“Is that so?” The large man pushed the smaller one aside. “Mayhap yu wouldn’t mind sharing, seeing how yu prob’ly had a taste a’ready.”
Looking intently at Amanda, he didn’t see the hardened look in Reagan’s eyes or the determined set of his jaw. Suddenly a loud click brought the giant’s attention to the gun barrel pointed directly at his chest. Reagan’s voice grew deadly as he dropped his friendly guise.
“I’m not of a mind to share anything, especially my lady.”
Just then two bearded ruffians approached, guns drawn. “Trouble, Jebediah?”
“Nah,” he said. “Appears a bit unreasonable, is all.” He rubbed his chin. “We’s not wanting to keep the filly, just borree her fer a little fun.” At Reagan’s continued silence, Jeb pressed more forcefully. “Seeing how we got yu outnumbered, yer sher being stupid!”
The two miscreants crowded Ted, leering at Amanda as she clutched Reagan’s arm. Images of forceful defilement raised her gorge and she felt threatened by a thorough retching.
“Ah’m conducting lawful business, yu understand,” Jebediah said, licking his lips. “Just t’ assure yu’uns ain’t involved with these slaves, we’ll hafta search ya, real careful-like!”
“Yee-haw!” Ted jumped up and down, peeling his gloves and tossing them to the ground. The others laughed and nodded, eying Amanda.
“Shut-up, Ted!” Jebediah thundered. “Since Ah’m in charge, Ah’ll be the one to give the laidy the once over.” He jerked his thumb toward the buggy. “Yu men c’n make sure the gent ain’t got nuthin’ else but his pig-shooter, a’fore we let’s ‘em go. He ain’t gonna use it with so many of us.”
“Me too, Jeb!” Ted frothed angrily. “I gits to search her too!”
One of the men reached out and boxed Ted’s ears. “Hush, you fool,” he rasped, lowering his voice. “We’ll gits our share once we got th’ feller tied up.”
As the men crowded in, Amanda sobbed, burying her face in Reagan’s shoulder. Her fear grew with her certainty of being trapped with no hope of escape.
“One step closer by you or any of your men and the first bullet’s yours,” Reagan said. “And just so you know, I never miss.”
Jeb paused. He wasn’t used to hearing the calm certainty in Reagan’s voice. From an early age, he had bullied many a dandy with his size alone. This man’s refusal to be intimidated caused him to reconsider.
Reagan’s gaze never wavered as he indicated the slaves still crouched on the road. “Don’t you have more pressing business at hand? Or do you waylay all innocent travelers?” Jebediah glanced back as if recalling the captives for the first time. “Perhaps, I should notify the sheriff,” Reagan continued. “He’d be interested to know who’s prowling our woods.”
With the chances of fulfilling his lechery growing dim, the blackguard tired of the game. He wasn’t willing to test the mettle of the one holding the revolver. Even if he moved suddenly, he doubted he could outrun a well-placed bullet. Jebediah decided however, if the opportunity ever presented itself, he’d put the arrogant bastard in his place.
“We’re well within the limits of the law,” he spat. “These are fugitive slaves Ah wuz hired to hunt down.”
“Then, my suggestion to you is to get those poor souls fed and someplace warm. Mishandling someone else’s property could cause you trouble, especially when I report how poorly you secured your charges.”
Jeb knew it wasn’t uncommon to find resistance from locals despite penalties imposed on any who hampered his duty. He had dealt with such before, losing his bounty to incompetence, real or otherwise, of lawmen called upon to incarcerate his captured slaves. Masked men would burst into a poorly guarded jail, releasing the prisoners while the sheriff was conveniently absent. The lawmen never seemed to find the captives, professing ignorance of local abolitionists who might do such a daring deed.
“We wuzn’t r-eely gonna hurt yer laidy none, mister,” Jebediah said. “Just makin’ sher yu ain’t breaking the law.”
“Tell your men to move back,” Reagan ordered.
“Do’s he says!” the giant snapped.
After backing away, the bounty hunters pulled a buckboard next to the captives and forced them inside. Urging the mare forward, Reagan didn’t release his gun until he was satisfied they weren’t being followed. When Amanda couldn’t stop weeping, he pulled a hanky from his pocket, placing it in her hands.
“It seems I’m in peril whenever I’m with you, Mr. Burnsfield,” she said, daubing her cheeks. “Is this an omen I should avoid your company?”
“On the contrary. It means you need constant protection,” he said, smiling. “But for now, we need to get you home.”
Arriving at the Bruester manse, Reagan aided Amanda to the door. “I’ll call again in two fortnight,” he promised. “Until then, I suggest you stay out of the woods and within the vicinity of your father’s pistols.”
“Perhaps, I need a gun of my own if I’m to defend myself from scoundrels. Would you then teach me its use?”
“From all but one, my sweet,” he said, bending near. He had hoped for another kiss. But, before their lips could touch, the door opened, flooding the entrance with light. Reagan straightened as Wills, their manservant, stood observing him. After seeing Amanda safely inside, Reagan left the porch and hoisted himself into the surrey. Gathering the reins, he slapped the mare.
“Giddap!”
With more surety than ever, Reagan felt convinced nothing would persuade him from his purpose. Amanda would be his bride.
Chapter Thirteen
Reagan donned heavy trousers and a flannel shirt before eating a breakfast of cold ham and biscuits. Hearing a rap at the door, he admitted his foreman Danny O’Reilly and led him to the study where a map had been laid out.
“We’ll take supply wagons north til we get to Meadville in Pennsylvania,” Reagan said, tracing the route with his finger. “Then, I’ll head to Jamestown for the new equipment while you continue north with the wagons, crossing Elk Creek, near McKean.” He tapped the spot, indicating the small town. “We’ll meet up in Stockton to travel the last few miles to the Cattaraugus River. Is everything clear?”
“Yes sir! Sounds like a plan,” Danny said, running fingers through his coppery hair before donning his hat.
“Good, then let’s get going.” Reagan folded the plat, handing it to Danny before checking his pocket for his own map.
As they headed for the door, Reagan went over preparations in his mind. He had stowed a small trunk of belongings in one of the wagons, and in his saddlebags he carried contracts for the equipment. He had earlier sent a crew to slash a road into the forest so by the time he arrived the men could begin erecting camp.
Reagan was only mildly surprised to see Katherine near the entrance, a shawl draped over her shoulders. “Good morning, Mother. I thought I said last night, you needn’t see me off.”
“Morning to you, Danny,” she said, ignoring Reagan. “How’s your mother these days?”
Danny doffed his hat. “She’s in good health, thank you.”
“Mother, go back to bed. It’s too early to be about.”
Katherine frowned as Reagan retrieved his coat. “You know I always see my men off, no matter the hour.”
“Yes, I know,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Tell Papa good-bye and give Amy a kiss. And keep an eye on that Beauregard Barrington. Tell him if he gets fresh with Amanda, he can expect dire consequences.”
“Really, Reagan,” Katherine said. “I’ll do no such thing.”
He shrugged, winking at Danny. “All right, then. Kiss Papa for me and tell Amy good-bye.”
She threw up her hands. “Oh you! Go before I swat you.” She waited until the door closed behind them before she ascended the stairs.
After Reagan saddled his horse, the men departed. They rode in a thickening fog, their breaths forming vapors that wafted before them like puffs of smoke. When they neared the warehouse, a milk cow tethered to a wagon bellowed as she
spied two apparitions approaching in the mist. Sleepy loggers barely noted her cries while hunched in wagons, waiting to get underway.
Danny spoke to the driver of the lead wagon before hailing the others. The string of wagons burdened with supplies and men then headed in the direction of the rising sun.
Reagan separated from the caravan at the Meadville crossroads, reaching Jamestown the sixth day. After registering at the Madison Hotel, he ordered a bath and sizable meal while a message was sent to Mr. Price, the equipment contractor who had been awaiting his arrival. The next morning he left with three wagonloads driven by hired muleskinners. When he arrived at Stockton he found Danny at the livery, inspecting harnesses.
Lifting a patched bridle, Reagan stretched the leather. “These ought to do,” he said. “Have the animals been checked?”
“The mules are shod and we greased the wheels just this morning,” Danny said.
Reagan loosened the cinch before easing the saddle from his horse. “Since everything seems ready, I see no reason why we can’t leave within the hour.”
“So soon? The boys were expecting a night on the town.”
“Why didn’t the men have their fun last night?”
“We arrived late and were plumb tuckered. We just unhitched the livestock and piled in for the night.”
“Don’t they know we’re going to a lumber camp?”
“We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow and thought there’d be time.” Though he, like Reagan, abstained from such entertainment, Danny never forbade the liquor or brothels that would hereafter be available only on days of pay.
Reagan poured oats into a bucket and set it before his horse. “The men are rested, that’s all I care to know. Anyone who thinks differently can collect his wages and be done with my outfit.”
“Sure, boss,” Danny said. “We’ll be ready.”
By afternoon, a disappointed and much subdued crew traveled north. With little else to do, many pressed their faces against upturned collars and slept. Finally, late that night, the group reached their destination, the mouth of the Cattaraugus River.
Chapter Fourteen
Awakening to the breakfast horn, Danny tumbled from his resting place. He could see others vacating straw filled wagons where if cold, they had at least been asleep. Near the fire, he accepted a cup of coffee from Theodore, the cook’s helper.
The cook then handed him a plate of food. Danny easily recognized the short-cropped hair sticking from underneath a mannish hat.
“Morning, Hattie,” he said. “We’re sure lucky to have you again this year.”
The leathery face split into a wide, toothy grin. “If’n I didn’t, half these boys would leave a’for the next dawn,” she cackled. “I come every time Mr. Reagan asks, because I complete the operation!”
“Who-doggie,” hooted a large lumberjack who had drawn near. “You call this slop cooking? My horse could do better’n this!”
His laughter turned to yowls of pain as Hattie slapped his ear with a calloused palm. “I don’t take guff from anyone, especially the likes of you, Billie Greely!”
“Git ‘im Hattie,” encouraged another. “That lummox is always shootin’ off his mouth.”
“Yeah,” spoke a third, grinning. “Everyone knows Hattie ain’t no beauty, but she’s some cook!”
Danny settled on the ground, spooning beans into his mouth. “You fellows best leave Hattie alone,” he said. “Otherwise, you’re liable to find a ladle bent over your skull. Now, fill up your plates or forget about eating.”
Hattie’s coffee washed away the last dregs of sleep as men crowded around the fire, devouring fresh biscuits and beans. Soon, the rising sun revealed they occupied a large, flat clearing. Coupled with its close proximity to the river, Danny knew it to be an excellent choice to make a campsite. Once breakfast was over, Reagan gave instructions before leaving to map out land tracts where trees would later be felled.
With cheerfulness of the Irish, Danny set about his work. He first directed clearing underbrush and laying corner logs for various buildings. Next, the men framed the cook’s shack; a large building that housed long tables where the men would eat. Another smaller addition would be added to store meat and supplies. After digging a depression in a nearby creek, men inserted a wooden box for a water supply while others retrieved bucketfuls of mud from the river. As the buildings rose, a mixture of clay and grass had to be chinked between logs to lessen coming winter drafts. Commanders and axes sounded through the air, only to cease briefly as the men bolted down their noon meal.
The structure of two bunkhouses facing a second pair of bunkhouses began the next day. The loggers lined the low, squat buildings with double bunks and a bench, placing iron stoves in each cabin for heat and light. The roof was made of wooden shakes lined with tarpaper. Afterward, criss-crossing beams would be used to dry boots and wet clothes. After three days of hard labor, the men slept gratefully in their bunks.
As the days wore on, the camp’s design unfolded. Reagan’s cabin-office and livestock shed formed the bottom of the U-shaped campsite. Lastly, the filer’s shack and outhouses would need to be finished before hard winter set in. But for now, the time for cutting timber was upon them.
Under Danny’s direction, a gang of swampers cleared away brush to form open spaces where trees would fall. Reagan checked each logger’s skill by overseeing the placement of back cuts forged with crosscut saws. Once down, fallers would pair off to chop right angles into tree trunks, their powerful blows swinging alternately to avoid each other’s axe.
By late afternoon, the cry of “Timberrrr!” caused men to scurry from falling trees. Swampers chopped off branches before buckers sectioned trees into logs. Oxen, mules and horses hauled logs onto skidways formed along new roads. As the men dropped into a routine of eat, sleep and work again; trees were felled, bucked and stacked.
Reagan worked equally hard, relieving more than one out of shape logger even when he felt the strain in his own limbs. Nightly, he fell into bed too tired to think about the thorny matters gnawing at him.
A month later, on the eve of his return home he sat with Danny in his cabin.
“I want you to start this section of land next,” Reagan said, marking the map.
“Sure, boss,” he replied. “As long as the snows hold off, we’ll be in good shape come spring.”
“Which is exactly why I want a step up of work.” Reagan’s voice took a tone usually reserved for disciplining an errant shanty boy. “The men are fit. For every two trees felled, I now want three. Tell the boys their effort will be rewarded.”
Danny looked surprised. “But, they’re already working hard. Progress is safe and well paced,” he reasoned. “Surely…”
“And, they can work a little harder. I don’t ask anything from my men I wouldn’t do myself.” Leaning against his chair, Reagan ignored the ache in his muscles. Constant work had hardened his body into the powerfully thewed frame of a seasoned lumberman. “Of all crews, mine are the highest paid. So I expect more. Is that understood?”
Danny’s eyes glowered. “Perfectly,” he said. “Three trees for every two.” Rising, he folded his arms over his heavily muscled chest. “Hell!”
Reagan refrained from uttering a rebuke. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Let me ask you. Do you have a better recommendation?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. If it’s so important to increase output, hire more men. It’s unwise to push the boys too hard.”
Reagan nodded. “You’re right. I can surely find men needing work in nearby towns. Take a day to build extra bunks so they’ll be ready when I return.”
Afterward, Danny left for his bunkhouse. He prayed Reagan would find additional men. Otherwise, a mutinous wave from the shanty boys would certainly disrupt their smooth operation.
Chapter Fifteen
Reagan packed few belongings for his journey home. For the past week, he’d been consumed with thoughts of furthering his marriage proposal. Yet, every idea h
e conjured up was soon discarded. Short of compromising Amanda’s reputation, he could find no grounds for a swift courtship. And, by the time he reached Cantonsville a few days later, he had gotten no closer to securing Amanda for his wife.
After tending his horse, Reagan entered the kitchen through the garden door the same time Katherine emerged from the pantry.
“Reagan, you’re home!” she said, wiping hands on her apron.
“Yes, I am,” he said, giving her a hug. “I’m starved. Is there anything to eat?”
“Of course.” Katherine’s nose wrinkled as she scanned his frame. “But, I want you to bathe first. You look as if you’ve not sat a bath since you left.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“And don’t forget to shave,” she lectured as he headed toward the hall. “Or else you shan’t eat until supper time.” Her stern look vanished the minute the door closed behind him. It was good to have him home.
After his meal, Reagan pushed back his plate. A bath had eased his sore muscles while clean clothes served to refresh his mind. He claimed he needed to keep his beard however, and allowed only a trim amidst Katherine’s sighs of exasperation.
Later, the dining table had been cleared as he recounted to Katherine the camp’s progress. That accomplished, it wasn’t long before his thoughts led to his last encounter with Amanda.
“Mother, I was wondering. Have you heard of anyone in Cantonsville being involved with escaping slaves?”
“There’ve been whispers of comings and goings for years, but no real proof that I’m aware.”
“Such as…?”
“Well, for instance, Henrietta Livingston claims she hears strange voices and mysterious sounds passing by her bedroom window at night.”
Reagan looked askance. “Doesn’t the widow Livingston also say her dead husband speaks to her while she sits in her parlor?”
“Henrietta’s a bit queer, that’s true. But aside from her attachment to her departed Frederic, she’s as sane as you or I.”
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