He rose and placed his hat on his head. “Please see that you do. I understand the, uh, boy is, uh—rather large and, uh—not right in the head in some ways. We don’t want any problems that could reflect back on the schoolboard, you know.”
She jumped from her chair, nearly knocking it over. “Joel is big for his age, but he’s one of the sweetest boys I’ve ever met. He struggles to learn and isn’t as far along as other young people of fourteen, but he’ll not cause any trouble for the school, I assure you.”
“Let’s hope not.” He stepped off the porch. “Because if he does, we’ll be looking for a new teacher for the lower grades and you’ll be vacating this home. Good day, Miss Garvey.”
Chapter Twenty-two
In the predawn light of Monday morning, Andrew slung his bedroll and pack into the supply wagon and climbed onto the seat beside Julius. He’d arrived at the store early to help the teamster load the supplies for the daily trip up the mountain to Palmer, in exchange for catching a ride to the upper mill. Timber fallers typically started felling trees at daybreak, but they’d allowed Andrew the first hours of daylight to get settled. He was taking clothing for the week, as they’d placed him in one of the small workers’ cabins not far from the logging site. He’d return to his house in Bridal Veil on the weekends, until this job ended.
Julius turned to him with a toothy grin. “Everythin’ jake? My team’s rarin’ to go.”
“Yep. Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The lanky man smacked his mules with the reins. “Haw, haw. Gittup there, old girls.” He spit over the side of the wagon and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “You don’t seem too ’cited about yer new job up yonder. Pinin’ for Miss Margaret already?”
Andrew smiled and leaned against the hard plank seat. “That plain, is it?” He still struggled with the move, even though he’d been able to say good-bye to Margaret the evening before.
Julius tapped a spot just above his right eye as he gripped the reins in his left. “Yep. Got me a discernin’ way o’ lookin’ at things. Seen it right off the day you helped her move that you had a soft spot in yer heart for that young lady.” He gripped the reins in both hands again as the wagon hit the bottom of the slope heading up Larch Mountain. “Hold on. Got us some rough road that ain’t been fixed since that last big rainfall.”
Andrew gripped the sideboard as they jostled over the rutted road up the mountainside. The early morning fog hung like a shroud another hundred yards or so above, blocking the sunlight from shining on the village below. The sun had risen, but no fingers of light penetrated the dense bank that blanketed the top half of the mountain. The mules strained at their harness as they zigzagged up the winding path, pulling the heavy load. Thirty-seven homes dotted the landscape near the Palmer mill, and additional cabins sat in the outlying area that housed the timber fallers, skidders, de-barkers, and other workers who brought the timber in to the mill. Homes were scattered from Angel’s Rest, a bluff a mile or so east and above the town of Bridal Veil, and on past the west side of Palmer.
Julius drew back on the reins and called to his team. “Whoa there, girls. Take it easy now.” He turned to Andrew and pointed in front of the mules. “Looky there, Andrew. The fog is so deep my mules are goin’ to get swallered in it.”
Sure enough. Andrew leaned forward and peered ahead, barely believing what he saw. Many a time he’d seen dense fog, but this was downright spooky. The lead mule disappeared into the thick white bank as surely as if he’d stepped into a deep washtub of tapioca. “You going to be able to keep them on the road, or do we get down and walk?”
Julius shook his head and loosened the reins. “No sir. I trust my mules. No way they’re lettin’ me go over the edge.” He peered over the side of bed and into the canyon beyond, and Andrew could have sworn the man’s ruddy complexion whitened a shade. “Never seen it quite this bad, but she’ll lift, soon as the sun warms up. Just you hold tight now, and these girls o’ mine will take us to the top in fine shape. They know the way, yessir. Make it every day, up and down.”
The second set of mules disappeared into the damp swirl, and an unreal sensation swept over Andrew as the wagon and its passengers were swallowed up as well. “Julius. You see anything?”
“No sir. Not much. Kin see my hand if I stick it up afore my face, but that’s about all. Tarnation! Don’t this beat anything you ever did see?”
“It certainly does. I’ll be happy when we reach the top.” Faint sounds of rocks tumbling over the edge smote his ears, and the smell of sweat reached his nostrils. No birds sang or squirrels barked in the still morning air. Only the creak of the wagon jostling across ruts in the road and bouncing over small rocks that had tumbled down from the hillside above. The mules continued dragging the wagon ever upward through the silent shroud, continuing the forward movement.
Andrew clutched the side of the wagon seat, suddenly glad he couldn’t see to his right and over the edge. Maybe not knowing how close the wheels ran to the precipice was a good thing, after all. Walking along behind the wagon still seemed like a wise idea, but Julius was the best teamster around, and if he trusted the mules to take them safely to the top, who was he to question?
The last mile of the trip seemed to take two hours, although he knew it wasn’t even a quarter of that. At long last, the increasingly strong rays of the sun broke through the fog—first in slender fingers of light, biting through the gloom in dazzling fragments, then exploding in its full glory at the same time the wagon topped out on the road and drew abreast of the first building. Andrew shot up a prayer of thanksgiving. He’d never realized how amazing a sight the sun could be until he’d plowed his way through white purgatory behind a team of mules balancing a wagon on the side of a cliff.
He stepped off the wagon and shook Julius’s hand. “Bless your mules, and bless you for being the man that you are.” He wiped his sleeve across his forehead and grinned. “Glad I don’t need to take that ride again anytime soon. I hope you’ll have clear skies for your return back down the mountain.”
“Oh, p’shaw. Weren’t nothin’. All in a day’s work, don’tcha know?” Julius beamed, and the gap where a tooth once resided winked, giving him a lopsided grin. “Molly and Verna done a good job, though, I’ll give ’em that. Best lead mules in the county.”
Andrew slapped his hand on the side of Molly’s neck as he walked around the team and toward the office. “No, sir. Best team in the state.” He waved at the teamster and stepped onto the wooden stoop of the office, just to the side of the main mill building.
He tapped on the plain plank door and stepped inside. He still had a hard time believing he’d been transferred up the mountain but had decided not to fight the change. Maybe God had a reason for sending him here. He gave a mental shrug. One never knew what one small change in your life could bring to pass, in God’s scheme of things. Look how the Lord had brought him closer to Margaret in the past couple of weeks, and their relationship had deepened. Staying open to possibilities right now looked to be his best option, and growing bitter or resentful would only make the rest of the summer drag.
Nathaniel Cooper lifted his head from the stack of papers on his desk and met Andrew’s eyes. “Morning, Browning.” He glanced at the clock on the desk. “I see you’re early.” A small frown furrowed his brow as though he wasn’t sure if this was an admirable trait. “You can ride Peggy or Jumbo from here up to the log landing. You’ll be working about four miles back, so it’s too far to walk.”
“Peggy or Jumbo.” Andrew scratched his head, then grinned. “I’d forgotten they named the locomotives. I’ve only seen Peggy, as Jumbo hadn’t arrived when I worked up here a year ago.” He leaned a hip against the doorframe.
“They started calling it Jumbo shortly after it arrived, based on the load it can pull.” Cooper rose and dropped the papers back on his desk. “You’ve been assigned to a cabin up there, although I understand you’ll be keeping your place in Bridal Veil. Sure you don’t want t
o give that up and stay on as a lumberjack?”
Andrew shook his head. “No, sir. The amount of time they’ve asked for will be long enough. I love the woods but have come to appreciate my life down below.” Margaret too, he longed to say, but kept that bit of information to himself.
Cooper shrugged. “Suit yourself. You know your duties when you get to the job site?”
Andrew straightened. “Sure do. I can’t imagine too much has changed in the past year where felling is concerned.”
“They’re bringing in more loads now that Dan Meadows’ team of oxen and Art Gibbs’ team of horses are both working the woods. They want to increase the number of trees felled each day, so you’ll need to push yourself.”
“No problem, as long as the boss cares about safety. I’ve seen too many accidents when men are pushed to cut more than they should.”
Cooper frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’ll be your boss’s lookout, not yours. Do your job, and you’ll be fine.”
Andrew clamped his mouth shut. He wouldn’t endanger himself or the man on the other end of his crosscut saw no matter what this man said, but he’d not argue, either. There was time enough to see how things were handled. He wouldn’t be afraid to speak his piece if he saw a situation that warranted it. “That’s all, then?”
“Yes. You’ll find all the gear you need at the job site. Jump on the train and head out when you hear the whistle blow.” He glanced at the clock on his desk, sat back down, and picked up a paper.
Andrew gave a short nod and headed toward the door. “Thanks.”
The sun warmed his skin as he walked from the office to the bridge that crossed the gully where the water ran down from the upper millpond. The whine of the head rig with its big circle saw slicing through the gigantic yellow fir logs filled the air, along with the shouts of men rolling logs from the millpond and others overseeing the flume. He’d often marveled at the ingenuity of the men who’d chosen this spot above Bridal Veil, but yet two to three miles from the forest where the giant trees fell. No one seeing this place in its natural state would believe there’d be room for the building housing the head rig, much less a bridge, railroad tracks, and millpond in the gully below.
Andrew had been thankful when he’d been transferred to the lower Bridal Veil planer operation. As much as he loved the woods, his desire to be close to Margaret was stronger. He thought of her independent spirit and sweet nature. What an amazing combination to find in a woman.
He’d really put his foot in it that day at Jenkins’ cabin when he’d been thinking of her father’s request and suggested she might need a man to care for her. What he’d meant, but hadn’t planned on blurting out, was that he had a hankering to care for her the rest of her life, and he hated seeing her wear herself to a frazzle giving so much of herself to others.
He could only hope that Margaret never discovered her father asked that he take care of her. Judging from the look on her face, she’d not take it too kindly. He kicked a large fircone out of the way and leaned his shoulder against the rough bark of the tree as he waited for the locomotive. Sometimes he thought Margaret was beginning to care, and other times he was convinced she didn’t see him at all.
The shriek of the train whistle and the grinding of the steel wheels against the tracks caught his attention. Time for work. He’d best get his mind off Margaret and onto the business at hand. A man couldn’t cut through the butt of a giant fir towering hundreds of feet in the air and hope to drop it where it was supposed to land without his mind fully engaged on his task.
Andrew wiped rivulets of sweat from his forehead and rubbed his shoulder, then took a swig of water from the nearby jug. “Ready for another go, Roger?”
The young man standing on the other side of the yellow fir stuffed his handkerchief back in his hip pocket and grinned. “Prob’ly more’n you are, I ’spect. Looks like you been away from cuttin’ for too many months. You got soft.”
“Huh. I’ll show you soft.” Andrew grinned back and picked up his axe. “Let’s get these springboards in so we can drop this fellow.” Both men went to work on the tree, cutting a slice into the side and driving a plank into the notch. They worked swiftly and silently, standing on the short bottom plank and inserting yet another springboard a few feet on up the side of the tree, thereby avoiding the bulge of the trunk and the accumulated pitch near the butt.
Andrew gripped the handle of the crosscut saw and peered at his partner. “Ready?”
Roger grasped the other end and nodded, and the two men started to work on the front of the giant. An amazing rhythm and flow took the saw teeth deeper and deeper into the tree, first through the bark, then through the outer rings, heading right for the heart, and undercutting the massive trunk. When that chore was finished, Andrew jumped down from his perch and helped lift the saw to the ground. “Looks like this one will need some wedges if we’re going to drop it through the opening between those two trees.”
Roger nodded and grunted. “I’ll get them.” He jumped down from his precarious perch and tossed up two wedges to Andrew, then clambered back up with a third tucked under his arm. They repositioned the saw blade on the backside of the tree, cutting another slice out, then proceeded to drive the wedges deep into its flesh. The magnificent giant began to sway, and the majestic top leaned away from the driving force of the wedges penetrating into the heart. As the tree slowly tilted forward, moving inch by inch toward its final resting place, Andrew and Roger tossed the axe off to the side and jumped to the ground, running a distance away. The top slowly canted, and with a tremendous roar, the giant boughs whipped through the air, catching the limbs of nearby trees, slowing its fall only momentarily, then breaking free and landing with an ear-splitting, ground-shaking crash.
No sooner had it landed and grown still than a team of men rushed forward, hacking off the limbs, peeling off the bark down to the golden wood, thus allowing the crosscut sawyers to cut the mighty trunk into lengths that could be towed out of the woods by the waiting oxen and horse teams.
“Ho, Andrew Browning.” A huge man holding a bullwhip in his hairy left hand strode across the brushy clearing.
Andrew met the man and extended his hand. “Dan Meadows. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen your team at work.” He grinned at the big man and waved a hand toward the waiting brace of oxen. “They’re looking fit. Still the best in the woods, I daresay?”
Meadows drew to a halt, and his brows hunkered down over his eyes. “That they be, Browning, that they be.” He swiveled and glared over his shoulder, then returned his gaze to Andrew. “’Course, some in these parts beg to differ and think a horse team can pull its weight the same as my boys.” A stream of tobacco juice shot from between his teeth and splattered against a rock. “Don’t care what that new log skidder says. His team can’t touch mine, not by a long shot.”
Andrew clapped the big man on the shoulder. “I’m sure it can’t. So what else is new in this neck of the woods?”
“You heard about the skidder boss bein’ killed? Jenkins’ decisions caused me all kinds of grief. I can’t say I’m sorry to see him gone.”
Andrew drew back a half step and stared at the man. “I hadn’t heard the sheriff had made a ruling yet on whether it was murder or an accident.”
“Yeah. Well.” Meadows scratched his side and shrugged. “Maybe it weren’t. Guess I just assumed. Don’t pay me no mind.” He craned his neck around and bellowed, “Hey there, boy. Don’t you be touchin’ that team.” A curse spilled out and he swung off at a rapid pace toward his patient oxen, standing with lowered heads and half-closed eyes. “Go on now. You’ve no business here.”
Andrew thought back over the man’s words. He hadn’t realized there’d been any bad blood between Meadows and Jenkins, but then Dan Meadows wasn’t known to be the most tolerant man on the mountain. His temper had landed him in some scrapes in the past. He felt sorry for the man who owned the horse team hauling logs on the skid trails.
&nb
sp; “Hey, Browning. You going to stand there with your hands in your pockets or get to fellin’ another tree while the sun’s still shinin’?” A brawny man in suspenders and canvas pants pushed his hat to the back of his head and glared.
Andrew picked up his axe, all thought of Meadows pushed to the side.
Chapter Twenty-three
Andrew climbed up on the wagon for the long descent into Bridal Veil, thankful it was Friday afternoon, and even more grateful they’d gotten the trees dropped early enough to catch a ride back with Julius. Getting off early wouldn’t have happened, but they were moving to a new location on Monday. By two o’clock they’d cleaned up everything big enough to fell and headed out of the woods. It was four thirty now, but the upper mill still bustled. Most of the crews would work another hour and a half before heading home for their supper.
He braced his feet against the wagon’s footrest and leaned back against the low seat. “Looks like there won’t be any fog this trip.”
“Nope.” Julius craned his neck and looked over the side. “Jist missed that big old doniker. Boulder that size could break my axle. Hope the road crew gets it moved outta the way ’fore I come back up tomorrow.”
Andrew peered over his shoulder and whistled. “Must have tumbled down the mountainside last night. Glad this road’s wide in spots.”
“Yep. Molly and Verna are sure-footed, but I’d not enjoy bustin’ an axle or losin’ a wheel partway down this hill, no sir.” He cast a wide-mouthed grin at Andrew. “You hankerin’ to get home, are ya?”
Andrew crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “Yes. It seems like it’s been longer than five days.”
Julius wrinkled his nose. “Goin’ to take a bath ’fore you head over to Miss Margaret’s?”
Andrew tipped back his head and hooted, then turned a huge grin on Julius. “So you think she’d appreciate that, do you?”
Love Finds You in Bridal Veil, Oregon Page 14
