by Paty Jager
The woman turned.
All his imaginings had given the woman manly attributes. The female face gracing his gaze held a wide, full mouth curved at the edges in merriment. Even across the distance he saw crinkles of mirth around her eyes and joy plumping her triangular face with high cheek bones and a wide brow. She talked to a man with the same color hair and features much like Arvid’s. He had to be one of her brothers.
Her gaze wandered from the man’s face and held Hank’s. He’d never gone weak kneed over a woman, but the second her lips curved a little more and one blonde eyebrow rose as if asking him who he was, his knees melted like the mercury they used at the stamp mill.
“You there!” A deep voice from behind him rocked Hank, and he jerked from her hypnotic hold.
Chapter 2
Kelda watched the man she’d never seen before shake hands with Karl and walk toward the area labeled on Far’s map as the cookhouse. Was he the man who hired them to log his mountains? Far hadn’t said much about him, only he and his family wanted to reap the benefits of having good stands of pine and fir on their land, and he ordered her not to work in the woods.
Her eyes narrowed as anger changed her curiosity to studying her enemy. He was only a couple inches shorter than Karl. That meant he would be as tall, or perhaps even taller, than she. Few men were taller than her six foot. She towered over other women and found being around them not to her liking.
The outdoors called to her, and if her mother hadn’t slowed down from years of long hours cooking, Kelda would be out falling the trees for the camp rather than helping Mor set up the cook tent. She glared at the man, and this man who forbid her to follow the calling of her heart.
“Kelda, we could use your help.” Dag pulled on a rope and several men worked the poles into place on the corners of the tent.
“Coming.” She grabbed the corner pole nearest her and heaved it up, pushing the tent into position along with the men. The clang of metal on metal rang through the structure as Dag moved around the canvas driving stakes into the frozen ground.
Mor hustled into the tent followed by six men carrying her prized cookstove. “Over here, just like the last time.”
Kelda smiled. Mor stood a head and a half shorter than Kelda, but the woman had every man in the camp jumping to bid her wishes, especially Far. That was the kind of marriage Kelda yearned for. One of respect where the man allowed the woman to do what she wanted, whether it was approved by society or not. All the loggers who joined their camp over the years were surprised to find a woman cook and a woman who worked beside them. They wouldn’t have a woman working beside them this time. Her fists clamped around the post.
“You can quit hugging that post and help Mor.” Dag swatted her on the backside like when she was small. He flashed a devilish grin and ran out the tent flap before she could retaliate. Her brothers still patted her backside when they wanted to goad her.
“Uff da!” Kelda released the pole and ducked out the flap to haul in the boxes of cooking supplies. She walked to the wagon as her gaze slid to the cookhouse area. It didn’t take long for her to find the stranger. He wasn’t dressed like the rest. His coat was duck cloth and his pants dungarees like she wore. Leather gloves covered his hands as he helped raise a log. What gives him the right to tell me what I can and can’t do?
“You plan to daydream or get to work?” Mor’s question made her jump.
“Work.” Uff da. She couldn’t stare at the stranger every time she saw him and try to rationalize why he disapproved of her without even meeting her. Besides the more she watched him, the more she liked the look in his eyes and the cut of his face. She shook her head. He was her enemy until he understood she wasn’t a threat to him or anyone else.
Kelda picked up a crate and packed it into the tent.
Mor followed with a smaller, lighter box. “Don’t strain yourself. Let the men lift the heavy boxes.” She placed a hand on Kelda’s cheek. “You don’t have to work like a man. You are a woman.”
“Mor, you know I have to keep strong to help Far when he needs it.” I can’t allow a man to think he can get the better of me or I’m of no use to Far.
“Far doesn’t need you. He can find someone else when he needs a man. You jump too quickly.” Mor opened a box and set things on the long table as soon as Dag and another man had it standing.
“Far only asks you out of courtesy. He hopes one day you will say no,” Dag said, shaking the table and leveling it on the frozen ground.
Kelda stared at her brother. “He asks me because he can count on me like he counts on you boys.”
“True. He knows family helps family. But Kelda, you can’t keep acting like a man. You will never catch a husband.” Dag put his hands on her shoulders. “No man wants a woman stronger than he is.”
“Maybe I don’t want a husband?” She folded her arms across her chest and stared into Dag’s concerned eyes.
“We all want a spouse to grow old with. Karl is aching for a wife. He just never has time to look for one.” Dag stepped back as men brought in more crates. “Help Mor unpack. Leave the lifting to the men. They need something to do.”
Kelda stared at her brother’s back as he exited the tent. Did her brothers want wives? If so why didn’t they take time off to look for one? She could do their work and give them time to wife hunt. Nodding her head, Kelda decided to bring the idea up with Far. She knew how much he wished for his family to grow with grandchildren. She grimaced. How could they make it work if the boss wouldn’t allow her in the woods?
~*~
Hank spent the day straining his muscles helping erect the cookhouse. Karl invited him to share the evening meal with them in the cook tent before he returned to his cabin over the ridge. The idea of a meal he didn’t have to prepare and filling his belly with warm food before the long ride home appealed to him. Also getting a close glimpse of the two women in the camp intrigued him. What kind of women lived in a logging camp year around?
Hank washed alongside the other men at the hollowed-out log placed along the outside wall of the tent. He’d learned a few more names as they worked together. The teamster, Smithy, was a surly little man who rode the horses incessantly shouting profanities as the animals dragged the bundles of logs to the construction area. Hank wasn’t pleased with the way the man treated the animals, but no one else seemed to see a problem with it so he didn’t say anything. For all he knew the draft horses were deaf to the man’s shouts.
Delicious aromas wafted from the tent flap as the men entered the canvas cook tent an hour after the sun had set and the tools had been cleaned and put away.
Arvid sat at the head of a long table running nearly the length of the twenty-foot tent. Karl, Dag, and Tobias flanked their father. An empty place remained by Tobias. The workers filed in filling the table near the Nielsen men.
Arvid stood. “Men, I’d like to introduce you to the man we are all working for.” Mr.Nielsen waved a hand toward Hank. “Hank Halsey and his family own the mountains we will be clearing. I want you to treat him with respect, but also teach him what it is to be a beast of the woods.”
Deep boisterous voices boomed throughout the tent in laughter and welcome. Hank made a point of looking each man in the face and acknowledging him. They were a burly lot, and he didn’t want to get on the wrong side of any of them. Paddy sat at the opposite end of the table from Arvid, next to Smithy. His old eyes twinkled in the lantern light.
“Thank you for your warm welcome. I may be the man paying you, but I want to work alongside each of you and learn how to log. If you see me doing something wrong I want to know.” He caught movement behind Arvid and spotted two women advancing toward the tables with large bowls in their hands. His instincts wanted to rush forward and help them carry their burdens, but the men all let out a loud cheer as the bowls were placed one in front of Arvid and one in front of Paddy.
Hank watched the young woman as she smiled at Paddy. The sparkle and joy in her eyes tickled his lips i
nto a smile. She said something to the old man that made him laugh.
“Hank, take the seat by Tobias and enjoy the wonderful stew Ingrid and Kelda have prepared.”
Arvid’s statement jerked Hank’s gaze back to the roomful of men. He strode to the empty seat and sat.
All the men at the table clasped their hands in front of their chests and Arvid began reciting, “I Jesu navn, går vi til bords, å spise, drikke på ditt ord. Deg, Gud til ære, oss til gavn, Så får vi mat i Jesu navn. Amen.”
“Amen!” The men chorused. Paddy and Arvid dished up tins of the aromatic stew as the women brought out plates of homemade bread and bowls of butter and jam.
The stew melted in his mouth and the sweet nutty flavor of the bread had him grabbing for a third and fourth slice. It wasn’t until his hunger was sated and the others had slowed down that he realized the women didn’t sit at the table with them. As if reading his thoughts, Kelda brought out a tray laden with squares of cake.
The spicy aroma reminded him of his mother’s cooking and Aileen’s kitchen. Ethan’s wife loved to bake.
Kelda served the first piece to Arvid, moved to Tobias, and then to Hank. He leaned back as she bent forward between her brother and Hank to place the cake on his plate.
“It smells as good as my mother used to make,” Hank said in a tone he hoped didn’t sound like he was shining her up.
His comment didn’t get him an answer, so he’d yet to hear her voice. He did, however, get a stiff smile. She moved on, the scent of spice, wood smoke, and vanilla remained in her wake.
Tobias elbowed him and wiggled his eyebrows, shoving a forkful of the cake in his mouth.
Hank frowned and dug into his cake, watching from the corner of his eye to see how the other men treated her. Some she joked with, others just smiled and leaned back allowing her access to place their dessert on the plate. The face of a good-sized young man turned red as Kelda leaned in to serve his cake. The man was smitten with her. Hank studied the woman’s reaction. She didn’t seem the least bit flustered or even take notice of the man. Was she uninterested in men?
“Hank, when will we meet your family?” Arvid had finished his cake and held a cup of steaming coffee in his hands.
Before Hank could say a word, the smaller, older woman appeared at Hank’s side with a tin cup and poured coffee for him and on around the table. How did the two women remain looking so fresh when they had to have been at the stove from the minute the tent was set up?
“Do you have a large family? Any sisters?” Karl asked and the table erupted into laughter.
“I have four sisters.”
Karl perked up.
“By marriage. They’re all married to my brothers.”
Karl hung his head a bit and the table roared. Friendly cajoling filled the air.
“So you have four brothers.” Dag’s raised voice silenced the group. He settled his gaze on Hank then his brothers. “Are they as similar to you as my brothers are to me?”
“More so. We range only a few inches difference in height and all have the same coloring, eyes, and build.” He’d noted the blonde hair of Dag and Kelda while Karl and Tobias had dark brown almost reddish hair.
“So when one rides up we will know he is your brother,” Karl said, waving a hand. The farthest logger picked up his cleaned plate and passed it down until all the plates on that side of the table were stacked in front of Karl. Tobias did the same thing and soon a large stack of plates arrived in front of Hank.
Kelda walked behind the men, starting at Karl, and they all dropped their eating utensils into her bucket. Hank had to admire the efficient way they cleared the dishes from the table.
“Now the men will retire to the tent we raised, and my family will remain here. You may stay and visit if you choose.” Arvid stretched his arms above his head, and the loggers stepped over the half log benches they’d sat on and disappeared out the tent flap.
Curiosity about the family he’d hired battled with the knowledge he still had an hour’s ride to make to arrive home. The snow and dark made the usual thirty minute ride twice as long. He started to stand when he caught Kelda watching him. The animosity he saw intrigued him.
“One more cup of coffee, but then I have to leave. My cabin is a good ride from here, and I want to get back early tomorrow morning.”
“You could toss a bed roll in here with us,” Tobias said, motioning to four cots stacked at the side of the tent.
“You’re so sure I’d stay you have a cot ready for me?” he asked, warming to the family’s hospitality.
“No those are our cots,” Tobias pointed to his brothers, “And Kelda’s. But we can find another one.”
Hank stared at the men who all nodded at him. The fact they treated their sister like one of them made him shake his head. She was a woman who deserved privacy like all women. He started to say something, but thought better of it. He’d not invade her privacy, too. “I’ll head home after my cup of coffee.”
Dishes clattered in the background as Arvid and his boys explained the timeline to raising the structures, building the grapple to load the wagons, the chute to get the logs to the landing, and finally falling the first tree.
“Two months? You can have all that done and ready to cut trees in two months?” Hank stared at each man.
“Ja. We are strong fast workers. We only employ men who are the same.” Arvid leaned back lighting a pipe that his wife handed to him as she pulled a chair up beside him.
She held her hand out over the table. “I am Ingrid. I am very pleased to meet you.”
“Ma’am, I’m equally pleased to meet you. Your husband didn’t do justice to your cooking.”
Kelda sat down next to Dag. She nodded and stared with earnest into Mr. Halsey’s vanilla-brown eyes. “I am Kelda.” She withheld any emotion from her voice.
“Miss, pleased to meet you as well.” His eyes twinkled when he spoke to her as if they shared a joke.
She worked to keep from smiling back. His good nature made it hard to remember he was her enemy. His face had different planes and angles than her brothers. Their faces were flatter, wider, handsome. Mr. Halsey’s face more long, chiseled, and pleasant to study.
An elbow dug into her ribs. She glared at Dag who winked at her.
“Did you make the cake we had with dinner?” Mr. Halsey watched her attentively.
Had he asked this question already? Was that why Dag jabbed her? Heat rushed up her neck and infused her cheeks.
“Yes, with Mor’s help.” She wouldn’t take all the credit. Mor kept her from putting too much salt in when she plotted how to change the man’s mind about her working in the woods.
“It was as good as my mother made and equal to my sister-in-law, Aileen’s, baking.” Mr. Halsey smiled again then focused his attention on her father.
She didn’t mind. The longer he talked with her, the warmer her face became until her skin burned like fresh sugar buns from the oven.
Chapter 3
Kelda helped Mor move the cooking supplies into the new cookhouse. Three days they cooked and slept in the tent, now it would be used for supplies and her brothers until their respective cabins were built. She looked forward to tonight when she could sleep in quiet. The older her brothers grew the louder the noises they made at night. Their snoring, talking, and mumblings kept her awake.
She yawned walking across the compound to get another box. Once the cookstove had been placed in the building the men took off to help with the other structures and tree falling, leaving her to carry the needed boxes. She didn’t mind. Keeping her body strong for when Far needed her in the woods made her feel more useful than cooking. And he would need her. And the boss wouldn’t be able to say anything. She believed Far would stand up to the man when the need did arise.
Kelda’s boots scuffed across the hard packed snow as she stared at the men on springboards topping the tall pines. It was her favorite task. Nothing surged the blood like the freedom of standing forty foo
t above the ground on a springboard and working a saw in rhythm with another person. That exhilaration kept her in shape and ready to help at a moment’s notice.
“Oomph!” Air rushed out of Kelda as an elbow slammed into her belly.
“Sorry.”
Strong hands held her arms, holding her upright when she wanted to double over. She forced her body to straighten and peered into Hank Halsey’s sorrowful brown eyes.
“I was, rolling a rope…I’m sorry, do you need to sit down?” His firm, yet gentle grip on her arms heated her skin clear through his gloves and her coat.
“I-I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse happen to me.” Her breathing returned to normal as the initial shock wore off.
“Not by another’s hands I hope.” The censure in his voice and irritation darkening his eyes gave her pause.
She didn’t dare tell him of the indignities she’d suffered at the hands of loggers wishing to discredit her with Far and get her out of the woods.
“Working with logs can leave a body bruised. Once you start actually working the woods you’ll see what I mean.” This close she found him a few inches taller than her and nearly as broad across the shoulders as her brothers.
“Why?” His hands lightened their hold but didn’t leave her arms. His brow furrowed, scrunching his dark eyebrows down at the bridge of his straight nose.
“Why what?” She swallowed as heat curled where his elbow had previously caught her unaware. Why did her body react to him this way? She’d have to ask Mor if there was a sickness that flushed your face and tumbled your insides.
“Why would you willingly work in the woods?”
“Kelda!” The warning in Mor’s voice told her she wasted time.
“I have to go.” Kelda stepped back. Hank’s hands dropped to his side, but his gaze remained on her face.
“We’ll finish this after dinner tonight.” Hank tipped his hat and walked away.