She rushed to her friend’s side, looping her arm into Maeve’s. “Are you saying…?” Hannah encouraged without actually daring to finish the sentence.
“We are expecting!” Color flooded the young woman’s cheeks and while there was a definite smile on her face, her eyes were filled with tears.
Hannah squeezed Maeve’s arm and let out a little squeal.
All of the women laughed.
“I think this calls for a celebration,” Leah said. “And, we’ve got just the thing.” She disappeared into the kitchen, and when she returned, she and Lottie, the family’s cook, each held a plate with a small cake-like confection with fresh berries on top and a fork.
“Cole and Alaric collected these for me just this morning,” Lottie said, pointing at the raspberries. “We’re lucky that the locusts are starting to die off in this cooler weather and we can salvage at least a little of our fruit.”
Flan.
Hannah had to physically stop herself from licking her lips. It was one of her favorite treats—though not one of the easiest to make. With only a few ingredients, everything had to be timed perfectly. She’d ruined her fair share to appreciate the talents Lottie possessed.
“How far?” Hannah asked between bites.
Maeve swallowed, bringing her hand up to her mouth. “At least three months,” she said with a little giggle.
When the door opened, the cutest little boy ran into the house, galloping on a small wooden horse across the air, complete with his sputtering lips imitating the animal sound.
“Hi, Aunt Hannah,” Lukie said as he ran past her and into the kitchen.
“Luke Redbourne,” Grace, her sister-in-law, said as she stepped inside, her baby in her arms, “do not break anything.”
“I won’t, Mama,” he called back.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Ollie decided he needed a change right before we left.” She glanced at the plates and raised a brow. “Is there more of that?” she asked.
“Of course,” Lottie said, quickly making her way back into the kitchen.
CRASH! CLANG! CLINK!
Silence.
“I’m okay,” Luke’s little voice called out.
“Lottie?” Grace asked.
“I’m okay too,” the older woman said with a hint of a laugh.
Grace slumped down into the couch and leaned backward.
“I’ll take him for a moment,” Leah said as she reached down and took her grandson from her daughter-in-law. “How’s my little Ollie Wally today?” She shook her head and nuzzled into his neck, evoking a giggle from the baby.
Lottie reappeared with a fresh plate of flan in her hand. “It was just a couple of pots and pans,” she said, reaching down with her open hand and ruffling Luke’s hair. She handed the treat to an empty-handed Grace, who didn’t wait for long to indulge in her first bite.
“And fresh berries. I love the end of summer,” Grace said, closing her eyes. “And having a moment’s peace.”
Knock. Knock.
“That must be Lydia,” Hannah said, standing up to answer the door.
“Did you hear what they are going to do at the jubilee this year?” Lydia didn’t bother with introductions or niceties. She fluffed her skirt and sat down on the couch next to Grace.
“What are you talking about?”
“Mr. Wendell wants to have a whole group of lumberjacking events. Can you believe it?”
Hannah gulped. Thoughts of a very handsome lumberjack from her past forced their way back to the surface of her mind.
“I mean, no fishing pond. No apple-bobbing—not that there are enough apples around to waste on such an event, but no three-legged race? It’s simply barbaric.”
“I don’t think they are replacing those things,” Maeve said. “Brant told me that Mr. Wendell is just trying to provide more events for the men since we have the pie-baking contest and several booths.”
“Mr. Simister has a booth,” Hannah objected, trying to keep up with the conversation and push her painful memories out of her thoughts.
“And Ethan is selling some of his ironworks,” Grace added.
“Well, not all of the men have something they can sell, so they added a few events,” Maeve said.
“Well, I for one would love to watch your brothers competing in those types of events,” Lydia said with a wry smile, leaning into Hannah.
“And what about John Turner, Lydia Caulfield?” Maeve asked with a smirk.
“I can still look, can’t I?” Lydia said.
The time Hannah’d spent in the Northwest with her cousins a few years ago had resulted in her meeting Eli Whittaker, the son of a wealthy lumberman and mill owner. He’d been more handsome than any boy—no—any man she’d ever met. He had been, after all, twenty at the time—which he hadn’t let her forget.
She wondered if he still wore those dark green suspenders that had first endeared him to her all those years ago. Vivid images of him chopping wood and stacking it behind the house were still engrained in her memory. She’d fought for a long time to rid herself of those recollections, but, admittedly, she’d compared every man in Stone Creek who’d come to call against the impossible measure of her childhood affection for the Oregon lumberjack.
“I do have some good-looking boys, don’t I?” her mother said, lifting her head from the baby.
“Wait, what?” Hannah felt like she had missed a whole conversation.
“Where did you go?” Maeve asked.
“Nowhere,” she said, clearing her throat. “I’m right here. Now,” she knelt down onto the ground next to the mail sacks and imposing an unfelt smile onto her face, “let’s get started.”
Chapter 3
“It’s an amazing thing you’ve done here, Redbourne,” Eli said, his arms folded across the top of the fence as he looked out over the vast herd of wild mustangs that ran freely in the fields, playing and grazing. “They are beautiful.”
“It’s hard to believe all you’ve accomplished in training them,” Jonah added.
Tag climbed up to straddle the fence and whistled a distinct curt sequence of sounds. One of the mustangs separated from the herd—a buckskin with a cream-colored mane—and pranced over to where they sat.
“Boys,” he said, rubbing the horse’s neck and jaw, “meet Adira.”
“She is quite spectacular.”
“Adira?” Jonah asked as he reached out to allow the horse to smell his hand before running his hand along her neckline.
“It means ‘strong.’”
“Aptly named,” Eli said with a nod.
He’d heard the story of how the mustangs came to be at Oak Meadows Ranch, but seeing the progress Tag had made with all of them truly was awe inspiring—especially considering their rough start.
Tag pulled something from his pocket and gave it to the horse.
“Dried apples,” he said. “She loves them.” Then, he patted her on the side and jutted his chin out toward the others and Adira turned and galloped back to the herd.
The giggles of a small child reached Eli’s ears and they all turned to see a small, curly-headed child sitting in the grassy area in front of the porch steps holding one very small kid in his arms while another pranced about him.
“Ah, Brenna has returned from visiting her family in Hillsboro.” The smile Tag wore seemed to light up his whole face as he strode toward the child. In an instant he’d scooped his son up into his arms and spun him around, holding him up in the air, evoking the sweet, innocent sounds of laughter from the boy.
“Jonah, Eli, meet Jamie.”
“Hey, little fella,” Eli said. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
Jamie leaned over his father’s arm, his arms outstretched, toward him.
Eli was taken back by the gesture, and it appeared that Tag was just as surprised, but he handed the boy over. Jamie was a little sturdier than he’d expected him to be and he bounced him a little.
“Looks like you're having a lot of fun with the kids, aren’t
ya?” The little goats still played at their feet.
With wide eyes and a serious face, Jamie slowly nodded his head, then tilted it to one side. “Who are you?” he asked, his small fingers reaching up to play with the beard that had been growing over the last few months. “My uncle?”
“I'm Eli,” he said with a laugh, taking the boys small hand in his. “And I’m a friend of your daddy’s.”
“I'm Jamie,” the little boy said proudly. “Are you going to be staying with us for a while longer?”
Eli couldn't believe how well the boy spoke. “How old is he?” he asked Tag.
“I'm two,” the boy said with a curt, confirming nod of his head as if he didn’t need someone else to answer for him.
“Oh. Well, you speak very well for a two-year-old.”
A grin formed on Jamie's face, and he patted Eli on the cheek.
“You speak good for an old man,” the boy said with a giggle. “Do you have a teacher for a mama too?”
All the men laughed.
“Come on,” Tag said as he took the boy from Eli’s arms, set him on the ground, and gently patted the boy’s rear end. “I'm sure supper’s about ready.”
“Awww...” Jamie said, running up the porch stairs and into the house.
The smell of fresh baked bread wafted through the nearly open door, and Eli closed his eyes to the heavenly aroma that greeted him. His stomach grumbled loudly.
“Sounds like you could use some food too,” Jonah said with a laugh, then clapped him on the shoulder before jumping up the stairs two at a time ahead of him.
Lumberjacks were accustomed to eating well. Cook always had a variety of meats, potatoes, and canned goods, but they were generally cooked in the same manner each time as to not upset the men with new concoctions. Eli had to admit that even with the abundance of foodstuffs at the camps, the meals had become something redundant and he realized how much he enjoyed the different flairs a woman could add to her cooking.
As he sat down at the table, he noted how beautifully it had been set. A large portion of freshly caught bass graced each of their plates and a mountain-full of sliced, fried potatoes sat in the large platter directly in front of him. Three loaves of freshly baked bread had been sliced and set at each end as well as in the middle of the table and a jar of some sort of red jam sat at the center, along with a tin that looked like an off-colored creamed butter, but as he’d learned over the past few days, it was actually honey-butter made from the honey Brenna Redbourne collected from her own hive full of bees in the back. A bowl of applesauce along with plates of squash, fresh blackberries, and ears of corn were passed around.
Eli and Jonah had already been at Oak Meadows for the better half of a month and he’d gotten to know most of the men working the ranch. Tag had also introduced them to several of the surrounding neighbors and taken them on a tour of the rudimentary mill.
As he looked around the table, he appreciated the abundance that had been provided to them. He’d yet had the opportunity to meet the woman of the house, though he’d heard a lot about her.
Just after introductions were made, Kade, the foreman, pushed through the door and came up short as he nearly crashed into Tag’s wife.
“Excuse me, ma’am. I’m sorry to be late.” He ripped his Stetson from his head, twisted it a moment in his hand before hanging it from one of the hooks where the rest of their hats hung.
Brenna’s smile was something to behold. Tag was a lucky man.
“And don’t I know it,” Tag said as if knowing exactly the thoughts that were going through his mind as he watched the woman. He slipped a hand into hers and squeezed, pulling her down to him for a quick kiss.
She raised up enough to still look down at her husband, a warm, healthy glow in her cheeks, and she bit her bottom lip. “You’re just in time to say grace, Kade.” Brenna then directed her attention to the ranch hand and sat in the empty chair Tag pulled out for her.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Once the blessing had been said over the food, Eli reached first for the bread, unable to get enough of it as if it was quite different than the biscuits they often had back home.
“So, Eli,” Tag said just as he slipped a large bite into his mouth, “now that you have seen the place for yourself and have experienced the great Texas landscape, do you have any thoughts on whether or not you may be interested in working on up at the mill?”
Eli chewed quickly.
“I know it doesn’t look like much now, but I have seen what you can do in a short period of time.”
Eli swallowed. “Oak Meadow is beautiful, as is the town.” Serenity Hollow was not what he had expected from Texas. While it was still quite hot, there was a lot of diversity in the landscape and he found it to be quite charming. “But I’d like a little time to think about it.”
Tag nodded. “We’ve waited this long, I can’t imagine another month or so would hurt. Do you think that would be enough time to decide?”
“That’s quite generous. Thank you.”
“Will there be anything else, Mrs. Redbourne?” A young girl of thirteen or fourteen asked, her hands tucked into the pockets of her apron, as she slipped into the dining area from the kitchen.
“No, Marilee,” Brenna said, pushing back her chair and giving the girl a light hug. “Thank you for your help today.” She turned to face those sitting at the table. “Marilee and her mother have been helping me with…my culinary skills.”
Tag choked on his drink. He set his one-of-a-kind mug down on the table with a laugh. “She’ll try to tell you that she’s useless in the kitchen, but I think, as this meal will attest, it is quite the opposite.”
Color flooded Brenna’s cheeks at the man’s appraisal. She swatted playfully at his shoulder. “Ah, but I could have never done it without the Hamblins’ tutelage.”
The young girl beamed. “I assure you she’s much better now than when we first started.” She hurriedly glanced at Brenna, obviously worried she’d said something wrong, but the woman just laughed quite loudly.
“How right you are, Marilee.”
Eli observed the stark differences between this little family and his own back home. His mother was a decent cook, but rarely did the Whittakers eat together as a family, let alone invite others to join them. He admired the interaction between Tag and his wife and the obvious love they shared for one another.
He liked it here, but he had a feeling it had nothing to do with the community or the opportunity running a mill in Serenity Hollow would offer. He imagined it had everything to do with the Redbournes and how being around them made him feel.
He’d had his chance a long time ago to maybe be a part of this family, but he’d been too young and stupid to recognize what he’d had when he had it. Hannah Redbourne had been a force to be reckoned with—beautiful, kind, gracious, and fun, but she’d also been a mere sixteen years old and he had allowed his father to sway him against pursuing a relationship with her.
“Wouldn’t you say so, Eli?”
Jonah nudged him in the ribs.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I was just saying that the strength and stability of black walnut often exceeds that of a more traditional oak, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, but black walnut is also harder to come by. Especially back home where it rains half the week and doesn’t give much time for our soil to drain.”
“That’s not so much a problem here,” Tag said, raising a now-empty-of-bread carved bowl that had obviously come from the dark wood of a black walnut tree. “I thought when I moved down here I would miss the grove back home where an abundance of these trees grow, but found that they grow here in some of the most conspicuous places. Sometimes in the middle of a field or along a fence where it is most inconvenient.”
“Did you make that?” Eli asked, nodding toward the bowl in Tag’s hand, curious at the man’s many talents.
“Yes, sir. I dabble in woodworking when I need ti
me to clear my head.” Tag set the bowl on the table.
“May I?”
Tag handed it to Kade who passed it down until it reached Eli. “Don’t judge me too harshly. I am hardly as good as you when it comes to creating with wood. But…I enjoy working with my hands.”
Eli shrugged. “I dabble too.” He turned the bowl over in his hands, admiring the smooth finish and the rich color that had been brought out with a finishing oil. “It’s beautiful.”
“That is high praise coming from you,” Tag said. “Thank you.”
He’d been known to craft furniture, chests, food ware, and display pieces for the same reasons Tag had mentioned—to ‘clear his head.’ It was one of the perks of working alongside the lumberjacks and with his father at the mill. He’d learned all aspects of the lumber trade.
“It’s a shame the two of you will be leaving so soon,” Brenna said, looking at Eli, then at Jonah, after setting her fork on the table and collecting her own ceramic mug. “I know Tag has rather liked having you around. And, my husband tells me that my baby has taken quite a liking to you, Mr. Whittaker.”
Eli smiled as he glanced over at the toddler who was sitting in a highchair next to his mother. The only children he’d ever even been around were Jonah’s. There was one married man with a family who worked for his father, but he lived in town and travelled up to the camps every day, so he hadn’t met his wife or any of his three little ones. While he hadn’t known exactly what to expect with Jamie, the boy reminded him a lot of Jonah’s oldest and that had immediately put him at ease.
“Wish we could, but if there’s one thing my mama taught me, it was not to stay too long at someone’s house, and to mind my manners and gratitude while there so that I will always be welcomed back.”
“I hardly think a week is too long…” Brenna stopped herself and smiled. “You are welcome anytime,” she said instead. “And, I don’t think your mama has anything to worry about.”
“Well, thank you, ma’am. It’s nice to know where you’ve got friends.”
The Lumberjack Page 3