Amanda appeared to have forgotten his presence as she removed her shirt, exposing the top half of her long johns. She next tried pulling off her boots but tugged uselessly while hopping on one foot.
“Come here,” Reagan said, pulling her toward the bed. Sitting her down, he removed her boots and peeled her socks before reaching inside her waistband to unbutton then strip off her pants. After a yawn and a stretch, Amanda lay on the quilts and promptly fell asleep.
Reagan stared as she slept. Consumed with work, he had almost eliminated her from his mind. Now here she was to remind him that just a few scant weeks ago he had delighted in exploring her every curve. Bending down, Amanda’s clean scent struck him when he lifted her to pull back the covers. He enjoyed a few moments with her nestled against his chest before easing her under the covers. After dimming the lamp he headed for the door, catching his foot on Amanda’s hat. He smiled when he recognized his boyhood possession and hung it on a peg before leaving.
Danny was only mildly surprised to see Reagan enter the bunkhouse. As they sat away from others, Reagan explained Amanda’s presence. “I’m sending her back tomorrow and since I need to stay, I want you to take her home. You know the boys better than anyone. Pick two men trustworthy enough to serve as guards. Your wages will be paid even if the weather makes it impossible for your return.”
“Sure, boss,” said Danny. “I’ll make my decision by morning.”
Reagan looked around. “I guess I’m going to be needing a bunk.”
Danny chuckled as he pointed to an empty bed. “Later on tonight, you’ll get to hear why I say the boys saw logs even when they sleep.”
After the lights went out and throughout the night, snow fell. It grew heavier and thicker with each passing hour. Toward midnight, a north wind began blowing and as it grew strong, it whistled through chinked logs and between buildings forming pyres of snow that crested and troughed like a rigid sea. The gusts intensified and both man and beast burrowed deeper into bed, hiding from the mournful sound. By the time the North Star descended the wind had weakened, leaving the camp entombed in a silent, frozen vice.
The cook and her helper were the first to rise. With lanterns held high they struggled through drifts until reaching the cook’s shack. Once inside, Hattie took massive frying pans off the wall while Theo lit the stove. Soon the sound of sizzling bacon mingled with Hattie’s curses as she ladled batter and brewed the first of many pots of coffee.
By four o’clock, the cook’ee left to awaken the teamsters who would in turn feed and ready the animals. When the weather turned foul, the oxen would remain unharnessed until the boss confirmed a workday. It wasn’t until Theo blew the breakfast horn at quarter til five that the storm showed signs of ending.
Reagan emerged from the bunkhouse and from his upraised lantern saw a camp nearly buried in snow. He softly swore as he waded through hip deep drifts before entering the cabin. Amanda stirred but didn’t awaken as he scraped ashes from the stove and started a fire. After adjusting the vents, he approached his sleeping wife. The fact that she couldn’t go back, didn’t anger him as much as he expected.
He touched her shoulder while placing her clothes beside her. “Breakfast is coming. You’ll want to be dressed when it arrives.” As she arose he couldn’t help but watch, ogling her like a schoolboy while she put on her clothes. It occurred to him much could be gained from her coming, after all.
“You know, you’d cause a scandal back home if anyone saw you dressed like that,” Reagan said, feeling the stirrings of desire. “I hope you kept your coat on while traipsing about the countryside.”
“I did,” she said quickly. “Most everyone just thought I was a boy.” Reagan missed the catch in her voice as Amanda ran fingers through her hair before braiding its length.
Finding the washbasin, she poured water into the bowl. “Am I to leave right away?”
Reagan crossed his arms as he glanced toward the window. “No.”
“Oh?” she said, splashing her face before finding a towel. “Then, could I be shown around camp before I go?”
“Perhaps, but not today.”
“Truly?” she said, turning around. “You’ll not send me back right away?”
“It seems we had quite a snowstorm last night. So, it looks like you’re stuck for awhile.”
“Thank you!”
“Don’t thank me,” Reagan said, amused at her obvious delight. “If I had anything to do with it, you’d be halfway home by now. But, since you’re here, you might as well know where things are.” He pointed around the room. “Over by the door is a barrel I keep filled with snow. The heat from the stove melts it and provides whatever water I need. My desk is usually filled with ledgers and important papers. I ask that you leave them alone.”
“Of course, there’s the bed and table, which you’ve used. But against the other wall I have a chest which stores most of my clothes and some books you might find useful to pass the time.” Amanda took note of the small trunk as well as a mirror lying on the table. “And, I have a pan hanging above it,” he continued. “It’s much more pleasant to wash with hot water.”
Amanda suddenly frowned. “But where do you keep the chamber pot?”
Reagan chuckled. “My dear, lumbermen don’t use chamber pots.”
She looked perplexed. “But, where…?”
“We use outhouses, madam. Outside.”
Her eyes grew wide. “You mean, I have to…” she said, pointing toward the door.
“Uh-hmm,” he nodded.
“Where the other men…?” Amanda said, nearly choking.
“You’ll be relieved to know I have a personal privy behind the cabin. I’ll show you where it is,” he said plucking up her coat.
“Are you the only one who uses it?”
“Indeed, I am, until now.” Opening the door, he handed her the lantern before lifting her in his arMs. After carrying her over the drifts to the rear of the cabin, he scooped snow away from the privy.
Once the door was loosened, he swept an arm wide. “Milady, thy throne!”
Chapter Fifty-One
Amanda gazed through the window as the rising sun revealed the magnitude and beauty of the storm’s wrath. The sunlight had evaporated the bluish pall, turning the wintry expanse into a dazzling radiance of thousands of sparkling diamonds. Fir trees were freshly draped in ivory mantles, their tops frozen in majestic poses. Bunkhouses appeared to squat in snowdrifts that in some places were five or more feet high. The normal workday was suspended so the men could shovel paths between buildings, stable, and cook’s shack. Even Reagan took a turn with the shovel by clearing a narrow path to the privy out back.
When the outside activities ceased to hold her attention, Amanda inspected the books lining Reagan’s trunk. She marveled at the variety of subjects and settled on a book of poetry, alternating her time between reading and stoking the fire.
Reagan entered the cabin hours later with a rush of cold air. His cheeks were ruddy, yet his eyes radiated warmth when he saw Amanda curled on the bed. “I see you found my stash,” he said, chuckling.
“Have you finished shoveling?”
“Not quite,” he said, straddling a nearby chair. “We still have to cut another access into the forest.”
“How will you do that?”
“We’ll use oxen first. Then widen the path they form by running an empty skid loader through the snow.”
“What’s a skid loader?”
“It’s a sleigh-like vehicle with runners instead of wheels. We use them to transport logs,” Reagan said. As his eyes wandered over her boyish garb, he imagined how easy it would be to undress her with no pantaloons or corset to get in the way.
“So when will I be able to see the camp?” Amanda asked, closing her book.
Reagan tore his mind from where it had been wandering. “We can go right now. The men are having their noon meal.”
Outside, Amanda burrowed into her coat while Reagan pointed toward various build
ings. “The blacksmith’s shop is the first in a line of buildings that run east, turn, and then swing back to form a rough U-shape. The buildings facing each other are the men’s bunkhouses. Under no circumstances are you to go near them. The small sheds in front are where the men keep their tools.” He then led Amanda down one of the shoveled walkways crisscrossing the yard. “Over there is the cook’s shanty. It’s the largest so it can hold everyone at once. I’ll take you there when the men are finished eating.”
“That looks like a stable,” Amanda said as they neared the next structure.
“You’re right. We keep eight teams of oxen, mules and horses. And one recently arrived city nag,” he added with a smile. “That small building at the end is the saw-filer’s shack. With weather like today the men will be sharpening and repairing their tools.”
She stared at the rude structures. “It’s hard to imagine living like this. How can anyone stand it?”
“My men are willing to work in these conditions to provide for families, my dear. Not everyone can be like your Mr. Banning who looks like he’s never dirtied his hands.”
“And yet you do,” Amanda observed. “Your hands aren’t soft like his.”
“That’s the difference between me and your guest. I’m not ashamed of sweat,” Reagan said, grabbing her arm. “But for now, let’s get back to the cabin. You’re nose is red. Hattie’s the closest we have to a doctor and you wouldn’t like her medicine.”
Lumbermen began emerging from the cook’s shanty just as Reagan opened the cabin door. “I’ll see that your meal is sent over,” he said, putting her inside. “I need to get back to work.”
“Won’t you be joining me?”
“Not today, there’s too much to do.” After closing the door he approached the men. “Okay boys, get your shovels.” He then turned to the bull driver. “Fritz! Yoke up the Ayrshires. We need the big fellas to break these drifts.”
“Sure, boss!” As Fritz headed for the stables, Reagan formed the men into teams, clearing the area for the massive bulls. Nearly two tons of muscle and brawn emerged from the barn, guided by the curses and goad stick of the bull whacker. “Hump, you, Buck! Move!” Fritz roared. Straining and grunting, the bulls pawed for traction as their shoulders broke into the nearest snow bank. Under Fritz’s guidance they made steady progress and by late afternoon had reached the forest’s edge. After returning to the stable for a much-deserved rest, a fresh team of oxen was hitched to a skid loader to widen the Ayrshires path.
At dusk, the cook’ee rang the triangle bringing a swarm of men. Kerosene lamps kept the shanty lit while the loggers elbowed their way onto benches. Hattie slapped meat onto platters as fast as Theo could carry them. Stew and beans soon followed, passed from hand to hand down tables. Theo refilled pitchers of milk before bringing fresh pies that were quickly devoured. Known to make twenty or more pies a day, Hattie brought many a logger back just for her flavorful fare. When not fetching food, Theo filled a rack with kindling that supplied stoves for heating as well as cooking.
Once the men had left and as promised, Reagan brought Amanda to the cook’s shack. Their boots sounded against the floor as they approached a woman rolling dough on a knife-scarred table. A lad wearing an apron stood beside her, washing dishes.
“You busy, Hattie?”
“Jus’ makin’ biscuits for tomorrow,” she cackled before turning around.
“I have someone here I’d like you to meet,” Reagan said. “This is my wife, Amanda, who took it upon herself to come here, unannounced. It looks like she’s going to be here awhile.”
“’Lo,” Hattie said, wiping her hands. “The boss told me ‘bout you this mornin’. And a fine young, purty thing she is, Mister Reagan.”
“Hattie keeps the boys well fed and in line. In fact,” he said, grinning, “I think the men are more afraid of Hattie than they are of me.”
“Damn right they are,” she said. “No shanty boy ever got the best of Hattie! If’n he thought otherwise, he soon found hisself marked with one of my fryin’ pans!”
Amanda could only stare while Reagan appeared amused by Hattie’s words. “Her helper is Theodore,” he said, nodding toward the lad whose ears had turned bright red. “He does whatever needs done in the way of fetching, mopping, cutting wood and whatever else Hattie sets him to do.”
Theo barely glanced up. “Pleased t’ meet ya,” he squeaked.
Hattie waved in his direction. “Don’t mind him. That boy ain’t said ten words since he’s been here.” Picking up her rolling pin, she resumed working the dough. “I best git back to work. I got lot’s to do. Mrs. Burnsfield is welcome to come whenever she wants,” she said over her shoulder. “But probably the best time is when the boys are in the woods.”
“That’s the only time you’ll see Mrs. Burnsfield,” Reagan said. “I’ve instructed Amanda to stay in the cabin when the men are about. During the week however, I’ll let her come over while we’re working.”
Amanda felt as if she were a child being redressed and was relieved when they returned to the cabin. “So, you mean to tell me I won’t have any company all day?” she asked.
“You’ll have Hattie,” he said, hanging his coat beside hers. “I thought I just said that, not five minutes ago.” Seeing Amanda’s cross face, he folded his arms and calmly awaited the brewing storm. It came in a flurry of words.
“I can’t imagine having a semblance of a conversation with that woman. She’s crude, and dirty, and…and…” she searched for a fitting pejorative, “…indelicate, to say the least!”
Reagan shrugged, not at all moved by her outburst. “Hattie is Hattie.”
“Why can’t I just be with you? I won’t be in the way, I promise.” Unused to hearing herself whine, Amanda scowled at the mewling quality of her voice. This wasn’t the romantic winter she had envisioned when she left Cantonsville.
“I told you. That’s out of the question. I can’t have you traipsing about in little-boy britches around a bunch of love-starved men.” He was quickly losing his patience. If he could barely contain his desires, how could he expect his men to act any better? “You’ll stay in camp, in my cabin, unless I bid you otherwise. Is that clear?”
“Then, what can I do?”
“That, my dear, is what you should’ve thought of before you came.” He resisted the urge to shake his finger under her nose, though he was sorely tempted. She was acting like a child, and deserved to be treated like one. Yet, he was having very unchild-like thoughts at the moment.
Removing the pan from the wall, he dipped it in the water barrel before setting it on the stove. Then hanging a mirror, he spent the next several minutes lathering his face and shaving. Afterward, he stripped to his waist before filling the washbasin with heated water.
Amanda had picked up a book and plopped on the bed, clearly annoyed. “I’d appreciate it if you’d make sure there’s enough kindling for the stove,” she spoke without looking up. “Before you leave, that is.”
When he didn’t answer, she glanced up to see him towering over her. “There’s plenty of wood for tonight,” he said. “And, if we run out, I’ll get more from the woodpile.” He sat on the bed and took her book. Raising an eyebrow, he waited for her protest but she only got up to take his place at the washbasin.
“Then, I’ll take your word for it there’s enough wood.” Unwinding her braid, she looked over her shoulder. “Do you have a shirt I could sleep in?”
Reagan realized this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought. Annoyed as she was, she probably wouldn’t be receptive to his overtures. After giving her a flannel shirt, he sat back on the bed and boldly stared. He’d be damned if he was going to deny himself the pleasure of watching his wife undress.
If Amanda thought that presenting her back would somehow deny him, she was mistaken. He watched with growing anticipation as she unbuttoned her shirt and set it aside. Removing her boots, she kicked them away before squirming out of her britches. Reagan devoured the sight of he
r, recalling it hadn’t been so long ago that he’d satisfied his desires with eager regularity. Now, he hesitated for fear of rejection. He watched her unbutton her long johns and from the reflection in the mirror, saw breasts emerge between the openings of her garment. His breath caught as he silently willed the cloth to fall. As the garment descended, it caught on her flanks, exposing the beginning roundness of her backside. He became fascinated by the tiny indentation centered above her hips, reminding him of his pleasure lingering there during love play. As his lust grew, he cursed himself for stupidly setting rules before establishing their nightly routine. He now faced an irate wife who wasn’t sympathetic to his plight.
Unaware of Reagan’s torment, Amanda picked up the flannel and with one arm covering her bosom, slid it on. She left open the shirt while removing her socks, briefly exposing her perfectly curved bosom. Then, hopping from one foot to the other, she peeled off her leggings, causing her breasts to bounce. Reagan nearly strangled and his lungs wouldn’t expand until mercifully, she buttoned the shirt. Even covered, Reagan could still visualize every delightful part of her. He resisted the urge to seize her, hoping he could persuade her to share his bed. As yet, Amanda had no idea what she was doing for she hadn’t once looked in his direction.
It wasn’t until she began running fingers through her hair that Reagan could no longer curb his impulses. The sight of her with arms upraised and her hair falling down her back caused lustful cravings that demanded to be appeased. He sprang up and drew her against his chest.
"Come here, you little minx,” he breathed near her mouth.
Startled, Amanda stared into his eyes, seeing clearly his intent. She resolved to resist, but faltered when he slid his hands past her hips in a slow caress. With his clean, fresh scent filling her nostrils, Amanda’s heart beat rapidly and every nerve quickened.
“What are you doing?”
Threads of Betrayal Page 25