“Would you excuse me a moment, gentlemen? It’s rather warm in here.” She forced a smile at the men, not focusing on their faces, but casting the comment out as she pushed through a cluster of loggers and made her way to the door. Without looking back to gauge Isaac’s reaction, she stumbled through the door into the blessedly cool, shady air of the pines.
Breathing deeply settled her nerves a bit, but her heart still ached from thinking of her troubled marriage. There didn’t seem to be another course except the one she’d set for herself over the past couple of weeks: Be the perfect lady for Isaac. Help out in whatever ways she could.
Was there perhaps more she could do?
If so, what?
Leaning her shoulder against a massive tree stump, tall as a full-sized apple tree back home, Becky felt rather than heard someone come up behind her. Isaac. Her heart beat a little faster, and she swallowed before turning to face him. She blinked at the sight of a young man approaching her with a cocky grin. He was young and handsome with midnight black hair and blue eyes. Stopping a little too close for comfort, he leaned against the roughened bark next to her, a stalk of new grass bent between his slightly crooked teeth.
Moving the grass to the side of his mouth, he spoke. “Howdy.” He looked her over with considerable interest.
Becky squirmed under his gaze. “Hello.”
“Name’s Jem.”
“Pleased to meet you, Jem. I’m Becky,” she replied out of habit, belatedly realizing she should have introduced herself as Rebecca.
“Becky, eh? I like the sound of that. Becky, Becky, Becky. You the new washwoman?” His impertinent gaze swept over her person again.
“I do some wash, I guess, but I wouldn’t call myself a—a washwoman,” Becky stumbled over her words, confused. His question seemed to have a double meaning, but for the life of her she couldn’t imagine what he could possibly mean.
“No, I wouldn’t reckon you would.” His grin widened, and he bobbed the stalk of grass up and down between his teeth.
Becky wondered if this was meant to impress her.
“Have you worked here long, Jem?” she asked politely.
“Not so long. Not sure I’m staying much longer either.”
“Oh, is that right? You don’t like it here?” Her curiosity was piqued now, and she looked at him with greater interest.
“Naw. Let’s just say, if I was running this place, the men wouldn’t be going without their pay for weeks on end. No, siree, I’d have this place running ship-shape, not on the verge of collapse any minute.”
“On the verge of collapse?” Becky looked around at the simple logging camp. It wasn’t fancy by any stretch of the imagination, but she’d thought the loggers seemed content here. Perhaps that was a front they put on when the boss was around? “The business is in trouble?” she asked, remembering the state of Isaac’s old cabin and how guilty she’d felt about him buying her a horse. Her guilt doubled understanding now that his business was suffering. He couldn’t afford to support a wife if his own men were going without pay.
“Don’t go high-tailing it outta here, now.” Jem slid a knuckle down her cheek, causing her to jerk back and frown at him sternly. He didn’t seem much more than a boy, maybe seventeen at the oldest. Who did he think he was? “I’m just saying things could be better,” he said. “That Jessup feller has his head in the clouds if he thinks this business will survive longer than a year, but—for now anyways—the men are hanging onto his promises. I don’t give much weight to promises myself, but if a pretty thing like you is setting up shop here, maybe I’ll hang around a spell longer.”
“‘Setting up shop?’ What on earth—?” Becky’s question was interrupted when the cookhouse door swung open and Isaac stalked over, his expression none too pleased.
“Jem.”
The young man jumped and spun around. He spat out the blade of grass and swiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Boss.” Where before he’d been leaning lazily against the tree stump, he now stood stiffly at attention.
“Missed you at worship today,” Isaac said, looking Becky over quickly as if to see if she were unharmed and in one piece.
“Ah, had washin’ to do.” Jem’s gaze shifted away to the ground for a moment.
Isaac came to Becky’s side and wrapped an arm about her shoulders. She resisted the urge to lean against him.
“I see you’ve met my wife,” he said.
Some unspoken message seemed to pass from him to Jem.
“Your wife?” Jem’s brows shot up, and he darted a look at Becky. He took a step backward and kicked at the stump with the toe of his calked boot. “Uh, yeah, we met.”
Isaac dropped his arm to his side and fidgeted with the edge of his pants pocket. Becky missed his warmth immediately. Now that she’d cooled off from the stuffy cookhouse, she was feeling the brisk air and realized she’d left her cape and bonnet on the bench inside. At least she’d kept her reticule with her. It was still dangling from her wrist.
“Well, then, Jem,” Isaac said, “how are things going on the peeling crew?”
“I’m a faller, boss.” Jem stood up straight, his broad shoulders stiff and proud. “It’s what I’m meant to be.”
“Not until you prove to me you’ve got what it takes to be a faller, young man.”
Jem’s jaw worked as he stared at Isaac. “I’ve got what it takes, boss.” His gaze flicked from Isaac to Becky and back again, his stance defiant. “I’m better than peeling crew, and you know it.”
“What I know is you nearly got yourself killed the other day. It’s my responsibility to keep you safe, son.”
“You ain’t my pa,” Jem shot back. With a quick jerky nod to Becky, he took off at a jog.
Troubled, Becky watched after him as he disappeared into the trees. “You were hard on the boy,” she said. Jem may have been closer to her age than anyone else she’d met at the camp—maybe just a few years younger than her—but calling him “boy” seemed to fit. He put up a front, but there was something sort of younger-than-his-years about him.
“Near got himself killed.” Isaac turned his attention to Becky, and she found herself staring into his dark brown eyes. “You feeling all right?” His concerned gentleness threw her into confusion.
“I’m all right.”
“Not feeling poorly?” He looked away and scuffed the toe of his boot through the scattered pine needles.
“Feeling poorly?” His question brought to mind her mad dash to the privy on her first visit to the cabin. He probably thought she had a delicate constitution. Her cheeks must be a flaming pink by now. They certainly felt like they were afire. “No, I’m right as rain.”
“Oh, well, I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” He cleared his throat and banged the heel of his hand against the huge tree stump. “I guess we ought to be getting back to the cabin.”
Sam pushed through the door of the cookhouse and joined them. His glance was curious and a little suspicious as he looked back and forth between them. “Becky, it was right nice to see you this morning. I hope you’re feeling better now?” He whisked her cape over her shoulders and handed her bonnet to her.
She accepted them with a smile of thanks.
“I’m fine.” She hadn’t thought her cheeks could get any hotter, but they did. What must Isaac’s father think of her? First, there was the dash to the privy, then escaping from the wedding reception, and now slipping out of the worship service. He must think her quite rude.
“Well, I’ll be ’round this week with ‘the game.’” Sam clapped his hands together once and looked at her with what could only be described as glee.
“Oh, right, ‘the game.’ Thank you, Sam. Stop by any time.” Becky tugged her bonnet on and tied the ribbons firmly beneath her chin, not liking the way her fingers trembled. She’d gladly wait a lifetime for that visit but had a feeling her father-in-law would be on her trail come sun-up.
“Good afternoon, Son. You look after this little lady, now.�
�
“Good to see you, Pop.” Isaac placed a hand on his father’s shoulder for a moment. He headed over to the horses, untethered them, and led them to where Becky and his father stood.
After mounting their horses and waving to Sam, they had a silent ride returning home. Becky’s thoughts spun from the worship service to the conversation she’d had with Jem. Isaac seemed to have the respect of his men, but if they were going without pay, that respect would wear thin quickly. He could be faced with men leaving to go to other outfits, perhaps even the collapse of his business. From the little she knew of him already, his business meant everything to him.
Once they arrived back home, Becky gave the rundown cabin a thorough inspection, which only reinforced her belief that he needed help. She was good at figuring, and had always had a good head for numbers, keeping Papa’s books back home. Perhaps she could help Isaac with that. She straightened her shoulders with resolve.
She’d ask him tonight.
***
As Isaac brushed down the horses in the lean-to, he kept thinking of the day he’d spent with Rebecca. Having a woman at the camp had seemed strange at first, but not unpleasant. Just when he was thinking maybe his wife could fit somewhat into his life here, she’d turned green from the confined quarters and run outside. Had she found the cookhouse too rough for her taste? Or had it been his men—hard-working honest fellows, who were admittedly rough around the edges? He’d sensed her discomfort with their stares.
Though he’d wanted to follow directly after her, Pop and Brody had needled him mercilessly with questions after she left. Pop had even hinted broadly that she might be in the family way already, but Isaac had managed to fend off the meddling old-timer, without revealing any details of his strange marriage. Then he’d found Becky in a cozy conversation with Jem. The youth was handsome enough to turn a girl’s head, even if he were a little young for a woman Rebecca’s age. Seeing them standing so close together though had irritated Isaac mightily.
Had she forgotten she had a husband?
Placing his arm around her shoulders had been a knee-jerk reaction that discomfited him now. What was the point? Her heart was back home with her precious Jack. Perhaps she was better off returning home so she could be near her love...an unpleasant thought.
He tossed the brush onto the shelf across the stall and smoothed Siren’s sleek coat with his hands. Siren seemed right at home in her stall, and he was already growing accustomed to her welcoming whinnies in the morning. And no matter how much he denied the fact, Rebecca was also starting to carve a spot out for herself in his heart. But letting her into his heart at this point was absolutely unacceptable.
He gave the mare a pat and fetched a bucket of water to fill the horses’ trough.
Jem presented another set of problems. The youth seemed hotheaded and unwilling to take direction—a deadly combination in the logging business. He acted like he had something to prove. Moving him to the peeling crew until he proved himself—in the right way—had seemed the only fit course at the time, but after Jem’s behavior today, Isaac was almost certain the youth would be gone before the week’s end. That was unfortunate. He wasn’t a bad sort. If he buckled down and took the work seriously, he could be a great benefit to the operation.
Isaac shook out a helping of hay for each of the horses and some for the goat as well.
“Trouble.” He laughed, remembering Rebecca’s insistence on a name for the wily critter. She had a spark of humor that flared now and again. Just when he felt he’d distanced himself from her, she’d go and say or do something that drew him to her again.
“Isaac?”
He closed his eyes at the sound of her soft, feminine voice.
Opening his eyes, he turned to look at her. “Can I help you, Rebecca?”
“I’ve got supper on, but there’s something I want to discuss with you.” Her voice sounded small and uncertain.
Isaac’s gut clenched. Was she going to tell him what had happened with her and Jack? Good. They could finally get it out in the open. He nodded.
Leaning her back against one of the posts, Rebecca tucked a loose curl behind her ear and moistened her lips. Isaac found himself staring at her mouth and forced his gaze to meet hers. He took a step forward and leaned his hip against the opposite post, so they were facing each other, the width of the stall door between them.
“Go on,” he urged.
“I was wondering if you’d mind me helping out with the books?”
Surprised, he stroked a hand across his jaw and considered her words.
She rushed on. “I helped out with Papa’s books for his store and have a good head for figuring.”
A woman good at figuring? Not that he knew much about women, but he’d always had the notion they weren’t much interested in balancing a column of numbers. Rebecca stood before him and returned his regard with a determined gleam. Well, if she was determined, who was he to turn her away? She wasn’t really his wife, not in any real way, especially with her loving another man, but if she could help out with something other than cooking and cleaning, maybe it would ease the sting a bit.
“When do you want to start?”
Her slow, wide smile made him swallow.
“Tomorrow. Can I start tomorrow?” Her voice was eager, her eyes bright.
“Tomorrow would be fine.”
She nodded. “Well, then, I’ll go check on the food. Wonderful. Tomorrow.” She backed up in the direction of the cabin, then with a little wave, turned and walked quickly to the front door, disappearing inside.
His wife wanted to help with the books? The matter of Jack was unresolved, but Isaac couldn’t stop the little surge of pleasure her offer produced.
***
That night, Becky waited until she was sure Isaac was well asleep before she went to her room. Tonight she’d resolved to have a ceremony of sorts. Before leaving Pepperell, she’d been able to say goodbye to her father, mother, and sister, but not to Jack. Such a thing was impossible given their situation, but now she felt in her heart she needed to close the door on her childhood and look to the future.
She dressed up in her riding clothes and snuck outside to take Siren for a quick midnight ride. Keeping in mind Isaac’s constant warnings, she simply circled the clearing a few times. She only wanted to feel the air on her cheeks and remember those first rides she’d taken with Jack and all the memories of hunting with him over the years. She realized the girl she’d been back then had loved Jack with all her youthful enthusiasm, and she would treasure those memories forever. But Jack was a man now, not the boy she’d grown up with. And she wasn’t a wild, unrestrained young girl anymore. She was a woman. She was a married lady, and she had to stop pining in her heart for what she could never have.
Becky circled around once more, then led Siren back to the lean-to, where she settled her back in for the night, giving her a grateful pat and a hug around her long graceful neck.
Becky returned to her room and took a final waltz around the floor. She spun in time with music intended solely for her own ears.
Goodbye, Jack, she whispered and finally fell to her bed, her face wet with tears. They were old tears, ones she’d bottled up for a long time, and now they came spilling out. She let them fall freely, wanting to get rid of them and move on. It was a release of pent-up emotion, she suspected, the grieving time she’d never allowed herself to have after Jack had come home a married man. After nearly an hour of sobbing, she felt a sense of lightness come over her and an almost overwhelming sense of freedom. Now her new life could begin.
***
After breakfast the next morning, Becky pored over Isaac’s ledger at the kitchen table.
Isaac stood at her elbow, occasionally explaining his shorthand. “That notation there’s for the mill.” He pointed at an “M” followed by a squiggle.
She nodded slowly.
Everything seemed to be in order, but thinking of Jem’s conversation the previous day, Becky knew there must
be an error. Isaac, bright as he seemed, must have entered the numbers incorrectly, for he had much more money than could be possible. Looking around the tiny, rundown cabin convinced her she was right. The errors weren’t readily apparent, so she’d have to take some time and go through the books line by line. Run the sums again. It might take a while. And when she did find the trouble, she’d approach him tactfully, of course. She’d learned her lesson with her father. Until then, she’d keep an eye on things, so he didn’t make any costly mistakes. It was all she could do for now.
“Well, I think I can follow your system,” she said brightly.
He handed her a bundle of receipts. “These need to be entered.”
She took them from him, feeling a jolt of awareness as his finger brushed against her palm. He coughed and jerked his hand away. Ducking her head to hide her hurt, she started to untie the string binding the receipts together.
Only, Isaac wasn’t moving away. In fact, he was hovering at her elbow as if he had something to say.
She lifted her brows, curious.
“I need to head into town for some supplies,” he said. He slapped his hat against his thigh, making her realize he’d been holding it for quite some time, a sign that he was indeed preparing to go out. “Would you care to join me?”
He waited with a look of expectation. Hesitation even.
Sort of like a schoolboy asking a girl to a dance.
His invitation brought a smile.
He really had a way about him, confident boss-man one minute, awkward schoolboy the next. It was really rather an appealing combination: strong and competent, but not so full of himself that you couldn’t like him. It stirred her affections, and she found herself wanting to put him at ease.
The Unexpected Bride (The Brides Book 1) Page 11