Reluctant Brides Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  She removed her dress, hung it on a peg, and pulled her simple cotton nightdress over her head. For so many years, she had not allowed herself the luxury of an evening like this one. It was not a fancy evening—they had eaten simple food and played simple games—but it was the best evening Percy Morgan had had for years. She had felt welcome—and she had almost forgotten how good that could feel.

  Chapter 11

  The promise of a real summer infused the air. As Percy bent over the washtub behind the mess hall, scrubbing her kitchen towels and rags and the aprons that protected her few dresses, sweat trickled down her temples. In an attempt to keep the sweat from dripping down her neck, she scrunched up one side of her face, but without her hands free, there was little she could do to control the rivulets of perspiration. Even before plunging her hands into the scalding wash water, the close, humid air had Percy feeling like a shriveled human blister, and it had curled her hair in sticky knots around her face. She imagined that with a proper brushing, the hair framing her face could be arranged in a very flattering way on a day like this. But she had no time for brushing and she still had no mirror in her room. She certainly did not feel very attractive, hunched over a wash basin with her hair roughly knotted at the back of her neck to keep it out of her way, her sleeves shoved up past her elbows, and her blouse unbuttoned at the neck to catch the rare hint of a breeze.

  Percy had not expected such miserable weather for late spring; actually, she was not prepared for it at all. Lacey told her that this was just the beginning of a brutal summer. Lacey’s description of the extreme summer weather had seemed exaggerated to Percy and she had been determined not to be frightened off by it. Surely the proximity to water would have some cooling effect. Where Percy came from, being near the ocean made all the difference. But Lacey was proving to be right; Percy should never have doubted the word of someone who had spent twenty-eight years living here. She longed for a walk along the water, closer to the areas where the men were out logging. Perhaps then she could hope for a flutter of a breeze. Between the hot kitchen and the labor of laundry, Percy found little relief from the heat and humidity. She could only imagine what it must be like for the men, laboring unsheltered in the hot sun for long hours each day. Each night they returned to the mess hall, wilted and somber, until refreshed by nourishment and cold drinks.

  If this was only the beginning, Percy hated to think what the rest of the summer might be like. It certainly would not remind her of the summers of her childhood. There would be no leisurely games of croquet on the front lawn. Actually, no one in the lumber camp had a front lawn, least of all the mess hall where Percy’s cramped quarters were squeezed. There would be no tall glasses of lemonade carried out to her by the family cook, no fanciful games with her little sister under the shade of a spreading oak tree, no books to tickle her imagination. This summer would be work, all work, and Percy could not allow herself to imagine anything different.

  True to her word, Lacey helped Percy mark off a vegetable garden the day after their dinner together. While Lacey and Abby had put in their garden weeks ago, Lacey was quite optimistic that it was not too late for Percy to grow a few things, if she was careful what she planted. The garden plot was not large. Percy had wanted a plot four times as large and Lacey had laughed aloud and told Percy that she was not talking about a garden but a farm. Percy had argued that she needed a large plot in order to raise enough vegetables for all the men, but Lacey insisted that what Percy had in mind would be far more work than one person could handle, even if that person was the stubborn Percy Morgan. Reluctantly, Percy yielded to Lacey’s advice. She had cornered off one section for growing herbs; even if she could not produce enough vegetables to feed fifty men all winter, she could at least flavor the food she prepared with more variety.

  As much as Percy hated to admit it, Lacey’s caution made sense. This was her first garden, after all, and perhaps there was more to the task than simply planting, watering, and enjoying the sun. At the moment, she did not find the sun very enjoyable and would have preferred to water herself rather than vegetables. Once the garden was planted, she would be obligated to weed it, also. Already Percy was planning how she might alter her routine in order to work the garden in the cooler evening.

  In the past, she had not thought too much about gardens. Her own mother had spent many summer days on a lounge chair in the middle of a flower garden, but as Percy reflected on the memory, she realized she had never seen her mother actually work in the garden. A quiet, unobtrusive older man came in periodically to tend to the garden. He produced beautiful, exotic flowers that Percy’s mother proudly displayed as if they were the work of her own hands. As she was growing up, it had never occurred to Percy to wonder where her vegetables came from, and she was never curious where the cook had gotten them from in the first place. In fact, she spent much of her childhood wishing her vegetables would go away.

  Percy’s mother had not done a lot of the things that Percy now did every day. It was a good thing that she had occasionally watched when the wash was done, Percy reflected, for she had turned out not to be completely helpless. Her observation skills and quick intelligence put her in good stead when she had to learn something new rapidly and furtively.

  Percy squinted at the sun and realized immediately that she had to return to the stifling kitchen because the men would be appearing for their evening meal any moment. She abandoned the wash, thinking that she might return to it later in the evening when it might be cooler anyway.

  Inside the mess hall, Percy barely got the food off the stove and onto the large serving platters before the men came tumbling in. After a quiet day with her own thoughts, their noise jolted her. Today they entered with even more rambunctiousness than usual, and Percy immediately realized that it was not friendly camaraderie. The voices were pitched loud and boisterous. Her eyes wide and alert, she pushed through the swinging doors that led from the kitchen to the main dining room. The food line had begun to form, and Percy could see immediately that the men in line were those who preferred quiet and solitude at the end of the day. They were not likely to be involved in the argument growing rapidly behind them.

  Quickly, Percy began to serve food. Knowing that she had plenty, she heaped large servings on the plates. Normally she simply set out a stack of plates and let the men serve themselves. Today she tried to create a diversion of her own, keeping one eye on the men huddled by the door who seemed not to be interested in eating. Troy Wilger’s face was as red as she had ever seen it, and Carson Gregory had his nose right up against Troy’s.

  “I’m afraid I’m not used to the heat and humidity you have here,” Percy said loudly and with contrived cheerfulness. “I can’t imagine how you men have the stamina to work in the heat all day long.”

  Two men quietly took their plates and headed for a table in the corner. No one responded to Percy’s attempt at conversation.

  “It will be quite a challenge for me,” she continued, even more loudly, “to come up with some meals that will refresh you when you come in for supper.”

  The shuffling by the door swelled alarmingly. Men lined up behind Troy and Carson.

  “What’s going on?” Percy finally asked quietly as Matt Harden came through the line. “What are they so upset about?”

  Matt scowled. “It’s this town business. Peter Regals was out at the site today talking the way he always does.”

  “What do you mean?” Percy had barely met Abby’s husband, but he had not struck her as someone who would incite a crowd. Josh and Lacey seemed to like Peter’s ideas.

  “He had some crazy ideas about a town government,” Matt explained reluctantly. “Something about how everyone should have a say in how things are done around here.”

  “Isn’t that good?” Percy asked. She gave Matt an extra scoop of mashed potatoes.

  Matt shrugged. “Peter says the family that owns the lumber company is not trying to own us body and soul. A real town up here would be good for all of
us, but some of the others, well, they’re not convinced.”

  “No?”

  He shook his head. “They figure Peter and his father-in-law and Travis Gates will run things the way they want them, no matter what the rest of us think.”

  The smack of a fist against a jaw interrupted their conversation. Carson Gregory stumbled and fell back against a row of chairs, scattering them with a clatter. Immediately, he scrambled to his feet and charged at Troy Wilger. With his head bent low, Carson slammed into Troy’s midsection, but the hefty tall man barely moved under the impact of the smaller, lighter man. Instead, the two of them entwined their arms and pushed and twisted their way across the room. In only a few seconds they had broken through the food line and began circling the food table. Their tussle showed no sign of letting up; determination burned in both their faces.

  “Stop that right now!” Percy demanded, but they ignored her.

  The men in line, not wanting to heighten the hostility, stepped back. The entourage surrounding Troy and Carson followed the struggling pair across the room and crowded around the table. Percy was forced to leap out of the way herself.

  Troy got the upper hand and planted his massive hands firmly on Carson’s shoulders. With one great shove, Troy threw Carson through the air. Carson came down with a crash on the serving table, which gave way and split down the middle. Percy’s serving dishes clattered to the floor, spilling chicken and potatoes. The pies she had labored over all afternoon splattered the floor and were flattened as Carson landed on top of them.

  Ignoring his bleeding lip and the apples and potatoes stuck to his backside, Carson scrambled to his feet once again and lurched at Troy. Troy deftly stepped out of the way, and the angry Carson plunged into another row of chairs. The men watching began to cheer. Carson came up swinging. Clearly, there was no way he could win a fight against Troy Wilger, but Percy could see the fire in his eyes and he was not about to give up. Around her, men laughed and cheered, oblivious to the fact that their own meals had been lost to a fight that most of them cared little about.

  Percy whirled around, dashed into the kitchen, and returned with her heaviest iron pot and spoon. Fiercely she banged the pot like a drum. Some of the men began to chuckle at her, but she ignored them. Using the pot as a shield, she ventured toward Troy and Carson. One way or another, she was going to stop this fight.

  Her opening came and she took it. She aimed low. With all her might, she slammed her heavy metal spoon into Troy Wilger’s kneecap. He stopped and stared at her. Knowing that he was more likely startled than actually hurt, she wasted no time making her point.

  “I don’t care whether this is a town or not,” she shouted. “I do know that it is not a zoo, and I will not have you acting like wild animals in the middle of my dining room.”

  Percy glared first at Troy, then at Carson. “I made one supper tonight and I don’t intend to make another one. The two of you can explain to your buddies why they have to go to bed hungry tonight. As for me, I’m finished for the day!” She threw down her pot and let it clatter and roll across the floor; it echoed rancorously around the room. “I’m going out. When I come back, I expect that this mess the two of you have created will be cleaned up. I’d better not find a sliver of apple on this floor or a splinter of wood from the table you ruined. Clean it up! I mean it!”

  She spun around and marched out the front door, feeling the stares that followed her on the back of her hot neck but refusing to acknowledge them.

  Outside the door, she was just ready to let her shoulders sag with the weight and frustration she really felt when she spotted Josh Wells coming around the corner.

  “What’s going on?” he asked. “What’s all the commotion?”

  Percy kept her shoulders rigid and her head high. Without breaking stride, she replied, “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Chapter 12

  Percy stayed away for long, exhausting hours; she certainly was in no hurry to return to the mess hall and face the remains of the chaos to which she may have contributed. The evening was warm and sticky, so she had no need for shelter. From her perch on a boulder tucked at the edge of the woods, she could see the dim lights of Lacey and Travis’s home. Percy knew she would be welcome there, but somehow the thought of being with other people exhausted her. Besides, she did not want Travis to charge over and let the men believe she had tattled on them. No doubt Josh had gone into the dining hall to see why she had flown out the way she did. Travis and Lacey would hear about the fiasco soon enough. Instead, she sat alone, her arms around her knees, and stared up at the night sky.

  What was out there? she wondered. Were the planets real? Could they really be hanging in the black space that overwhelmed her? Was God real? Was He out there somewhere? Mrs. Higgins, her Sunday school teacher for most of her childhood, had assured Percy and the rest of the class that God was indeed out there. But Percy was not so sure. If He was, then why had her life taken the turns it had? Why had she ended up breaking up fistfights in an obscure place instead of entertaining suitors in a more genteel setting?

  Eventually Percy trudged back up to the mess hall. In her haste to leave, she had not thought to take a lantern with her, and she was guided only by the stars she found so mysterious. With a grimace on her face and reluctance in her hands, she pulled the door open and entered. Blackness greeted her, just as deep as the blackness outside. She crept along the side wall to a window ledge where she knew she would find a candle to light. By its dim flame, she peered around the large room. The tables were upright with chairs pushed in neatly. The serving table, splintered by Carson Gregory’s smashing fall, had been removed. Pots, platters, and leftover food were gone from sight. The room looked as if nothing unusual had happened that night—except that one table was missing. With a sigh of disbelief and relief, Percy crept through the immaculate kitchen and went to bed.

  In the morning, Percy served breakfast as usual and did not speak of the previous evening. Troy Wilger and Carson Gregory clearly avoided her, coming to the newly designated serving table to pick up a plate of pancakes and staying only as briefly as necessary. Percy set a platter of fresh pancakes in front of Troy but said nothing. The other men were reserved. Few lifted their eyes to Percy’s. Her glare dared anyone to approach her.

  Later, as Percy worked in the garden, meticulously preparing the ground for the vegetable seeds Travis would bring, Lacey approached with a grin on her face. While no one was speaking to Percy, apparently the men were speaking to each other. Troy and Carson’s behavior was extreme, but expected, according to Lacey, and they had come to blows before. But no one had expected the spitfire that Percy had shown. Lacey found it hilarious that the men had complied with her demands that they clean up after themselves. According to what Lacey had heard from Josh, who had gone into the mess hall to investigate after passing Percy, Troy and Carson had done most of the cleanup work themselves. Percy was the talk of the town, so to speak.

  But Percy did not want to be the talk of the town. She simply wanted peace and order in the dining hall. So, over the next few days, she proceeded with her usual routine, including the added task of tending to the garden. The dirt oozing between her fingers was strangely comforting, and keeping her fingers busy and her eyes focused helped to stem the swirling in her mind. Her nerves needed calming, especially today. She had accepted an invitation from Lacey to spend the early afternoon at the Gates home with Lacey, Abby, and Bridget and Moriah, the two young brides living in lean-tos while their husbands prepared to build homes. Abby’s mother, the first woman to come to the lumber camp more than twenty years ago, would also join them. Percy had baked a pie, which was cooling in the kitchen. Knowing that she had only a few minutes left in solitude, she breathed deeply of the earthy air and exhaled slowly.

  As she let out her sigh, Percy was jolted by the raucous sound of a horse and wagon careening down the street. What she heard was no gentle trot and the rhythm of turning wheels. It was a full gallop and the clatter of a w
agon being stretched beyond its capacity. The shouting voices demanded immediate attention. Her heart thumping, Percy sprang to her feet and hustled around to the front of the mess hall.

  “Where’s Josh?” Matt Harden demanded. “Find Josh!” He dropped the reins and hurtled himself off the wagon bench. The horse seemed agitated, but he paid no attention.

  “What’s happened?” Percy asked urgently. She followed Matt as he hurried around to the back and then hopped up into the wagon bed.

  “An accident with the saw,” Matt answered. “It went out of control. He’s hurt bad.”

  Matt huddled over the victim and Percy strained to see who the injured man was. She saw the ashen face of Troy Wilger.

  Peter Regals was in the street now, and Travis Gates was right behind him, having left the office where they both spent their days.

  “We have to find Josh,” Matt repeated. “He’s bleedin’ bad.”

  “I’ll go look for Josh,” Percy offered. “He must be at Lacey’s house.”

  Peter shook his head. “He’s gone on one of his circuits. He left this morning.”

  Matt flashed a look of anxiety. “There can’t be anybody who needs him as much as Troy does right now.”

  “He’s been gone a couple of hours,” Peter said. “I don’t know if we can catch him.”

  “We have to try,” Matt insisted. “That old mare of his is half blind. He can’t have gone all that far in two hours if he was stopping to check on folks. He said he came back to doctor us, and right now Troy needs a doctor. Which way did he go?”