Tears began to fall down her cheeks. She never cried, fancied herself above such a weak emotion, but this moment warranted the action.
“My clothes,” she said the words aloud to no one but herself. As if saying it would bring them back. She slid back into the water until it covered her breasts, and let her tears mix with the river water, and the crunch of vegetation sounded from the trail Wall had brought her down.
“Victoria,” he called from behind the brush and trees hiding the bathing hole.
As fast as she could, she crossed her legs and covered her breasts with her arms.
“Don’t come any closer.” She knew her voice shook with her tears, but she couldn’t hide the tremor.
“What’s wrong? I heard you yell.”
“My clothes went down the river.” Although she cried, she managed to say the last with enough anger to overcome the weakness.
Silence sounded louder than anything Wall could have said, but she waited for his response. After a moment, he spoke, his voice now tinged with both humor and concern. “Are they retrievable?”
“No. They’re gone.”
She heard a chuckle, followed by, “Hold on. I’ll fetch you some of my clothes. I have to warn you, though, I was going to do laundry today so the only thing I have is filthy cowboy trousers, but I think I have a clean shirt.”
“How filthy?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I suppose not. I don’t really have a choice. It’s either wear your filthy cowboy clothes, or go naked.”
“Stay in the water. I’ll lay the clothes in the thicket over here by your boots.”
“Thank you,” she said the words in a weak voice.
A few minutes later she heard the now familiar crunch of Wall’s boots on the pine needle riddled ground. “Give me a minute to get down the path. I’ll stand guard to make certain none of the men come up.”
“Again, thank you.”
She stayed until his footsteps receded, and then waded out to where he’d laid the clothes. To his credit, on top of the pile sat a threadbare towel, but the consideration was more than she could take. She broke down in tears once more as she dressed in the overly large shirt and pants, and then slipped on her boots.
Struggling to keep the shirt closed, and pants up, she straggled down the path like a child trying on their parents’ clothes. Tears still streaming down her face when Wall came into view.
He laughed. The blasted man.
“Stop right there,” he ordered, and took off toward the night’s camp. A minute later he returned with a line of rope and approached her as he smoothed the lanyard out in his hands. “We’ll make a belt. Figure out how to keep this up.”
“I can’t show up at the mill like this. I’ll be ruined.” She cried.
He laughed.
“You were never even on this trip. So I don’t see why you would be ruined.”
She swiped at her tears with the sleeve of the overly large blue cotton shirt she wore. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ll talk to the men. You talk to Paul. We’ll smuggle you in at night, and no one will know you were even here. My men won’t say anything. We may be hardened rivermen, and I may be a filthy cowboy, but we’re the most trustworthy bunch of roughnecks you’ll ever find in Montana. As long as you can trust Paul, your reputation will be safe. I promise.”
“I can trust Paul with my life,” she said, her spirits boosted.
Wall took her hand and towed her toward the camp. “Come on, let’s go give the men a good laugh at your expense. In a few hours, you’ll be laughing too, I promise.”
She doubted she’d ever laugh at this nightmare of a bath, but Wall’s easy attitude toward her situation lent a sort of calm to the moment. Plus, his scent drifted on the breeze to tickle her nose, and she took a deep breath to clear the emotion from her chest. She would get through this, follow Wall’s guidance, and come out on top. She always did.
* * * *
Wall didn’t bother to hold back his chuckle as Victoria picked at the stain on the trousers she wore while Wall slid a large branch into the small stream to redirect the flow back to the main river. To give Victoria credit, she’d worn the dang things without complaint ever since the day before. As he’d promised her, his men swore not to tell a soul she was even on the river run with them. And they would keep their word.
Truth be told, he felt bad that he didn’t have a cleaner pair of pants to give her. He wasn’t as uncaring as she believed all cowboys to be.
“This area seems familiar,” she said, and wandered around the clearing.
Wall searched the banks. “Downstream is where we usually have a major blockage. Up the trail about a quarter of a mile is The Thirsty Woodsman. I believe we camped here last year. Although with the back flow the banks were a bit flooded then.”
“Yes, I remember.” She picked up a long stick and tossed it onto his growing pile, only to have it catch the water and flow downstream. Wall pinched his lips to hold back a smile and shoved another branch onto his man-made dam. Victoria frowned at the stick. “How long until we sneak me back into my house by the mill?”
Wall stood tall and studied the river, although he didn’t need to. He knew the float better than he knew his bedroom back home. “Without a load to take we can make it by tomorrow night. You’ll be sleeping in your feathered bed in no time, princess.”
“How many princesses do you know who wear men’s britches covered in what I hope is moss and not cow dung.”
Wall stepped next to her, hoping to knock her slightly off balance by standing closer than was necessary, just to tease her. “I’m a filthy cowboy. You’ve said it yourself. What do you think it is?”
She slowly lifted her gaze from his chest to catch his eyes. To his delight she wasn’t breathless like she’d been in days past, but her eyes shined with challenge, but not the hateful kind. The kind that might get them both in trouble. The kind of fire he liked to see in a woman’s eyes.
“If you tell anyone I masqueraded around here dressed like this I will fire you, and then find whatever poor farmer it is who employs you in the winter, and force him to fire you as well.”
“My father employs me in the winter. I doubt he will oblige you since he’s always trying to get me to stay home.” Wall stepped back, but kept his smug grin plastered on his face. “I’m surprised you don’t know that. Aren’t you the one who hired me?”
“No. My father was. And I know you work on a ranch, but I like teasing you. I haven’t been privy to company business until I started to take over, and I haven’t gone through all of our employee’s records as of yet, but I intend to when we get back.”
“You definitely should. You might find some useful information in there.”
“Like the fact that you’re actually educated, and that’s why you can design ingenious contraptions to revolutionize Montana logging?”
“Nope. I was taught by my mother at home so I could help my pa and pappy on the ranch.”
“Too bad. I could use an educated man at the mill.”
Wall plucked the top off a dried-out asparagus vine from last year, and tossed it down onto the ground. “You hold a lot of stock in education, don’t you?”
“An educated man can go far in this world.”
“Whereas we filthy cowboys can only go as far as the barn?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you think it.”
She didn’t respond, so he picked up the last branch he’d cut for the dam, and shoved it hard into the creek, and turned away from Victoria just as Luther came stumbling from the trail leading to The Thirsty Woodsman, clearly soaked. Wall sniffed. Cheap whisky, by the smell of it.
“What are you doing here?” Victoria asked, placing her hands on her hips, but ducking behind him before Luther could spot her attire.<
br />
“Good to see you too, sister dear.” Luther stumbled, but caught himself before he fell. “Got the dams open, I see.”
“What do you know about it?” Wall blocked Victoria even more from Luther’s sight as he glared maliciously at her.
“Oh, it was me, of course.” Luther laughed. “Hadn’t planned on you coming down the river before the drive, but you’re all-knowing, ain’t you, Wallace.” Luther fell against Wall’s chest. “Wallace Adair, smartest jackass in Montana. Not so smart, though, are you?”
“You’re soaked, Luther. Go back to The Thirsty Woodsmen and get one of their cabins. Sleep it off.”
Luther stood, yanked a stick of dynamite from his back pocket, and handed it to Wall. “You’re right. I’ve got to get to town. Got a big court date.”
Wall clenched the delicate explosive in one hand, and spun Luther around with the other. “Best get a cup of coffee on your way out.”
“Don’t you know why you aren’t the smartest jackass?” Luther stepped around him as though he had a solid foot about him and stopped directly in front of Victoria. Dipping his head low until his nose came within inches of hers.
She glared.
The pride Wall felt for her gumption was outweighed by the focus he had on every twitch of Luther’s muscles. If the man so much as leaned toward her, he’d show him why the Devil May Cares called Wall a pugilist.
“Cause he ain’t even smart enough to figure out that were related, you and I.” Luther stumbled a step back, and Wall stepped closer, putting himself between Victoria and Luther once more.
Luther gave a drunk chuckle. In a dramatic tone, he said, “Sister mine. Gets everything while I get banned from Montana. You should be home being someone’s wife. That’s all women are good for anyway.” He reached his hands out to his side. “Well, I didn’t leave. I’m here. And I’m getting my half of the mill.”
“We are not related,” Victoria stated as if the man were daft.
“He’s drunk,” Wall said, and turned to try and usher Victoria toward the boat.
“I am. I am drunk, but I ain’t lying.” Luther began to saunter toward The Thirsty Woodsman, leaving his dynamite behind. “You’ll see.”
At that, he left.
Wall examined the explosive, once satisfied it was solid enough to store in their explosive box, he motioned for Victoria to follow him to the wannigan. “Don’t mind him. Drunk men ramble all sorts of things when they’ve had a few too many.”
“He seemed rather certain.” Victoria rubbed her arms while she walked, and her face grew pale.
“You can’t take anything a soaked man says seriously.”
Her dimples showed, but not with a smile, as she tensed her mouth. She pointed toward the explosives. “What do you think he was coming out to do with that?”
“Probably one last effort to delay us getting down the river.” Wall stuck the dynamite in the wooden box outside the cabin and took up his oar as Victoria did the same on her side. Ever since she’d started to float with them, the Devil May Cares had transferred the box of explosives they’d bought to redirect the water flow, to the bateau. “Let’s go find Dick and the boys, and give them this.”
On Victoria’s nod, Wall untied the wannigan and shoved them free of the bank, leaping on board to take up his oar. They rowed for half an hour before the bateau drifted into view with all three Devil May Care boys piled inside. Blue saw them and waved.
Once they drew close enough, Clint lifted something into the air. “Miz Victoria!” he called. “Found your skirt tangled in a willow downstream about half a mile. Thought you might want to see if you can save it.”
The bateau drifted close enough for Clint to reach out. Victoria dropped her oar next to her feet, and snatched up the skirt like a starving child to a piece of bread. Wall pulled in his oar and set it next to Victoria’s and watched her examine the piece.
“It’s not torn. Thankfully,” she said, and turned it over. “A bit dirty, but I can rinse most of this out right now, hang it to dry, and be wearing it by sundown. I won’t have to sneak into the mill yard in the middle of the night like some thief.”
Wall picked up his oar and dipped it in the water to steady them as they began to turn. “Go ahead. I’ll wait while you wash it.” She rushed to the edge, and he grabbed the dynamite and then turned toward the bateau to hand it to Dick. “Did you boys find anymore blockages?”
“Nah,” Dick answered. “Seems to have stopped. We were planning on riding for another few hours and then stopping for the night. Getting to the mill tomorrow by noon. Maybe there will be a train we can catch to get back up the mountain and get this load down before the river runs dry.”
Wall nodded and searched the mountain peaks, almost shed of their yearly snowcaps. The lifeline to the spring runoff and log drives. “I say we get to town and turn around and take whatever logs are lakeside down within a day.”
“Sounds good to me,” Victoria said from behind him. He turned as she rang out her skirt, and hung it over a beam jutting from the corner of the crude cabin.
“We’ll see you at camp then.” Dick lifted his head in goodbye, and pushed the bateau away from their boat.
Lighter, the smaller vessel took the water at a faster speed than the wannigan, leaving Victoria and Wall once again alone. The memory of Luther standing threateningly over her tore a hole through his insides. He couldn’t let the blowhard get close to Victoria again. He’d been close to beating the man, and in his inebriated state, Wall would have had an easy time blundering him to death if he so wished. Which at that moment, he’d wanted nothing more. Victoria, in all her charming yet dangerous state, ensnared his attention to an alarming degree.
She would end up hating him once she learned who he really was, and that his father wasn’t the penniless farmer she believed him to be.
Chapter 6
Victoria stomped up the steps to the mill. They’d been back for over an hour and the only thing she’d managed to do was bathe and change into one of her fancy, uncomfortable dresses. She needed to speak to Paul, and then check on the operations.
One question that niggled at the back of her mind since they tied the wannigan to the dock was why hadn’t the train moved? The same logging train that had been in the yards when she left, still remained in the same spot when she returned. Not a good sign.
She let her heels click loudly down the hallway as she walked, hoping the sound would do its job and alert Paul to her presence, and she wasn’t disappointed. He peeked his head out of his office.
“Ah, you’re back,” he said as she entered, and shut the door. “I was beginning to worry that I’d have to send a search party up the river for you.”
“We had some issues.” She sat on his couch, perched at the edge as was the only position her corset would allow. “Let’s just say I learned how to set dynamite to change a river flow.”
Paul frowned and adjusted in his seat. The springs beneath his chair squeaked at the movement, lending to the tense moment. “That bad?”
“There’s enough water to do one drive down soon, but Luther had blocked the flow down the main river.”
“Luther?” Paul eased his shoulders, and the lines on his face turned back into their usual wrinkles. “He shucked outta here last year.”
“He hasn’t. And what do you know about his claim that he is my brother?”
Paul remained silent. His face like stone.
Victoria’s heart began to beat faster, and she had to force back the panic that bubbled deep within her chest. Paul always avoided topics where he had to tell the truth when he didn’t want to.
“Tell me,” she said the words in the most authoritative voice she could manage. She had no time for ridiculous secrets. “He’s threatened the mill and I need to know how to fight him. Does he, or does he not have a claim on the mill?”
“He
does not.”
Relief moved through her, starting at her fingertips and spreading through her chest, and then slid all the way to her toes. It lasted only a second.
“He is, however, your half-brother. A family skeleton, if you will.”
“What?”
Victoria stared at the polished knot on the wood floor plank. All but that spot grew blurry. Paul had never lied to her before. He’d left truths out, avoided them if he didn’t want her to know, but never lied. If he said Luther was her brother, then chances were, it was true. But how?
She glanced up into his face, questioning him with a simple look.
Paul shook his head. “It’s not my story to tell. You need to contact your mother and father. Maybe ask them to come home.”
All she could manage to say as she stared at the floor again was, “Yes.”
“And, Vicki,” Paul said, drawing her attention once more. “The lawyer left something on your desk. He waited here for three days for you, but you didn’t show on time, so he had to leave.”
A tingle started in Victoria’s chest as she stood and, without another word, walked into her office. She closed the door behind her, and settled in her chair, picking up the paper with the mill lawyers familiar scroll across the front. She ran a critical eye over the contents as a knock sounded.
“Enter,” she called out.
Wall slipped into her office and then shut the door, enclosing them in privacy. She held up the paper. “From my lawyer. Apparently, Luther is fighting for half of the mill, and the courts have given me a month to get the logs down the rivers and to the mill, otherwise they will stop the drive and confiscate the wood.”
“How do they plan to do that?”
“I have no idea, but now I have to go fight a brother I never knew I had apparently.”
“So it’s true?”
Victoria gave a curt nod. “Yes. Paul confirmed it, although he won’t tell me the whole of it.” She stood and started to pace in front of the large window overlooking the mill yard. How did she feel about it all? She’d always wanted a brother or sister, but not like this. Not one who shows up only to take everything she’s worked for from her the moment she got it.
Fiery Passion Page 8
