Ansel spoke up, “Griffin Benning gives the orders, Smoke Tolbert and me carry them out by giving them to you and the other men.”
“Bass, you’re not in charge?” Whiteaker tilted his head and rested his hands on his hips.”
“Nope. I’m a logger same as you.”
“All right, then.” As he headed off, he tossed out over his shoulder, “See you at the mill.”
Something was off about this guy, he was too sketchy. Linc hadn’t been satisfied with his answers, but he’d let it coast for now. He had to get to town to send those telegrams. Since Griffin had hired him, he obviously had a different take on the guy. Tonight, after supper, they could compare notes. In the meantime, he would join Whiteaker and the others to help with the installation of the new larger saw.
Later that evening, Linc climbed the stairs to the second floor. He was dog tired, but as he passed Emmeline’s room, he saw a soft glow shining from beneath her door. He stood there listening for sounds of movement to see if she was awake, while debating with himself about the merits of confronting her.
On the one hand, if she had wanted to talk to him, she wouldn’t have busied herself with the children during supper and after. On the other, if he placed himself directly in front of her, would she close the door in his face? Would she ignore him? In order to see her once more, it was a chance he was willing to take.
Raising his hand, he knocked and said softly, “Emmeline?”
“Yes?” she answered, sounding very far away.
“It’s Linc.”
“I know.”
“Can we talk?” Seconds passed with nothing but silence on the other side of the door. “Please?”
After another minute, she opened the door a fraction. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I want to apologize for last night.”
“Apology accepted. Now, I’ll say goodnight.”
Before she closed the door completely, he slipped his hand between the solid wood slab and the frame, a move he might should’ve thought twice about.
“Damnation,” he cursed beneath his breath.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, as she quickly opened the door. “What are you doing?”
“Standing here wondering if you’ve broken my hand.” He stared at his left hand, that now sported a crease from the doorframe.
“I didn’t do that, you’re the one who thrust your hand in there. You shouldn’t go pushing in where—”
“Hey, will you two take your discussion elsewhere?” Griffin, dressed in his nightshirt, stood in the doorway to his and Laurel’s bedroom across the hall. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”
Linc appealed to her, “Emmeline?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” she answered in a huff. “You are so annoying.” Fastening the top button on her robe, she led him downstairs to the kitchen.
“What are we doing in here?” he asked. He flexed his hand into a fist and opened it again while examining the beginnings of a blue-purple bruise just above his knuckles.
She ignored him, while silently continuing the task of setting a large bowl onto the table, and then filling it half-way with warm water from the reservoir on the stove, and mixing in some Epsom salts. She pulled a chair from beneath the table’s edge. “Sit.”
He did, and nearly shot back up when she took hold of his throbbing hand to place it into the bowl to soak.
She had the grace to wince, but continued, scolding, “Perhaps the next time you’ll think before you act.”
“I’m doing that right now.” After a minute or two his hand acclimated to the very warm water temperature and he relaxed. “How did you know what to do?”
“We have a cousin who comes to stay with us every summer and he tends to get into fights in the neighborhood. Mother always had plenty of Epsom salts in the pantry.”
He raised his hand out of the water, flexed his fingers, and then rested it back in the bowl. Apparently, there were no broken bones so he’d be able to work. “I could tell you’d had experience, but thought it might be personal.”
“Your bad manners and false assumptions are not as funny as you seem to think. Vaudeville will not be looking to place you on a playbill.”
“You’re right about that.” He shook his head. “I’ve never had the knack for humor. Now, my brothers are a different story. They’re the real jokesters.”
“You have brothers?”
“Yeah, three brothers and four sisters to be exact.”
“Goodness, I can’t imagine having that many siblings always underfoot. Sometimes, Laurel and Adeline were too many.”
“Pop had us doing chores on the farm pretty early and the older girls helped with the housework and took care of the babies.”
Her shapely brows drew together in question, and for the first time, he noticed a light sprinkling of freckles across her nose. For some reason, he found that damned appealing. “What about an education?” she asked. “Surely, you all went to school?”
“Here and there.” Before she could put a voice to the questions he knew were coming, he said, “Emmeline, let’s face it, we come from completely different backgrounds. I grew up with a good family, hard work and little else. You were raised with a good family and a life of privilege. We will never be able to understand or compare our upbringings, so it’s best if we don’t try.”
“I see.” She reached for the cup towel draped across the front of the sink and tossed it at him. Picking up the lamp, she said, “I’m assuming you can finish here by yourself.”
“Yes, but—”
“Goodnight, Mr. Bass.”
“Goodnight.”
He turned toward the doorway as she swished past him, leaving him alone, in the dark, with her lingering scent. Well, he’d offended her again. To his way of thinking, he’d merely stated the obvious. Why was it women had to beat a conversation to death?
He lifted his hand from the Epsom salts soak and gingerly dried it with the towel. Luckily, with his blue eyes, he could see well in the dark and was able to clean up the mess. Even as tired as he was, he knew he would have a difficult time getting Emmeline Weidner out of his thoughts.
He rarely drank, but this evening he needed something to help him relax and quiet the thoughts churning in his head. Pouring himself two fingers of whiskey, he walked out onto the porch and into the yard. He leaned against a pine tree, listening to the soft sounds of the tree tops swaying with the wind and wondering what he was going to do with that delectable but bewildering Yankee.
Emmeline listened for his footsteps outside her door. She had thought he might be right behind her, but obviously not. She did not understand him. She’d encouraged conversation in the hope, that by finding out more about his family, she’d learn more about him. They’d been having a nice talk, when he, suddenly, decided they were finished.
She knew he didn’t like her, that much was evident in the way he treated her. She imagined he thought her vain, spoiled, privileged, and self-centered. And perhaps she was to a certain extent, at least she probably had come across that way, especially that first day.
In reality, she only knew what she was used to. It was exactly what she’d said to Laurel the other day, she was a product of her raising. She was Philadelphia society. Being that though, didn’t mean she couldn’t change. After all, Laurel had done so, hadn’t she?
That was it! Now, she knew what Laurel had meant by wanting to teach her how to do things around the house. She’d taken a few lessons, in the last few days, to help her sister now that she was expecting. But what if she really put her mind to it? She’d show everyone by concentrating with all her heart to learn to cook, clean, and do farm duty. That way she’d prove her worth and change Mr. Lincoln Bass’ attitude or the attitude of any other young man she might be interested in. Not that she particularly wanted him or any man, she’d already tried that and chosen poorly.
She tapped her chin with her index finger, wondering if there were lessons for teaching one how to choose men
?
She walked over to the window, opened it all the way, and tied back the curtains. It would be so nice when cooler weather came. She’d only been here a short time, but she had already gotten tired of sweating. Her mother had always said nice young ladies didn’t sweat, they perspired. Well, she had news for Adelaide Weidner. Nice young ladies did in fact sweat . . . a lot.
A breeze fanned across her face and it was heaven. Slipping out of her robe, she sat on the window seat, and pulled the hem of her gown up to her thighs. Next, she unbuttoned the neck and slid the cotton material to just off her shoulders. She was probably putting on a show, but she didn’t care, for the coolness was glorious. With it being night time, she was sure no one could see her anyway. Putting a pillow behind her, she leaned back and closed her eyes. She’d sit here just a little longer soaking up the breeze, and then she’d go to bed. She yawned . . . just a little longer.
She had no idea what time it was or how long she’d been there, but when she woke, the trees were backlit by the early morning sunrise. Her back ached and she had a crick in her neck, and as she turned onto her side to get up, she immediately dropped to the floor with a thud. Slowly, with a bit of effort, she made it to her knees, and then to her feet. She made a mental note to never do that again.
Pulling herself together, she dressed, and headed down for a trip to the bathroom and then, coffee. She peeked into Laurel’s room, on the way by, but her bed was made and the room empty. Back out in the hallway, she heard the girls chattering to each other from somewhere downstairs.
Folks started way too early here, she much preferred a slower start to the day. Back home she never got up before eight.
“Aunty Em!” Coral and Josie greeted her from the dining room with big smiles.
“Good morning, my sweets. How are you?”
“We’re good,” they said. Putting their heads together, Josie whispered, then both giggled.
“I saw you sleeping in the window. Why did you do that?” Josie asked.
“Because I thought I’d be cooler,” she answered, truthfully. “This morning, though, my back and neck are telling me I should’ve slept in the bed.”
The little girl gave her a questioning look. “Your back can’t talk!”
Under her breath, Emmeline said, “Oh, yes, it can.”
“Aunty Em?” Coral asked. “Will you take us to the river today?”
“Girls,” Laurel said, as she entered the room and began to clear the table. “I’ve already told you we can’t do that, so there’s no appealing to a higher court. Now, be good, and go play for a little while, all right?”
“Can we take our dollies out under the big tree?”
“Yes, but don’t wander off.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Emmeline watched their ruffled skirts disappear out the front door, and then followed her sister into the kitchen.
“So, sister, dear, what are we learning today?”
“You’re very chipper this morning,” Laurel said, eyeing her suspiciously. “I would have thought you’d be extra grumpy after sleeping on the window seat.”
Emmeline placed both her hands at the small of her back and stretched. “I probably should be, but to have enjoyed the cooler breeze, it’s worth the price of a little stiffness.”
“That’s true. Several times, Griffin has slept on the front porch, but I can’t bring myself to do it.”
“Aha.” Emmeline grinned and pointed her finger at her sister. “Were you afraid Grandmother would haunt you?”
“No,” Laurel said with a glance over her shoulder, “I’m too terrified of bears or other wild animals.”
“Oh, golly, I never thought about that.” Her heart beat a little faster. “Are there a lot of creatures out there in the woods?”
“I’m sure there are a fair share, but don’t worry. They’re just as bothered by us, as we are of them. Besides, in another month or so, we should be having more fall-like weather, and it won’t be so hot.” She rinsed the last dish and set it upside down on the cup towel. “Ansel’s wife, Olga, sent word with him this morning that she, Edna Tate, and a few of the other logger’s wives will be here early this afternoon to begin planning the picnic.”
Emmeline shuddered at the thought of unseen animals lurking just out of sight. She was glad Laurel had changed the subject, for parties were a more desirable topic. “Oh, fun! What do you want me to do?”
“Well, the ladies here really love sweets, so I want to make Grandmother’s chocolate cake and Cook’s cinnamon rolls to serve with coffee or tea.”
“You mean those little rolls she made with leftover pie dough, where she rolled out the dough and spread on butter, cinnamon, sugar, and nutmeg. And then, rolled it into a log and sliced it cross-wise?” She closed her eyes in remembrance. “Yum, how could anyone forget that buttery, sweet goodness? Do you know how to make them?”
“Well . . . the recipe isn’t exact, but a reasonable facsimile, I think. Griffin and the girls like them.”
“Wonderful, I can almost taste them now.”
“Wait until you smell them,” Laurel said. “Your mouth will water.”
6
L inc walked out of the area where the main saw chewed through log after log, board after board. The sound was shrill and grating, but music to his ears. After Henry Sealy and Griffin had decided to expand their operation, from merely cutting the trees to planing the logs, they’d had a slow start. All manner of operational problems had plagued them. Since the new saw had been installed, their work production had increased.
The future seemed bright. Currently, the men were hauling the logs to the mill in horse-drawn wagons, but in the not-too-distant future, bringing the logs to the mill would be made easier by two large Shay locomotives. The Sealy offices in Little Rock were in the process of hiring an engineer for the main line. Eventually, the company planned to have nine miles of tram road in operation, with additional track to be added when needed. Griffin had estimated, once all the improvements were in place there should be enough timberland to last, at least five to seven more years.
He looked back on the building with pride and thought of all they’d accomplished in the last two years. The Sealy Lumber Company in Flat Rock Point, Arkansas had come a long way. Now, if he, Lincoln Bass, could do the same. Nearly a week had passed since Miss Emmeline Weidner had slammed his hand in her bedroom door, yet he still couldn’t get her out of his head.
There hadn’t been much of a moon that night, but with what little light there had been, she’d filled his eyes and fueled his imagination this entire week. The white of her nightgown had accentuated her shapely shoulders making his view very provocative. He’d seen bawdy picture postcards of women with much less clothing on that hadn’t done as much for him. The periodic tightness of his britches, when he thought of her, was proof of that fact.
Somehow or other, he had to get past his problems with this woman who turned his insides to jelly. They hadn’t spoken more than two words to each other since that night in the kitchen. He didn’t even know if she was still mad at him, but he’d bet good money she was. Holy cow, if he didn’t get a handle on the situation, she just might drive him crazy.
The tension between him and Miss Weidner was palpable. The best thing he could do would be to put some distance between them. It wouldn’t be a bad thing for Laurel and Griffin either. He needed to go into town to see if his telegrams had been answered, and the idea had hit him this morning, on the way to the mill. Pack a bag, go into Flat Rock Point, and get a room at the hotel. That way, at least for the next day or so, he could think clearly.
After alerting Griffin to his plan, he rode his horse to the house to pack a bag. When he approached the large front yard, Emmeline was putting something into the back of the wagon. He dismounted, tied the reins to the post, and walked over to her. He saw she’d set two baskets behind the seat, each covered with large, red-and-white-checkered, cloth napkins.
He walked around to the wagon and ran
his hand down the horse’s nose. She looked up from her doings and surprised him with a smile.
“Mr. Bass,” she said, her tone conversational, without a trace of snip or sarcasm. “I hope your day is going well.”
“Miss Weidner.” He touched the brim of his hat in greeting. “Where’re you off to?”
“I’m going to town to deliver some baked goods for Laurel.” She adjusted one of the baskets and its cover. “To what do we owe the honor of your presence so early in the afternoon?”
A whiff of flowers scented the air. It was a fragrance he, now, associated as hers, when she was near, and it momentarily interrupted his thoughts. “I-I’m headed in to town, also.”
“Oh, shall we travel together then?” she asked and then hefted her bag into the bed of the wagon behind the baskets.
“That won’t work, I’m afraid, as I’ll be staying overnight, but I can ride alongside.”
“It just so happens, Mr. Bass, I’m staying the night, too.” She faced him squarely and smiled. “You may still ride your horse, if you choose.”
Seconds ticked by, as he stared at her. Never had he been so bumfuzzled by a woman. Finally, he regained command of his tongue. “No, I’ll tie my horse onto the back of the wagon and ride with you. I’ll go get my things.”
Laurel and the girls were saying goodbye to Emmeline when he reached the wagon. He tied his horse to the back, climbed up onto the seat, took hold of the reins, and waited for them to finish.
“Girls, can I bring you some peppermint sticks from Mr. Babcock’s store?” Emmeline asked.
“Yes, please!”
“Be good, then, and I will see you tomorrow.” Emmeline hugged the girls and Laurel, and accepted his hand up into the wagon. Once she was seated, she said, “I’m ready.”
“Bye, Aunty Em, bye Uncle Linc!”
He lightly shook the reins, and said, “Come on, Sable, let’s go.” When they were finally on the road to town, he asked, “I’m curious, when do they stop talking in unison?”
Emmeline, Bride of Arkansas Page 5