by Jane Hoppen
“My hair used to be long, down to the middle of my back, and I have my breasts bound.”
Sarah giggled slightly.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I must admit I’m a bit relieved.”
“Relieved?” Evelyn said.
“It’s just that you seemed different from the others somehow, nothing I could really put a finger on, but…I never would have guessed this.”
“Ah,” Evelyn said. “You don’t think the others suspect anything, do you?”
“Goodness no,” Sarah said. “As it is, Sam dislikes you because he thinks you and I…Wouldn’t he be surprised?”
“I’m sure everybody would,” Evelyn said.
“How are you able to keep up with the work?” Sarah asked. “I can barely manage my kitchen duties.”
“I’m accustomed to a hard day’s work,” Evelyn said. “The work on the farm has prepared me in many ways. I’ve chopped plenty of wood in my day. I just focus on my children. If I fail here, I fail them. George passed away suddenly, with no warning, and we were strapped for money. Coming here seemed to be my only feasible option.”
“That’s very honorable,” Sarah said.
“It’s a matter of necessity.”
“I understand.”
“So, my secret’s safe with you?” Evelyn asked.
“Of course,” Sarah said. “I would never do anything to put you in harm’s way. But maybe if they knew you were a woman, if they knew of your circumstances, they would let you work in the cook shanty, instead of sending you into the woods.”
“I can’t risk it,” Evelyn said. “Besides, you already have a full house in the shanty, and as you said, Sam doesn’t particularly like me. Johnny would most likely just send me back home.”
“I guess you’re right,” Sarah said.
Evelyn turned toward the bunkhouse.
“I should get going,” she said.
Sarah quickly snagged one of her hands with her own.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Evelyn,” she said.
Evelyn smiled and Sarah released her hand and headed toward the shanty.
When Evelyn returned to the bunkhouse and settled back down, shivering beneath her blankets, she felt a sense of excitement, her truth finally revealed. She also found herself wondering even more about Sarah and wishing they had more opportunity to talk and confide with each other, but Whiskey Jack had forewarned her about Sam not long after the porcupine incident. They had been trudging through the snow, scouting a spot to work in that day.
“I’ve noticed Sam’s been keeping a keen eye on you lately,” Whiskey Jack had said.
“Yeah?” Evelyn said.
“Ever since that flunky helped you out with Henry.”
“That’s nothing for him to worry about.”
“Doesn’t matter if you’ve got intentions or not, George. It’s about what he thinks might be going on, and he’s clearly smitten with the woman.”
“Nothing I can do about what he’s thinking,” Evelyn had said.
“I just think you should watch your back around him, and around her,” Whiskey Jack had told her. “I reckon Sam has a jealous streak.”
“I don’t think there’s anything to fret about,” Evelyn had said. “I’ll heed your warning, though.”
As much as she didn’t want to create any additional hardships for herself at the camp, Evelyn craved some personal connection, and now that Sarah knew her truth… Evelyn closed her eyes and envisioned Sarah. She wondered how old she was. She was certainly younger than Evelyn. She had mentioned a loss, and Evelyn wondered what that loss was. With Sarah on her mind, she drifted off to sleep.
Back in her shed, Sarah paced back and forth. She was shocked by her discovery. George was Evelyn. Evelyn was George. No wonder she had been drawn to the strange jack. He was a woman. George was a woman. Sarah had to admit that Evelyn was doing a grand job of melding in with the other jacks. She had found her attraction to George Bauer odd and somewhat disconcerting, but she had never considered that this might be the case. When she finally settled down, she realized it was time to head to the cook shanty. She stepped out of the shed and grabbed the bucket of water that she had fetched. She walked to the shanty, snow crackling beneath her boots. She took a deep breath of the crisp air. Soon she would see George—Evelyn—again, and she had to admit that the small attraction she had harbored before had suddenly become more amplified.
* * *
Evelyn rose with the rest of the jacks and headed to the cook shanty. She was anxious to see Sarah. She entered the shanty and glanced about the room; her eyes settled on Sarah, then shifted away. She sat down, filled her plate, and lifted her empty coffee cup in the air, her hand slightly shaking. She kept her eyes focused on her plate while she waited for one of the flunkies to come to her table. When Sarah reached her side, Evelyn felt her cheeks flush with heat, and she grew so nervous that she found herself holding her breath. Sarah fleetingly rested a hand on her shoulder before moving on to refill another jack’s cup, and Evelyn felt the same warmth she had felt the first time Sarah touched her. When she did finally look up, she saw Sam, glaring at her from across the room, with a disgruntled look on his face. He then turned his attention to Sarah.
Evelyn returned to the bunkhouse with the others after breakfast to retrieve her ax, only to find it missing.
“Let’s get going, George,” Whiskey Jack said as he lifted his ax to his shoulder.
“Can’t find my ax,” Evelyn said. “Left it right by the bunk, just like I always do.”
“My guess is Poker Pete’s got that ax,” Whiskey Jack said. “He’s known for ruining his own equipment and taking what he needs from the rest of us. That man would steal from himself if he had anything worth taking. Besides, he’s got a bone to pick with you.”
Evelyn quickly turned around and headed outside, scanning the dispersing crowd of lumberjacks until she saw Poker Pete. She hurried over to him with Whiskey Jack following closely behind.
“I think that’s my ax you’ve got there, Pete,” she said.
“I’m thinking you’re wrong, Bauer,” Poker Pete said. “You know all these axes look alike. This one here is definitely mine. You must’ve misplaced yours.”
“Not likely that I’d lose track of my ax,” Evelyn said. “I put it in the same place every night.”
She reached out to take hold of the ax Poker Pete was carrying.
“Mine’s got my initials carved into the bottom of the handle,” she said.
She firmly grabbed the ax, and Poker Pete pushed her away. Evelyn moved in again to claim the ax, and Poker Pete took a swing at her. Evelyn ducked, but Poker Pete’s fist landed squarely on her left cheek. She reeled backward, then regained her balance and rushed Poker Pete, head butting him in the belly. A surge of rage traveled through her. That was it. She had had enough of Poker Pete. She grabbed his legs behind the knees, just as she had seen the other jacks do while Indian wrestling, and took him down. She was about to deliver her first blow to Poker Pete when Whiskey Jack pulled her off him.
“Don’t do it, George,” he said. “You’ll get in as much trouble as he will. Johnny won’t care who started the fight. He’ll send both of you home.”
Evelyn released Poker Pete and grabbed the ax that was lying on the ground. She looked at the bottom of the handle and showed it to Poker Pete.
“Just like I said—GB.”
Still on the ground, Poker Pete grunted. “I’m not forgetting this, Bauer,” he snapped.
Whiskey Jack steered her away from Poker Pete, and they headed into the woods. Evelyn knew that Poker Pete was her biggest foe at the camp, besides Sam, and she knew he was not to be trusted. She ran a hand over her cheek, which still stung from the impact of Poker Pete’s punch. Evelyn had never been in a fight before, with anyone, but she felt no fear. She couldn’t afford to. She thought that some of the men at the camp might be posturing, transforming into kinder, gentler men when they returned home, but she knew that most
of them were incapable of anything else. She was just grateful to have aligned with Whiskey Jack and Henry. They were the only jacks she trusted, and she had to always be prepared to defend herself. Her life at the camp was all about survival.
“He’s really going to have it out for you now,” Whiskey Jack said as they tramped through snow.
“Not my problem,” Evelyn said. “He’s had it out for me ever since I helped Jankowski and questioned him about the porcupine.”
“Well, you’ll have to watch your back,” Whiskey Jack said.
Evelyn knew he was right.
“Maybe he should watch his,” she said.
She now would have to be vigilant of both Sam and Poker Pete. She and Whiskey Jack pushed deeper into the woods, walking the rest of the way in silence. Snow began to fall, lightly at first, and then heavier, a gauzy white curtain descending over the woods. Evelyn gazed up at the crystalline flakes and licked her lips. She yearned to be back at home, with her children, and her heart felt dark and heavy. Back home, Helen would be rousing the children, getting the boys ready for their chores and then school, with little Louise by her side.
Chapter Six
The Sunday after Sarah discovered the truth about Evelyn, she woke with a sense of relief that she had never before experienced since her arrival at the camp. The jacks would be at camp for the day, and she would be able to see more of Evelyn than she did on any other day. They hadn’t had a chance to speak since their encounter at the outhouse, and Sarah was determined to find some way to connect with her, away from the others. She pulled on her clothes and coat and went to the cook shanty to stir the coals in the fireplace. The embers that remained after a night of burning were a luminescent blue that suddenly flared into a bright orange-red. Sam and Mack were still asleep, snoring in their bunks. She moved to the other side of the shanty and built the fire in the woodstove. The smell of pine filled the cook shanty, and she took a deep breath. A cloud of frost escaped when she exhaled, and she shivered in the cold. The day would not begin to warm until the sun climbed up above the tree line.
As the fires slowly began to warm the shanty, Sarah began to prepare the breakfast for the day, first filling the coffeepots with water and grinds and putting them on the woodstove. The door to the small room in the back opened and Annie walked out. She sniffed the air.
“You already started the coffee?” she asked.
“Got the first four pots on,” Sarah said. “You can set the tables while I check on the beans I put in the fireplace last night.”
“Okay,” Annie said.
Sam roused from his sleep, mumbled a good morning, put on his coat, and went outside, nudging Mack on his way. Mack sat up, pulled on his boots and coat without saying a word, and followed Sam outside. Sarah returned to the fireplace and carefully pulled the pot of beans from the coals. She removed the lid, grabbed a large spoon, and stirred. The smell of molasses rose from the pot. Sarah took a small taste of the beans, put the lid back on the pot, and carried it over to the large counter near the woodstove. She turned her attention to the salt pork and began to hum.
“You seem to be quite happy this morning,” Annie said.
“I slept well last night,” Sarah said. “And it’s Sunday—the one day we get a bit of a break.”
“It is strange having the jacks around during the day, but it does bring the camp to life,” Annie said. “When they’re in the woods, everything here seems so quiet and desolate.”
Sarah glanced at Annie. She knew the girl must feel as isolated as she did, and she had caught her settling her eyes on Henry Jankowski more than once.
“Perhaps you can find an opportunity to chat with that young jack you’ve had your eyes on.”
She watched Annie’s cheeks redden.
“Is it that obvious?” Annie asked. “I’d hate to get in trouble with Father.”
“I’m sure he’s never noticed,” Sarah said. “Too much hubbub going on in here, and his eyes are almost always on the stove.”
Annie sighed.
“Do you know his name?” she asked coyly.
“Henry Jankowski,” Sarah said. “He seems to be a nice young man. A bit timid.”
“I think he’s quite handsome,” Annie said.
The door to the shanty slowly pushed open and Mack entered. Sarah wished that Sam’s temperament was more akin to his, as he was good-natured, always humming and whistling as he performed his chores, and he treated his daughter with patient kindness.
“Good morning,” he said as he headed to the stove.
Both Sarah and Annie greeted him, then their conversation fell flat as they began to bustle about the shanty.
* * *
Sarah grew excited as the last of the loggers filed out of the shanty after breakfast. The sun was finally perched up in the sky, and she looked forward to spending some time in its bright warmth after they cleaned up the mess remaining from breakfast. Sam and Mack left to take the pot for the beans out for a soaking in the river. Sarah and Annie gathered up the tin cups, plates, and utensils and began to scrub them in the basin. They then tackled the pots and pans. The lunch for the day was simple, prepared the day before—sandwiches, pies, and coffee. The coffee never ceased to flow at the camp.
By the time they finished with their chores, they could hear the shouts and guffaws of the loggers gathering outside. Annie went to her room to collect the clothes she needed to wash, and Sarah quickly swept the shanty floor. She looked out one of the tiny windows to search through the crowd of jacks, checking to see if Evelyn had emerged yet. When she spotted her, she felt a sense of urgency. She turned from the window and left the shanty to go to the shed to grab her laundry and a few items she needed to mend. She reached into a small bag in her satchel and took out a darning needle and a nearly empty spool of thread, which she put in her coat pocket. She needed some reason to approach Evelyn without stoking Sam’s ire too much.
Outside, the sun hit the icy snow with a blinding glare, but its warmth felt like a welcome caress. Sarah headed to the kettle that she and Annie used for washing and turned it over. Annie joined her and they walked to the river to fill buckets with water. When they returned Sarah noted that Evelyn had already situated herself on the stump she usually occupied while mending clothes. Sarah built and lit the fire beneath her and Annie’s kettle, and they filled it with the water they had fetched and waited for it to begin to boil. When the water was finally hot enough, they both plunged their clothes into the kettle. Unable to wait any longer, Sarah stirred the kettle of soaking clothes with a long wooden paddle. She then turned to Annie.
“I need to see if that jack over there has some thread I can borrow,” she said. “I’ll have to add that to the list of provisions that we need when Sam next travels to town.”
She walked over to Evelyn, carefully glancing over her shoulder to see if she spotted Sam. He was nowhere in sight, and she suspected that he and a few of the jacks had escaped into the woods for an illicit game of poker, perhaps a drink or two of whiskey. Standing beside Evelyn, Sarah cleared her throat and spoke quietly.
“Sorry to interrupt you, George,” she said.
The name caught in her throat.
She waited for the moment when Evelyn’s eyes would lift and meet hers. Evelyn raised her head.
“Morning,” she said.
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Sarah said. “The sun feels so good.”
“Does, doesn’t it?” Evelyn replied, awkwardly shifting on the stump.
“I seem to be running a bit low on thread,” Sarah said. “I was wondering if you could spare some until Sam goes for more supplies.”
“I think I have half a spool that I can let you use,” Evelyn said.
She dug into one of her coat pockets and pulled out a spool, then handed it to Sarah. Their fingers met for a moment, and Sarah wished the moment could linger, but Evelyn quickly retracted her hand. Sarah studied the spool of thread. No part of her wanted to leave Evelyn’s side.
Evelyn didn’t say anything initially, but just as Sarah turned to walk away, she spoke.
“I reckon it’ll be a good night for a smoke.”
Feeling a quiver of joy, Sarah headed back to Annie and their kettle. Annie was smiling at her shyly.
“Are you taking a liking to that jack?” she asked.
Startled, Sarah felt herself blush. She opened her hand to reveal the spool of thread.
“Of course not,” she said a bit too earnestly. “I told you. I needed to borrow some thread for today’s mending.”
“He’s the jack who helped Henry, isn’t he?” Annie asked. “He seems different from the others—quieter.”
“He does seem to be a rather mild man compared to the others,” Sarah agreed.
“So?” Annie said in her young, schoolgirl voice.
Sarah wanted to put an end to Annie’s speculations.
“He’s a married man,” she said. “I think he said he has three children back home. Besides, I’m not looking for a man. I’m perfectly content with my life back home. I just have to make it through the rest of my days here so I can finally return.”
“I live for the day I can meet the right man and get married,” Annie said. “That’s the only way I’ll ever be able to leave my folks’ farm.”
Sarah felt a certain sadness for the young girl, as she knew she spoke the truth, the truth of most women. Annie and so many others like her would never think about venturing out into the world alone. The world, as it was, didn’t seem suited for that. Those very realities made Evelyn even more intriguing to her. She could not imagine the strength and tenacity it must take to pull off such a masquerade.
* * *
Sarah never thought the night’s cleanup after dinner would end. When she and Annie finally finished the dishes, complete darkness had descended and the winds were creeping in through the shanty wall’s chinks. Mack had gone out to use the outhouse before bedding down, and Sam had already passed out in his bunk.