A Bride for Noah

by Lori Copeland

  Ethel raised her eyebrows in Evie’s direction. Noah paused and then responded in a subdued tone. “I am alone. May I come in?”

  Three pairs of eyes turned toward her, and with an abrupt sigh, Evie shrugged and then busied herself stacking the dirty dishes. Lucy opened the tent flap and let Noah inside.

  When he entered, the confines of the tent shrank. Four trunks and cots occupied most of the floor space, leaving only a small space which his manly form dominated. His boots pounded with a hollow sound against the plank floor.

  “Ah, you’ve had supper, I see.”

  Though she made a point of keeping her back turned, Evie sensed that his comment was directed at her.

  Lucy answered in her stead. “We have. Served in person by someone who identified himself as Cookee.”

  “Ah, so you’ve met him. Good.”

  A sudden suspicion overtook her, and Evie rounded on him. “Why?”

  She could see she had startled him with her sharp tone. His eyes widened. “No reason. Only that you are both cooks. I thought since you hope to serve meals to the crew, you might enjoy meeting someone who has done so for the few months since this venture began.”

  Evie forced herself to put on a calm demeanor. The man meant no harm. In fact, he seemed intent on providing them with a hospitable welcome to this wretchedly primitive place. She pasted on a smile, though it faded almost as soon as it fell into place. “We appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

  She would have felt better about the conversation if he had managed to hold her eyes, but after a brief meeting of gazes, he turned his head to look around the tent.

  “Though far more primitive than you’re accustomed to, I hope you’ll be comfortable here tonight. Arthur has arranged more suitable accommodations on the morrow.”

  “Oh?” Sarah stood from her bunk, her expression hopeful. “Has a proper building been found for us?”

  He returned her gaze with a cautious one. “Not exclusively for you. Arthur’s wife, Mrs. Mary Denny, lives with her sister and children not far from here. He is certain she will welcome you into her home until appropriate arrangements can be made.”

  Something about his words disturbed Evie. She sidestepped between the cots to stand before him so he would be forced to look her in the eye. “What arrangements?”

  His mouth opened and then closed again. Finally he managed an answer. “Whatever arrangements are determined to be appropriate.”

  A rod of steel slid into her spine. “And who will decide what is appropriate?” If discussions were to take place concerning the future of her and the ladies for whom she had become responsible, she intended to make her voice heard.

  A flash of alarm crossed Noah’s features at the ferocity of her tone, but he exerted a visible effort to relax his stiff shoulders. “I don’t know. Everyone in camp is committed to meeting our next delivery deadline in four weeks, so no one has much time to spare.”

  Evie narrowed her eyes. In other words, no one wanted to be bothered with them. They intended to tuck them away in Mrs. Denny’s cabin and think about them at a more convenient time. Well, she would not submit to being tossed aside as though she were nothing more than a bothersome dog who had stumbled upon their camp.

  “Mr. Hughes.” She straightened her posture and held her chin high. “Please inform Mr. Denny that we are grateful for the offer of shelter in his family’s home. However, at his earliest convenience, I request a meeting to discuss the possible sites for my restaurant and for hiring the labor to construct a suitable building.”

  Surprise crossed his features, and then quickly settled into a polite smile so brittle it might shatter with a word. “I’m afraid Arthur’s time to discuss frivolities is limited. If you require something, let me know.”

  “You?” She frowned. She was to be shuffled off to an underling?

  “As for hiring labor…” Noah shook his head in what he probably intended to be a regretful gesture, but to Evie’s eyes held the touch of a smirk. “Every man in this camp is hard at work meeting our next shipment. No one can be spared.”

  She became aware of their audience. The three ladies had observed the conversation in silence, their eyes traveling back and forth between the two of them. Lucy and Sarah wore wide-eyed expressions of astonishment while worried furrows carved deeply into Ethel’s forehead.

  Drawing herself up to her full height, she spoke in a polite tone. “Mr. Hughes, may I speak with you in private?”

  A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Certainly, Miss Lawrence.”

  Ignoring her sodden bonnet, she picked up her cloak from the pile of wet clothing in the corner. Noah held open the tent flap and, with a gentlemanly gesture, indicated that she precede him outside. Head high, she passed out of the tent.

  The rain had finally stopped, thank the Lord. Relieved, she hung her dripping cloak over a nearby low-slung branch. Though the moon was hidden behind a firm wall of clouds, her vision was no longer obscured by a dense curtain of rain. She found herself in a wide clearing, surrounded on all sides by the giant trees she had seen from the ship. A long row of tents had been erected at the far end of this clearing, and from inside she heard the sound of men’s voices. Beyond them lay a long building made of uneven, rough-cut logs. So they did have buildings in this camp. Or at least one.

  She turned to place the solid trunk at her back and faced Noah. No need to draw this conversation out with polite banter. “Are you determined to thwart my efforts?”

  His eyebrows arched high, apparently surprised at her directness. Then he shook his head. “No, of course not.”

  “They why can you not spare a few men to build my restaurant?”

  He scrubbed at his chin in a gesture of frustration. “You seem to think I have a personal vendetta against your venture. That isn’t true. We have a quota of lumber to fill and not a lot of time to do it. After that shipment is gone, I’m sure you’ll have more volunteers than you have tasks to give them.”

  “And how long will that be?”

  “The shipment is scheduled for delivery by the middle of July.”

  Evie drew in a sharp breath. A full month before she could start generating income to repay the bank loan? Unacceptable. “I can wait a week, perhaps, but no longer.”

  He snorted a laugh. “I’m sorry. A month’s the best I can do.”

  She detected not even a hint of sorrow in his demeanor. Folding her arms across her chest, she clutched her forearms in tight fists. “From the moment we met you’ve been determined to ruin my plans.”

  The set of his jaw became stubborn. “From the moment we met you’ve tried to blame me for every obstacle you encountered.”

  “You stole my shipment,” she snapped.

  “I conducted a business deal,” he returned in a tone every bit as unbending as hers.

  She searched for a sharp reply, but the steel in his gray eyes lashed at her so sharply that she could not manage a rational response.

  Finally, he broke the uncomfortable stare by raking his fingers through his hair. “Look, I’ve made no secret that I think your idea of a restaurant in what is, at this point, nothing but a lumber camp is a foolish one.”

  She drew a sharp breath. How dare he call her foolish?

  Oblivious to her reaction, he indicated the camp. “We don’t even have a name for this settlement yet. In fact, there won’t be a settlement unless we can prove this place can support a town or city. Once we’ve established a viable lumber trade there will be plenty of opportunity for other businesses. First and foremost, this endeavor will be built on lumber, not on home-cooked suppers.”

  Her fingernails dug through the sleeves of her dress, but she managed not to shout. “Was it not Napoleon Bonaparte who said an army marches on its stomach? Somehow I doubt a lumber camp is much different.”

  A grim determination stretched his lips into a hard line, and he leaned closer. His eyes held hers in an unbreakable grip. “Evangeline, listen closely. I cannot allow you to disrupt this camp
. You will keep your women out of sight and let the men get their work done.”

  Fury shot down her spine. How dare he bark orders at her as though she were one of his lumberjacks! “And I cannot allow you to disrupt my plans. I will build my restaurant, even if I have to do it myself.”

  A genuine laugh rose from his throat into the night. “I’d like to see that.”

  “See it you shall,” she snapped. “That is, if you can come down out of the trees long enough to watch.”

  With a flounce of her skirts she marched away, her nose high in the cool night air. Her stomach churned, whether with anger at his infuriating manner or at the monumental task she had just boasted she could accomplish, she wasn’t entirely sure.

  Of one thing she was certain. She had no idea how to split a log for firewood, much less build a restaurant.

  Noah unrolled his bedroll directly in front of the women’s tent entrance. From inside he could hear the ladies’ voices as they discussed the events of the day, though his own thoughts almost drowned them out. If Evangeline spoke he would blatantly eavesdrop, because he needed every advantage over that stubborn woman he could get. But she remained silent.

  He crawled beneath his blanket, thankful that he’d had the foresight to grab a rubber sheet as protection against the soggy ground. Though cold mud conformed to the shape of his back, at least he would sleep dry.

  What was wrong with that woman? Did she really expect the entire camp to stop work in order to help get her settled? No, apparently anything that interfered with her plans was his fault. She seemed determined to blame him for everything that went wrong.

  He pillowed the back of his head in his hands and stared upward. The tops of the trees that surrounded the camp were barely visible as dark shapes against a black sky. Inside the tent, the ladies fell silent while in the distance the loud rumble of a snore came from the direction of the jacks’ tents. Must be Big Dog Carter. Noah pictured the camp giant as he’d been this evening, leaping onto the dock to catch Evangeline before she fell and then carrying her in bear-sized hands as if she were a child. He’d been taken with her. And no wonder. She was a mighty attractive woman, even with her dark hair hanging in wet strings down her back and her hat collapsed around her head.

  Noah rolled onto his side and pounded a lump in the mud until it lay flat beneath his bedroll. Looks counted for nothing. He’d learned that lesson months ago, when Sallie disappeared with his money and left his prospects for a decent future in shreds.

  Pretty women meant trouble, that’s what he’d learned. It was not a lesson he intended to forget.

  Six

  Evie awoke before dawn to the sound of men’s voices. Sleep still dragged at her eyelids and fogged her brain. Beside her Lucy breathed the slow, regular breath of one who is deeply asleep. Ethel’s rumbling snore from the far side of the tent indicated that she too slept.

  And no wonder. When Evie pried her eyes open, the blackness in the tent was as complete as it had been when they fell into an exhausted sleep the night before. Her body told her dawn was still several hours away, and yet she knew she would not drift off again. Too many thoughts crowded her mind, driving sleep away.

  She became aware of sounds outside. Men’s voices. Morning might be hours away but the camp was stirring. Or perhaps morning had already arrived. For all she knew the sun never shone in this wretched place. Regardless, she could not lie there a moment longer.

  The dry skirt and waist shirt lay across her trunk where she had put them in readiness for the morning. Moving as quietly as she could, she crawled to the end of her cot and donned her clothing. Sarah stirred when she opened her trunk to retrieve her brush, but then fell back into a deep sleep. The other two slept on.

  Evie unfastened the flap and slipped out. She half expected to have to step over Noah, but she found the space in front of the tent empty, his bedding rolled into a neat bundle and set off to one side. With a touch of chagrin she realized he had risen before her, though why that thought should leave her feeling unsettled she didn’t know. Who cared when that man slept and when he rose? Certainly not she.

  A slight breeze stirred the branches of the trees far above her. The air held very little chill from yesterday’s rain and was tinted with a wild, fresh sweetness that shot energy through her tired limbs. She inhaled deeply and realized that other aromas also rode on the wind. The tangy bite of salt pork frying and the delicious smell of baking bread. Her stomach rumbled to life as though she had not eaten a full meal only a few hours before.

  A glance around the clearing revealed a glimmer of lamplight seeping through cracks in the long structure she had noticed last night. The voices came from that direction as well, and with her eyes adjusted to her dim surroundings she could see the shadow of smoke trailing into the sky. That building must be the cookhouse. Good. She wanted to get a good look at it.

  Stepping with caution across the muddy clearing, she made her way to the structure, following the sound of male voices. When she drew near she spied a door standing open at the far end. She paused a moment to smooth her skirts and settle a sudden case of nerves. Then, with her head held high, she marched inside.

  It took a moment for her eyes to make sense of the jumble of activity. Lamps created glowing circles of light throughout the room. Long tables stretched the length of the building. A closer inspection revealed that they were nothing more than wide logs that had been split down the center to form a roughly level surface. On top was piled the biggest feast Evie had ever seen. Stacks of flapjacks, platters piled high with meat, tubs of butter, and huge bowls of delicious-smelling fried apples. The benches pulled up to each one followed the same design as the tables, though obviously on shorter legs, and filled with men.

  A dark-haired lumberjack on the far end of the room caught sight of her. He jumped to his feet and pointed. “There’s one of them now.”

  At his shout all talk in the room ceased. Every head turned her way, and Evie found herself the center of attention. Her breath became a frozen lump in her lungs. Perhaps Noah had been serious in his cautions about her safety in a camp full of men. In the next moment benches tumbled backward as the men leaped up. Knit hats were snatched off heads and those seated nearest the door rushed forward. A dozen deep voices wished her good morning, and she found both of her hands tucked in muscular arms as she was pulled forward. A bench was hastily righted and she was invited to sit.

  “I’ll bring you a plate, Miss,” a brawny blond offered eagerly.

  “I’ll git your coffee.” The man next to him edged him away by planting his hands on the table and leaning toward her. “We got honey for sweetin’.”

  Though moments before her stomach had complained of emptiness, Evie suddenly found the idea of eating in this crowd intimidating. The men formed a seemingly endless circle around her, their eyes roaming over her like so many starving dogs hovering outside a butcher shop. No doubt her every bite would be watched.

  She declined a plate of food with a polite shake of her head. “Though I would appreciate coffee with a touch of honey.” Coffee was not something she normally cared for, but she remembered their chagrin yesterday at Ethel’s request for tea.

  Three men whirled and banged into each other in their haste to meet her request. The rest quickly closed the circle. The odor of unwashed bodies threatened to overpower that of the bacon, and she masked an unpleasant flutter in her stomach with a quick smile. She was answered by a dozen or so wide grins.

  Someone pushed between two beefy lumberjacks and stepped into the circle. With a jolt, Evie looked up into Noah’s unsmiling face.

  “Miss Lawrence.” His voice held a chilly courtesy. “I didn’t expect you to be up at this hour.”

  “You’ll find that I am an early riser, Mr. Hughes.” She poured extra sweetness into the smile she awarded him. “Especially when there is so much work to do.”

  His jaw tightened, and he looked as if he would have answered except that her coffee arrived at that moment. A m
an inserted himself into the circle and carefully set a steaming tin mug in front of her.

  “There you go, miss. A dollop of honey.” He did not move, but hovered with an anxious expression.

  Evie picked up the mug and took an experimental sip. Scalding hot and bitter, she had to school her expression to hold back a grimace. “Delicious,” she lied. “Thank you, Mr.…”

  The man straightened to attention. “Smithers, ma’am. George Smithers.”

  “George?” A guffaw came from somewhere behind him. “Don’t go trying to put on airs, Pig Face.”

  He glared at the chuckles of his crew mates. “George is my given name.”

  Unfortunately, his nickname was well earned. The tip of his nose pointed toward the sky, granting Evie an unobstructed view of two round nostrils that did hold a more than passing resemblance to a pig’s.

  “Thank you, Mr. Smithers.” She set the mug down on the table and let her smile travel around the circle of faces. “I am Evangeline Lawrence, recently arrived from Chattanooga, Tennessee.”

  Her audience began calling out names so quickly she could do no more than give a brief nod of acknowledgment to each man.

  “Lester Palmer.”

  “Randall Miller, ma’am.”

  “Red Anderson.” That one, at least, she would have no trouble remembering, thanks to a thick thatch of orangey-red hair that topped a face round as a melon.

  Her gaze was drawn to the giant from the dock, which towered a full head above the others. “And your name, sir?”

  “Jacob Carter, ma’am.” His hands twisted a knitted hat into a ball. “But everybody calls me Big Dog.”

  She nodded, and then spoke to the lot of them at once. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, gentlemen. I hope we will become friends in the days ahead.”

  “Miss Lawrence, may I have a word with you outside?” The disapproving scowl on Noah’s face left no room for refusal.

  Rather than cause a scene, Evie opted for a show of manners. “Of course, Mr. Hughes.” Taking her mug in one hand, she slipped off of the bench. The men moved out of her way, disappointment clear on their faces, and allowed her to head for the door.