Unending Devotion
Page 13
And while they did their best to stay warm, they ate the meal cookee served them. Some sat on logs and others stood, balancing their tin plates and pannikins in one hand and utensils in the other. They gulped the usual fare of beans, salted pork, and steaming tea, working fast to inhale the meal before it lost its heat.
Connell stood back and watched, knowing Duff would have a special mincemeat pie for him when he finally made his way back to the kitchen. He supposed it was one advantage of being the boss man. But it couldn’t offset the fact he had to be the bearer of bad news. And from the scowls of some of the men, he figured they’d already guessed why he was there.
Once everyone was served, Connell moved to the front of the group. There was a part of him that wished he could walk away and let the men do their work. What difference would a few more thousand feet of board make? Especially when McCormick Lumber already had so much?
But the other part of him knew he had to stay and make sure McCormick came out on top of all the other companies. That was his job. Dad had trained him to work hard. And Dad was relying on him to help make McCormick Lumber successful. How could he do anything less?
“I’ve done an inspection of the camp,” he started, drawing more frowns. “And from what I can tell, you’re all doing the best you can.”
Even after his investigation, he still hadn’t been able to figure out why all his camps were falling behind on the logs they were delivering. From the reports his foremen were giving him for the trees felled and logs cut, they should have had more logs arriving in Harrison.
“But the fact is we’re behind what we were producing last year, so now, especially after last week, we’ve got to pick up our pace.”
A round of grumbling wound through the group as they huddled near the fire, the raw January wind blowing down their necks.
“Yes, it’s going to require some extra hours in the woods,” Connell continued, pulling the collar of his coat closed to fight off the chill. “But I’m promising a bonus to whichever McCormick camp gets out the most logs over what the contract calls for. A nice bonus.”
At the word bonus, the men stood taller and their faces glimmered with what Connell hoped was excitement. They tossed out suggestions and questions.
He did his best as always to present himself as a capable leader. But inwardly he exhaled a tense breath. Apparently dangling the possibility of a bonus in front of them had worked.
In a matter of minutes the foreman called the men to return to their duties.
“I sure wouldn’t mind a woman for my bonus,” one of the men said under his breath as he picked up his ax.
Another shanty boy mumbled back, “Yeah, and I wouldn’t mind being stranded alone with a half-naked woman for a couple days. That’d be the best bonus I could think of.”
The muscles in Connell’s shoulders tensed. So the news was out. Ever since the rescue party had discovered them the previous morning, he’d kicked himself over and over for not doing a better job protecting Lily’s reputation. He could have at least made sure she’d had her dress on, couldn’t he?
He’d been secretly hoping that by some miracle he could spare her the gossip that was sure to get around. But from the snickers and sly glances the men were giving each other, the rumors had obviously spread as fast as typhoid fever.
The best thing was to ignore the insinuations. If he acknowledged them, he would only degrade Lily more.
The road monkey, the youngest of the shanty boys at Camp 1, stopped and joined the other two. “Heard his woman is a real looker.” One of the teamsters yanked the young man and shook his head in warning.
But the youth wasn’t paying attention to the old teamster or to the fact that Connell could hear every word he was saying. Instead the young man grinned at his friends. “Maybe when the boss man is done with her, the rest of us will get a chance to have a little fun.”
There was something about the young man’s comment that sent a hot slice of anger through Connell’s gut. Out of instinct, his hand lifted to his knife. The heat pulsed through his fingers and he gripped the handle. For a long moment, all he could think about was throwing the blade into the youth’s arm and making an example of him.
If he did, no one would dare speak about Lily that way again.
The teamster tugged the youth, his eyes fixed on Connell’s hand and the knife that had somehow made an appearance.
The young man followed the gaze of the old teamster, and his grin froze faster than tobacco spit.
“Come on now,” the teamster urged, pulling the youth along.
Connell had no doubt they’d also gotten word about how he’d killed the wolves.
The shanty boy stumbled after the teamster, casting frightened glances over his shoulder at the blade and tripping over his feet in his haste to get away.
The others disappeared just as quickly, and in a moment Connell was left standing with only the cookee and his foreman.
The cookee collected and dumped the dirty plates with a clatter into the pine soapbox fastened to the pole runners on the pung sleigh. He hustled about with an extra burst of energy that contrasted with his usual methodical trudge.
Herb looked off into the distance, his forehead furrowed.
Connell glanced at the knife and then slipped it away, wondering what had possessed him to unsheathe it in the first place. He wouldn’t have thrown it at the man. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt one of his workers, especially a youth who wasn’t strong enough to do much of anything but keep the iced roads free of horse or ox droppings.
Of course the youth hadn’t known he was listening to them, that his ear was attuned to every crude remark about Lily, and that he was choked with guilt.
The cookee smothered the fire with ashes and snow and then sat on a log and began to strap on his snowshoes before beginning his haul back to camp. All the while he avoided making eye contact with Connell.
The men had to know he wouldn’t have hurt the youth.
But the raw slice in his gut still oozed with anger. He only had to think of Lily’s pale face when they’d finally arrived back at the Northern Hotel, and his frustration over the situation turned into a glaring wound once again.
Stuart had been the one to carry her inside to Vera’s bed. And anytime Connell had tried to even look at Lily, Oren had scowled at him and forced him away.
Oren knew he hadn’t taken advantage of Lily, that he’d treated her with the respect she was due. He could see it in the man’s eyes. But it didn’t change what had happened.
And now Oren was only trying to protect Lily from any further damage. He could understand that. That’s all he wanted for her too.
Connell gave a long sigh that left a white wisp in the bitter air.
He’d tried to do the right thing by saving her, but somehow he’d ended up making a mess of everything.
Maybe he’d do them all a favor if he just minded his own business like he always had.
The feather pillow against Lily’s head was like a cloud straight from heaven. And the warmth of Vera’s quilts was like the heat of a glorious summer day.
If only the dear woman would stop insisting she take hog’s foot oil, a homemade remedy Vera had concocted from boiled hogs’ feet during butchering time. She claimed the oil had always cured her of any hint of cough or hoarse throat.
But the thick, slimy medicine had chunks of who-knew-what in it. And the dead-animal stench made Lily gag just as much as the taste did.
“Maybe I could have another dose of the pine-resin syrup instead,” Lily offered as Vera heated the bottle of hog’s foot oil over the lamp, warming it so it would melt and slide out onto the spoon.
“I’ll give you some of that too.” She swished the bottle and peered through the narrow opening.
“But I’m actually feeling much better.”
“Then all the more reason for another spoonful. That means it’s working.”
Lily stifled a sigh. After three days in bed with a fever and
cough, she was past ready to be up and about. But Vera wouldn’t let her set a foot on the floor and had hovered over her tirelessly, attending to her every need almost as if she were a princess.
She’d never had anyone wait on her before. And no matter how much Vera had insisted she lay in her bed, she couldn’t keep the edge of discomfort from creeping in next to her, urging her to throw off the warm covers, get up, and stand on her own two feet like she’d always done.
Vera ambled over to the side of the bed. “Open up.”
Lily struggled to rise. Time to count her blessings and stop complaining. After all, she was safe and alive.
A knock on Vera’s bedroom door sent a quiver of anticipation through Lily. She clambered to sit higher, combing her unruly curls away from her face.
Maybe it was Connell, finally coming to check on her.
As much as she wanted to deny the truth, she couldn’t keep hope from rising inside her. She wanted to see him, had waited for him to visit, had lain on her bed straining to see into the kitchen, longing to get a glimpse of him in passing.
But in the past three days, she hadn’t seen him. Not once.
Surely he would come. It was only a matter of time. He’d likely been busy trying to catch up on the work he’d missed. And when he finished, he’d stop by. Wouldn’t he?
Her heart pattered faster. She longed to feel the warmth of his summer-green eyes upon her, as they’d been so many times since she’d met him.
“Can I come in?” a muffled voice said from the other side of the door.
“Only if you’ve washed your hands,” Vera called, pouring the hog’s foot oil onto the spoon.
The door opened a crack, but before Lily could see who it was, Vera lowered the medicine to her lips and forced it in.
Lily pinched her nose and tried to swallow the mucous-like mixture without it coming back up.
“And how’s Lily this evening?” a cheerful male voice asked.
The medicine sank—along with her spirits. It was only Stuart. Again.
Where was Connell?
When Vera backed away, Lily peered beyond Stuart to the empty doorway. Why wasn’t he coming? If she didn’t know better, she’d almost think he was avoiding her.
Stuart followed her glance to the door, and some of the brightness of his smile faded.
She stuffed down her disappointment, knowing she wasn’t being gracious to Stuart, who’d come faithfully every evening to see her. She pulled her attention back to him and forced a smile. “I need you to help me convince Vera I’m better and can get out of bed.”
“I’ll do no such thing.” He crossed to the side of the double bed. “Vera’s the best nurse in all of Clare County. In fact, she could open a pharmacy with all the medicine she has.”
Vera chuckled.
“Too bad she wasn’t here when we had the diphtheria epidemic. . . .” A gray cloud settled over his countenance.
“I’m not a miracle worker.” Vera wedged the cork back into the bottle. “Besides, sometimes there’s nothing we can do, even with our best efforts. As much as we’d like to think we can control everything that happens, we’re not that powerful.”
Sadness flickered in Stuart’s eyes.
Lily wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she held herself back. He’d never told her about the wife and child he’d lost, but she’d heard enough to know the epidemic had hit him hard.
Vera patted the man’s arm and then walked to her desk. She’d arranged quilt squares across the top of the desk over an assortment of combs, hairpins, scraps of material, and half-written letters. Each evening by the light of the oil lamp, she worked on piecing the quilt, sewing the colorful squares together with long but even stitches.
Lily could see a pattern emerging from the various diamonds and triangles, but it was still too soon to see the big picture of what it would become.
Vera pushed aside the edge of the quilt, opened one of the drawers, and stowed the medicine bottle inside.
“When things don’t turn out the way we want,” the dear woman said softly, “about the only thing we can do is know God is still there piecing together all the scraps of the events in our lives the way He has planned.” Her chapped fingers lingered on an intricate pattern. “He sees the big picture even when we don’t.”
The wistfulness in Vera’s voice tugged at Lily’s heart. What regrets could a strong woman like Vera have? Was she thinking about her husband’s accident? She hadn’t had to bury a husband, but surely she’d had to bury her dreams of a real marriage and family.
Maybe Vera was content to sit back and let God piece together her life in whatever way He saw fit, but Lily wasn’t planning on waiting too long—if at all—for God to put the scatterings of her life together. She didn’t figure God would mind too much if she helped Him get everything into a pattern they both liked.
For a long moment Stuart stared at his hat clutched in his hands. Then he cleared his throat. “Well, you might not be a miracle worker, Vera. But your medicine has worked wonders for Lily.”
Lily shook her head. “My recuperation has nothing to do with the medicine—”
“Oh, yes it does.” Vera wheeled around, her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing. “You wouldn’t be doing nearly as well if it weren’t for all my medicine. And you’re going to take every last drop I give you.”
“And I’ll be right here to make sure she does,” Stuart added.
“I thought you both liked me,” Lily said with half a smile. “But now I can see you’re just plain determined to kill me.”
Neither of them laughed at her weak attempt at a joke. And she couldn’t help wishing Connell were there. He would have peeked at her, and his eyes would have brimmed with laughter.
Her gaze stole to the open door and the kitchen beyond. Where was he? Was he sitting in his usual spot in the dining room? Wasn’t he the least bit curious about how she was doing?
Vera lowered herself into the battered rocking chair next to the desk. It squeaked under her weight. “I won’t hear any talk of you moving from this bed until you’re completely better.”
“I can’t let you sleep in that old chair another night,” Lily said, looking pointedly at the wicker back that was breaking away from the frame. “Or making Mr. Heller sleep in the stables. Besides, it’s past time for me to go to Merryville.”
“You can’t go!” Stuart and Vera exclaimed at the same time.
“I most certainly can.” At their protest, she sat up straighter. All the worry and frustration of the past days pooled in her stomach. “Frankie is trapped at the Devil’s Ranch against her will. And someone’s got to do something about it.”
“You’re not capable of making that kind of trip,” Stuart said in a calmer voice. “Not now. Not with the sub-zero temperatures and winds that have rolled in this week.”
Every time she thought of the sweet innocence of Frankie’s young face, of her naïveté, of the purity of the girl’s youth, Lily wanted to weep over the cruel twist of fate that had swept the girl into a depraved life. Lily had no doubt by the time she got to Merryville and rescued Frankie, the girl wouldn’t be innocent anymore. She’d likely have been degraded in all the worst possible ways.
But that couldn’t stop Lily from helping. If she didn’t, who would?
“We can’t sit back and do nothing for the girl, can we? Not when we know she’s been forced to do only God knows what—against her will.”
Stuart’s face flashed with a burst of indignation. “You’re right. We can’t sit back and do nothing.”
“Then you’ll help?” She sat forward and grabbed his hand. “You’ll go to Merryville tomorrow and bring her back?”
“Of course I’ll help.” He glanced at her hand on his, and his eyes widened. When he looked up at her, there was a gentle starry light in his expression that made her pull her hand away and tuck it under the quilt.
“Then you’re not afraid of the danger? Of taking a stand against James Carr?”
“You certainly have the power with your paper.”
“I just need the cold hard facts to nail him on what he’s been doing. And unfortunately I don’t have that yet.”
“If you were to write up what happened to Frankie, wouldn’t that be enough?”
He shook his head. “It would be one poor little girl’s testimony against his and everyone else he’s got on his payroll—which is half the county. He’d probably bring charges against me for slander. And the sad thing is, he’d probably win.”
The frustration in Lily’s stomach ate against the tender lining. “We’ve got to fight. No matter what, we’ve got to fight against him.”
“I agree. He’s been like gangrene on this county since he first came. His evil is slowly rotting away all that’s good.”
“And I agree too,” Vera said, jabbing a thread through her quilting needle. “But I don’t want the two of you to do anything foolish and get yourselves hurt. Whatever you do, I want you to be careful.”
Lily didn’t say anything, because if she did, she knew she’d have to lie. There was nothing safe about what she was planning on doing. But since when was there anything safe about fighting hard for what one believed was right?
Chapter
13
Connell forced himself to look at the page of numbers in front of him. But every muscle in his body strained to get up, walk across the room, past the kitchen, and peer into Vera’s bedroom at Lily.
Oren had come home from his Sunday picture taking and had gone up to his room early. The Hellers weren’t back from their prayer meeting.
There was no one to stop him.
He glanced around the deserted dining room. He was alone. Most of the other men who boarded at the Northern spent their evenings at one tavern or another playing cards and drinking.