White Water Passion

by Dawn Luedecke

  “This is my cousin, the one I told you about.” Simon gestured toward Beth, and she snapped her thoughts back to the moment, and smiled.

  Garrett studied her until her heart started to beat hard. After a tense moment, he raised his head in greeting, but kept his neck stiff with the movement. The harlot moved next to him, and he tugged her closer.

  “Simon says you might be working with us this spring.” Garrett stood taller, and puffed out his chest. “It’s hard work. I suppose you might be able to man the boat. That shouldn’t be too much of an issue for you, should it? A weakling like you will only hinder the team and put himself in danger. Best to start where you won’t get injured.”

  “I can handle as much as any man,” she said, barely remembering to utter the words in her deepest voice. The haze from the beer made her head buzz, and she shook it off, and deepened her voice even more. “Unlike some, I don’t need to buy women to make me feel like a man.”

  The harlot huffed as if offended by Beth’s words. But why would she be? By all appearances, the woman made a living by trading favors for money. She should really learn to accept the truth of her existence.

  Garrett glared, and his lips thinned.

  Simon gripped her arm in a painful hold and propelled her past Garrett.

  “Ouch,” she hissed.

  Her brother turned back toward his friend. “Sorry, Garrett, he’s drunk.”

  “Never a fool man spoke without gaining censure from the audience,” Garrett responded.

  “How profound,” Beth countered, not bothering to act like the man she was supposed to mimic. She shifted her feet, and stumbled, but slid a condemning glare to the harlot pressing her breasts against his arm. “Do the ladies of the night enjoy a clever tongue, or do they prefer more sensible talk?”

  Garrett furrowed his brows and stared, as if he saw through her disguise and judged her accordingly. Beth took a step back.

  “If you’ll excuse us.” He turned his attention to Simon. “We need to be getting on before I knock your cousin for a loop.” He nodded a good-bye and ushered the half-dressed woman down the street.

  “Sorry, Gar. Really,” Simon yelled and pushed Beth to make her walk.

  She chewed on her lower lip as they hurried home. She knew better than to speak when her brother was in such a state. Simon, however, was never one to stay silent.

  “What the hell was that, Elizabeth?” He growled as they marched up the steps to their home. “Garrett Jones is my friend, and the only other person in the camp who will protect you. Do not mess things up with your snippy tongue. In the future, if you’re going to get a lickin’, you’d better make it worthwhile. Half-cocked insults are not worth it, trust me.”

  “I don’t like to think of any part of my anatomy as snippy. Wicked maybe, but not snippy.” She scrunched her nose, but her body swayed with the thrum of a buggy rolling past. Garrett was harder to read than a dime novel in a buggy on Mullan Road. “Garrett seems quite complicated.”

  “You were a damned fool out there. And no one knows what goes on in Garrett’s head. He spent most of his time in England with a cousin who is a baronet or some such thing. You can no better read what he’s thinking than a book written with water.” He opened the front door and ushered Beth through. “Honestly, I’m surprised Garrett held back and didn’t knock you for a loop the way you spoke to him. You’re lucky he kept his head about him in front of the lady on his arm, or you’d be sporting a black eye and wounded pride before you even became a logger. You should learn to hold your tongue. For once in your life, control your impulse to cause trouble.”

  “Does he behave this unreasonable at camp too? I found him to be quite impolite tonight. I certainly saw a side of him I never thought he possessed.”

  “You really are daft, Lizbe. Way too priggish to pull off this scheme. You’re just a woman. Why did I let you blackmail me into this whole mess? In less than a day, we will be on our way to the logging camp where danger lurks in every corner. How the hell am I going to get through the next couple of weeks with you on my heels? No. You’re not going.”

  “What are you going to do when I tell the mayor that his pretty little wife is sleeping with a lumberjack?”

  “Join the permanent camp and stay up in the mountain forever, and let you fend for yourself down here. I’ll keep my neck, but lose a troublesome sister.” Simon stroked his chin. “I could grow a beard.”

  She threw him a brilliant smile and turned toward the stairs. Little did he know, he didn’t have a choice. “I’m going. You’ll love having me around…you’ll see,” she tossed quietly over her shoulder as she entered her room.

  “You’re not going!” Simon snapped as he walked by her door. Beth grimaced as she waited to hear movement from Nana. When nothing but the tap of Simon’s boots heading toward his room filled the air, Beth relaxed. She was going, no matter what Simon said.

  * * * *

  “Thank you, sir! I don’t know how we can ever repay you.” Mrs. Ballard, his housekeeper, wiped the tears from her eyes, and Garrett turned to watch as her husband steered their scantily dressed, sixteen-year-old daughter through the door to their chambers.

  The girl turned and shot Garrett a look that could kill a grizzly bear. After she realized what he’d intended by buying her from the barkeep, she’d tried to flee. He had to toss her over his shoulder just to bring her the remaining block to his house.

  “How did you get her to come home with you?” Mrs. Ballard dabbed at her tears with the long apron attached to her skirt.

  “It wasn’t easy. She’s not going to like me for a very long time. Let’s leave it at that.” After the talking-to he gave her on the way home, he’d be surprised if she ever spoke to him again. He had divulged information that would embarrass a gentleman, let alone a young woman, but she needed to know what the world was like. How men really behaved.

  “I honestly don’t know why she keeps running away. I promise we won’t let it happen again.”

  “Perhaps you might consider asking her why she chooses to run around dark-alley establishments dressed as a strumpet and willing to spread her legs for any man who has the inclination,” Garrett suggested.

  Mrs. Ballard responded, but he didn’t really listen. The last thing he needed was to come home from his next log run only to hunt down his servant’s troublesome daughter, yet again. God knew he had his own problems. The least of which was Simon’s two-bit cousin. Hell, with the young man’s small shoulders and weak structure, Garrett doubted he could handle the physical demands of staying on the log while it rolled down the river, let alone dislodge a blockage and fling himself into the bateau before being swept downriver in the tide of crashing logs. But Simon had cashed in a favor owed, and brought the boy to the camp.

  Garrett focused once more on Mrs. Ballard as she finished chattering about her wayward daughter. Words he didn’t hear, and didn’t care to hear. “Just keep her close to home until you can figure out what to do with her.” He made his way toward the passageway door.

  “We will. Promise,” Mrs. Ballard said behind him as he walked into the hallway leading to the front of the house.

  He needed a nice stiff drink. The whole evening—no, the whole day—was a mess. Starting with meeting Elizabeth on the street, and ending with his housekeeper’s daughter and Simon’s cousin. What was it about the boy that made him lose the ability to breathe?

  And Elizabeth. Perfect, enchanting Elizabeth. With her carefree ways and ability to talk to anyone with ease, he couldn’t seem to get out more than a word whenever she was near. She was so different from him. Throughout the years, he’d gotten to know her through her brother, and all because he was too afraid to approach her himself. She was easygoing and always happy, where he had to analyze life with a critical and pessimistic eye. She moved in the waves of life with ease, and frightened him beyond belief. God. Why had his fathe
r refused to allow her as a candidate for marriage?

  Garrett had begged his father to consider Elizabeth when he’d first brought up the topic of marriage years ago after he first started at Big Mountain. But no. If he were to enter into an arrangement with Beth, his father would cut him off. And all because of the scandals. Not that she was involved in any of them, but his father didn’t care. Simon had sullied the name Sanders, and now Elizabeth was paying for it. God forbid there was a Jones with a less-than-perfect reputation.

  He should go back on his word and secure Beth for his own. Live with the consequences of choosing her over the family. Stand up to his father. Tell him he was going to marry Elizabeth no matter what he said. But Garrett would lose everything. His family, his fortune, and with his father’s connections, he’d even lose his job at Big Mountain. How would he be able to support a wife and family with nothing?

  No.

  He couldn’t do that to her. He had to fulfill his side of the agreement. Sacrifice his chance with Beth for one last season at Big Mountain, and a life of misery with the wife of his father’s choosing.

  Elizabeth.

  This morning he’d wanted to ask her how her day was. Engage her in witty conversation that would leave her dreaming of him for the remainder of her day. But no. All he could get out was her name, and even then he’d barely spoken the word. Oh what a fool he became in the presence of Elizabeth Sanders.

  The only sound left in his dimly lit home were his footsteps as he trudged into his study and poured a glass of bourbon, swallowing the contents in one gulp, only to refill and take the decanter with him to settle into his favorite seat by the large fireplace.

  He stretched out his legs, and the leather on his over-stuffed armchair squeaked in protest as he relaxed into its comfort. He would get Elizabeth and the young cousin out of his head, or drink himself to a stupor.

  A log sat in the hearth, waiting to be lit. Stretching a bit farther, he kicked it into the pit and scowled. What he should be doing was preparing for the train ride to the site. Instead, he sat brooding about the next few months. Why did the presence of Simon’s cousin irritate him so much? It wasn’t like he was the first young man to want the riverman job, so why did it matter?

  He swallowed the bourbon and refilled. Best to focus on what was to come at the end of the spring—his last spring as nothing more than a logger. What was Simon going to say when he found out about the deal Garrett had made?

  Chapter 3

  Beth peeked into the large, mud-covered railcar and panic rose, threatening to choke her. She curled her nose and tamped back the urge to flee. The place was a pigpen. The large men dotting the inside didn’t seem aware of the filth surrounding them. She thought about jumping off the platform and running for the safety of her home, but what good would that do? She was already committed. Was she really going to do this? If she wanted to pull it off, she would need to force her mind away from the muddy shoes of the men in the car and the grime threatening to soil her clothes.

  Pull up your trousers and be a riverman, Beth. You can’t hide away for the rest of your life.

  She searched the car for Simon, but he wasn’t there. Thank God. He’d left her behind this morning, but she wasn’t going to let him win, so she’d come alone. Beth hopped into the car and picked her way through the men to find a spot in the corner.

  She’d never betray her brother to the haughty men of Missoula the way she’d threatened, but he didn’t need to know that. He would protect her with his life, and she’d do the same for him. That’s why she’d enlisted his help in the first place. To shield her when she needed protection, but let her have free rein of the camp. She’d repay him by finding the traitor. Now, if only he could get over the fact that she was just a woman.

  A movement outside the large door caught her attention and she watched as Simon boarded the car. She pulled her hat low and ducked her head to shield her face. Garrett was noticeably absent. Although her world tilted to odd angles whenever he was around, his behavior last night—and slighting her each time they’d met throughout the years—couldn’t be forgotten. But the thought of him gone from the lumber camp this year made her heart sink to her stomach. What she wouldn’t give to spend more time with Garrett Jones.

  There were several cars attached to the train that would take the men and Beth to the main camp. Simon had warned her to expect the next few months to be filled with crowded bunkhouses and water closets only the bravest of men would use. Really, he was trying to scare her from going, and it had somewhat worked. She wasn’t happy about a community bed or roughage for a toilet, but with each breath she regained her excitement over the experience as a whole.

  The boxcar rattled and propelled into motion, gradually picking up speed as more men jumped onto the car, including Garrett. Now nothing could squelch her mood, but she needed to act like a man. Behave like everyone else in the car. She glanced around to take stock of the filthy men. How they sat, their expressions. She would do this.

  Beth clenched her teeth as she realized her brother stared straight at her. She tried not to flinch when he scowled and stood to pick his way through the crowded floor.

  “I ought to toss you off right now. Let you roll down the tracks and back home.” He plopped down next to her. “Why aren’t you still passed out in bed after the booze you drank last night?”

  “So that was your plan? I knew you were up to something. You won’t send me home because I’ll keep coming back, and I didn’t drink much. I tossed it. Honestly, Simon, I would think getting me drunk to get your way was beneath you.”

  Simon’s upper lip twitched as Garrett made his way to the only space available in the car…directly in front of her. She against one side of the L-shaped wall, and he sitting sideways against the other. She stretched out her feet as far as she could and gave Garrett almost no room in which to set down his perfectly muscled backside. The train jarred, sending him tumbling down onto her spiked boot.

  “Ouch!” she squealed, pulled her legs back to rub her shins, and then winced when Simon’s sharp elbow slammed into her ribs.

  “Watch yourself, Brent,” her brother scolded loudly enough for only her to hear.

  Garrett stared through hazel eyes. Eyes so vexed and clouded they reminded her of an angry fall day. No emotion showed on his face, save for the fierceness of his gaze. She liked reading people, but he read like a bad Gothic novel. Personally, she preferred dime novels.

  They were separated by no more than her legs, but heat from his body toasted even her back as it pressed against the cold steel of the wall. How could one man emanate warmth so intense that it scorched the entire boxcar?

  She leaned over to Simon. “Is it hot in here?”

  He shot her a confused glare and shook his head.

  Beth drew her knees up to her chest and squeezed them against her body to gain distance from Garrett—the source of the offending heat. He turned his eyes away from her. Thank the Lord above! One more second of his intense, disapproving gaze and she’d catch fire. He greeted Simon, and then leaned his head against the wall.

  She tugged her large brimmed cowboy hat down low, settled deeper into the wall behind her, and pretended to sleep. The smoky musk of Garrett’s Eau de Cologne drifted past her nose and brought to mind the last ball she’d attended when a large, stuffed puffin of a man asked her to dance and spent the rest of the ensemble flaunting his superiority. Garrett was different. He was a logger. One bottle of the blend was at least three months’ pay for a man of his profession. He needed to make up his mind already. Was he a stuffy blowhard, or an easy-to-love logger?

  Hours ticked by in the uncomfortable position, and she couldn’t help but fidget. With each movement, Garrett threw her a sour look. He’d done that a lot since meeting her outside the bar. Each time it sent sorrow to her soul, but that didn’t matter. You’re not here for romance, Beth. Finding love was for another
time in her life. This moment, this season, was for her brother. As long as she kept that in mind, she would get through the summer just fine.

  The hard, wooden train floor had to be a torture device from a dark castle the way it ground into her bottom. She squirmed again and stretched her leg to ease the pain. The spikes on her boots hit Garrett’s thigh and she winced.

  Garrett flinched, but kept his gaze somewhere on the forward wall of the railcar. The muscles in his jaw flexed, but no other emotion showed. The man was as hard as the floor making her backside ache. She supposed he had to be in his profession.

  “Sorry,” she said, but he scowled. Perhaps this spring was going to be harder than she expected.

  * * * *

  Garrett tensed when the spikes dug into his leg. Anger rose fast and furious, and he turned a hard stare to Simon’s cousin. He couldn’t take much more of the kid. Not with the mixture of emotions kicking him in the gut like a bad-tempered mule. There was something about the kid that wasn’t quite right. Something that made him feel empty inside—a reminder that he lacked an important ingredient in his life.

  The boy shielded his face with that ridiculous hat he wore.

  Leaning on one hand, he crouched to stand as the train lurched to slow while it crested a steep hill. Knocked off balance, he fell on top of Simon’s cousin. He reached out in reflex to stop his descent, but instead of a bony teenage chest firm beneath his fingers, he felt the softness of two perfectly rounded breasts. Breasts bound by some sort of cloth.

  He moved his hands to the floor so he could balance his weight on them, as the boy stared wide-eyed with shock. Garrett fought to clear his head of the thoughts running rampant through his mind.