by Linda Ellen
After traversing the steps, Sam put a hand under Beth’s elbow to steady her over the grass and dirt path to the front of the building and then paused to beam down at her.
“What would you like to see first?” he asked, thinking that the red and auburn highlights of her hair glinting in the morning sun was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. She hadn’t worn the hat she’d had on the day before, and he was glad, sure that such vibrant hair should never be covered.
“Oh...how about The Lucky Buck?”
He had turned his head to negotiate his footfalls, but at her unexpected suggestion, his mouth literally dropped open. Swinging his astonished expression back in her direction, he choked on air and coughed. “The what?” he managed to croak. Then, he realized that her eyes were snapping with merriment and he let out a chuckle.
“I gather Charise has told you about the...infamous establishment.”
“Oh, she may have mentioned that it was the most popular tavern in town...and that you and Finn seem to give one another odd looks anytime someone mentions it. She’s still wondering about that...” she prompted, raising both eyebrows and blinking up at him in expectation of an explanation.
To his shame, Sam felt his neck and cheeks begin to flame as he pictured exactly why he and his brother gave one another those odd looks. The images undulating in his mind were not something that a man should be thinking about in the presence of his bride, and he immediately slammed the door on the unwanted specters. Inwardly cursing the infamous establishment for its very existence and, for the first time, ashamed of the number of visits he had made there...specifically his forays to the second floor with one or another of the...soiled doves...he reached up to run a hand back through his hair and cleared his throat. His mother’s harping on the evils of such a place came back to his mind with full force.
Now it was Beth Ann’s turn to look at him in shock. “My goodness, Sam. You’re blushing! Now my curiosity is positively raging. Tell me...as your wife...would I need to be upset if I found out you left our home one night and spent time there?”
Realizing Beth had a good idea what went on at the rowdy saloon and bawdy house, he turned toward her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Directing his gaze straight into hers, he hoped she could see clear into his soul. “Beth Ann, I swear to you I haven’t even been in the place since before my trip to Louisville...on my honor. I give you my word I will never, ever, enter those doors again for the rest of my natural life.”
They stayed thus for several heartbeats, and then Beth’s sweet lips curved into that smile that he already adored and she lifted up one hand to give his burley jaw a caress. “I believe you, Sam. And...I wasn’t worried. But thank you for that declaration,” she stated softly.
A few zinging heartbeats later, a rude whistle spoiled the moment between them and he dropped his hands as she dropped hers, both of them swinging toward the sound.
Tall, lanky, black-haired Vic Hesston, by coincidence one of the Buck’s regular customers and someone Sam had never exactly thought of as a friend, happened to be sauntering by on the other side of the street.
“Hey Maynard, who’s the skirt? She sure is a looker. She just get in town?”
An unreasonable, raging jealousy roared through Sam’s chest and he opened his mouth to shout back at the cur to mind his own business, but he stopped short when he felt the touch of a delicate hand on his forearm. Hesston witnessed the action, causing him to let out a loud snort. “Whew doggies! I get it...she’s the reason I ain’t seen you in the Buck lately. By the way—Ruby said to tell you she misses you, woohoo!” he crowed and walked on, chortling gleefully.
Mortified, Sam shut his eyes and let his head drop forward, shaking it helplessly. Then, he opened his eyes, scrunched his face, and peeked at Beth with one eye, watching as she smiled indulgently before tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow.
“I gather that wasn’t one of your friends, Sam...and...although I’m mighty tempted to ask who this Ruby is, I’ll refrain. So now, weren’t you going to show me around town? I’d like to see the mercantile, and the church you all attend...and perhaps...would you show me your mill?”
Sam felt as if he’d dodged a bullet or escaped the hangman’s noose, so relieved was he that Beth hadn’t pitched a fit over that skunk Hesston’s comments. Staring into those fetching green eyes, every vestige of anger and humiliation seeped out as his heart rate slowly returned to normal. He felt himself smile and he covered her hand with his as he turned her in the direction of her first request. “The mercantile it is, darlin’.”
As they strolled along, he pushed away the knowledge that this little gal already had way too much sway on his emotions.
Is that what being in love is like? Should a female have that much control over a man’s thoughts and feelings? Or am I in BIG trouble?
By the time early afternoon rolled around, several pleasant hours had been spent in Sam’s company and Beth Ann had enjoyed every second...well...nearly every one.
They had visited a handful of places, including Hodges Mercantile, where Sam introduced her to Sebastian Hodge, the proprietor, as his bride. This wasn’t a shock, because before they had stepped through the door, Sam had switched direction and guided her down the wide, dirt street toward a huge oak that was situated on a bluff overlooking the river.
Gently motioning for her to sit on the bench built around its base, he settled himself next to her and stared for a moment out at the scenery before turning serious eyes her way.
“Beth...I want to ask you something. And...I needed to ask before I take you in the mercantile or anywhere where I’ll need to make introductions.”
Beth’s heart had sped up and thumped in her chest as he paused before running a nervous hand back through his hair, then scratched at his beard, grumbling under his breath. “Aww, that’s not what I meant to say. What I meant to say was...Beth...I know when you first agreed to marry me by proxy, you were between a rock and a hard place with nowhere to go, and it was with the understanding that we would just get the marriage annulled as soon as you figured that reprobate back in Louisville wasn’t going to try and cause you any more trouble. But...I’m asking you not to do that. I mean...I’d like the chance to court you and see if maybe we could, well...fall in love. Would that be all right with you?”
It was exactly what she had hoped he would say, and she’d had a hard time stopping herself from wrapping her arms around his neck and planting her lips on his. But...they still hadn’t had their first kiss yet, and for some reason, she truly wanted him to be the initiator of it. So, she’d held back.
“Sounds like a wonderful plan, Sam,” she murmured to let him know, unequivocally, that she was completely in favor of them courting to see if they could fall in love and make their marriage real. For her part, although she hadn’t said it in so many words, she was sure she was already well on her way to that happy state.
Once they had that settled, Sam had mentioned that he couldn’t very well call her his fiancée, because he was sure it was already around town that he had sent for her to come as his proxy bride.
So, back they had gone to the mercantile, and met Mr. Hodge. He was very kind and welcoming, and Beth had found the store to be quite pleasant, offering a goodly amount of items for purchase. Nothing like Fessenden and Stewart back home, of course, but that was neither here nor there. Hodge’s Mercantile had a large assortment of dry goods, yard goods, can goods, tools and implements, doodads, and many other attractions, and she promised herself that she would be back in the near future to browse the entire inventory. After that, they visited the Bortner Drug Store, the Brownville Bank, and the newspaper office—The Nebraska Advertiser. There, she had expressed the idea that perhaps they could use someone of Mr. Hinkle’s experience and couldn’t wait to mention it to him.
As they were coming out of the office, they nearly ran smack into a woman of about thirty, with frazzled reddish blonde hair and wide hazel eyes. Instantly, Beth
Ann felt Sam stiffen as if he were bracing himself for attack. Within seconds, she found out why.
The woman cackled, rather like a hen, and stuck out her hand. When she opened her mouth, Beth Ann was instantly reminded of a Gatling gun she had seen demonstrated at the Kentucky State Fair once. Words began to spew forth from her mouth with nary a pause for the woman to take a breath!
“Hey there, I’m Elvira Davis and you must be Sammy’s new proxy bride, Beth Ann, am I right? Oh, I know you are, why everybody in town is talkin’ about the fact that the Maynard brothers have both gone and got themselves hitched to women sight unseen. I already know Finny’s new bride, Charise, and she’s just the sweetest thing. Already with child, don’t you know? Well, sure you do, since you’re her friend!” she cackled again. “You know I took care of Finny when he broke his leg, oh the poor man, with that big ol’ cast, why, he couldn’t do anything for himself, if you know what I mean,” she shook her head, tsking. “But he’s all over that now, thank the Lord, and here Sammy’s with a new bride, too. You’re Charise’s friend from Louisville, right? Oh, I heard Charlie Cooper telling Mr. Hodge all about it—how there was a man back there who was making all kinds of threats and saying he was going to do all sorts of terrible things to you, so our Sammy here stepped up and saved the day, ain’t that right, Sammy? Why I just—”
“ELVIRA,” Sam interjected, and the tone of his voice actually made the woman stop in mid sentence and look up at him, eyes blinking in confusion.
“Yes, Sammy?”
Beth had to stop a giggle from emerging at Sam’s expression, even though she had felt herself growing hot under the collar, as the woman had been telling the world her private business—at nearly the top of her lungs. Distinctly, she had a feeling that Sam did not much care for anyone calling him by his boyhood nickname. She’d been right.
“Elvira,” he repeated, this time through stiff lips. “I’ve asked you a hundred times to stop calling me that. But now, if you don’t mind, Beth Ann and I have things to do. Good day to you,” he had finished, resolutely taking Beth’s elbow and steering her around the still blinking woman.
Beth had called over her shoulder, “Nice to meet you, Miss Davis.” Bidding the woman farewell served to immediately snap her out of her oh-so-temporary hush.
“And you too, honey! I’ll be seeing you, and if you ever need anything, you just let me know. I’ll be glad to help in any way I can, I...” amazingly, she had kept on talking, but Sam had hustled Beth away so quickly she’d practically had to run to keep up, and soon Elvira’s resounding voice faded into the sounds of horses trotting by, wagon chains jingling, people talking, dogs barking, and all of the other normal small town noise.
When they’d gotten far enough away, Beth had dissolved into giggles as she glanced up at Sam, who looked down at her and cracked a smile.
“That woman is exactly the way Charise described her in her letters. Oh my...how can one person expel so many words in a row like that and not even take a breath? She’s a wonder.”
He chuckled. “She’s a wonder, all right. And she’s been that way since she learned to talk. You should have gone to school with her. She spent more time in the corner for talking than she did at her desk working.”
Beth laughed. “I can imagine!”
“Now, I want to take you over to the church and introduce you to Reverend McKnight and his wife. They’re good people, I know you’ll like them.”
They had done just that and had a lovely time with the couple. Mrs. McKnight had even served them a light lunch of sandwiches, soup, and coffee. By the time they left, Beth Ann felt right at home and was looking forward to Sunday service the next day.
Finally, Sam had steered her the other direction down First Street.
“Where are we going, now, Sam?”
“Well...you asked to see my mill. I’m gonna borrow a surrey over at the livery to take you out there, though.”
That was something she very much looked forward to seeing.
Chapter 9
“H ere we are,” Sam said as the borrowed surrey rolled up to the front of his mill.
Although he did have a work wagon, it was, of course, rough and the seat was just a wooden plank. Sometimes he rode his horse, Cinnamon—who he kept boarded at the livery—or he walked the distance between the mill and town, but now, he figured the trek over clumps of grass and rocks would be tiring for a person with shorter legs and delicate footwear, such as the case would be with Beth Ann. Besides that, during their time in the conveyance, he was able to sit close to her, their knees and hips touching as they carried on with their conversation.
That was one thing he already loved about Beth Ann—it was so easy to converse with her. It seemed as if they had known one another for years and it was so natural to talk with her; their conversation seemed to flow gently from one subject to the next.
Their educational and belief systems were quite similar, and he found Beth Ann to be a shrewdly minded woman with plenty of common sense and good morals. He had already made up his mind about one thing—she was a woman who he would always be proud to call his wife. Please God...make her want to stay with me!
Just now, he was anxious to show her all around the place that was the most important thing in his life—well, almost the most important thing—Maynard’s Millworks. Situated next to and utilizing the power of a medium-sized waterfall on the swift running Minnow Creek, the building had been fashioned twenty years before out of river rocks taken from the cold running brook. It had been designed and built by his father, with help from Finn and himself, as well as the men in the town who had traveled with them in the wagon train.
“This is quite impressive, Sam,” Beth complimented as he drew the horse to a stop. They sat together looking up at the stone wall rising thirty feet above the main entrance to the mill with its small covered porch over a sturdy hinged doorway. The building had withstood several floods in the years since it had been built, and Sam was sure it could withstand many more if need be.
He climbed down and turned to lift her out of the carriage. As he did so, he explained a bit of the history of the lumber trade, how he was the sole owner now that his father had passed on, and how his brother had signed his half of the business over to him.
“Of course...I’m hoping to have sons to pass it down to someday,” he commented, then gently laughed as he saw her cheeks pinken. “I just hope they love the business as much as I do. I’m finally to the point where I understand what my father felt all those years and why he wouldn’t listen to Finn talk about wanting to do something else with his life. Truly, this is all I’ve ever wanted to do as my livelihood. I love working with wood.”
“I can understand that, after spending so much time and energy building up a place like this, one wouldn’t want to just see it fall to ruin or sell it to someone else,” Beth Ann remarked as she looked around at the grounds. “But, you know...you could sire a whole passel of girls and no boys,” she quipped, flashing him an impish grin.
He grinned back, thinking if they all had their mother’s red hair and green eyes, he wouldn’t complain. “Well then, I’d have to trust that they marry wise young men and that at least one of them would love the mill.”
She inclined her head and beamed up at him. “Good answer.”
That smile and the emerald sparkles in her eyes nearly bowled him over, but he held himself in check and lightly cleared his throat. “Well, um...come on inside and I’ll show you around. Be careful, though. Sawmills are dusty places. It’s kind of hard to keep it clean...that’s why they call the stuff the saw produces sawdust,” he chuckled and she giggled.
He held her hand and drew her toward the door, opened it and ushered her inside, all the while conscious of how soft and small her hand felt cradled within his large, calloused palm. Once inside out of the bright sunshine, Beth Ann stood still and gazed around as her vision adjusted, and Sam watched her with bated breath. Suddenly, it became intensely important for this woman t
o think his life’s work meant something. He needed to see it was significant in her eyes.
Finally, she glanced up at him, her eyes bright with interest. “I’ve always loved the smell of fresh cut wood. But...I know nothing of how a sawmill operates. Show me around?”
He did just that, taking extra care with her so that she wouldn’t trip on a loose board or get her skirt caught on the edge of a rough log. He told her how he and his helper would take a team up into the hills to harvest trees, drag them back down to the mill using a team of oxen, and then set about filling an order for various sizes of milled lumber or firewood as fuel for passing steamboats. She seemed to catch on quickly and asked intelligent, pertinent questions about the operation as they went along. He showed her how the building hugged the creek and used the power of the waterfall to cut the wood. That intrigued her, so he explained how he had exchanged the mill’s original overshot waterwheel with a turbine, which was a small, horizontal waterwheel with enclosed blades, and replaced the original up and down, or sash-type saw, with a circular saw for more speed.
“Finn hates the screech of the new saw, but that old sash saw was so slow, a man could eat a meal before one board was cut!” he laughed, delighted that she laughed right along with him as she seemed to understand and be fascinated by it all.
“But...does more speed when cutting the wood mean it’s more dangerous?” she astutely asked, making him shake his head with a rueful grin.
“Now you sound like Finn. Yes, you could say it’s more dangerous, but if a man pays attention and watches what he’s doing, all is well. The worst accident this mill has ever suffered was Finn getting his leg broke—and that was a stupid mistake made by a young apprentice and had nothing to do with the blade, which wasn’t even running at the time.”
“Oh yes...Charise wrote me about him. She said he was a very sweet, helpful boy named, um...”
“Toby. Toby Keller,” Sam supplied. “Yeah, the poor kid. He felt so bad about what happened with Finn, that once Finn’s leg got all right, Toby asked his folks if he could go live with his grandparents back in Minnesota. I, uh...” he paused and shook his head with a fond smile. “I think the old geezers—namely Cyrus, Cliff, and Charlie—probably wouldn’t let up heckling him about what happened, and he got tired of being humiliated. But yeah, he was a good kid.”
