Log Cabin Christmas

by Margaret Brownley

  Her daydreams took her so far from Camp Twelve that she jumped out of her skin like a snake when two hands grabbed her around the waist. She yelped and spun around, planting her foot in the man’s belly.

  She’d expected Derek. Instead she found Noah, doubled over, clutching his midsection, groaning.

  She covered her mouth in horror. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  Cookie rushed to Noah’s side. “You gotta watch out for that gal. She’s tiny, but she’s got a mean punch.”

  Noah nodded but didn’t speak. She pulled over Cookie’s bean-snapping chair. “I’m sorry. I know I hurt you, but did I do permanent damage? Do you want some water?”

  He waved her away. “I’m fine.”

  “I thought you were Derek. I was daydreaming, and you scared my heart right out of me. Forgive me? Please?”

  She put on her best I-won’t-do-it-again face, the one her father couldn’t resist.

  “Your father taught you to fight well. Next time I’ll be noisier.”

  He hadn’t forgiven her. He must be upset. But if she thought about it, he shouldn’t have come from behind her. What had he been thinking?

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you home. I don’t want you out alone, even a short distance.”

  She repented of the bad things she’d thought. “I’m almost done.”

  She hurried through the rest of the pots. Before long, she and Noah entered their cabin. A toasty room greeted her.

  A book, papers, a pen, and an inkwell littered the tiny table. Curiosity overcame her, and she went for a peek. She sat in the chair, her feet grateful to rest.

  The book was a Bible, its leather cover worn. Guilty about snooping, she didn’t read the papers.

  Noah sat opposite her. “It’s a letter to my mother. I can’t send it until spring. More than likely, we’ll be home before it arrives. But Ma said to tell her all about camp life. I write a little every night.”

  “Did you write about our marriage?”

  “Yes. Would you like to read it?”

  She was afraid of what he might have said. “No. Will you tell her I kicked you?”

  Noah guffawed, the sound as rich as pound cake. Maybe his laugh meant he wasn’t as angry anymore. “Only if you want me to.”

  “We’d better skip that.”

  “Would you like to write something?”

  A sudden shyness stole up on her. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

  “You’ll love my mother. And she’ll love you.” He embraced her hand with his own. Unbidden tears welled in her eyes. Oh, to have a mother again.

  He removed his hand, leaving her bereft. Her reaction caught her off-guard.

  He opened his Bible. “I’d like to read.”

  She stood. “I’ll leave you alone.”

  He motioned for her to sit. “I’d like to have devotions with you.”

  She perched on the edge of her chair, tentative. Daddy had read his to himself. She hadn’t read the Bible in ages. Her mother’s sat in the bottom of her trunk. She didn’t understand how God could take Mama from the daughter who desperately needed her.

  “I’m going through the Psalms. I’m up to 103. Is that all right?”

  She nodded, and he began. She didn’t hear most of the passage until he said, “Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.”

  Did the Lord pity her? Did He love her? She didn’t think so. Otherwise He wouldn’t have left her without parents and married to a man she didn’t know.

  He finished reading and she stood suddenly, knocking over her chair, hurrying from the room.

  Chapter 7

  As it often did, the rhythm of the crosscut saw grinding through the sweet pine carried Noah’s thoughts far away. In the past weeks, they’d wandered to Adie.

  Butch, his partner, broke the tempo, wiping his sweaty forehead and stretching his muscles. “What’s eating at you, Preacher Man? Your eyebrows are scrunched.”

  Noah made an effort to smooth them. “Nothing.”

  “There can’t be trouble with your wife already. You’ve been married less than a month.”

  If Quinn were here—and if he weren’t Adie’s father—he’d let the words flow like water. But Butch wouldn’t understand. On the surface, things with Adie sailed smoothly. Noah anticipated the evenings, when they sat and chatted.

  But when talk turned personal, things changed. She withdrew. Most of the time she fled before prayer.

  Why couldn’t he break through her defenses? They’d be together forever. He wanted to know her. Why couldn’t he get close? What caused her to shut herself away?

  Butch wouldn’t understand.

  “No trouble. I couldn’t ask for a better wife.”

  “You sure couldn’t. You landed a beauty, with her curves and the way she swings her hips.”

  Noah’s breakfast hardened in his stomach. “That’s no way to talk about a woman, especially not my wife. Let’s get back to work.”

  Butch picked up his end of the saw and shrugged. “Sure wish I had a woman like that.”

  The lump in Noah’s gut grew. Were others speaking the same things about his wife?

  Adie inhaled, enjoying the soft, cool air after the heat of the stoves. Her boots crunched on the snow as She and Noah walked home one evening. The stars in the inky-black sky danced for them. Not a breath of wind blew. Temperatures were almost balmy.

  “Do you mind if we take a walk?” She had a question to ask him, but her nerves acted up. Perhaps it would be easier if she couldn’t see him.

  Noah, wearing his lumberjack coat with a bright-red scarf, strode beside her. “Let’s stay around the clearing. We don’t need problems with Owens.” He sounded troubled.

  They strolled in silence, their feet breaking the sheen of ice before sinking into soft snow. All the while, she contemplated how to phrase the question. Her future loomed in front of her. She knew it wouldn’t be what she wanted, but she desired to know what it would be.

  Without warning, she stumbled into a hole in the snow left by another’s foot. Noah reached to steady her and then offered his arm. She wrapped her fingers around his elbow. Now her heart tripped.

  When the tip of her nose stung from the cold, she decided she had to ask. No better way, she supposed, than to come out with it.

  “Where is your seminary? Will we go there right away in the spring?”

  The footfalls beside her paused, and she stopped too. She could almost hear him holding his breath.

  Very softly, so quiet she almost missed his answer, he said, “I won’t be going. I’m not going to be a pastor.”

  Did he speak those words? “Why not?”

  “Things have changed.” He didn’t elaborate, and she chose not to press him.

  Her hopes for the upcoming years brightened. His father farmed, and perhaps Noah would, too. “We could homestead somewhere. Minnesota or Iowa.”

  “No, I’m not going to farm.”

  “Cattle ranching? One of the farmers Daddy and I worked for last summer headed west.” The desert and mountains were dry, but there had to be trees along the rivers for their cabin.

  “Maybe I’ll try my hand at banking. Bankers lead a settled life. We’ll go to my parents’ home while I look for a job. I think Madison or even Milwaukee.”

  A banker? In the city? His voice fell flat, devoid of enthusiasm, not like when he spoke about pastoring. Banking wasn’t his dream. What had changed that he couldn’t or didn’t want to go to seminary?

  Her. That’s what.

  They had married. Now the lumber company fed and housed them. When spring came, that would disappear. He’d be financially responsible for her. The money he’d saved for seminary would be used to provide food and shelter for her.

  All her energy drained away. She withdrew her hand from his elbow. “I’m tired. Let’s go home.”

  What could she do? Her best course of action might be to have the marri
age annulled as soon as the thaw came. Then he’d be free.

  It could be her Christmas gift to him.

  The moon rose and cast its pale light across Noah’s face. Lines radiated from his eyes and etched paths around his pinched mouth. He’d given up everything to marry and protect her. She hadn’t realized that. Her husband was the most unselfish man she’d ever met. Her heart swelled even as it broke into thousands of tiny pieces.

  Noah walked beside his wife, gulping lungfuls of mid-December air. Adie’s question started him thinking. He hated contemplating the future.

  Since he was little, he’d loathed farming. The smells from the cows and pigs had caused him to upchuck more than once. He’d been ashamed of being so weak, but he was powerless against it. As the only boy, he’d had no choice but to help his Pa. He’d had to do his share of the chores.

  When he was fifteen or sixteen, a guest pastor spoke at church. He’d never forget the passage the reverend preached on. “Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest.” God had stirred his soul, and Noah had known he’d found his calling.

  Or he thought he had. Now he needed a new profession. One that didn’t require an education he had no means to finance. Banking sounded dreary and dull. He hated the idea of being surrounded by money all day. But he had to find work because he had a wife.

  Adie finished the dishes early a few nights later. She swept the floors and insisted Cookie retire. Noah hadn’t arrived, but she decided not to wait for him. What could happen between here and the cabin? She wouldn’t be out of screaming range of her husband.

  She slipped on her long, blue wool coat and snuffed out the lights. In the depths of winter, the nights were dark and long.

  Jack Frost worked hard. A frigid blast met her as she stepped outside, the weather far different from a few nights ago. Fat snowflakes whirled around her, a storm in the making. Lowering her head, she pushed forward.

  She hadn’t progressed more than a few feet when she ran into a hard, solid object. A man. “Noah, I’m sorry I didn’t wait. We finished early, and I started home. But I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I’m glad you’re here, too.” Derek sneered.

  Chilled to the bone, Adie attempted to sidestep the tree-trunk frame of the man in her path. He shifted behind her, grabbed her wrists, and held them bothin his huge hand. With his other hand, he covered her mouth. Pressing forward, he pinned her against the mess hall wall, his hand still over her mouth. His rancid breath passed across her neck.

  She struggled against his weight.

  He crushed her.

  She gasped.

  He spit tobacco into the snow then wiped his beard across her back. Her stomach heaved, but she refused to vomit.

  “You listen up good. I aim to have you. You tell your old man that he needs to be on watch. One day, I’m gonna come for him.”

  Chapter 8

  The snow drifted through the air.

  Adie no longer thought it pretty as Derek crushed her against the rough logs.

  His lips stung her neck.

  She detested him.

  He backed away.

  She crumpled to the ground. The crunching of his boots faded.

  Then she heaved.

  She sat and trembled for a while before Noah arrived.

  “Adie? Adie!” He rushed to her side, wrapping her in his arms. He felt so wonderful, so secure, that once her stomach was empty she cried.

  He lifted her as if she were a child and carried her to the cabin. He tucked her in bed, folding the quilt around her. All the time, she sobbed, unable to stop her tears.

  With the coverlet over her, he removed her high-button shoes. His respect for her modesty touched her. She wept harder. He sat beside her, holding her hand, stroking her hair.

  A while passed before she’d exhausted her store of tears.

  He touched her forehead. “You don’t have a fever. Do you still feel ill?”

  She shook her head. Though her stomach had quit heaving, it rolled whenever Derek’s words echoed in her mind.

  “Did you eat something that didn’t agree with you?”

  She didn’t want to alarm him or make him worry, but she had to tell him. He needed to know.

  “Derek threatened us.”

  Owens. Hot anger and cold fear blasted through Noah as he stood over Adie. “What did he do to you?” He became aware of a bruise darkening her forehead. Dear God, don’t let him have touched her.

  She sat and steadied herself. Regret coursed through him. He shouldn’t have been so harsh. He knelt beside her. “I’m sorry. It’s just that if he … I couldn’t stand it.”

  “No. No. He didn’t hurt me.” The black-and-blue mark on her face belied that. “Cookie and I got the dishes done ahead of time, and I wanted to get home, so I left without you. I walked smack into Derek.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “He told me you needed to watch out for him, that he was coming for you. When he was finished with you, then he could have me all to himself. I think he was threatening to kill you.”

  She might be right. He wasn’t afraid for himself, however. His concern lay with her. Their marriage had done nothing to halt Derek’s advances. Instead, it emboldened him.

  Quinn had entrusted Noah with his beautiful, beloved daughter. She’d had two run-ins with the louse. He’d failed to protect her. What if Owens didn’t back off next time?

  The picture of Owens with his hands on her blinded him with rage. She’d become important to him. A sense of comfort and a feeling of home had filled him as he’d watched her mend his shirts and darn his socks, shadows from the flickering firelight dancing across her freckle-spotted face. The gesture was personal and intimate.

  She stared at him, her pupils wide in her emerald eyes.

  He held her hand, rubbing small circles over the back of it. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “But Derek can’t get to me unless he gets rid of you. Our marriage was a mistake. Now you’re in more danger than me.”

  He remembered the emotions streaming through him when he’d discovered her in the snow, sick and sobbing. Her tears felled him. He was as helpless to stop his feelings as he was to stop a toppling pine.

  He studied her. Her sunset-colored hair, her sparkling eyes, her proud chin, her soft cheeks, her gentle hands—all mesmerized him.

  Far more than that, her lively, charming disposition and caring spirit captured him. She adored Cookie and worked hard to make the older man’s burden lighter.

  What were these strange, tingling feelings coursing through his soul?

  She cupped her hand over his whiskered cheek. “Please be careful, Noah. I couldn’t stand it if I lost you, too.”

  In that instant he identified his feelings.

  He loved her.

  Noah ambled with Adie through the freshly fallen snow on the way back to their cabin the following night, her arm looped through his. They were joined, connected, and it felt right. He hadn’t expected love to happen, but it had. You can’t put water back in the pump.

  He’d walked her to the mess hall this morning, not leaving until Cookie had arrived. Before breakfast, he’d reported last night’s incident to Mr. Larsen. His boss had claimed he could do nothing.

  Nothing.

  No one had witnessed last night’s exchange. Derek would deny it. Mr. Larsen warned him to be extra vigilant the next few days.

  He kept his eye on Owens during work, barely caging his rage. He stayed in the dining hall after supper, helping her, and now walking her home.

  His newly discovered love grew. He wanted to learn everything about her. Maybe she would trust him enough someday to open up. He wanted to woo her.

  When he’d hung up her coat last night after she’d slept, he’d tucked her mittens into her pockets. A crinkling had come from one, and he’d felt a piece of paper. Had Owens slipped her a threatening note? He’d retrieved it. Before him, sketched in pencil, had been a little log cabin
. She must have drawn it herself. He’d held his breath as he stared at the beautiful likeness. The proportions had been perfect, the details amazing. She’d included knots in the trunks and traced each chimney rock.

  He twirled his mustache as they walked along, wanting to ask her about it, but she yawned. “I’m so tired. You must be exhausted, doing my chores after logging all day.”

  He stifled a yawn and chuckled. “Guess I am. Maybe we should have devotions and head for bed.” The drawing could wait.

  Once at the chilly cabin, they settled in for Bible reading. He chose Psalm 91. He wanted to reassure Adie—and himself—that the Lord watched over them.

  “‘He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.’”

  He peered at her. Tears ran in rivulets down her pale cheeks. He bolted from his chair, flying to her side, grasping her hands. “What’s the matter? Did Derek threaten you again?”

  Adie shook her head, unable to turn off her tears for the second night in a row.

  She’d never been one to cry, but the words Noah read tonight probed all her pain. Ever since Mama had died, and then Daddy, she’d had difficulty reconcilingthe idea of a loving God with the things happening in her life. Why did He leave her alone in the world? Why did He allow Derek to threaten her and force her to marry a man she’d spoken less than a dozen words to? In this passage, God spoke to her. After all these years, He had a message for her.

  “Read it again.”

  He returned to his chair and traced his finger over the page. “‘And under his wings shalt thou trust.’ “She stopped him.

  “Under his wings.” The concept drew her back to sunny childhood days. Daddy had bought Mama laying hens as a birthday surprise. At first they hadn’t collected many eggs. They’d allowed some to hatch to increase their flock. She’d loved to watch the fluffy chicks scurry about the coop. When she’d bend to scoop some into her apron, they’d scatter and dart under the hens’ wings. Their mothers protected them from Adie’s chubby, too-tight grasp.