White Water Passion

by Dawn Luedecke

  If he wanted to pretend the kiss never happened, then she would go along. Except she didn’t want to pretend. She followed his gaze over the water to watch the shoreline slide past her vision in slow motion. The kiss had happened, and it shot fire down to her stomach and out through her fingers. A feeling new, raw, and a bit frightening.

  Best to concentrate on the training. She turned to watch him work the boat. She could do that, no problem. Garrett’s shirt grew taut around his chest with each movement. His muscles rippled beneath the worn fabric. This wasn’t going to be easy, but it looked doable. With Garrett as her guide, she refused to show weakness. She’d prove her worthiness as a riverman, and woman. He offered her his seat with the wave of his hand. “Now you take us back in.”

  The boat rocked violently when she stood. Beth grabbed on to the sides as she wobbled to the back of the boat and picked up the oars. She dipped them into the water, only to have the force of the pull cause the oars to flip and smack the side of the boat as if they were the wings of a gangly duckling trying to fly. “Sorry.”

  “The boat’s not damaged. Just keep trying.”

  She did it again. This time she dug deeper. “It’s going!”

  “Good. Now try to make it go straight.”

  The horizon began to spin and she glanced at the water to find they moved in a circle. She bit her lip and focused hard on the task.

  After a few minutes of concentrated silence, Garrett interrupted. “You’re stronger than you look.”

  “It’s from years of washing my brother’s dirty clothes. It’s a back-breaking duty. He’s a filthy man.”

  “I hardly think laundry is enough of an undertaking to give you strength to row a bateau after days of splitting wood. Most women would have shirked the moment they had to heave an ax.”

  “I’m not most women. I’m getting good at the ax.”

  “I noticed.” His face flushed, and he sat quiet for a moment before speaking again, “Where’d you get that scar on your wrist?”

  Beth looked at her arm. “The carriage accident that killed my parents.”

  “I’m sorry. Had I known it was such a personal subject, I wouldn’t have asked.”

  “No. It’s fine. To be honest, I barely remember it, remember them. I was only five when the accident happened. This is all I have left of them.” She took one last look at the mark, and then dug the oars into the water to row toward the shore. He reclined back once more, the awkward silence thick for a moment before she interrupted the peace. “Tell me about your family.”

  “My father is consumed with his job,” he said. “And my mother with her place in society. I was raised to be concerned with both.”

  “You seem to love what you do.”

  “I do, but I won’t be doing it much longer. This is my last season here. I haven’t told anyone this, and I’m not certain I should now, but if you’re anything like your brother I know you can keep a secret. After the rivers get low, I will take over my father’s business.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I prefer to be on the river, but duty calls, and you can’t ignore duty.”

  She studied the notch in the wood on the seat in front of her. Her own reservations of her future churned up with the gentle rock of the boat. “No. You can’t ignore duty.”

  “Why do you want to ride the river so bad with the Devil May Cares?” His voice changed to one of concern. “Why won’t you content yourself with riding the cook boat?”

  “I need to find the traitor. I can’t do that if I’m stuck in the Missoula camp. If I’m with you, I can see the men from the other camps as well. Just because the man was at the Missoula train station, doesn’t necessarily mean he lives in our camp.”

  “I suppose you’re right, but do you see why I am worried? I can’t even count the broken limbs I’ve mended on the drives, let alone the battered bodies I’ve tended to at night. We risk hypothermia and death, on top of surface wounds. I couldn’t bear to see a body as pale and perfect as yours beaten and bruised from wayward logs. I’d feel like I haven’t done my job as a man.”

  “I won’t blame you for anything happening to me. I understand the risks I’m taking and the position I’m putting you in, and I am sorry. I can’t go back now, though. Not with the traitor stalking the camp. I couldn’t face my life at home knowing I was a failure here.”

  “What is awaiting you at home?”

  “Duty and honor. Like you.”

  “Two fools striving for a semblance of heaven, but destined for something else.”

  Beth dug both oars into the water and finally brought the boat straight. If Garrett could relate to her reasoning, or at least understand, then she wouldn’t feel so guilty. If he were indeed destined to give up the life he loved for the life he was destined to have, then he too needed a season to remember. Perhaps she could help him to get just that.

  Chapter 9

  “For the next week or two, we’ll be helping the timber beasts replenish the logs that were lost when the boom was cut.” Garrett stood tall, a small movement that never failed to cause his men to pay attention when he spoke. “We need to get a raft down the river, and soon. We can’t do that if we don’t have the logs. I’m not going to send a half turn to the mill. It’s a full load or none at all.”

  A ripple of movement swayed through the crowd of men, both Bonner and Missoula teams, as they nodded their agreement and firmed their jaws. At this moment, he couldn’t be more proud of them. There was nothing more important than their pride, and pride demanded an exceptional job in whatever task they took on. That was why they were chosen to be rivermen, and why they were the best in the industry. Pride.

  “The shave tail will work with me so I can train him. The rest of you pair off as you wish. We’ll report to The Bull of the Woods today and work until he says we aren’t needed anymore. You’ve all had a go at those jobs when you were wet-nosed loggers. There’s no reason you can’t show the timber beasts a thing or two while you work.”

  Crooked smiles played at his men’s lips. They were all seasoned lumbermen and loved to show off, which was the reaction Garrett hoped to get by ruffling their feathers with a challenge. With skills to match their determination, the rivermen and timber beasts could replenish the raft in no time, and the logs would be on their way to the mill within a fortnight.

  Garrett signaled for the men to precede him up the trail, and then he followed. His only worry was Beth. She could barely heave an ax. There was no way she would be able to chop down a hundred-year-old pine.

  Spotting her in the throng of men, he picked up his speed and grabbed her forearm. Urging her back with gentle pressure, he slowed to a walk that would put the men far enough ahead that he wouldn’t be overheard. “You stay with me at all times. The Grove is incredibly dangerous. You and I will find The Bull, and then we’ll claim an area far enough away that we’ll be out of sight from prying eyes.”

  Beth’s vein pulsed at the base of her neck, a sign he came to realize was her only nervous tell. Garrett tried to hold back a smile. It was a good thing she didn’t gamble. She would lose everything at the tables.

  They crested the top of the hill and found The Bull on the outskirts of The Deck, talking with the team controlling the horses. Garrett neared, and The Bull turned to him with a grunted greeting.

  “My men are here to help,” Garrett said.

  “So I see. With your help, we can get double the sticks to the water’s edge. We should get the raft replaced in no time.”

  “How are the new steel wedges working?”

  “I just passed them out this morning. We’ll find out today.”

  Garrett nodded. The steel wedges sent up from the mill should speed production and save the loggers’ backs—at least that was the opinion of the vagrant timber beasts he’d met in town
before the season began.

  “Brent and I will get started, and we’ll see you at quittin’ time.”

  The Bull gave a halfhearted salute and turned back to the horses.

  Garrett did a quick survey of the men working around the site, handed Beth the wooden sledgehammer and wedge from the supply wagon, grabbed a few more tools, and then headed up a trail leading to a tree far away from any other faller team. “Falling a tree is a taxing job. I’ll do most of the work.”

  “I’d like to help. I didn’t come all the way up here to the heart of the forest so I can be coddled and pushed to the back.”

  “All right. You can help.” Garrett turned away from her and smiled. One thing was clear, the woman had guts and a large amount of determination. A woman like that would stand next to a man during even the worst of times. A woman like her was exactly what he couldn’t have, but someone he desperately wanted. “But if you need a rest, take it. Don’t push yourself too much. You’ve been through a lot already the last few days.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t try to be a hero.”

  Off in the distance a group of men stood huddled around a man near a large pine. Beth stopped. “What are they doing?”

  “My guess is making a bet. A good faller can place the tree anywhere he wants within a few feet. Oftentimes the men will wage a week’s pay on the accuracy of the faller.”

  “Do you think he’ll make it?” Beth asked, gesturing toward the man now chopping a slice from the large pine tree.

  “Wall was the best faller on the team before he became a riverman.”

  “That’s Wall?” She squinted to try to see the man clearly from where she stood.

  “Watch.” Garrett turned to the group of men as Wall chopped the face of the tree. After the back cut, he slid in the steel wedge and took up the wooden sledgehammer, only to have it bounce back and almost hit him in the face. Wall adjusted his grip.

  “He’s getting tired.” Beth commented.

  “No. It’s something else. I think it’s the wedge with the maul. They aren’t working together. I’ll have to let Simon know so he can figure out what to do next.”

  After a few well-placed hits to the wedge, the tree fell, and the men burst into good-natured shouts and congratulated Wall with slaps to the back of his shoulder.

  “I take it he won the bet.” Beth turned to him.

  Garrett simply nodded and motioned for them to continue. Once at the tree, he tossed down his load, and Beth did the same.

  “We’ll use the ax to cut a slice out of one side of the tree. Sort of like an odd shaped triangle.” He turned the ax in his hand as he studied the bark. “And then we’ll do a back cut, and then use the wedge to tip the tree.”

  “Where should I stand?”

  “Stay behind me. If I run, you run, but don’t head out toward the forest. Watch the tree and run sideways. That is the fastest way to avoid being crushed beneath the pine.”

  “Okay.” Beth’s voice was shaky. Her nervous confidence melted his heart. A man would never get bored with her around.

  Garrett began to chop the slice out of the side of the tree. He was halfway done when Beth stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Can I have a go?”

  He handed her the ax—handle first. “Can you heave it?”

  She nodded.

  With a smile, he stepped back as she swung the heavy ax and attacked the base of the tree with all the subtlety of an angry bear, but she was good. As good as any man of her small stature could ever be. He let a smile stretch across his face when she gritted her teeth and wrinkled her forehead in concentration. Silly as it was, he could watch her determined expression for the rest of his life and never grow tired of it. How different she was from the prim Victoria. Never one to make too many expressions for fear of wrinkles. Once Beth whittled the trunk down to where he needed it, he cleared his throat to get her attention.

  “Now we need to do the backcut. This is where it gets difficult.” He picked up the long saw and walked to the other side. “We’re going to use the saw, take up both sides, and move it back and forth. This is a might tricky ’cause the one we got stuck with is a misery whip. Miserable to use cause it’s duller than a wallflower. Are you up for it?”

  Her perfectly plump lips turned up in a smile that proved how truly excited she was over doing this job—a task that would tax even the strongest of men. Elizabeth Sanders had guts and grit to rival that of a hard-pressed cowboy. Oh what he wouldn’t give to see her smile like this every moment of her life. His thought drifted to Victoria, tucked safely in camp, away from danger. She was boring, but perfect in every other wifely aspect. However, he hated being bored.

  * * * *

  Beth peeked around the small clearing as she neared the outhouses. Yesterday she’d chopped down a tree with Garrett. It had been the most exhilarating time of her life—the giant tree slamming to the ground simply because she cut it. No wonder men liked this sort of work. It made them feel invincible.

  Now, she had to find a decent lavatory. For the last few weeks, she’d managed to use the one with the moon—designated for women—but today the men lingered nearby. She couldn’t let them know she wasn’t the man she pretended to be. She’d have to use the one with the star. Beth scrunched her nose at the thought and tried not to dance as she scurried through the door, almost puking when it shut behind her.

  Therapeutic papers littered the ground with what she hoped were muddy footprints. Flies buzzed around the soiled wooden seat, and a large brown spot in the shape of a three-legged horse stained the walls. She gagged at the smell and ran back out. When her brother had mentioned a dirty outhouse before they came, he wasn’t exaggerating.

  “Why would you go in there?” Blue called. “You’re damned brave if you go in there. We all just piss in the bushes, or use the women’s, but don’t tell Aunt June. She’d tan our hides a good one.”

  “Thanks.” She gave a halfhearted smile and rushed into the much cleaner women’s toilet. She was in the middle of doing her business when the wall next to her began to thump, and the outhouse began to shake.

  What the hell is going on? Male laughter floated through the moon-shaped hole.

  “Just push it over,” Dick shouted.

  “No way. If we get it dirty, Aunt June will whip us with her spoon. We’ll just tip it.”

  She grabbed onto the walls to steady herself—pants tangled around her ankles—as the small building shook. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. This was it. She was going to get caught, and in the most embarrassing way. She had to get her pants up and get out!

  “What in Hades name is going on over here?” Aunt June’s voice boomed through the thin wooden walls. Beth sighed with relief and hastily yanked up her britches, tucked in her shirt, and stepped outside. The old woman stood next to the men and glared.

  “The shave tail used the outhouse we made for the ladies. Ain’t no man gonna go around acting like a woman and not get razzed for it.”

  “Not on my watch. How long has it been since you boys cleaned out the men’s toilet anyway?”

  Wall scratched his head. “I can’t rightly say, Aunt June. A while, I guess.”

  “A while, you guess? Well, I guess you boys earned yourself privy duty. I didn’t have you make men and women’s toilets so you could use the bushes. Get yourselves on in there and clean it out. And while you’re at it, move both outhouses over there.” She pointed to where she wanted them placed.

  “Aunt June.” The men grumbled like a group of young boys scolded by their mothers. “We’re rivermen, not chambermaids.”

  “I expect it will be done within the hour.” She gave a wicked grin and marched toward the camp.

  “Hey, shave tail,” Wall called out. “You get to scrub the shit pit.”

  Beth couldn’t help but widen her eyes, without a care if the men saw, whe
n she thought of the nasty waste piled high below the lid. There was no way she could clean it.

  Beth turned and ran after Aunt June.

  “Thanks,” she breathed when she caught up to her.

  The old cook emerged through the brush next to her cabin and chuckled. “No need to thank me. I wasn’t about to let a silly prank destroy the one luxury I have out here.”

  Aunt June plucked a bucket from the ground next to the side of her house and handed it to Beth, and then grabbed a handful of torn rags from inside her cabin. “Off you go, now. Don’t forget to run down to the lake and fill the bucket with water.”

  She gave a humored smile that made Beth’s stomach drop. The cleaning of an outhouse waited, and no one was going to prevent it from happening, not even Aunt June.

  Like a child doing afternoon chores for her mother, she trudged to the lake, filled the water, and lumbered back to the crude privies.

  “Hurry up, shave tail!” Blue yelled when she neared. By the time she returned, the men had dug two holes and were in the process of shifting the outhouses over the fresh pits. “We want to be able to wash up in the lake before chow.”

  Once they moved both toilets, she plopped the bucket down between the weathered buildings, and prayed that Garrett would come and rescue her. What was he doing, anyway? After lunch that day, he’d ordered her to stay in camp with Aunt June, and disappeared with her brother. She wanted to go back out on the water like she’d done the last few days.

  “Shit pit!” Blue called out and handed her a water soaked rag. “Get as far in as you can, all the way up to your shoulder. When we’re done filling in the old pits, we’ll be back to help.”

  The men all chuckled and walked away as Beth turned her face down in disgust. How was she going to get through this?

  She yanked the blue handkerchief from around her neck and tied it about her face, sucked in a deep breath to boost her determination, and marched into the women’s outhouse, gagging as she walked through the weathered door. She stepped back outside to catch a breath of fresh forest air, only to watch Wall and the other rivermen turn and laugh at the sight of her. She couldn’t let them beat her.