“But there are widowmakers everywhere up there. A fresh branch isn’t a good clue.”
“I suspect if we find out why he was up there we might be able to figure out what happened.”
“He was surveying the land for the territorial office in Helena.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Who all knew he was up there? Obviously you didn’t.”
“That I don’t know.”
Wall studied the way she plucked at her skirt. Much to his consternation, he had the urge to place his hand over hers to stop the nervous tell. He didn’t know how long he could keep his hands to himself. Eventually he may just give up and touch her. Just to see if it lent any comfort to her tense thoughts.
Why did he care? He suspected it had something to do with the vulnerability he could spot within her movements, her glances. A tell only a man constantly surrounded by women could decipher. Perhaps that’s why he loved being in the logging camp so much. Up there it’s men. And men are cut and dry. They tell it like it is, voice their strife, use their fists to settle arguments, and get over their problems easily. Women are vulnerable, but they bottle their issues up inside, secret it away, and make a man search for it. Victoria was no different from any other woman he’d met. Luckily, he was well versed in dealing with women. “Do you think the man’s death was an accident?” He asked her the same question she did him.
“No. And Paul doesn’t either.”
“What does Paul say?” Wall dug his oar in deep to straighten out the wannigan as they floated.
“He didn’t say it outright, but it was deeply implied that he was worried the government would come after us. He’s also upset because my father left for Seattle.”
“Why should he care about that?”
“Because I may just run the mill into the ground if I’m not careful, and if my father were here to check me, the mill would be fine I suppose. I think Paul is beginning to doubt my business skills. As am I.”
“You shouldn’t. I’ve never seen a woman more determined to make something work.” He chuckled at the memory of his youngest sister, Georgiana’s, determined face whenever she threw a rope—not one of her best talents, but one she never failed to accomplish nonetheless. He often saw that same sparkle in Victoria’s eye whenever she took on a difficult task. “Even the devil steps aside for a determined woman. The railroad logging is going to open up more places to harvest, and you’ll start doubling your loads. You’ll see.”
“If we can harvest after the government gets their noose around us.”
“What was the man surveying? Your land?”
Victoria shook her head so hard that the charmingly loose curls at the nape of her neck flipped back and forth. “Paul says he was probably looking for things they can get us on. Things we’re doing wrong.”
Wall pinched his lips together. “Like the debris.”
“You know about that? Why hasn’t anyone said anything earlier, or cleaned it up?”
“I suppose the year-round team was too busy implementing the new rail system to worry about cleaning up the scrap trees.”
“Oh great.” Victoria jerked like she wanted to throw down the oar and pace like a queen but, to his relief, she held steady to rowing. “Now I’m going to lose the entire operation because the year-round camp couldn’t take a few weeks to clean up what they left behind?”
“It’s worse than that,” Wall said. “There’s widowmakers everywhere up there. It’s downright dangerous to walk past the old Grove. I’d venture to guess we’ll see more deaths this year.”
Her chin vibrated as though she struggled to stop herself from crying, or out of anger, he wasn’t quite certain which she was more prone to displaying at this point. Over the years he’d learned—with the way her chest rose and fell—that particular rhythmic heave meant one of two things. A woman was about to let loose desperate tears, or a man had damn-well better run for his life. He’d yet to be able to figure out how to tell which one. Jax always ran.
Wall continued. “It’s normal to have a few deaths on a difficult year. You shouldn’t fret. We know what danger we’re getting into when we signed on, and each year gives us different difficulties. We adapt.”
“Yes, well, I’m responsible for these men, and I will not accept their deaths as readily as you who live with the danger. We have to come up with something. Some way to prevent anything else from happening.” She turned a pleading glance his way and made his inside hollow out. “You’re the man with ideas in this company. Help me, please? Help me figure out how to prevent future deaths, and how to get the government from shutting down the company when they discover their man’s death was not an accident, and more importantly, help me find out who killed him, and why.”
What it must have taken her to swallow her pride enough to ask for his help. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“No.” She frowned, and rowed hard enough the water began to tug at his oar, threatening to pivot the boat if he didn’t keep a steady pace with her. He adjusted his stroke to match hers.
“We can think on it for the next few days, and figure it out by the time we get to the mill,” he suggested. “The river has a funny way of letting a man think.”
“I suppose it does,” she said wistfully.
They rounded a bend in the river as Blue, Clint, and Dick pulled the bateau onto the bank near a blockage to the main fork. Wall angled the wannigan toward where the bateau sat. “That’s not good.”
“What’s wrong?” Victoria squinted.
“That fork is never blocked off, and it wasn’t a beaver who did it.”
“Someone intentionally blocked it?”
“Could be. We need to check it out to tell for certain.” In a few quiet minutes, Wall eased the boat up the bank and secured it to the base of a sturdy bush near the river’s edge. He raised his head in greeting to his friends. “How’s it looking?”
“See for yourself.” Blue motioned with his head toward the blockage.
Wall caught Victoria’s eye and then turned to walk toward where Blue had indicated. He followed the trail for a few seconds before the evidence of dynamite blasts eroded the banks, opening the fork to lead to a lesser used river, and closing off the main river from the water.
“What do we do?” Victoria’s lips pinched tight, and she glared at the blockage.
“We’ll blast it back open, and hope this is the only one, but my guess is that someone’s come along and diverted all of the water.”
“That man we saw riding?” Victoria asked, and glanced back up the river, even though the man was long gone by now.
“Perhaps, but we’d best concentrate on getting the water flowing again, and deal with whoever did this when we get the river open. We may want to get up the camp and get a load down as soon as we can after this float, just in case,” Wall suggested.
Victoria nodded, and then bent to tug at a stick near the bank to pull it free and toss it into the brush behind her back.
“I wouldn’t worry about yanking it stick by stick. We’ll blast it open again,” he said, and motioned for Dick to go get the dynamite.
Victoria stood back and wiped her hands on her skirt.
Wall continued, “I don’t think whoever did this counted on us coming down early to check the flow. I think they thought the drive would get hung up pretty bad, which is why I think we’ll find more.”
“I just hope we have enough dynamite,” Blue said.
Dick trotted up to them and began to hand out the explosives.
Wall took his bundles. “Come with me, Miz Victoria. We’ll set ours over in the smaller fork. I’ll show you how to stop the flow, while the boys open up the main river.”
On her nod, he led the way to the other side of the brush to where the creek fork roared to life with water not normally housed on that side of the tributary.
Within a
few minutes, he set three bundles of dynamite, and then directed Victoria where to stand as he lit the first bundle, and then ran to join her. The blast exploded through the air, causing Victoria to jump next to him. Instinctively, he reached out and pulled her into his embrace.
She tucked her head into his chest as the second blast sounded, and a few seconds later the third. The scent of her hair filled the dusty air around them and all he could concentrate on was the way she grounded him to the moment. To the importance of getting the creek fixed right so he could please her with a full turn to the mill.
Dirt filled the air as, in the distance, Blue, Clint, and Dick’s dynamite blasted along the river. Victoria glanced up into his face, her eyes shining with something he’d never seen before. Was it desire? He couldn’t be certain. Not with the way she jumped to her feet and stalked toward the main river like it owed her money.
More like she was mad at him for overstepping his role by taking her in his arms. But he couldn’t be sorry. Not for the way she’d felt with her head on his chest. At the very least, he could say he’d seen the softer side of the viper’s belly.
Chapter 5
Victoria settled down for the evening next to the fire, her arms dusted with grime from the last few days of the river float. She’d never been so exhausted, or thrilled, in her life. She felt free. Unrestrained from everything that held her back in life. The men had been more than hospitable, allowing her the privacy of the cabin on the wannigan while they took up beds on the cold, hard ground next to a fire outside.
And Wall. He was determined to keep his promise to protect her and had never left her side when the possibility of danger may have arose. They’d removed four more man-made blockages, all aimed at slowing down her drive. Whoever had set out to halt the river flow had only needed to wait another month or so and the mountains would have done the job for him, and the lower they got down the mountain, the lower the rivers seemed to get. It worried her. If they didn’t get a load down soon, they may lose whatever logs they’d already put into the lake for a raft. Months of winter work wasted.
Wall always seemed to be there to calm her fears with his mere presence as she thought of what might be. He was the one constant in all of this. The solid foundation.
Her heart began to beat rapidly in her chest the way it did that day when she’d instinctively took comfort in his embrace at the sound of the dynamite. Since then, she’d checked herself. Lived through each boom like a normal person was apt to do when faced with such a situation.
She liked the deep earthy musk that scented the front of his shirt though. It made her focus. She’d read somewhere that fragrances had the ability to lend a certain ambiance to a moment. Could make one focus, or even take away someone’s ability to think and put them to sleep. Perhaps that’s why the dirty cowboy she’d grown to at least like throughout the last few weeks seemed to lend her enough wits to react to situations properly. As he had when meeting Nichols. She didn’t think she could have done it with so much ease without Wall by her side.
His smell.
Not the man himself, of course. A hardened cowboy turned logger, while he has his burly uses, is not one to take home to father to help run the company. Even if said cowboy has the uncanny ability to invent odd contraptions.
Wall Adair was a man she needed to get out of her thoughts, steal whatever shirt smells the most of him, and then send back up the mountain before she lost her mind completely. As it was, she could barely keep it away from the man, and on the river.
The blasted man in question plopped his perfect backside down beside her and gave her that disarming grin. His irritatingly blue eyes sparkled as if he harbored a secret. “What?”
He gave a sideways nod toward the river. “There’s a little pool upstream, kinda hidden from the rest of the river.”
“And?”
He shared a knowing look with the rest of the Devil May Cares. “We like to use it to bathe.”
Uncaring as to how rude her behavior was, she let her mouth drop open. Did she smell so bad as to catch the attention of the loggers? “Are you saying I need a bath? I know I—”
Wall held up his hand to stop her words, and chuckled. “No, no.”
The Devil May Cares all quietly laughed as well, but graciously turned their attention down to the fire.
Wall continued, “I’m saying, if you would like to bathe, you can have the first turn. We’ll stay by the fire until you return. Promise. This is a favorite spot of ours because it’s sort of protected. Mind you it’s a bit low this year.”
Victoria searched the river for this treasured bathing hole. Still not quite believing him. After all, she did smell. A bit. “I wasn’t aware that filthy cowboys bathed.”
Wall shrugged, and stood. “We do when the right watering hole comes around.”
He motioned up river in a silent question, and she nodded, standing to follow as he began to lead the way.
“At home we have the best little creek that runs right through the valley from the range. There’s a tree next to it which sort of arches out over the water. My brother loves to disappear and hide out over there when my sisters get to be too much.”
“You come from a big family it sounds like.” She lengthened her stride and drew even with him, glancing up into his face as he smiled down on her. His scent drifting on the breeze to tease her senses, and ground her once more. “It’s only me at home, I’m afraid. If my mother had another child…a boy…I’m certain he would be running the family business.”
“And you would be unhappy at home?” Wall’s eyebrows raised at the question.
“Who knows? I may have been happy.”
“But you weren’t knowing that your father was going to give the company over to whoever you married.”
“Because it’s a family business, and I am his only child. It’s my duty to run it. Not a husband’s.”
“So you’d be fine being a wife somewhere if you had a brother to run your business?”
“Like I said, who knows. We certainly never will.”
Wall answered with a simple smile, but it was a pity smile. One she felt down to her toes. She’d always wanted a sibling. She had Garrett, of course, but he wasn’t a real brother. He was a family friend who treated her like a sister. Not the same. What she wouldn’t give to have a big family.
Perhaps someday.
The trees opened up to a small cove in the river, allowing for the perfect bathing spot, just as Wall had claimed. Excitement bubbled in Victoria’s chest. She didn’t have soap, but even a dip in the water would wash off the grime of a few days enough to make her feel like a woman again.
She stopped on the bank and turned with a genuine smile.
“I like that one,” he said, and mimicked the grin. His eye sparked with something that made her stomach flip.
“I rarely give it.”
“I know.” His voice was husky now. Low and almost primal, and the sound made her heart kick up.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bar of soap, wrapped in a cloth. “It’s not new. It’s mine. I figure if you can stand it, maybe you can give it a few swishes in the water to wash the filthy cowboy off.”
Something deep inside her flickered to life. Warmed the inner chambers of her core and made her want to reach out to touch him. To have the feel of his skin mix with the heat within her, and imprint on her memory. Instead, she clutched the threadbare cloth. “I think I can manage. Thank you.”
“I figure I’d like to see if my soap can make this curl bounce again.” He lifted his hand to the nape of her neck and tweaked her curl, sending her mind swirling. Unlike her, he took a deep breath. “It’s been a little limp since all that dynamite dust got in it.”
She forced herself to breathe, only to take in the scent of him. However, at this moment it did nothing to ground her to earth. Instead, it sent her reeling even
more as he bent down with the scent, and pressed his lips to hers.
Her knees buckled, but he caught her before she lost all balance. He deepened the kiss and her riotous body leaned into him. She returned his kiss as any woman would to a man like Wall.
A few dizzying moments later, he stepped back and simply stared down at her. His chest rose and fell in rhythm with hers. He slid his gaze to her lips once more, and she reached up to touch them. Needed to feel the effects he’d had on her mouth with the pads of her fingers.
Without another word, Wall turned and left her to her bath. Her body fiery with passion and knees weak. If she wasn’t careful, even the gentle flow of the pool would take her down river in her weakened state.
Once her legs would carry her, she eased her boots from her feet and set them along the bank. She waded into the river, fully clothed. First, taking the soap to her shirt, skirt, and then intimates. She undressed underwater, and then chanced leaning out of the surface enough to hang them on a long branch extending over the river.
She turned her back where her clothes would hopefully dry enough for her not to be too chilled when she put them back on. If not, she’d sit by the fire to accomplish the task.
What had happened on the bank? Wall—the leader of her rivermen, and a cowboy—had kissed her. She’d been kissed before, of course, but never like that. Not once had it made her melt into a man’s arms. Forget all thought but the sensation of his lips on hers. How did she feel about it? Confused. Thrilled. Violated? No not violated. Which surprised her. She’d never wanted to be kissed by a cowboy.
She took her time washing her hair and body, and was about to turn around to grab her clothes when a crack sounded from behind her. She spun around as her clothes fell into the water with the broken tree branch where they had hung.
Her heart pounded and she tried to run toward them as they picked up speed and headed toward the river current.
“No!” she yelled.
The force of water pushed against her, slowing her speed. She tried hard to run, but slipped, so she began to swim toward them, but it was too late. The clothes hit the current and drifted away faster than any log she’d ever seen take the river.
Fiery Passion Page 7