The Lumberjacks' Ball (The Christy Lumber Camp Series Book 2)

by Carrie Fancett Pagels

  Leaning over the boat railing, her auburn hair blowing in the breeze, Jo pointed. “Look!”

  Tom pulled her back.

  “I see Moose, and he’s with some lady right near the shop.”

  Rebecca squinted as the boat sliced through the water, heading for the dock. “The librarian, I believe.”

  Garrett kissed her forehead. “Juliana and Moose will tell us what happened.”

  “Yes.” Her voice emerged as the barest of whispers.

  Docking was a slow, interminable affair, and Rebecca could do nothing but stare with horror at the ruins of her store.

  “It’ll be all right.” Garrett pulled her close. And somehow, with him next to her, she was sure all would be well.

  “Yes,” she murmured and wiped tears from her eyes.

  “Listen, when we get off I want you to let me handle this.” He rubbed a sore spot between her shoulder blades. “I got a bad feeling Peevey might be involved, and if he’s anywhere around, I don’t want him near you.”

  A cold chill shot through her as the boat bumped against the dock. Passengers moved toward where the gangplank would allow them to exit, once it was set in place.

  Jo’s lilac scent carried as she leaned in and kissed Rebecca’s cheek. “There’s always hope, my future sister. If I’ve learned anything in this life, it’s to never give up. Believe that God will help.”

  Garrett released her. “My only hope is in God, not my fists anymore. But I’m prepared to keep Rebecca safe if her attacker caused this fire.”

  Shaking, Rebecca clung to his hand as Jo placed her arm around her. Her legs went weak.

  On shore, a nun waved at them—Sister Mary Lou, gripping a large black pouch in her other hand.

  As they hurried to disembark, Rebecca spotted Mrs. Jeffries and Charlie in the crowd. Tom turned to Jo as they stepped onto the dock. “Let me run to my mother and see what she knows.”

  The ash and smoke in the air caused most people to fish for handkerchiefs and cover their noses. Rebecca and Jo began to cough. A light breeze stirred and as they moved down the walkway, the odor began to dissipate inland. Wisps of smoke clung to the tall pines that hugged the shoreline beyond town.

  ***

  Certain that Rebecca would remain behind his back, and protected, Garrett crossed the street with her trailing him. A deputy was speaking with the librarian and Moose, who sported the beginnings of a shiner on his left eye. What in tarnation?

  “Hello, sir, this is Miss Hart, the proprietress of the store.” Garrett gestured to Rebecca and then offered his hand.

  The deputy didn’t shake his hand. Instead, he nodded at Rebecca. “Good thing you weren’t here, miss.”

  Seated on a nearby bench, Juliana was covered in ash and her hands were red, possibly burned.

  Rebecca went to the young woman. “You need to get your hands into cold water right away.”

  “Don’t be rubbing butter in those burns,” Garrett cautioned. Ma said such advice was the worst thing she’d seen for kitchen accidents. She always had her ladies press their hands into cool water.

  “We won’t,” Rebecca called over her shoulder.

  The librarian sobbed as Rebecca wrapped an arm around her waist and escorted her down the street to the barber shop, where there was sure to be plentiful water.

  “I’m Deputy Williams.” The officer pointed a stout finger at him. “Who are you, sir?”

  “Garrett Christy.”

  When the man quirked an eyebrow, Garrett added, “I’m Miss Hart’s fiancé.”

  “I see. Well, your fiancée is fortunate she wasn’t here or she’d likely be dead.”

  “Was it Myron Peevey?”

  After removing his hat, the sheriff’s deputy tucked it under his arm. “Don’t know the man’s name…”

  Moose strode over. “It was Peevey all right. He was in there waiting for Janie to come back.”

  “Janie?” Deputy Williams scratched his chin.

  “Miss Hart, that is Daggenhart—her full name is Rebecca Jane Daggenhart, soon to be Mrs. Christy.” Garrett’s mouth seemed to have acquired a steam-generated motor. “And Peevey tried to kill her downstate ten years back. Me and my brother, here, saved her from drowning.”

  The officer’s dark eyebrows pulled into one long line. “Slow down.”

  Moose passed a singed piece of rope to the policeman. “He tried to hang her a long time ago, officer. And he failed. I think he was planning on trying it, again.”

  Clenching his fists, Garrett wished he could strangle Peevey. If only the judge and the court hadn’t been controlled by the lumberman who the wretch worked for—then Peevey may have hung, or been kept in prison far longer.

  Firemen opened the mercantile’s doors, releasing an awful stench. All pressed wet rags to their faces. After a few minutes passed, they emerged empty-handed.

  The tallest fireman joined the deputy. “We think we got it all out, but we’re not moving the body.”

  “He’s dead?” Moose’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

  “Peevey?” Was Garrett wrong to wish it so?

  ***

  “Thank God you weren’t here, Rebecca.” Julia groaned as she continued to plunge her hands into the cold-water bath.

  “Yes, indeed, and I wish you hadn’t been.” Rebecca turned toward the barber. “Do you have any salve, Pete?”

  Mr. Anderson brought a small ceramic jar of pungent ointment to them, and Rebecca dried her friend’s hands with a fresh cotton towel and covered them with ointment. “I don’t think you’ll need gauze unless they blister.”

  “The brass doorknob was hot by the time I was able to get past that horrible man.” Juliana’s eyes widened. “I think he was looking for you. Kept saying he wanted the store owner, and I wasn’t Janie.”

  Her stomach threatened to heave its contents at the thought. God had kept her away.

  You obeyed.

  But she hadn’t wanted her friend hurt.

  Juliana winced in pain. “I thought he was insane.”

  “What on earth were you doing in the store?” Rebecca dried her hands and tried not to inhale the overpowering odor of the ointment.

  Juliana’s cheeks began to match her hands in redness. “I’m so ashamed. I wanted to see if Sister Mary Lou had brought my dress back for the dance.”

  Of course, the librarian could not possibly have suspected Peevey would be in there, but to think Juliana could have lost her life over a dress… Rebecca closed her eyes. Thank you, Lord, for keeping my friend safe.

  “I borrowed the key for the shop and went in. But I smelled something strong—like a lamp had spilled. So I quickly opened the armoire to see if my dress was hanging in there but it was empty—”

  “Empty?” Sister Mary Lou was to have placed them all there …

  “Yes, and I was so disappointed and I wasn’t paying attention until I heard this whoosh sound and heard and smelled smoke and fire.”

  “Oh my.” Rebecca pressed her hands to her stomach.

  “This man came flying at me from the back room and I stared at him. He clutched a hank of rope and looked like a mad man.” Juliana shuddered. “He stopped and said, ‘You’re not Janie.’”

  “He meant me—I used to go by that name as a child.” Rebecca’s shivers returned.

  “Heavens, he meant to kill you.” Juliana blinked back tears. “No, was all I could utter and then he began to scream, as though the hounds of hell had found him.”

  “Oh merciful Father.” Rebecca sank onto the stool adjacent to her friend.

  “Exactly. So I’m staring like a ninny as these balls of fire are coming at us and then the door opens and Mr. Christy rushes in and knocks the man to the floor and…” Tears poured down her friend’s cheeks.

  “What happened?”

  “That lunatic punched him in the eye and Richard punched him back. Then Richard tossed me over his shoulder and carried me out of there like I was a sack of potatoes!”

  Mr. Anderson drew closer.
“Providence, Miss Juliana, God’s watching over you both today.”

  She nodded. “After we got out, we heard that overhead beam fall.”

  Was Peevey dead? Was she wrong to wish it?

  16

  They all assembled in the inn’s parlor, which had been decorated in shades of cream, pink, and green—not exactly Garrett’s favorite colors.

  Moose hadn’t spoken since he’d returned from the lumber camp with the sheriff. And now, seated there with them, his younger brother determinedly twisted, pulled, and crushed his red cap until Jo finally went over to him and snatched it away.

  “Stop that or I’ll get my spoon out!”

  Garrett laughed. Leave it to his sister to break the tension in the room.

  Sheriff Edwards raised both hands, palms up. “I brought you together to review some facts before I send in my report. First off, I want you to all know I am glad for your cooperation. By working together, we know that the two deaths in the county were murders, not natural deaths. And we’re sure Peevey had motivation and did the killing.”

  Jo clasped her hands. “So, he killed that poor lumberjack living in the shack by the new camp?”

  “Yes, ma’am, he buried him in the woods nearby.”

  “Someone needs to notify his wife,” Moose muttered. The bruising around his eye, was building toward a spectacular shiner. But thank God his baby brother was otherwise unharmed.

  His sister shuddered and moved to Tom’s side. “Let’s sit down.”

  The two occupied the loveseat.

  Rebecca poured herself a cup of tea from the sideboard, her hands shaking. “And the locksmith, too?”

  Crooking a finger at his beloved, Garrett patted the seat beside him with his other hand and she joined him.

  “That’s right, miss. The doctor thought the marks on his body were mighty odd, but with him being elderly, he’d not thought overmuch about it. But from Peevey’s debris at the shack, we’ve found keys to about half the businesses in town, including your mercantile. We believe there was a struggle, and Peevey found a way to kill him but to make it look as though he’d died in his sleep.”

  Garrett rubbed his bristly chin, which was in bad need of a shave. He’d not taken Pa’s suggestion to stop at the barber’s for a shave, and there had been no time since. “So he thought he’d kill Rebecca and burn her mercantile down, too?”

  He felt a shudder pass through her and took hold of her hand.

  Sheriff Edwards slacked his hip. “He had a small sloop rented in the harbor, so apparently he thought he’d get away on that.”

  Cordelia paled. “He must have been waiting there in the back, expecting Miss Hart.”

  “Yes, ma’am, from Deputy Williams’s report and my own investigation, that appears so.” The Sheriff’s gaze touched on each of them. “Hard to believe one man could do so much harm so quickly, and him just out of prison.”

  “Thank God Rebecca wasn’t here.” Garrett squeezed her palm.

  “Yes.” She sighed and he leaned in to kiss her soft cheek. “I’m so sorry Juliana suffered those burns because of me, though.”

  “Miss Beauchamps had to work or she’d be here, Sheriff.” A strange expression passed over Moose’s face, one Garrett couldn’t quite decipher. Could it be his little brother had feelings for the librarian?

  “Yes, she sent me a note.” The sheriff cleared his throat. “According to the prison warden, the deceased Mr. Peevey had no surviving kin.”

  “No. His mother died when he was very young and his father was killed just before…”

  Garrett interrupted, “Before he tried to murder Janie, I mean Rebecca Jane here.”

  “Can’t believe he’s finally gotten his due.” Moose narrowed his eyes. “Nor can I reckon how someone could end up so evil.”

  Sheriff Edward shook his head. “I heard you two men rescued her from the AuSable. It was in the records they sent up. Seems like God must have wanted these two brothers to keep you safe, Miss Daggenhart.”

  Blinking up at Garrett, through tear-filled eyes, Rebecca smiled broadly—like she did when she was young. “Yes, I’d agree.”

  Although he was mightily tempted to kiss her full on the lips right then and there, Garrett resisted. Later.

  ****

  Two days since the fire and the terse telegram from her father left no doubt that Herschel Daggenhart valued money over his only daughter’s life. A dull ache settled in her chest as she reread the note. Rebecca handed it to Garrett to read and she slumped down into a mauve moire satin chair in the inn’s parlor.

  “I can’t believe any Christian man would send this message to anyone, much less his daughter, after what just happened.”

  “The bottom line was what this fire was going to cost him.”

  Garrett tapped the message against his thigh. “My pa was right about him—I hate to say it.”

  “Nothing so bracing as getting your worst fears about a person confirmed.” Rebecca motioned for him to sit next to her.

  He remained standing. “Makes me want to go down there and give that man a piece of my mind. Or a taste of my fists, if he wasn’t your father.”

  “Now, now.” She couldn’t help smiling, though, at Garrett’s desire to protect her and fight for her.

  The doorman knocked on the parlor door before sliding the pocket doors open. “Sister Mary Lou to see you.”

  “Oh, please send her in.” Rebecca rose as the nun entered the room.

  Garrett squeezed Rebecca’s shoulder as he left and smiled at their friend. “Sister, good to see you.”

  She nodded back at him as he slipped out, pulling the paneled doors closed. Absent her usual entourage of orphans, Sister Mary Lou came to Rebecca and pulled her into a quick embrace and kissed her on the cheek, wafting the scent of incense mixed with violets.

  “Please, have a seat.” Rebecca pointed to the floral divan.

  “Thank you, I think I will.” Pulling her habit’s skirts forward, she appeared to collapse onto the couch. “I wanted to tell you, in person, how very sorry I am about what happened.”

  “Thank you.” Rebecca sighed in relief. “I’m so grateful Juliana and Richard were spared. I’m so sorry that even at the end, Peevey wouldn’t give up his evil quest and perished because of it.”

  “God gives us free will, my dear.” She slipped her hands into the folds of her black garment.

  The grandfather clock behind them chimed the hour.

  “I don’t have a lot of time to chat. But I wanted to tell you that I have all of the dresses back at the convent.”

  “You do? Thank God. I thought you must because of what Juliana said, but I wasn’t sure.”

  “Yes, I do…but Father Paul is insisting that I move them out—I’d told him, as I promised you, that they’d be gone days ago.”

  “I see but, again, thank divine Providence they weren’t returned.” How terrible that would have been for her and for the community.

  “Yes.” A smile brightened her solemn face. “And the young ladies who’ll attend the Lumberjacks’ Ball will be relieved.”

  “Yes. And maybe the men?”

  She laughed. “I think our librarian, especially.”

  “According to Garrett, his brother has finally gotten the sense to invite her. That’s the one good thing that has come from this awful event.”

  A smile tugged at the nun’s lips. “I wouldn’t count on that being the only blessing God shall bring from this evil.” She pulled a black pouch from the voluminous folds of her black habit. “I have a third of the money here for the fabric and notions for the fund raiser. People who knew about the loan were anxious to help out by purchasing ahead.”

  Rebecca rubbed the back of her neck, easing some of the tension there. With the money from the dresses, Rebecca could recoup some of her losses, too. She’d need to reimburse Sister Mary Lou for her labor or credit the work against her bill.

  “I fully intend to recompense you for the rest of our loan.”

&
nbsp; “Thank you, Sister Mary Lou. My father will be relieved.”

  “Your father must be counting his blessings that you were unharmed.”

  Did he? Had her father ever been grateful she’d been spared? Had he ever taken into account what she enjoyed or wished to do with her life?

  Cordelia Jeffries popped her head in the doorway. “Tea time.”

  Warmth coursed through Rebecca. “I love tea time.”

  The inn owner arched an eyebrow at her. “I know you do, dear—something we need to discuss.”

  What did that mean? Just because Rebecca enjoyed preparing the sandwiches and selecting the tea assortment? Perhaps she’d overstepped her bounds, but she took such comfort in a tea done well.

  “Yes, ma’am.” She hoped her contrite tone extended her apologies, but Mrs. Jeffries’ features twitched in confusion.

  “We’ll be pouring in here momentarily and I’d love to have your help, dear.”

  “Oh, yes, certainly…” Rebecca hopped up, eager to assist.

  “Father Paul will have me saying extra penance if I don’t get back soon.” Sister Mary Lou stood.

  Mrs. Jeffries smiled. “Good to see you, Sister.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Rebecca echoed.

  The nun squared her shoulders. “Mrs. Jeffries…I have a favor to ask.”

  The inn owner’s lower lip drew in. “How can I help?”

  “I have a dozen gowns that Father Paul wants out of the building by tomorrow, and I’d heard your upper floor may be vacant.”

  “Afraid so.” She shrugged. “And, yes, you could bring them here.”

  A Cheshire Cat grin tugged at Sister Mary Lou’s lips. “I believe I know a way we could also get those rooms rented — at least temporarily.”

  “Do tell. I’m all ears.” Mrs. Jeffries playfully cupped a hand around her ear.

  Mary Lou laughed. “How about I come for tea time tomorrow? That’s my free day.”

  “Certainly.” The inn owner followed the nun out into the entryway.

  As Sister Mary Lou exited, Rebecca overheard Charlie’s voice, at the door. In a minute, the porter from the docks rapped at the half-open pocket door. “Miss Hart?”

  “Yes?”

  The elderly man shifted back and forth, his hat clutched in his hands. “What’re we supposed to do about your boxes?”