by Jody Hedlund
But it was a moment too long. Jimmy grabbed onto the fancy bouffant skirt and yanked her backward with the strength of a man who wrestled logs for a living.
She fell back against him, and this time his arm slid around her neck, pinning her body to his.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” His voice rasped against her ear as he leaned forward and slammed the door closed.
“I’m leaving.” She fought to free herself from his grasp. “And you can’t stop me.”
“Oh, yes I can. Watch me.” His arm around her neck tightened, cutting off her breath. He reached for the rag again and brought it to her face.
She tried to lean away from the filthy, streaked rag, but he pinned her harder. A rotten odor assaulted her, and she could only gasp for breath, sucking in the fumes that saturated the damp rag.
He shoved it against her nose and mouth, cupping it over her so that she had no choice but to breath in the mind-numbing chemical.
She flailed her arms, as if she were sinking underwater and trying to reach the surface, where she could finally gasp for air.
But Jimmy’s hand pressed harder.
Her vision grew blurry and her head dizzy.
She pounded at Jimmy but felt like she was beating against a pillow.
God, help me! her heart cried.
Then the world turned black.
Chapter
27
Twenty men and three women. That was thirteen more than the last Red Ribbon Society meeting. Connell jotted the number onto the open ledger on the table in front of him and then pulled out his watch.
Seven thirty-two.
In his usual neat print, he added the time to the meeting minutes.
He’d agreed to act as treasurer and secretary. But he’d deferred the hands-on leadership to Stuart.
Besides, most of the newcomers were there because of Stuart’s article about Frankie’s murder. His friend had stayed up all night getting the jobber back into working order. By midmorning, he’d had the paper ready to go, citing all the details of Carr’s kidnapping Frankie, forcing her into prostitution, and then beating her to death when she didn’t cooperate.
Connell had helped him with the delivery, riding the country roads to get the news out and announce another Red Ribbon Society meeting.
And now, the dining room of the Northern Hotel was fuller than it’d been in a long time. The air was charged with angry conversations about Carr—exactly the reaction they’d hoped the newspaper article would generate. Stuart had invited the bosses and foremen from some of the other lumber camps. Surprisingly, several had shown up, including Herb Nolan from his own Camp 1.
Vera maneuvered past him, a coffeepot in each hand. She stopped and poured more into his cup, adding to the grainy lukewarm liquid that remained. Some sloshed onto the tablecloth, reminding him of the first morning after Lily had arrived at the Northern and how they’d shared a smile over Vera’s awful coffee. Her smile had soaked into him like bright rays of sunshine on the first warm day of spring.
What he wouldn’t give to turn back the clock and see her sitting across the room from him again.
“Looks like you could use the whole pot,” Vera said, moving past him. “Are you getting any sleep these days?”
He shook his head. Exhaustion made every bone in his body ache. It had been at least two weeks since he’d slept more than an hour or two at a time.
“I wish you’d let me give you some of my motherwort tonic to help you sleep better.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I insist,” she called over her shoulder as she refilled another man’s cup. “Now, be a good boy and don’t go to your room tonight without it.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her he went to bed every night wondering if it would be his last. Now that he’d made an enemy of Carr, he doubted he’d ever get a good night’s sleep again.
He glanced at his watch. Two more minutes had elapsed. Through the mingling crowd, Connell caught Stuart’s eye and tapped his watch. They were now four minutes behind schedule.
Stuart nodded and called the meeting to order. “There is a glimmer of good news amidst all the bad,” Stuart said once the room had quieted.
For a moment, the only sounds were the blowing and drawing of the men slurping coffee. The yeasty fragrance of the doughnuts Vera had made for the morning couldn’t compete with the thick heavy aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
Oren rested in a chair near the fireplace, his stockinged feet propped on a crate that sat near the glowing white coals. He puffed on his corncob pipe, his eyebrows scrunched together in a perpetual scowl.
Even though Connell had reassured Oren that Lily was completely safe at his family home in Bay City, the man hadn’t stopped worrying.
Connell’s heart begged him to take the next Saturday off and ride home to visit her, to hold her in his arms again. But what had changed between them? How could they ever hope to make things work? If he went to her, she’d probably just push him away. Especially when he gave her the news of Frankie’s death.
Besides, his head told him he couldn’t leave again, not when the whole business was a chaotic mess.
He’d spent hours lately adding up the numbers, trying to figure out a way to get McCormick Lumber back into the black. But he couldn’t see any way to bring in a profit after losing logs all winter to a thief and after losing ten percent of his work force to Carr’s intimidation.
Stuart cleared his throat and continued. “The good news is that D. E. Alward of Clare Press is going to run the story about Frankie. And the editor of the Farwell paper might run it too.”
The men murmured among themselves, nodding at the news.
“And the other good news is—” Stuart paused and glanced around as if making sure he had everyone’s attention—“I think I’ve discovered who the log thief is.”
Connell’s gaze snapped to Stuart and riveted there. From the absolute silence that descended, he was sure the other boss men had done the same.
“After doing some investigation, I learned that Carr has registered a log mark.”
“What does he need a log mark for?” called one of the bosses.
But even before Stuart spoke again, Connell knew what the scoundrel had done.
“Turns out,” Stuart continued over the murmuring, “after I did some poking around down at the banking grounds in Averill, I discovered that Carr has a substantial number of logs bearing his mark.”
“I ain’t seen him cutting any logs,” started the boss. But then he stopped, understanding dawning on his scruffy face. “He’s been sawing the ends off our logs and stamping them with his mark.”
Stuart nodded. “I don’t have solid proof yet. I haven’t actually caught any of his men in the act of stealing—”
“I’m sure they’ve been sneaking around at night,” called Herb Nolan. “No doubt they’ve been sawing off the end of a log here and there, nothing noticeable, nothing to alert any of us. But enough for Carr to build up a steady supply of logs so that at spring river drive he’ll turn a nice profit.”
For several minutes the room was filled with the speculations and plans of the men. Connell sat back and nodded at Stuart, whose eyes shone with the self-satisfaction of a job well done. If they could implicate Carr in the thievery of the logs, they’d be one step closer to driving him out of Harrison.
If nothing else, they’d at least turned the other lumber-camp bosses against Carr. There was no way they’d support a man who was stealing from them and undermining their efforts.
Stuart finally cleared his throat to get the attention of the crowd. “Hopefully, when the rest of Clare County hears the truth about Carr, they’ll decide they’ve had enough.”
“It’s past time for reform,” called Herb.
“Here, here,” said another man.
“Time to make a decent place of Harrison,” said Mr. Sturgis, the grocer. “A place where we feel safe bringing our wives and children.”
/> “We need a church and a school.”
Once again, the men began calling out their suggestions—this time with excitement in their voices.
Many of the business owners had left their families behind in the bigger cities, not wanting to bring their children and wives into the lumber town’s dangerous and unwholesome environment. Apparently, the idea of cleaning up the town and establishing law was something most of the men wanted but had been too afraid to voice.
Connell didn’t know what to jot down in his meeting notes. His mind whirled with the possibilities. If he could help facilitate the reforms in town, he could certainly bring about a few reforms within the lumber industry too, couldn’t he?
What would Dad think if he started demanding changes?
The muscles in his stomach hardened. He could almost feel Dad’s fist pounding into his gut, telling him all too clearly not to do anything that might jeopardize his business.
But what about what he wanted to do?
Lily’s words came back to him. “Maybe it’s time for you to start making your own plans and having your own dreams.”
A sudden bang of the front door jolted him off his bench. A shanty boy barged inside and then doubled over at the waist, gasping for breath.
The room grew silent again.
“Boss McCormick,” the young man managed between heaves. Connell recognized him as one of the road monkeys from Camp 1.
Connell stepped forward and only then realized he’d pulled his knife and had it ready to throw. He quickly sheathed it, berating himself for being so jumpy.
If Carr’s men were going to come after him, they wouldn’t pick the Northern during a meeting full of angry men.
“Boss,” the man said, straightening and giving him a look that sent chills over his skin. “Just ran into some friends leaving the Stockade.”
The young man glanced around the room at the other men. He took another deep breath before turning to face Connell again. “Thought you might want to know Carr’s saying he’s got your woman.”
“My woman?” Connell’s pulse sputtered to a stop.
“You know.” The man glanced at his boots, making a muddy puddle on the dining room floor. His voice grew softer as if he were afraid to say the word again. “Your woman.”
Oren was on his feet with a speed that belied his age. His chair fell backward with a clatter. “What in the hairy hound are you talking about?” His voice boomed with the ferocity of a roaring bear. “You better be drunk, or I’ll be tying you up and roasting you like a Christmas goose.”
Connell couldn’t move. He didn’t want to ask any more questions. He just wanted the young man to disappear, to head back out into the darkness of the evening, and to take his terrible rumor with him.
“I ain’t lying.” The man backed toward the open door. “Just thought you’d want to know.”
“But she’s in a safe location,” Connell said, starting toward the man. Fear gusted through him, freezing his steps into slow motion. “There’s no way Carr could get her.”
But even as he said the words, anguish crashed through his heart. A painful cry swelled deep inside and rose in his throat.
The shanty boy was telling him the truth.
Carr had finally found a way to destroy him. He’d taken the one thing that mattered to him most.
Lily.
The only woman who’d ever come into his life and challenged him to think beyond himself and to live with intention and purpose.
Suddenly he knew with complete clarity she was more important to him than the business, than Dad’s approval, than success. She meant more to him than his own life.
She was the kind of woman whose smile he wanted to see first thing in the morning when he woke up, whose zeal for life would follow him throughout each day, and whose passion would fill his arms all night long.
He loved her. Deeply and completely.
And now Carr had captured her and made her a prisoner in the very pit of hell itself.
Rage burst through him.
“Where’s Carr holding her?” He stomped toward the door. He had to go get her. Now. Before it was too late, before Carr hurt her or forced her to do anything against her will. Just the thought of any other man touching her soft skin or claiming the lips that were meant for him alone sent his anger spiraling out of control.
“Where is she?” he yelled, grabbing the young man, blind to anything but the fact that he needed to find her.
“Heard he’s got her locked in a room upstairs at the Stockade.” The man cowered under Connell’s grip, his eyes wide, almost as if he feared Connell was going to kill him.
Connell shoved the shanty boy away and reached for his coat. He’d go find her, and he’d kill anyone who got in his way—including Carr.
“Where are you going?” Stuart asked, starting toward him, his face mirroring the fear in Connell’s heart.
“I’m going to get her.” He tossed his coat over his shoulders and reached for the door.
“You can’t go by yourself.” Stuart lunged for him and grabbed his arm.
Connell shrugged his friend off. “I’m going now.” He couldn’t wait. He’d waited to rescue Frankie, and it had been too late. He couldn’t take that chance with Lily.
“You can’t just march up to the Stockade by yourself.”
“Sure I can.”
“But that’s exactly what Carr wants.” Stuart socked him in the arm with his bony knuckles. “He’s just looking for an excuse to kill you.”
“I don’t care if he kills me.” Connell lurched and broke free from Stuart. He only made it two steps before Stuart slammed into him and wrapped his good arm around his neck, choking him. Quick as a fall frost, Stuart yanked Connell’s other arm behind his back.
Connell roared with frustration. But his friend, though wiry and thin and having a broken arm, was stronger than he looked.
Stuart gave a painful yank that brought Connell to his knees.
“You’re acting as impetuously as Lily.” Stuart was breathing hard from the exertion, but his grip was solid and tight.
“Let me go!” A fresh wave of desperation crashed through Connell. Every second they wasted brought Lily further danger.
“I’m just as worried about her as you,” Stuart said. “And so is Oren. But we can’t go tearing out of here without first coming up with a workable plan to get her back.”
He knew his friend was right. But the rage inside him was storming like a blizzard.
“I’m sure we could get any number of these men here tonight to help us.” Stuart cocked his head toward the men who were watching them.
The room was silent except for the melting snow dripping down the chimney and sizzling in the smoldering fire.
Oren was already slipping into his coat and had his rifle under his arm.
For a long moment, no one said anything. But then benches scraped the floor, and one by one the men stood.
“’Course we’ll help,” said Herb Nolan. “We need to teach Carr a lesson once and for all.”
“We gotta show that man he can’t get away with this kind of nonsense anymore,” said another angrily. “Who’s he gonna kidnap next? Our wives and daughters?”
Several of the men nodded and voiced their support.
As much as Connell despised the thought of waiting to rescue Lily, he knew he’d have a better chance of freeing her with the help of the men. What good would he do Lily if he stormed into the Stockade alone without a plan?
Vera laid a hand on Oren’s arm. He muttered under his mustache and then his shoulders slumped, as if coming to the same realization that they needed the help of the men. His face fell with a sadness that jerked at Connell’s heart.
Oren had trusted him to keep Lily safe.
And he’d failed.
Connell stiffened. Well, he wouldn’t fail this time.
If he did, he’d finally let Oren pump a bullet into his head.
Lily crouched in the corner of the closet.
The blackness pressed down on her. The rag tied around her mouth gagged her. And the rope around her ankles and wrists burned her skin.
The damp coldness had turned her fingers and toes numb. And having been stripped of all but her camisole and drawers, her body was rigid with the chill that had seeped to her bones.
Maggie Carr had opened the door several times during the day. Each time she’d asked her the same question, “Are you ready yet?”
And in the blinding sliver of light, Lily had shaken her head violently and hoped her eyes conveyed what her words couldn’t—that she’d never ever subject herself to prostitution.
They could kill her first.
When Maggie had locked her in the closet upon her arrival the previous evening, she’d told Lily she had to agree to cooperate before she could come out or have any food.
Lily figured the scare tactic worked on most girls—young, sweet girls like Frankie—who would eventually give in, especially when the pangs of hunger and parch of thirst became overwhelming.
But Maggie didn’t know her. She wasn’t like other girls. She’d never give in.
“If you aren’t cooperating by tomorrow,” Maggie had said during the last visit a couple hours ago, “then my husband will join me in your training.”
Lily didn’t care. Carr could beat her black and blue if he wanted. She still wouldn’t give in.
Through the darkness, she’d explored the narrow cell as best she could with the tips of her fingers. There wasn’t a way out except the door, which Maggie kept locked.
Lily knew she was trapped. She may have helped orchestrate the escapes of others that winter, but she couldn’t have pulled off one like this.
Not even Connell could get her out.
Had news of her predicament reached him? Surely by now Mrs. McCormick had realized she and Daisy were gone. But the dear woman wouldn’t know what had become of them. She’d likely assume she’d stolen the silver with Daisy and had run off before they could get caught. There was little chance the woman would report Lily’s disappearance to Connell—not when she believed Lily was a thief.
She was stuck.
Lily leaned her head back against the cold wall. The rag in her mouth was torturously dry against her swollen tongue.