When Love Comes My Way

by Lori Copeland

  “It’s lovely… and so large.”

  “Would you like to try it on?” Despite Fedelia’s soft gasp of protest, Tess removed the ring and handed it to her. “Don’t worry. Talbot will never know.” The poor thing needed something to brighten her life.

  Fedelia hesitantly slipped the ring on her finger and then moved her hand back and forth, openly admiring the way the diamonds caught the late afternoon light. Sadness entered her eyes, and Tess saw it. “Is there someone you care for deeply, Miss Yardley?”

  “There was once, but I lost him before I realized how much I truly loved him.”

  “Oh.” Tess reached out to gently touch the young woman’s hand. “I’m so sorry. Was it long ago?”

  Fedelia smiled. “Sometimes it seems as though it were a hundred years ago…but it has been only a few months. I’m afraid I’ve lost track of time. That’s why I accepted the teaching position. I thought perhaps…” Her voice trailed as moisture welled in her eyes.

  Clearing her throat, Fedelia quickly returned to an earlier subject. “This Mr. Lannigan you spoke of, I’ve also corresponded with him. He’s the one who hired me. He doesn’t think you’ll regret selling your grandfather’s business? It seems like a handsome inheritance.”

  “His feelings are really none of my concern.” Though the foreman had not replied to her last letter, she wasn’t surprised. From his increasingly sharply worded notes, she gathered that Mr. Lannigan was a stubborn man who could be quite rude when things didn’t go his way. “But it wouldn’t matter if he did. I want to please Talbot, and he feels my money can be invested more prudently.”

  “And you feel the same?”

  “I have better things to do with my money than plant trees.” Tess wondered if she really meant what she’d said, but before she could think on that too closely, she had to grab the side of the wagon for support. The old wooden conveyance had violently lurched sideways. Fedelia’s stunned exclamation was ringing in Tess’s ears as the young woman sailed out of her seat and onto Tess’s lap.

  “My goodness!”

  Something was terribly wrong. Tess’s heart jumped to her throat as she and Fedelia tried to regain their balance. What had just happened? Were they out of control?

  The jolt had thrown Walter Fedderson onto the floor of the wagon bed. The burly men back there with him seemed to be faring little better. The older man struggled to pull himself back up on his seat. “What’s going on?”

  The wagon continued to pitch wildly. Tess could barely hold on. Abruptly, her world turned upside down. In the blink of an eye the cart tilted hard to the right. The team of horses broke loose at the same time Tess saw a wheel fly off, and then the wagon left the road and became airborne.

  Helpless to understand what was happening, she continued to grip the wooden sides, desperately trying to hang on. The wagon tossed and jolted from side to side down a steep incline, hurtling toward a muddy, swiftly flowing river.

  Fedelia screamed. Tess reached out with one hand to latch onto her, but her attempt met thin air. “Take my hand!” she shouted. She heard Fedelia shout her name before the woman was thrown out into the air like a rag doll.

  “Dear God, please help us!” Tess called out when she saw Walter Fedderson follow the teacher. She could hear her screams blend with Fedelia’s as the young teacher fell headlong into the icy waters. The churning river immediately laid claim to her flailing body, picking it up and carrying it swiftly along the icy current.

  “Fedelia! Grab on to something!” Tess struggled to hold on as the shattered frame of the wagon bumped and slid its way down the frozen hillside. After what seemed like an eternity, though it was mere seconds later, it tumbled into the glacial waters, trapping Tess inside the wreckage. Bitterly cold water stung her skin and she choked, spitting water. Heart pounding, she tried to gather her bearings. She must have hit her head against something—it felt as though it would burst! She struggled to breathe as she thought about how she didn’t want to die. In truth, she’d only begun to live. There was so much left she wanted to do. She wanted to marry, to have children…And her hats…her lovely hats…

  Tess struggled fiercely to free her body, imprisoned in the frozen bowels of debris with her head just above water, and worried about her traveling companions. Mr. Fedderson—where was Mr. Fedderson? Had she only imagined that he’d been thrown clear, or was he trapped somewhere below her, fighting for his life? She searched the freezing water, seeking the older man. Nothing. And what happened to the other men who had joined them in Shadow Pine?

  She realized she couldn’t feel anything now, just a vague tingling where the tips of her fingers were supposed to be. She had to fight for her life. She tried to brace herself against the swift current that wanted to drag her under, her lungs aching for breath.

  Oh, dear God, help me. She was going to die. Where were those woodsmen? They were strong; they could help…

  Don’t let me die like this. Don’t let me die like this—she was aware she was losing consciousness, but she continued to pray as a terrifying blackness threatened to devour her. “Please, God,” she sobbed. “I’m so s-scared…” Her words were a mere whimper now, her head pounding unmercifully. A mounting pressure in her chest sapped her remaining strength.

  She was truly alone now, a thought that only an hour ago she’d found so exhilarating. Her hand slowly lost its grip on the wooden prison around her, and she felt her body growing lighter, weightless.

  Please, God, if it must be the end, let it be swift. Watch over Talbot…

  Then a warming numbness embraced her as an eerie silence took all sound away except that of the cold, rushing water and the pounding inside her head.

  3

  Cold air entered the office when André opened the door and poked his head in. “We are almost done with the new telegraph line, Big Say, but we cannot spare a crew to finish it right now.”

  Jake looked away from the lumberjack he was talking to and frowned. “How much longer?”

  Shrugging, André shook his head. “You want the line finished or Mekin’s timber order filled first?”

  “Mekin won’t wait. Fill the order and we’ll worry about the line later.”

  The Frenchman pulled the door closed and Jake turned back to the man sitting in front of him. “It’s not bad pay, Hugh.”

  “Three dollars a day?” Hugh Burton rubbed the heavy stubble on his chin.

  Jake didn’t want to lose this man. “I doubt Sven Templeton would match the wage. Better take what you can while you can.” A river driver with Hugh’s experience was hard to come by. The work was hazardous, and the working conditions were rugged.

  Agile, fearless, and skillful, a river driver sent logs from the roll ways to the booming grounds, working from twelve to fourteen hours a day before getting back to camp each night.

  “Well…”

  “Three dollars a day, plus room and board.” Jake was certain Templeton wouldn’t be offering more. Rumor had it that when one of Sven’s river hogs had been killed in last year’s spring drive, Sven had docked the man’s widow thirty percent of his pay because her husband had failed to complete the terms of his contract.

  The man in front of him rubbed his chin again and sighed.

  “I’d do more if I could, Hugh.” Jake pushed back from his desk and reached for the pot of coffee on the stove.

  “I was hoping for three twenty-five,” Hugh admitted.

  “I know you were.” Jake filled Hugh’s cup before replenishing his. “I heard they are hiring in Seney. You might try there.”

  The jack shook his head. “I can’t move to Seney. The rumor mill says you’re going to be leaving once the sale is final. That so?”

  After placing the pot back on the stove, Jake walked to the window. He let the question go unanswered and hoped the man would let it drop. Although Sven had already approached him about staying in the area and working for him, Jake knew he couldn’t. He was seriously thinking about yielding to his father’s pressu
re to return to Lannigan Timber—then again, maybe he’d get out of the timber business altogether. Hugh’s soft-spoken admission broke into Jake’s troubled thoughts.

  “My Nellie’s real sick.”

  The foreman turned from where he’d been watching the sleet that had been falling all morning grow into large snowflakes. “I’m sorry about that, Hugh. We’d help if you’d let us.”

  He’d heard that Hugh’s wife was seriously ill, and Hugh needed money to send her downstate to see a doctor who could possibly treat her lung affliction. In hardship cases like this, Jake and his crew usually dug into their pockets to help with the expenses, but anyone who knew Hugh was aware that he was a proud man, a man who wouldn’t take anything he hadn’t earned, a man who would prefer to work eighteen hours a day if necessary to provide the care his wife and family needed. “I won’t take charity, but I’m desperate, Jake. I’ll take the job and as much overtime as you can see fit to give me.”

  “I’ll do all I can.”

  Hugh rose, and when Jake offered a handshake, he noticed that the man’s eyes were filled with quiet gratitude.

  “I’m much obliged to you, Big Say. I promise I’ll earn my keep.”

  Jake clasped the work-callused hand reassuringly. Hugh had run into a string of bad luck lately. First his wife’s illness, and then his former employer’s announcement that Barlow Timber was shutting down for good after last season. Jake was happy to do whatever he could. “Glad to have you aboard. Take your things to the bunkhouse and get settled.”

  Jake glanced up when the door to the office burst open, bringing with it a frigid blast of air. A grim-faced André stood in the doorway.

  “You had better come with me, Jake.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There has been a wagon accident. It is serious.”

  Reaching for his wool mackinaw hanging behind the stove, Jake nodded his apologies to Hugh. He slipped into the heavy jacket and followed André out the door. “When did it happen?”

  “Not sure, but not that long ago. I helped drag a woman out of the river. She is alive but near frozen. Doc Medifer is working on her now.”

  “The wagon team?”

  “Broke loose. Some of the men spotted the horses up the road a piece. That is how we knew there was an accident and rushed down to the site. I had them put the team in the barn. Some of the men are down there now looking for more passengers.”

  “They’ll never find anyone in that current,” Jake said. “Better get some wires sent to figure out who these folks are. The train probably brought them to Shadow Pine and they boarded the wagon to come to camp.”

  “We cannot send anything. The lines are not up yet, remember?”

  Jake shook his head as he strode toward the doctor’s office. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. “Send them as soon as possible.”

  “To whom?”

  “The railroad line. They will know what names were on the passenger lists.”

  André matched his strides with Jake’s as the men braced themselves against the blustery wind off Lake Huron.

  The logging operation lay in a deep harbor, protected on one side by a hundred-foot limestone cliff. The camp was a top-notch operation with land covered by beech, maple, birch, and deep stands of the coveted white pine. However, by mid-October the natural windbreaks did little to protect anyone from the fierce bite of the wind that could blow right through a man.

  “How many were injured?” Jake asked as he and André made their way across the road and turned the corner.

  “The driver managed to escape. He’s banged up, but he’ll make it. He said there were five folks in the wagon. Two women, an older man, and two woodsmen. The driver and one woman are the only ones we know survived. The others are unaccounted for.”

  “Where’s the driver now?”

  “He wanted to go back to Shadow Pine.”

  “Does anyone know who the woman in Doc’s office is?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do we know how it happened?”

  “Wheel came off. The wagon went down the embankment, broke apart, and then landed in the river. I’m surprised anyone got out of it alive.”

  The river had been up and running for days after heavy rains. Jake figured a strong man swimming against a swift current on a day like today wouldn’t have much of a chance of making it to safety, much less a woman. “I’ve told Mingo a hundred times that he needs to replace those things he’s calling wagons. I’ve been expecting an accident for years.”

  “The man is a miser,” André said. “He will not spend a penny unless he is forced to.”

  “This accident will probably take care of that.”

  They reached their destination and stepped inside. A small group of men and women were gathered around the red-hot stove. Speaking in hushed tones, the men discussed the unexpected turn of events, shaking their heads amid grim predictions that the missing passengers would never be found alive.

  Going to the curtained partition, Jake peeked into a dimly lit room where the injured lady lay. He could barely make out the outline of the doctor hovering over a small woman unconscious on the table.

  He let the curtain fall shut and spotted Bernice heading straight for him.

  “Jake, you’re here. Do you know what’s happened?”

  “There’s been an accident—”

  “And do you know who is lying in there on that table, frozen stiffer than a wet sheet in a January wind?”

  He had no idea who the woman was, but to his surprise Bernice seemed to be working herself into a lather. “Not yet.” He saw that André had stepped inside.

  “Fedelia Yardley, that’s who!” Bernice wrung her hands and paced the length of the store.

  Jake glanced at his right-hand man. “Is that the new schoolteacher?”

  André nodded. “What little information we have points that way. The driver verified that Miss Yardley was in the wagon when the wheel came off. Of the two women, he was not sure which one she was, though. He could not recall the other female passenger’s name. We suspect she might be the woman Burl Sutter has been expecting.”

  “The one he proposed to from East Saginaw?”

  André put his hands close to the stove. “Yes. We are not positive, but Burl said she was due in sometime this week.”

  Jake glanced back at the end of the room where the young woman was lying. “Did she have any identification on her?”

  “We found a couple of valises along the hillside with the initials FY on them,” André replied. “The current must have swept the rest of the folks’ personal belongings downstream—except for a few of Miss Yardley’s textbooks found on the bank.”

  “Oh, merciful heavens!” exclaimed Bernice. “Why did this have to happen now? If that poor woman dies—”

  Jake heard the woman’s voice grow an octave higher when the appalling ramifications became apparent. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He didn’t need Bernice’s dramatic antics right now.

  Slapping her hand against her forehead, she tramped back and forth across the wooden floor, picking up tempo as she went. “If she doesn’t survive, you will have to close the school permanently because I simply will not be responsible for teaching those… those hoodlums!”

  Jake cleared his throat. “Bernice, you should probably lower your voice. Whatever happens, you will not have to teach any longer than we discussed.” He only hoped he could stick to that promise.

  “Humph!”

  He turned away from her and once again parted the curtain, but this time he stepped inside the small room. Doc barely glanced up. The man concentrated on the stethoscope he was holding to the woman’s chest.

  “How is she?”

  Peering over the rims of his spectacles, the physician shook his head. “I was hoping she would have come around by now.”

  Stepping up to the table, Jake got his first real look at the injured passenger. The face of the soaking wet, bedraggled woman lying unconscious was pa
le as death. Fedelia Yardley, the long-awaited teacher, seemed to be at death’s door.

  As he looked at the woman’s pretty face, from out of nowhere the name “Tess Wakefield” entered his mind. No, it was impossible. Miss Wakefield’s last letter had just arrived. She couldn’t have made the trip so quickly.

  He focused on the mass of unruly hair, the small cupid-shaped mouth, pouty even now as she lay limp as a rag doll. He studied the patrician features that were characteristically Rutherford: high cheekbones, wide-set eyes, straight nose, and a chin of iron determination.

  Could this half-drowned creature possibly be Tess Wakefield? He shoved the thought aside. He had enough troubles. He didn’t need to be borrowing more.

  “She’s mighty lucky to be alive,” Doc said as he walked to the medicine cabinet and pulled out a vial.

  “Will she make it?”

  “I don’t think she’s suffered any life-threatening injuries, and there appears to be no internal bleeding at this point. She took in a lot of water, though, and she’s bound to have caught a chill. She has numerous cuts and bruises. I’m a little concerned about the fingers on her left hand. They are somewhat frostbitten, but I’m hoping she’ll regain full use of them. I’m more concerned about her overall exposure right now.”

  “How long do you think she was in the water?”

  “Not long, thank the good Lord. I think André got to her and managed to pull her out of the wreckage shortly after the accident happened.” Doc put the stethoscope in his bag. “It’s unlikely the others will ever be found.”

  Jake knew the doctor was well aware of the hazards of the river. At this time of year, the current could easily propel a body straight into Lake Huron, never to be seen again. André said they had recovered two valises bearing the initials FY. That was proof enough for him that Fedelia Yardley was indeed on the wagon along with perhaps Burl’s woman.

  André poked his face through the parted curtain and asked, “How’s she doing?”

  The young woman on the table stirred, murmuring softly, “Please, Lord, help me…I don’t want to die…please…God…”