Fiery Passion

by Dawn Luedecke

  On the other side of the wall, a man’s voice murmured inaudibly, followed by Annabel’s more feminine voice. Victoria could only hope it was the woman’s husband, but somehow she doubted it.

  She shuffled her feet and stared at the light at the end of the passageway. She should walk away. Leave Annabel to be discovered. But she wouldn’t. She wasn’t that sort of person.

  For what seemed like half of an hour she stood, flinching at every sound emanating from where the light touched the hallway. She paced along the decorative rug covering the wooden floorboards until Wall’s distinct drawl echoed from the other side of the door where Annabel had disappeared. “Beg your pardon.”

  Her chest tightened at the sound of Wall’s voice. Had he been the man Annabel met in the dark, back room? Did she care?

  Yes. For some reason she did care.

  As though destiny had heard her question and wanted a good laugh at her expense, Wall stepped hurriedly from the room and closed the door.

  She made a squeak, and Wall turned—his expression one of shock and guilt.

  “It’s not how it looks,” Wall said defensively.

  Victoria regained her composure and shook her head. “It’s none of my business.”

  It really was none of her business, but all the same a hard pressure formed in her chest and spread.

  He motioned toward the door. “I just—”

  “I didn’t take you for the type to be fooled by her charms,” Victoria bit out, and stepped hard to stand in front of the door with her back facing the knob.

  “I’m not,” he said slowly, and his shoulders dropped in defeat. “I left the party. Just for a few minutes. I came in through the side door and happened upon a scandalous scene in there.”

  “Oh.” Victoria sighed the word, and clutched her chest as the tense sensation of jealousy ebbed.

  “What are you doing out here? Hasn’t the party moved to another room?”

  “Yes.” Victoria motioned toward the room where he’d been mere moments ago. “But she asked me to stand guard.”

  “Is she a close friend of yours?”

  “Not particularly.” Or not at all. When she’d made the comment about them being friends, she was being generous. Annabel had never paid her any attention beyond what social etiquette dictated. “I’d call her more of a close acquaintance, but in my world, if the mayor’s wife asks you to do something, you do it.”

  “Can you break away from playing guardian?”

  “Why?”

  “Something’s come up. I need to leave for the logging camp tonight, and I would rather not leave you here to fight the wolves by yourself.”

  “How gallant of you, but I can assure you I can fight off the wolves just fine.”

  He answered with a disbelieving glare.

  “I can,” she said. “However, I do not care to stay here any longer, so I will join you.” She bit the tip of her thumb. “Do you think it terribly bad of me to leave my post?”

  “I think whatever happens to the mayor’s wife should she be discovered with her new lover will be well deserved.” He turned toward the door. “I’ll summon the buggy if you make our excuses.”

  “I’d love to.” Relief, and a small sense of wickedness, spread through her chest.

  By the time she finished giving the mayor their excuses and emerged into the night, the buggy stood waiting in front of the mansion with a servant holding the reins. Wall helped her up, and then took the seat next to her and once again slipped the reins from her grip before she could set the buggy rolling. Blasted man. He really was honorable, and well-versed in etiquette, although she wouldn’t let him know she thought as much.

  After a few minutes, he turned the buggy and broke the silence. “Are you planning on coming up to camp again this year?”

  “At the beginning, but I won’t stay like last year. Running a mill isn’t easy, you know.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “How do you know Nichols?”

  “My father knows him.”

  “Oh,” she said, and then sat back, defeated. If Wall’s family was friends with Nichols, then she was doomed. Wall would certainly side with the territorial representative. “So then you think I ought to give in and close down the mill like Nichols suggested?”

  “I said my father knows him.” Wall slapped the reins to pick up the speed. “I personally think the guy is a sidewinder. All politicians are.”

  “So I should fight?”

  “Is that what you want to do?”

  “I’ve always been a fighter, and I don’t want to lose the mill.”

  “But?”

  “I don’t know if I can win against the entire Montana territory.”

  “I’ve seen small farms take on the government and win.” He pulled up before her house, set the brake, and turned to face her. “We’ll find a way to keep your company. And legally.”

  He jumped from the buggy and hurried to help her down.

  With a deep, calming breath, she wrapped her palms around his biceps as he eased her to the ground. Her chest rose with each struggled breath. Both because of the effects the man before her had on her tonight, and the thought of losing the one thing on earth she cherished. “I won’t lose the mill.”

  He dropped his hands from her side and stepped back. “You won’t.”

  His bravado was enough to make her nod. No matter what happened with the mill, he would fight with her. That promise was evident in his tone.

  He would be her champion.

  Wall tipped his head to the side, and dropped his gaze to her lips. She didn’t move. He stepped back and handed the reins to her servant as he came running up to them.

  “I’ll see you at the lumber camp,” Wall said, and turned to disappear into the night. In another time, with another man, she would have said something to make him stop. Flirted with him. But she was a business woman now, and this was Wall Adair. A logger. Her riverman.

  * * * *

  Wall waited in the meadow for the last train bringing men to the mountain to slam to a halt. The early morning sun turned to the bright light of midmorning as men jumped from the boxcars and ran toward the camps. Last night had been one hell of a time.

  Simon had disappeared up the mountain, leaving Wall and the rest of the Devil May Cares to settle into their crude cabin for a few hours of shut-eye before the morning train, and Victoria, arrived.

  He’d felt anxiety before. Hell, he’d felt lust before, but he’d never felt the two emotions at the same time until last night when he’d ached to touch Victoria. To comfort her as she struggled to come to grips with the information they’d learned the night before.

  But like his ma always said, “A brighter view comes with the light of a new day.”

  He’d waited for the feelings to disappear throughout the night. To fade with the light of day, but it didn’t. He wanted to help her. To be near her, and like she said, his knowledge of both worlds gave him a reason to insinuate himself in her business.

  The sounds of the train echoed off the trees and slowly faded by the time Victoria emerged from a passenger car with Paul by her side.

  She spotted him, and to his relief, headed his way. “Glad to see your train made it up here all right in the night.” She started to walk toward camp where the men were beginning to gather for the pre-season orders. Victoria searched the people gathered around Aunt June’s cook camp. “I have a message for Carrie. Have you seen her?”

  “I have not.” Wall copied her search of the people as Paul walked ahead and began to bark orders.

  “How is the drive looking?”

  Wall glanced up to the mountain peaks, barely covered in snow, and thought back to when he woke and took his coffee near the lake to assess the progress. “The logs harvested over the winter are ready to go down, but I’m worried about the river
s.”

  “Why?”

  “The winter was short and dry. I’m worried the spring runoff isn’t going to produce enough water to take a raft down. If we do get one, it’ll have to be real soon.”

  “How bad do you think the rivers are? Should we risk running a drive within the next week?”

  “I don’t know.” He frowned as he stared in the direction of the mouth of the river, obscured from sight by acres of trees.

  “Take the Devil May Cares and do a quick run down to the mill to check the water levels. Block any tributaries you need to, and make the rivers as deep as you can.”

  “Riding without a raft, we should be able to float the river in a week or two.”

  “Are there any spots that Paul or I could meet you? I want as many updates as I can get, as fast as I can get them.”

  “There’s the Lost Horse Creek Bridge. We should be there in two days, and then The Thirsty Woodsman, probably day four. I don’t think you should wait for us at a saloon, though.”

  “I’ll meet you at the Lost Horse Creek Bridge in three days. If I’m not there by the time you reach it, then wait for me, but Paul and I plan to stay at least tonight to check on the railroad logging. We’ll probably take the train down tomorrow morning, and then I’ll head up to meet you at the bridge.”

  “I’ll let the boys know to get ready to go down the river. We’ll time it so we can get to the bridge same as you. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go get my men prepared.” He leaned in, perhaps a bit closer than was necessary, but he wanted to take a deeper inhale of the sweet, flowery scent that drifted on the breeze. A scent he’d found helped his mind to focus whenever it assailed his senses.

  In a demure fashion only a woman could pull off, Victoria cleared her throat and turned her face enough that a large curl grazed his cheek and sent heat to his stomach.

  Two dimpled lines formed at the corners of her mouth in a cat-like smile. She must know the effect she had on men. And she used the charm to get whatever she wished in life. He straightened up and left, hoping no one witnessed his momentary lack of curtesy.

  For the rest of the day he and his men worked through the logistics of a pre-drive run. The supper bell rang through the trees at the same time a chilling whistle sounded from higher up the hill.

  “Already?” Blue asked, and stared toward the sound. “We haven’t even started the season.”

  Fear slid through Wall’s core at the sound, and Blues words. The whistle meant something bad had happened in the trees.

  “Let’s go,” he said the words, but they didn’t really need to be spoken.

  Wall’s lungs burned and his thick muscled legs ached by the time he and the Devil May Cares found the scene of the accident. Behind them, a logger carrying Aunt June’s stretcher elbowed his way past them. “Who is it?”

  “I don’t know,” Simon said.

  “Has anyone seen him before?” the logger with the stretcher asked.

  The crowd mumbled their answers, and most shook their heads.

  Simon moved toward the man. “Let’s get him down to camp.”

  The logger set the stretcher near the body, and Wall stepped next to him to help ease the dead man on the travois. Once he was secure, most of the men who’d come to view the accident followed as they hauled the man down the path.

  Wall stood with Garrett and Beth, silent behind their new assistant cook, Carrie, as she cried. Garrett moved to where the body once lay, and crouched to examine the ground, so Wall picked up the branch, weighed it in his hands, and turned it to peer at the broken end. “Does this branch look odd to you?”

  He held the object out and Simon took it. “It looks a bit fresh, but I don’t see anything else to make it seem off. Why?”

  Wall shook his head and tucked the widowmaker under his arms to take it with. This whole scene didn’t sit right with him. “No reason.”

  “We’d best get back.” Simon eased Carrie toward the trail.

  Garrett walked next to his wife, and Wall stepped beside him as they started down the hill. “Is Victoria at the train?”

  Garrett nodded. “She and Paul are taking their supper in the passenger car while they work through some plans.”

  “When do they leave?”

  “Early morning,” Beth answered. “Maybe as early as midnight. Depending on the load and the conductor. Why?”

  Both Garrett and Beth shot him matching, curious looks.

  Wall adjusted the tree branch under his arm. “I need to speak with her about the drive is all.”

  The rest of the trek off the mountain was spent in silence, which Wall was grateful for. Usually he loved a good conversation, but today provided so many reasons for him to remain silent and think.

  Starting with the look of the widowmaker that’d killed the logger, and ending with the way his core warmed whenever he stood next to Victoria.

  He’d known many women in his life, and had even courted a few. Hell, he’d visited Beth a few times before she and Garrett had worked out their problems. None of the women he’d known in his past had ever made him unable to think of anything but her by simply being nearby.

  The train came into view, and he headed toward it, taking the steps and knocking before entering the passenger car. Inside, Victoria sat in the center, which hosted two bench seats facing each other with a table between them. Victoria studied a map as Paul stood next to her doing the same.

  He stepped inside and pulled the widowmaker through the door. “Pardon, but what do you make of this?”

  He lifted the end of the branch with what he thought looked like cut marks.

  Paul frowned and approached, studying the branch. He shook his head. “What is this?”

  “A widowmaker. I wanted to see if you saw anything odd with the way it looked. Something seemed off with the scene of the accident.”

  “I don’t see anything wrong with it.” Paul turned toward Victoria. “Do you?”

  Victoria eased out of her chair, and Paul stepped back to let her past. She studied the branch. “Who’s the deceased?”

  “No idea.” Wall pushed the branch out the door, balanced it in the corner of the rail on the back of the car, and then entered again.

  “Have they brought him down?” Victoria asked.

  “Yes,” Wall answered. “To Aunt June’s cabin for assessment, and then they’ll load him on the train.”

  Victoria slid Paul a look, and the portly man nodded. “I’ll go check it out.”

  Wall pressed his back to the window along the wall to allow Paul to pass. Once the man had stepped off the car, and headed toward camp, Wall faced Victoria. “I don’t agree. Widowmakers happen, certainly, and we cut branches all of the time. But the man didn’t look like he belonged in a logging camp. Perhaps that’s why the scene felt off.”

  She frowned, and leaned against the back of a seat. “Are you certain we don’t know who the man is?”

  “No.”

  Victoria straightened. “Perhaps look again. I took on many new workers.”

  He stepped close to her as she stood strong in the center of the car. “We filthy cowboys may live in the mud, but we can spot a dandy when we see one. The man wore logger’s clothes, but they were clean. Too clean.”

  “Hhmm,” Victoria said, and played with her necklace. “I’m certain it’s nothing. We’ll see what Paul says when he returns.”

  Wall watched as she fiddled with the jewels, her hand against the high neck of her white-frilled shirt.

  “Have you had your pre-season log rolls?” Victoria asked, changing the subject. “I’d like to see them someday. I hear you’re quite good at it.”

  “Well, I’ll be. Are you complimenting a filthy cowboy?”

  She answered with a crick of her head, and playful smile. “I’m not a harsh person, Mr. Adair.”

  “I kn
ow that.” He wanted to touch the stone the way she did, feel the smoothness of the gem. What would it take to tighten her nerves enough to caress the stone or her hair? A touch? A kiss?

  Wall inwardly chuckled at the thought. She’d probably yank the damn thing off if he kissed her, and then step back and slap him. She wouldn’t stand for a kiss from a cowboy. She’d made that perfectly clear with her ongoing insults toward his winter profession.

  “I’m glad you came.” Victoria played with a loose curl and brought his focus to her face. Was she as nervous as he was whenever they were alone? She certainly fiddled with her hair and necklace a lot.” I need you to take over as leader of the timber beasts as well.”

  “Simon’s the leader of the timber beasts, and he’s good at his job.”

  “Yes, but you know what’s going on, and I need you to be everywhere. The raft, the railroad operation, and even The Grove. Aren’t you involved with the railroad logging, anyway? I know Garrett oversees it, but I need you there to study the men, and report to me if anyone seems standoffish. I can’t have a repeat of last year. Not with everything going on over in Helena. This year must go down without a hitch.”

  “Garrett and Simon are good men and can be trusted to help.”

  “Wallace.” She said his name with a warning in her tone.

  “Wall,” he corrected, and stepped closer to her until no more than a few inches separated them. “Only my family or people from older generations call me Wallace.”

  “Wall,” she corrected.

  She threw her head back until her gaze met his, and stared with a challenge, but her pupils grew large and the look in her eyes mirrored the feelings he had deep within his stomach.

  He needed to touch her. He ached to feel the softness of her hair. He was a fool, but he couldn’t control himself. He reached up to tug at a curl along the side of her neck, just to see if it would bounce back. It did.

  The only thing he could hear was the sound of her breathing, but she didn’t pull away. Didn’t slap his face like she should have. He smiled.