› › ›
Fifteen more minutes of steady riding carried them to the Cowan Brother’s Logging Company. Paul dismounted, and then helped Amelia off the horse. He guided her to the cookhouse and upon entering, they were greeted by the delicious aromas of the evening meal being prepared.
“Well, Miss Jackson, this certainly is an unexpected pleasure,” Biscuit’s jovial voice cut through the silence as his heavy boots clunked toward them across the wooden floor.
“Thank you, Mr. Todd. And how are you today?”
“I’m doing very well, ma’am.” Biscuit then turned his attention to Paul. “The Boss wasn’t too happy about your being late,” he scolded the mill owner. “Said he didn’t have time to waste like the idle city businessmen do. Said he had real work to do and to let him know if you finally showed up.”
“Well then, Biscuit. Why don’t you tell him I’m here?”
The cook snickered and headed outside. Paul escorted her to a bench at a rough, wooden table. A minute later, a loud bell chimed three solid strokes, then two. Biscuit returned and offered Amelia a cup of coffee.
“No thank you. But I would like a glass of water, if you don’t mind.”
“Coming right up.” Within seconds, he returned and placed a cool, tin cup into her hands.
“Thank you.” Allowing its refreshing element to wash through her like a tonic renewing her spirits, Amelia drank away her thirst.
“I think a cup of water would be nice,” Paul hinted.
“What do I look like, your charwoman? You know where it is, Strupel. Help yourself.”
Paul walked across the room, mumbling loudly enough so everyone could hear. “I don’t know why the Cowans keep him around here. Why, if he were my employee...”
Amelia heard the gentle swirl of water as he ladled some into a cup over to the water barrel and he returned, sitting nearby on the bench.
Amelia wondered if Biscuit ever had a bad day. He seemed so quick to have fun with every situation that came his way. “May I have some more, please?” She poured on her sweetest Southern accent and held her cup into the air for anyone to grab.
“Why of course, ma’am,” Biscuit jumped to do her bidding.
“Oh sure. You treat her like royalty and all I get is the royal boot,” Paul bantered.
She laughed at the two and was still laughing, when someone entered the cookhouse. She judged two men by the sound of their footsteps.
“Well, Strupel,” Jeremiah said. “I had planned to bawl you out royally---”
In unison, Paul, Biscuit and Amelia burst out laughing again.
“But,” he continued, “Amelia’s presence has completely changed my disposition.” He walked up to her, took her hand in both of his, and kissed it. “It’s so nice to see you here, Amelia. We don’t get female visitors up here very often. You just livened this dreary place with that pretty smile of yours.”
“Thank you, Jeremiah. I enjoyed the ride up here.”
Paul must have thought his friend was standing much too close to her, because he walked around the two and positioned himself beside Amelia. She heard some papers rattle. “I’ve got the contract.” She figured he addressed Jeremiah.
Jeremiah dropped Amelia’s hand and snatched the papers away from Paul. “Oh, Strupel. Are you still here?”
Aaron Cowan and Biscuit cackled with laughter.
“Do I detect the other Cowan brother?” Amelia asked. “Why so quiet today?”
“Oh, I was just waiting for the fight.”
“Fight?”
“Well, maybe fight isn’t the correct word. But, when you put these two together, watch out! Biscuit and I have an ongoing bet to see how quickly they get in the first jab and which one of them does it first.”
Amelia thought Aaron and Biscuit wouldn’t be able to stop laughing. They were contagious and she found herself joining them.
“Who won the bet today?” she asked.
“I did!” Aaron whooped. “You owe me two bits, Biscuit man.”
“Thanks for betting on me, brother,” Jeremiah said. “I try not to let you down.”
“I’ve been winning a lot lately. Strupel here seems to be turning over a new leaf or something. He’s not as quick with the put-downs as he used to be.”
“All right, could we finally get down to the business that brought me here in the first place?” Paul sounded annoyed with the other men.
“Before you do,” Amelia spoke out. “Would one of you gentlemen please direct me to the privy?” She preferred feminine assistance when nature called, and she blushed at having to ask such a question of these men.
“Privy!” shrieked Biscuit. “Why, ma’am, there are sometimes as many as a hundred men up here in this camp and thousands of trees all around us. What would we need an outhouse for?”
“Oh, dear.” Amelia lowered her head toward the ground and felt her cheeks becoming hot. It hadn’t occurred to her . . .
“Biscuit, don’t fluster her like that,” Jeremiah chided the cook. “Of course we have an outhouse, Amelia. Sometimes he just doesn’t know the proper time to be serious. It’s behind the shanties.” He took her arm and led her out of the cookhouse.
“I was surprised to see you up here, Amelia. And pleased,” he told her as soon as they were away from the others.
“Paul said he was coming up here anyway, and I was bored, so I agreed to come along. I thought it would be a nice deviation from the normal routine.”
“It’s definitely a nice deviation from my normal routine. I’m glad you came. There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you. Ah, here it is.” They had arrived at the outhouse.
When she emerged, Jeremiah took her arm once again, and after taking a few steps, he stopped.
“I want to invite you to a dance next Saturday night. Some townspeople are throwing a party for Corrin’s fortieth birthday at the Silver Slipper, and I wondered if you’d do me the honor of accompanying me? Do you dance, Amelia?”
She was so confused right now and was unsure how she felt about him. So much had happened since Tuesday night when her heart raced for the first time at his closeness. She wished she could put it all into words in a similar manner to the way he had opened up with her at dinner that splendid night.
“Yes, I love to dance. That is, if my partner doesn’t mind a few bruised toes.”
“Well then? Will you go with me?”
“Yes, Jeremiah. I’m sure I would like that very much.” She wanted to see what he looked like, but after the affect it had on Paul Strupel, she quickly put it out of her mind, saving that for another time.
“Great! Thank you. I’ll enjoy myself so much more now. I’ll be at your door at seven-thirty next Saturday night.”
“That will be fine.”
Starting back toward the camp, Jeremiah secured the hand she had under his arm with his. Rather than return immediately to the others, he decided to give her a tour of the camp, allowing her to feel the sturdy log walls of the huge shanties where the men bunked. He explained how a couple dozen men lived in each building. He took his time as he detailed how the logging operation worked, describing the individual jobs performed by the fellers, butters, buckers and skidders who dragged or floated the sixteen foot logs down to Strupel’s Mill to be cut into boards of varying sizes.
Amelia wondered if Paul would be worried at her prolonged absence. She didn’t know how soon he’d wanted to leave. “Should we get back to the cookhouse now?”
“Just one more thing to show you about our operations.”
Jeremiah then took even more of her time by explaining the types of axes and saws used by the lumberjacks. Finally, he must have run out of things to show her, so there was nothing more to do than to return to the others.
“There you are! I was just about to go look for you,” Paul said anxiously as they entered the cookhouse. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine, Paul,” Amelia answered, knowing quite well that he was actually saying that he w
as concerned about her being with Jeremiah so long, that he doesn’t trust him with her, that he wants her all to himself, that he didn’t want her falling for Jeremiah. But in her confused state, she thought it might be too late. Both men had managed to excite her in ways she had never known. In Georgia, gentlemen took plenty of time for courtship, but out here in the West, these men went straight for a lady’s heart.
Molly had read stories to her of mail order brides, and short courtships, which had intrigued their young sensibilities. Now, here she was in the west and finding out that those tales had been true all along. She wasn’t prepared for any of this and hoped to have some time soon to just sit down and talk to her aunt and ask her the questions burning on her heart.
“Relax, Strupel, I was just showing her around the camp and telling her how we operate here.”
“Yes, and it was very interesting, even if he wouldn’t let me touch one of the saws.”
“Well, I see he does posses a little common sense after all,” Paul said.
“So, you’re taking Jeremiah’s side?” Aaron Cowan asked.
“I never thought I’d say this, but yes. I guess I am.” Paul sighed as if the confession annoyed him.
“Wow! It never occurred to me to bet on that ever happening,” Aaron said and everyone laughed.
Amelia had never met such a rambunctious group of men before. And she felt completely comfortable and secure with them. Wouldn’t her mother have a lot to say about this if she were still here? She sighed. She wouldn’t be here if her mother hadn’t taken to her sick bed. How fragile life can be.
Yet as she listed to these men banter with one another, she knew life could also be hearty, and she took heart that she at least had an aunt she could love. Couldn’t she?
› › ›
“Cowan,” Paul said. This meeting was getting out of hand, as usual, and he needed to get Amelia down the mountain before supper. “Your brother read the contract and says it’s fine—nothing unusual. Are you going to sign it or not?” He also was anxious to conclude his business dealings so he could leave the camp so he could be alone with Amelia once again.
Jeremiah looked at Aaron who nodded his approval. “Oh, all right, let’s get this over with.”
The Cowans compliantly signed the papers. Immediately after dividing them into two sets, Paul stuffed his copy back into his pocket and stood to his feet.
“Amelia, we’d better get started back to town.” He took her arm and guided her out the door, the others following closely behind them. Aaron invited them to stay for supper and Jeremiah said it was a grand idea. But Paul was unwilling to share Amelia any longer and wouldn’t hear of it.
Everyone said goodbye, and when it was Biscuit’s turn, he added, “I enjoyed having you here today, Miss Jackson. Like the Boss said earlier, we don’t get much female company up here, except for Family Day.”
Paul groaned inwardly. He wished Biscuit had never brought up this subject, and he hurried Amelia on top of Colorado’s sturdy back.
“Family Day?” she asked.
“Sure,” Biscuit said. “Every first Wednesday of the month, the men’s wives and sweethearts bring picnic lunches up here and the Boss-Man gives the fellas an extra long lunch. Most of these men are up here for months at a time, except for Sundays, and they get pretty lonely for their loved ones.” Biscuit smiled. “And it means time off for me.”
“I think that is a noble thing to do, Jeremiah,” Amelia said.
“Amelia, why don’t you come back on Wednesday for Family Day?” Jeremiah asked.
Paul mounted his trusty steed behind Amelia and threw Jeremiah a rude look. All the men saw it. But Jeremiah ignored it, as usual.
“The ladies gather at Conner’s Mercantile, and a couple of my men drive them up here and back in wagons. It sure would be a pleasure to picnic up here in the fresh air with you.”
Paul pursed his lips. The urge to punch him in the mouth to get him to shut up welled up inside him. The veins on his neck were protruding as he tightened his jaw to keep him from saying something that might get him in trouble with Amelia. He had to get his emotions under control. Somehow, he didn’t think God would be happy with his old behavior showing up again. He’d left that life behind a few months ago. He’d have to talk with the Preacher about how to handle his anger.
“That sounds very nice, Jeremiah. But I’m not sure that I can commit to such a proposition at this time. I’ll talk with Aunt Corrin about it. I guess if I decide to come, you will know it when the wagons arrive.”
“Fair enough,” Jeremiah said.
Paul let out the long breath that he had been holding and maneuvered Colorado out of camp.
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Jeremiah watched Paul and Amelia disappear into the trees until they were out of sight. His usually lighthearted disposition faded with the envy he felt at seeing Amelia sitting so close to Paul Strupel, his arm wrapped securely around her middle as he lead the horse through the forest.
He had always loved his occupation. Being out in the woods so far from the confines of the busy town gave him a liberated feeling. But today he was wishing he lived nearer to Glory Gulch, nearer to Amelia. Paul would be able to call on her every day, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. The forest he loved so dearly suddenly felt imprisoning to him. He scowled and headed back to work.
› › ›
Amelia savored her roast beef dinner. The day’s activities had used up her energy and she had been famished.
“Sarah Jane is a wonderful cook. Don’t you agree, Amelia?” Paul forked a helping of green beans into his mouth and smiled while he chewed.
“She certainly is. These biscuits are heavenly. Say, that reminds me. Do you know why everyone calls Mr. Todd, Biscuit?”
“Sure. A couple of years ago when the Cowans were looking for a new cook, they interviewed just about everyone who could boil water. Being a camp of all men, they had to rule out any females who may have applied. So that cut their chances of finding someone who could actually cook to almost none.”
“When they came across young Adam Todd, they ruled him out with so much as a ‘thank you for coming’. He was in his early twenties and he just couldn’t convince them that he knew his way around a kitchen. He had no experience other than the fact that his mother had died when he was little, and he had to cook for his eight brothers and father. The Cowans were skeptical about this, and they certainly didn’t believe him when he told them he had once cooked a meal for the President of the United States back before he got to be President, so they sent him on his way.
“‘Awe, biscuits!’ Todd mumbled as he walked away from them. Aaron asked him to repeat what he said, thinking he was sputtering some rude remark. Well, you know how Todd is, quick thinking---in an impish sort of way. He simply answered, ‘Biscuits.’ They asked him to explain what he meant, and he told them that anyone could cook a stew, but the proof is in their biscuits. If a person could make great biscuits, then that would mean they probably knew what they were doing in other areas of the kitchen as well.”
Amelia enjoyed the story and liked the sound of Paul’s voice---very pleasant, very masculine.
Paul set down his fork and knife and leaned back in his chair. “So the Cowans challenged him then and there to bake them some of those great biscuits he was talking about.
“He smiled and said, ‘Coming right up, Boss.’ And to their amazement, young Todd was grabbing bowls and pans and flower and butter and such as if he’d been in the lumber camp for years. His hands were working so fast, they could hardly keep up with him. Within a half hour, they were all feasting on the biggest, fluffiest, most delicious biscuits they had ever tasted.
“After the Cowans exchanged nods, Jeremiah looked at Todd and said, ‘You’re hired, biscuit man.’ And they called him Biscuit Man for some time before they finally just shortened it to Biscuit.”
Paul took up his utensils, sliced off a juicy piece of beef, and forked it into his mouth.
“My, you certainly have a knack for telling stories. Thank you, Paul. Say, Aunt Corrin tells me you have a piano.”
“Yes. It belonged to my mother. She played beautifully. Sometimes lying in bed at night I think I can still hear her playing.” He sounded wistful and Amelia liked hearing this side of the man.
“That’s how it was with my mother too.” Amelia hoped the tears that were threatening to slide down her cheeks would not come quickly. “She taught me to play, but I don’t think I could ever be as proficient as she was. Paul, I think I’m ready to begin playing again. Aunt Corrin doesn’t think it’s a good idea for me to use the saloon’s piano for practicing, and I was wondering if you would allow me to use yours once in awhile?”
Paul was thinking almost the same thing as Corrin had regarding the talents of a blind person. But he allowed his heart to answer for him.
“I can understand why Corrin didn’t want you to use the one at the saloon. It’s a business, and she has to keep up the right atmosphere,” Paul said. “I’ve been keeping it up in Mother’s memory. But I think nothing would please her more than for it to be used, making beautiful music once again. Just let me know when you would like to come over to practice.”
Without thinking Amelia reached out to him and found his arm. “Thank you,” she whispered. Realizing what she had done---and in public---she drew back, quickly found her tea cup, and sipped the tasty, warm drink. What must he think of her now?
› › ›
Paul’s heart jumped into his throat, beating wildly with pleasure from her deliberate touch. He couldn’t think of a thing to say. Instead, he reached for her hand and held it tenderly, resting it upon the table for several minutes. He’d courted a lot of women in his forty years, and he’d expected to live alone for what’s left of his life. Perhaps his age did have something to do with it. Maybe after so many failed relationships, he could recognize love more immediately. Yes, he definitely believed in love at first sight, and he knew that’s what he felt for her.
Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch) Page 7
