A Bride for Noah

by Lori Copeland

  A voice called out from the crowd. “We already figured that out ourselves, Arthur!”

  Rough laughter answered him from all quarters.

  “Arthur Denny.” Miles gave a satisfied nod. “The leader of the Denny Party. I’m glad we shall meet him first off.”

  Arthur raised his hands again and the men fell silent. “You may have noticed that they are female, but I’m telling you they are ladies. I expect each and every one of you to treat them as such.” His voice lowered and took on a menacing tone. “The man who doesn’t will answer to me. Do I make myself clear?”

  Evie let out a breath when the men all murmured agreement. She glanced at Noah, and found him looking at her. He touched a couple of fingers to his forehead in a silent salute and then returned his attention to Arthur.

  “All right then. Let’s welcome our guests.”

  The sailors, who had been waiting until he finished, opened a gate in the ship’s railing and lowered a gangway. Miles offered his arm and when Evie took it, escorted her to the ramp. At the top, he halted and stepped aside.

  “Ladies first.” He swept a hand toward the ramp in a magnanimous gesture.

  Stomach fluttering, Evie glanced at the others and then stepped onto the ramp. At that moment the heavens opened and the steady rain became a downpour. An omen, perhaps? She thrust the thought aside and lifted her soaked skirts to step forward. Small strips of wood had been nailed in place to supply footing. A good thing, since the leather soles of her shoes were not intended to traverse surfaces such as this.

  The bottom of the ramp ended in a step of eight inches in depth. She hesitated, and then stepped forward. When her foot touched the dock, her sole skidded across the sodden surface. She tried to regain her balance, but the toe of her other shoe caught on the edge of the gangway and she pitched forward…

  …into the strong arms of a fast-moving lumberjack.

  A voice boomed in her ear as she was lifted off the ground. “I gotcha, little lady. Uh, I mean, ma’am.” He flashed a triumphant grin.

  Hovering mere inches from her nose was the face of the giant man they had seen from the ship. The thick blond beard covering his face parted to reveal a set of yellow teeth between smiling pink lips. Though thankful that he had saved her an inglorious fall in front of the entire camp, a blast of malodorous breath brought the sting of tears to her eyes.

  “Thank you,” she managed, trying hard not to wince at the tightness of the huge hands around her waist.

  In the next instant, she was surrounded by a wall of flannel and flesh as the men surged forward, presumably to help the others from the ship. She was carried through the crowd, her shoes hovering at least a foot above the ground. The combined odor of unwashed bodies and dirty wet hair assaulted her nostrils while rain poured down on her from above. The first rule she would make for her restaurant would be a requirement of baths before dining.

  Finally clear of the crowd, she was set down. Her feet sank ankle-deep in mud at the exact moment the brim of her hat succumbed to the relentless assault of rainwater and collapsed into her face. She lifted it away from her eyes with a hand that trembled, whether from chill or nerves she didn’t know. At the moment she was consumed with both.

  Soon Lucy and Sarah were deposited beside her, followed shortly by Ethel. They huddled close to her sides, the object of intense stares from the men who formed a circle around them.

  She cleared her throat and raised her voice to be heard above the pounding rain. “Is there someplace dry we can wait while our things are unloaded?”

  “Uh, we-ell.” A dark-haired man cocked his head sideways and scratched his beard with a finger. “Thar’s the tents back at camp.”

  “Tents?” Despair stretched out Lucy’s word into something that resembled a wail.

  Evie placed an arm around the girl’s shoulders and squeezed. “How far is your camp?”

  A young man who looked to be around fifteen pointed in the opposite direction from the river. “About half a mile up that-a-way.”

  Someone else shoved an elbow into his stomach. “We can’t haul them up to camp. There ain’t no empty tents, and you heard what Arthur said. These are ladies.”

  The youth glared at him. “I didn’t mean they’d share with us. We’ll have to double up for a while is all.”

  Evie spoke before a fight could erupt. “Perhaps there’s somewhere we could sit until we figure out where we’ll be staying.”

  “There’s a log over here.” The giant who had carried her shoved a couple of men sideways. “Get out of the way and let the ladies go sit down.”

  An opening appeared as men scrambled to move. Someone offered a soaked flannel-covered arm to Evie. When she took it, a dozen more arms were offered to the other girls to help them to their seat. With an effort she pulled her foot out of the mud. Her shoes were unrecognizable. There was a sucking noise beside her and Ethel gave a cry. She stood with one stockinged foot hovering in midair.

  “Here, ma’am. I’ll get ye.” A lumberjack swept Ethel off her feet while another pried her shoe out of the mud.

  In the next moment, Evie found herself also being scooped up in strong arms and carried across the clearing to be deposited on a dead tree at the edge of the forest. The others were soon seated beside her, Ethel with her muddy shoe in her lap.

  “There’s naught but a tent to sleep in.” Her tone held the stress they all felt. “No fireplace.”

  Lucy shook her head. “No warm bed.”

  “Or hot tea either, I wager.” Sarah’s shoulders slumped.

  “There’s coffee,” said one of the men. “Cookee’s always got some going. By this time of day it’s thick as axel grease, but at least it’s hot.”

  “No tea?” Ethel sniffled as rain ran in rivers off of her bonnet. “Coffee does merciless things to my digestion.”

  Evie patted her leg. “I’m sure the captain will let us have some tea from the ship’s stores. We can heat water over the cook’s fire.”

  “Yes,” agreed Lucy glumly. “But the captain’s setting sail tomorrow.”

  Ethel sniffed again. “And we’ll be left here.”

  She dropped her face into her hands and began to weep. In a moment Lucy followed suit, and the misery plain on Sarah’s face said she may soon join them. Evie put one arm around Ethel and the other around Lucy and pulled them close, with Sarah huddled on her sister’s other side. The men standing around them watched, their faces a series of helpless masks. Though she tried to think of an encouraging word, Evie came up blank. If there was a bright spot in this moment, it was too buried in gloom and rain for her to see.

  Someone ran up from outside the group to stand behind their log, and in a moment rain stopped pelting against her head. She turned to find Noah holding a dirty yellow Macintosh like a canopy above her.

  “Here, some of you men, take these and give the ladies some shelter.”

  He tossed more coats into eager hands, and before long the ladies sat beneath a canopy of rubber and thick wool. Then Noah rounded the log.

  “Here, what’s this?” He crouched down in front of Ethel and gently pulled her hands from her face. “Are those tears? I can’t tell for all the rain.”

  The poor woman’s puffy eyes were as red as her nose, but her shoulders heaved in a half-hearted attempt at laughter. “Truthfully, I can’t either.”

  He turned a grin toward Lucy. “I’d give you my handkerchief, but it’s as wet as my shirt.”

  That brought a trembling smile to the girl’s lips. Some of the pressure in Evie’s stomach lessened at the sight of it.

  “There. That’s better. Now, as soon as this rain lets up, we’ll get you to camp.”

  A dangerous prickle started behind Evie’s eyes. Had he spoken harshly she could have steeled herself, but a show of kindness was enough to bring her to tears.

  “Is there room for us?” The note of despair that crept into Evie’s question made her cringe.

  “Sure there is. Arthur and I have it a
ll settled. You’ll stay in the command tent tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll figure out a more permanent arrangement.”

  His confidence gave her a flicker of hope. “Command tent?”

  “Sort of like a field office. We’ll move everything out of your way and scrounge up some cots.” Even his grimace held a hint of kindness that set loose a warm spark deep in her shivering body. “Not ideal, but they’re more comfortable than the bunks on the ship.”

  The ship. She looked toward the dock, but the rain obscured everything in the distance behind a dismal gray curtain. “I am sure the captain would let us remain in our bunks for one more night.”

  “No.” Ethel’s reply was instant and insistent. “I shall not spend another night in that miserable, heaving cabin. Even if it means sleeping in a wide open field, I am staying on dry land.” She extended a hand into the downpour. “So to speak.”

  It was clear there would be no persuading her to return to the ship, not that Evie could blame the woman after the terrible sickness that had plagued her all the way from Charleston.

  Evie turned a smile toward Noah that she hoped was not as brittle as it felt. “Thank you.” She meant the words to hold gratitude for more than arranging their beds for the night. He might be irritating most of the time, but at least he could be gracious when it counted.

  And so could she.

  Dark had fallen by the time the ship’s cargo was unloaded and the ladies settled for the night. Noah had fended off so many questions from men eager to know how he came to find four women willing to come to the lumber camp that he couldn’t bring himself to go to the cook shack to eat. Instead he grabbed a plate of venison stew and headed for the tent he would share with the Denny brothers and Uncle Miles for the night. He hadn’t been there long enough to eat a bite before the flap opened and Arthur entered, his brother David on his heels.

  “What were you thinking to bring them here?” Arthur covered the distance between them in two long strides to stand squarely in front of Noah, fists planted on his hips. “A lumber camp is no place for women.”

  Noah almost took a backward step at the force in his voice and blazing eyes. Though he was in complete agreement with his boss, he held his ground.

  “It wasn’t my idea. It’s that woman, Evangeline. She’s got a mind to open a business here.”

  “A business?” Arthur’s brows knit. “What kind of business?”

  “A restaurant.”

  The anticipated explosion followed, and it took all of Noah’s strength not to wince at the creative curses that filled his ears. He waited until the flood slowed before trying to insert a comment.

  “I told her it was a harebrained idea. Neither she nor my uncle would listen to reason.”

  Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly does your uncle have to do with this scheme?”

  Noah detailed what he knew of Uncle Miles’s and Evangeline’s partnership, though he left out his own unwitting role in the scheme. If Arthur discovered that it had been an off-hand jest in Noah’s letter that had given Uncle Miles the idea of bringing women to the camp, he might find himself sleeping with the mules tonight.

  David had remained silent thus far, but when Noah finished speaking he ventured a comment. “They’re right about one thing. We’ve said all along we want to plant a city here. Every city I’ve ever been in has places to eat.”

  Arthur swung around to face him. “First, before anything else? We haven’t named our town yet.”

  Noah admired the way David, who was at least ten years his brother’s junior, held his expression impassive in the face of his brother’s sarcastic bite. “I’ve been telling you we need to come up with a name. As for the business trade, if this timber venture works out, there’ll be other investors to come soon enough.” He switched his calm gaze to Noah. “How did things go at Malcher’s Mill?”

  Relieved to have something besides Evangeline and Uncle Miles to talk about, Noah leaped at the change of subject. “Fine. Great. Malcher was impressed with the quality of the logs and satisfied with the quantity of the first shipment. Paid the full thousand dollars and seemed glad to give it over.”

  Grim satisfaction settled on Arthur’s face. “He still wants the second shipment in a month?”

  Noah nodded. “He told me to relay the message that if the second shipment is as satisfactory as the first, he’ll be amenable to a long-term contract. He says since San Francisco keeps burning down he’s got plenty of customers for milled lumber, and he’ll take as much cedar as we can produce.”

  Grinning, David gave his brother a hearty slap on the shoulder. “That’s exactly what we wanted.”

  “Yes, it is.” Triumph shone in Arthur’s eyes as he rubbed his hands together. “At least until we build a mill of our own. Then we’ll be the ones selling the lumber.”

  “Plus shipping lumber will be easier than logs.” Noah shook his head. “There were a few times on the way down I was sure we were going to lose the whole cargo.”

  “Well, you didn’t.” Arthur awarded him an approving nod. “You did just fine, Noah.”

  Noah basked in his taciturn boss’s rarely given praise. In the next second, Arthur’s stern expression returned and the breath stuck fast in his lungs.

  “Nothing can interfere with meeting our quota for that next shipment. I want that clearly understood. Those women are not to distract the crew from their work.”

  Judging by the way the men had flocked around the ladies down by the river, his concern was valid. His mouth dry, Noah nodded his agreement. How was he going to keep a horde of female-starved lumberjacks from becoming distracted with four single ladies right beneath their noses?

  David must have shared the same thought. “It might be best if they stayed at the cabin with Mary and Louisa and the children. At least for a month or so, until the next shipment is on its way.”

  Arthur looked at him for a long moment and then nodded. “They’ll be out of sight there. I’ll speak with Mary about it. But tonight you’d better stand guard outside their tent,” he said to Noah. “I don’t want any of the men getting ideas about those four alone only a few yards away.”

  “Me?” Noah stiffened, but his protest died on his lips when Arthur continued.

  “You’re the one who brought them here. They’re your responsibility.”

  He was trying to think of an appropriate argument when the tent flap opened and Uncle Miles entered.

  His uncle’s face brightened when he caught sight of Arthur. “Ah, Mr. Denny. Just the person I hoped to find. Might we have a word? There are several matters I’d like to discuss with you.”

  Arthur answered graciously. “Of course, Mr.…Coffinger, was it? I’ve just been talking with your nephew about your plans for our fledgling city. My brother and I are eager to discuss our vision for this part of the Oregon Territory.”

  While Arthur conducted the introduction between Uncle Miles and David, Noah picked up his bedroll and his untouched supper plate. Arthur’s final words to him had killed his appetite as surely as if they had been delivered by means of an arrow to the stomach. Evangeline and the other ladies were his responsibility? He’d been afraid something like this would happen, even back at their first meeting in the greengrocer’s store. Evangeline Lawrence, with her grand ideas and headstrong determination, did not strike him as the kind of person who meekly submitted to anyone’s authority.

  Especially not his.

  Seated on the edge of her cot, Evie sopped the last bite of stew from her tin plate with a corner of crusty bread. She had to admit that the food was tastier than she’d imagined. And it wasn’t beans, either. The man who brought it to their tent had identified himself as Cookee, apparently the one responsible for feeding the crew of lumberjacks. Short and slim, almost scrawny, he stood only an inch or so taller than Evie and was the only man so far who had seemed entirely unimpressed by the arrival of four women in camp. Except for Noah, and he didn’t count.

  “The pusher said for me to bring
this here meal to ye,” he had told them as he placed a small pot of stew, a loaf of bread, and a pie on Evie’s trunk in lieu of a table. His scowl clearly announced his disgust at having to make a personal delivery.

  “The pusher?” Ethel had asked.

  “The boss of the camp. Arthur Denny.”

  Lucy almost gushed. “How nice of him to think of our comfort that way. The boss, you say?”

  Cookee’s scowl deepened. “Ain’t nice at all. He’s jest trying to keep you away from the jacks on account of he’s afraid ye’ll cause a riot or something. And he’s hitched, lady.”

  The news sobered them all. Evie let him leave without asking any of the dozens of questions she’d noted on her list for the camp cook.

  “I’ll say one thing for that little fellow.” Ethel held up a heaping spoonful of raisin pie. “He’s a lot better cook than that hash slinger on the ship.”

  “How would you know?” Sarah held a piece of bread in front of her mouth and spoke in a teasing voice. “You never ate anything but bread and broth the whole way here.”

  Evie gave the woman a kind smile. “You’re probably starving for a decent meal. Hardtack and water would taste good to you. Still, I have to say, this stew is better than I expected.”

  She couldn’t help but feel disappointed. That she could produce food this good she did not doubt, but better enough that the men would pay extra to eat it? Perhaps a better strategy would be to offer a diversity of dishes. And, of course, the satisfaction of being served by a woman. She glanced around the room at Ethel finishing her pie, Lucy daintily picking a piece of venison out of her stew, and Sarah lying back on her cot with drowsy eyes. Perhaps in including them Miles had stumbled upon the answer after all.

  A scratching sound outside the tent interrupted her thoughts, followed by the loud clearing of a throat.

  “Are you ladies decent?”

  At the sound of Noah’s voice her stomach gave a leap. The reaction irritated her, and she answered in a sharper tone than she intended. “Who wants to know?”