shoved at the bottom of the river to dislodge them from the bank. Wall did the same, and the boat eased into the water. “Besides you’ll be here to protect me. Isn’t that what you swore to do?”
“Yes.” He guided the boat in the center of the river. More to himself he mumbled, “I feel as though you’re taking advantage of my protective oath.”
She smiled. Even she thought she was taking his offer to assist her a little far. But it was nice to have him with her. To be taken care of by someone, and have them guide you simply by standing next to you. It was nice to have a man there as she took on the world. Especially a rough, but quite capable cowboy like Wallace Adair.
* * * *
Wall studied Victoria as she dipped the long wannigan oar into the river in the most pitiful way. He laughed and stepped close to her on the raft, reaching around to grasp the handle above her hands to show her the proper way to work the current.
A mistake.
The scent of her hair made him dizzy with the need to throw down his oar and let the current carry the wannigan until they were far away from the rest of the world. But that’s not how the river worked. Not how he and Victoria worked.
“I’ve done this before, I swear,” Victoria said, taking him out of his ridiculous thoughts, but her voice lacked the definitive bravado she usually sported.
“I believe you.” He smiled in reassurance and stepped back as she picked up the rhythm of the river. Needing the distance. He took his position once more on the other side of the boat as they began to turn due to the lack of work on his side. He snuck a peek at her split skirt and conservative blouse. Odd how it seemed to suit her more than the tight stylish dresses she typically wore. “You’re dressed for a ride, I see.”
“Last year I positively died in all of those fancy dresses when I floated the river with Aunt June.” She dropped one hand from the handle and plucked at the side of her split skirt, only to grab the oar with two hands again when it began to jerk. “This is a much more practical attire for anything adventurous.”
“So you met us at the bridge knowing you were going to ride the river? And here I thought it was a spur of the moment decision.”
“I had an inkling.” She twisted her mouth in a suppressed smile. “Had hoped, I suppose. I quite enjoy riding in the wannigan. And knowing what is going on with my river drive is the perfect reason to indulge in my wildest desires.”
Wall cleared his throat at the words, but the action was blessedly drowned out by the roar of a small rapid up ahead. Although Victoria had intended the remark to be completely innocent, truth was the woman caused his thoughts to run in all sorts of directions with the simplest of remarks. No woman had ever caused his thoughts to wander so much. He prided himself in his ability to remain focused and unaffected by distractions.
Victoria distracted him to an uncomfortable degree. Espec
ially when dressed down as though she fit into his world. Which she didn’t. Would never. Not with her—oh so vocalized—aversion to cowboys. He didn’t like the fiery woman, so why did his mind keep wandering to her blasted clothes?
The wannigan came to the rapids and Victoria stiffened and adjusted her stance for the ride, and he did the same. It lasted a few exhilarating seconds before they slowed into an eddy and Wall relaxed and stood straight, focusing once more on the woman who seemed to capture every thought he possessed lately.
She smiled.
Not her forced social smile, and not even the few genuine grins he’d seen her give over the last few days, but this one brightened her eyes and mixed with the pink dust of exertion to color her skin and accentuate her dimples. This was genuine, but not for anyone but herself. How often had she smiled for no one but herself?
Not very often, guessing from the tense way he’d always seen her.
“Who’s that?” Victoria’s voice brought his mind off her smile and back to the moment.
He turned to where she pointed as a man on horseback walked along the river, following the riverman’s trail down the bank. The path they walked every year to follow the river drive. Wall shook his head. “He’s too far away to see his face clearly, but he seems familiar.”
“Yes, he does.” Victoria squinted and kept her eyes fixed on him until he turned and disappeared on a trail leading into the trees.
“Maybe a local man? There’s a few houses sprinkled between the camp and The Thirsty Woodsman.”
“Perhaps,” Victoria said, but her voice proved she didn’t fully trust his suggestion, and truth be told, neither did he. There was something about the man that seemed off. Victoria turned once more to rowing, and then glanced back up to catch his eye. “What do you think about the man who got hit by the widowmaker? Do you think it was an accident?”
“I can’t be certain,” Wall admitted. “The cut was clean, and I think the branch looked a bit too fresh to have been hanging up there in the trees, waiting for the right moment to fall and kill someone.”
Fiery Passion Page 6
