“I’m going to the boss first thing tomorrow morning. He needs to send that kid packing before somebody else on this crew gets hurt or killed.”
“Do you have any evidence?”
“I’ve got Mr. Wilkin’s opinion. That’s as good as any evidence you’ll find.” Frederick’s face flushed deep red as the fire in his eyes burned with obvious indignation.
By Frederick’s demeanor, Emma guessed he wanted to tear Stanley limb from limb, and for a brief moment she felt sorry for the young greenhorn. “Well, I do hope you’re able to get through to Mr. Kenicky. Please let me know how it goes.”
“I’ll sure do that.” Frederick stuffed his bandana in his back pocket. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to speak with the rest of the crew and get their opinion on how Stanley’s holding up out there.”
Emma went back to peeling the potatoes. Even though she was numb from the news, she still managed to finish the job. She dumped a bucket of slops onto a plate for Bacon and gathered firewood for the bunkhouse. Frederick’s words churned in her head like rushing river water around a sharp and rocky bend.
The boss had to understand what a danger his son posed in the woods. But how would he react once he understood that fact? Worse yet, what if he didn’t believe the crew boss? He would more than likely keep his son on the crew. Would Stanley go after Jake again, and with a vengeance?
Remembering how Stanley treated her with such disrespect, Emma shuddered at the prospect. The sooner she and Jake got out of there, the better.
“But sir!” Frederick growled and clenched his fists at his sides. “Have you even heard a word we’ve been saying?” He wanted to toss his boss down the side of a steep slope at his obvious obtuseness, followed by Stanley, who stood off to the side with a smug expression plastered on his face.
“I said that’s enough.” Mr. Kenicky slammed his hands on his makeshift desk and rose to his full height from his chair. “Don’t you two have things to do? Get out of here and get back to work.”
“And wait until the next man gets killed?” Frederick glared at his boss, loathing coating his words.
“Now see here!” Stanley took a menacing step forward.
“Let’s go, Fred.” Mr. Wilkin grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him out of the office. It was a good thing, or he probably wouldn’t have a job by sunset.
“Come, Fred, let’s get back to work. We’ve got a large clearing of trees to cut down and get to the mill today. We need all the hands we’ve got.” Mr. Wilkin turned Frederick around and aimed him toward Inferno.
“That fool needs to wake up and learn how to run a logging business!” Frederick struggled to control his frustration. The last thing he wanted was to bury another crewmate. “And that kid needs to find a job where his negligence won’t get somebody hurt, if that’s even possible.”
“I’ll keep an eye on the kid. With any luck he’ll learn a few things, and we can avoid another tragedy.”
“Thanks.” Frederick paced the ground in front of the bunkhouse as the crew was getting ready to head out for the day. The men filed past him, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they’d all come back in one piece at dinnertime.
“I’ll talk to you tonight.” Frederick waved at Mr. Wilkin and headed for Inferno. He had to cool his head, or he’d lose focus and risk his own hide. One thing was certain, he’d be praying for the crew and his friend. But would that be enough?
Emma threw herself into her brother’s arms two days later with gratitude seeping from her heart. He had announced to her that he felt they could leave for Chicago very soon. She couldn’t wait to get away from the camp and all the drudgery that went with it.
“But it breaks my heart to leave Frederick.” Emma bit her lip.
“Bear in mind, sister dear”—Jake interrupted her thoughts—“there are many men in the city who will be vying for your hand.”
“Oh no, I’m going to get a job and learn how to care for myself.”
“Well, I’m not going to allow you to live by yourself, not in the city,” Jake said with enough force to knock over a tall pine tree.
“Of course not, but I can earn my own money, and not be such a burden to you. Maybe get a little something nice to wear—nothing too fancy of course.”
“Always pretty things. I can see you haven’t learned much during these long hard months,” Jake teased.
“Let me go check and see how Mrs. Wilkin is coming along with dinner. I’ll be back later to check on you and bring you a plate.” Emma stood and hurried from the room before her brother could object.
Even if Frederick was filthy rich and able to provide luxuries, she was still afraid to give her whole life to a man. It was hard enough to give him a piece of her heart.
“Lord, I’m afraid,” she prayed as she walked. Guilt wiggled in her middle. She really should tell him that she was leaving soon.
But she wanted to attend the party at the hotel after the governor was sworn in. Who wouldn’t want to witness such a historic moment? A part of her didn’t want to be put down anymore. She wanted to wear pretty things and silence Abigail’s jeering tongue. Was it such a sin to defend oneself against such cruelty? More tangled thoughts wound through Emma’s head as she trudged toward the kitchen. Just a few weeks left to cook for the rough men in camp.
She walked into a stifling hot kitchen filled with chaos and in the usual uproar. Mrs. Wilkin stirred some corn and potato chowder with a vengeance, a kettle of water threatened to boil over, and Bacon squealed in the corner, his plate empty. Mrs. Wilkin’s sister must have gone back to her own house.
Stifling a groan, Emma pulled the pot of water off the cookstove and dumped a bowl of slops onto Bacon’s dish. His hearty grunts communicated gratitude. Rubbing his soft head, Emma thought of Frederick. Bacon had been a gift from Frederick after all.
Granted, he had kissed her and expressed admiration and a desire to court her. So how could she convince herself that he wouldn’t care if she left? How could she put off telling him? She knew he’d be angry, and she cringed in terror at the thought of an angry man who might throw things in his rage.
Besides, ladies of better means were best suited for a man like Frederick, and he’d come to realize that, in time. He wouldn’t miss her for very long.
Mr. Kenicky glared at Frederick as though he had brought the plagues of Egypt into the camp. Frederick shook his head to clear cobwebs from between his ears. Had he heard the boss correctly?
“Don’t you have anything to say on your own behalf?” The man’s eyes narrowed into two snakelike slits.
Yep. He had heard the man right. He was being accused of carelessness with the equipment—breaking it and not reporting it, so the next man who used it got hurt. The same equipment that had gone haywire and caused Jake’s accident.
A part of him wanted to leap across the desk and shake the man silly, but he knew that wouldn’t do any good. How on earth was he going to defend himself against such wild accusations?
“You wouldn’t believe it anyway, so no, I guess there isn’t anything I can say,” Frederick growled. But there was something he could do. Leave Tumwater for good. Just as soon as the loose ends were tied up regarding his father’s house. Where he’d go remained a mystery, but parts beyond the horizon looked better by the minute.
“That will be all for now, Corrigan. We’ll talk more later.” The boss went back to studying the paperwork before him, and Frederick stormed from the office.
He jumped into Inferno and stoked the stove to overflowing with wood. In only a matter of minutes, the engine burned hot and in even less time, Inferno raced down the tracks. He braced his arms so taut around Widow’s Bend they actually hurt when he rounded the corner.
Frederick rolled into Tumwater with an aching jaw as well, from clenching his teeth so hard. By God’s protective grace he made it without crashing. Instead of moving lumber, E.V. was in his office doing paperwork.
“I’m getting out of Tumwater,” Frederick stated
the moment he crossed the threshold. “The first chance I get to talk to the bank and make sure Pa’s house is okay.”
E.V. stared at him and said nothing.
That only made Frederick angrier. “Now that I don’t have to worry about Pa losing the house, you bet I’m going. Just as soon as I can find someplace else to go.”
The expression on E.V.’s face didn’t change, so Frederick continued. “I’m not about to stay in a town where I’ve got accusations hanging over my head like a two-ton anvil ready to drop. You know how folks talk, especially ladies.”
“Whoa, what accusations?” E.V.’s eyebrows rose.
Frederick took a few minutes to explain the situation and then waited not so patiently for E.V. to respond.
“All right.” E.V. finally answered.
That stunned Frederick. “All right?”
“I know you wouldn’t make a major decision like this without praying.” E.V. turned his gaze back to the account book on his desk and resumed writing. “Since you know this is what God wants for you, I won’t try talking you out of it.”
Frederick flinched. He hadn’t prayed, but what was the point?
“I, uh, need to send a telegram to some friends in California about getting a logging job down there.” He backed out of E.V.’s office and left before his friend changed his mind and decided to preach to him about being patient and not making rash decisions.
Frederick strode into the post office and eyed the telegram clerk. “I’d like to send a message to Eureka, California.”
The clerk quickly took down Frederick’s message and agreed to send it that afternoon. Frederick left the office, and when he finished his day’s work, he traipsed home. He slept fitfully that night, wondering what it would be like starting fresh in California.
The next afternoon, Frederick stopped in at the post office to make sure the message had been sent. To his surprise, he found a response already awaiting him. The telegram was an offer to come work in the Redwood Forest. Men like him were needed to help clear the mammoth trees that made most pines in the Pacific Northwest look small.
Realizing the opportunity available was not just for him, Frederick flew out of the post office and made a beeline to the construction site where Willum was rebuilding a cracked roof.
“I hear you’re leaving us,” Will said as he sawed a board down to size.
“E.V. tell you?”
“This morning when I picked up my lumber.” Will paused with the handsaw for a moment and studied Frederick. “You don’t have to leave Tumwater for work. I’ll hire you.”
“I’m not a carpenter like you.”
Willum stared at him with that same disappointed look that E.V. had yesterday. “Since I know this is what God wants for you, I won’t try talking you out of it.”
Frederick snapped. “Did E.V. tell you to say that?”
“No.” Willum frowned. “You did pray, didn’t you?”
“After I take Emma Pearson to the party at the Schmitt mansion,” Frederick said to change the subject, “I’m leaving.”
With a nod of acceptance, Will returned to sawing, and Frederick walked away. With his stomach rumbling for food, he headed to the tracks and boarded Inferno for the short trip back to the logging camp. As he thought of Emma, dread grew in his heart at how and when he’d tell her he was leaving.
It was the end of November and a chill set in on the afternoon of the party. Emma sat in the parlor of the Wilkins’ house and sewed with frantic speed on the dress she hoped to wear that evening. To her delight, the lace Frederick gave her had been long enough to encircle the collar and both sleeves, if barely. Frederick had said he would arrive at five sharp. Emma heard Abigail had been invited and was in no mood to deal with her troublemaking.
Looking forward to one last evening with Frederick, she couldn’t bring herself to cancel. She thought she owed it to him to make some beautiful memories on their last night together. The last thing she wanted to do was cause him extra pain, and backing out of the party would surely do that. Why ruin the night for him by skipping the festivities?
Afterward, she and Jake were leaving for Chicago. She didn’t want to think about Frederick’s reaction. She kept repeating in her head that he was better off without her. Not only was she poor, with no family and no status, but she was broken inside from such a traumatic childhood. He’d probably regret it if they married. Or were these just excuses she used because she was afraid of letting him get too close?
“Oh, this cheap thread!” Emma growled as she snipped the broken ends and rethreaded her needle. How would she ever get the lace sewn when the thread kept breaking?
“Ouch!” she yelped as the needle bit into her fingertip. She stuck the sore finger into her mouth.
“Everything will be fine after tonight.” Getting back to her sewing, Emma began singing “Amazing Grace,” hoping to sooth her fretful mood.
An hour later, she snipped the ends of the thread and the beautiful garment was complete. Evergreen in color, it matched the name of the new state. And she would celebrate by spending the evening with the local politicians and Mr. Frederick Corrigan.
A stab of pain shot through her heart with as little mercy as was shown to her fingertip only an hour earlier. Just where the feeling had originated she didn’t know, but it did nothing to change her plan.
A deafening racket of cheers arose from the street as dozens of loggers celebrated. How grateful she was that Jake had made a full recovery. She was also glad he didn’t drink hard alcohol. He would join his friends at the saloon but would return home that evening as sober as a preacher on Sunday morning.
“Emma.” Her brother’s voice carried into the room.
She rose to greet him. “Yes, Jake?” She hoped he heard her above the whoops and hollers.
“Emma, I’m heading downtown with the men. Fred will be along shortly. You sure about things?” She could hear the concern woven into his tone. He leaned against the door jamb and studied her with seriousness written in his features.
“I’m certain, Jake. Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to dress before Frederick gets here.”
“All right, but be careful now, you hear?”
Jake shook his finger at Emma and made her feel like a child. Well, she wasn’t a child any longer. She huffed. Hopefully, once they arrived in Chicago, Jake would be too preoccupied with Uncle Irving to bother with her business.
With a small degree of difficulty she and Mrs. Wilkin managed to get the dress on over her head and keep it from brushing the floor and getting dirty before she ever left the house. Her friend did up the plethora of buttons that lined the back.
“Thank you so much.” Emma smiled and then took the time to admire herself in the small mirror. The green yards of flowing material were beautiful. She bit back tears as she thought of the many times her mother had worn the same dress. She hoped that at least Frederick would like it. If only she had the money to get a portrait taken. Something in her heart said it would be a night she would always remember.
Frederick stood before the mirror and tied his necktie for the fourth time. After taking the time to iron it, he was worried it would get wrinkled. With a twist and a turn he managed the small feat.
Now to finish combing his hair, although sometimes he wondered why he bothered. The seemingly endless rain, from mist to downpour, ruffled his locks at every turn.
“Thanks, Willum, for letting me get ready at your place,” Frederick declared when he finally finished with his tie. How he hoped Emma wouldn’t get upset with him when he told her he was leaving. He said a quick prayer that she would take the news well. He didn’t want to break her heart, but he couldn’t bear to take her away from the only family she had left either.
Once he had readied himself to satisfaction, he strolled out the door. Sweat beaded on his forehead even though it was cold outside. His nerve endings tingled when he thought about where and when he was going to tell Emma of his departure.
W
ith his friends in Eureka expecting him in three days, and the arrangements already made, what choice did he have but to leave?
Frederick curtailed his thoughts when he knocked on the door. When Emma pulled the door open and stood on the threshold, his heart threatened to stop beating. His breath halted in his throat. Emma stood in a green gown, hair upswept in a neatly coifed bun, her eyes blazing with passion. Frederick wondered if he’d be able to tell her he was leaving, let alone actually follow through with his objective.
“Hello, Frederick. It’s wonderful to see you.” Emma batted her black eyelashes and aimed a radiant smile at him that endangered his carefully laid plans.
Emma smiled at Frederick and hoped it masked her sudden desire to throw herself into his arms.
“Good evening, Emma.” Frederick grasped her gloved hand as she held it out to him, and he lifted it to his lips and laid a tender kiss there. How Emma wanted him to lay another kiss upon her lips, but proper ladies didn’t say such things. Good heavens, how was she ever going to make it to Chicago with images of this handsome man tailing her every step of the journey?
“Are you all right?” Frederick looked at her with concern in his eyes.
“Yes, could you help me with my shawl, please?” Emma turned, allowing him to wrap the garment around her shoulders.
“Shall we?” Frederick offered his arm and motioned toward the covered buggy he had borrowed from friends. Even though it wasn’t Frederick’s, Emma stared at it and felt like a princess in a fairy tale being whisked away to the grand ball. The event was by invitation only, and it was by a stroke of luck that Frederick had obtained tickets from his father. All the more reason for Emma to feel like Cinderella.
Dinner was a delicious combination of roast goose and smoked salmon, along with baby red potatoes, and carrots glazed in sauce. Servants milled about, meeting the guests’ every need, including Emma’s. Frederick sat to her right, and every so often she noticed him staring at her with a strange expression on his face. Oh dear. She hoped he wouldn’t confess to loving her.
Mountain Christmas Brides Page 19