by Jane Hoppen
Whiskey Jack and Evelyn returned to the bunkhouse to see if Jones had anything else for them to do. Jones had Whiskey Jack join a few of the other men inside to try to stuff the chinks in the walls with whatever they could find.
“Bauer, I want you to go to the cook shanty and see if Mack and the flunkies have enough wood to make it through the night and into the morning. If they don’t have heat, we won’t have food. Help them pull together what they need.”
“Will do,” Evelyn said.
She grabbed on to the rope that led from the bunkhouse to the shanty and pulled herself through the driving snow. When she reached the cook shanty, she pounded on the door. Within a few minutes, she found herself face-to-face with Sarah.
“George, what is it?” Sarah asked, her voice barely audible over the howling wind.
“Jones told me to check with Mack and see if you need any more wood here for tonight and tomorrow,” Evelyn said.
“He just went with Annie to the cellar to get the provisions we’ll need for breakfast before the weather worsens,” Sarah said. “I think we’re set for wood. We started to pile it up in here last night, and I’ve got plenty in my shed.”
“The bad weather could go on for a few days,” Evelyn said. “You sure?”
“Well, maybe another bundle or two,” Sarah said. “I’d go with you, but Mack wants to get dinner going early tonight since the jacks are already in from the woods, and we’re a bit behind.”
“You start your work here,” Evelyn said. “I’ll go grab a couple more armfuls. Are you doing okay, otherwise?”
“I am,” Sarah said, her eyes meeting Evelyn’s. “I can’t tell you what a relief it’s been just having Sam away for a day, even with the storm coming. I haven’t had to feel so guarded. I didn’t realize how much his presence weighs on me.”
“Unfortunately, your break won’t last long,” Evelyn said. “Anyways, I better get going. Soon I won’t even be able to find the woodpiles. The snow’s falling harder now, and the winds are so violent that the drifting is covering any tracks.”
Evelyn turned to go, and Sarah caught her hand in her own.
“Be careful out there,” Sarah said. “And don’t forget tonight. Come after everyone eats and settles down.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea with this storm setting in,” Evelyn said.
“No one will even notice. Everyone will be distracted,” Sarah said with earnest desperation in her voice.
“Okay,” Evelyn said. “I’ll do what I can. I’ll be back with the wood in a bit.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said.
She finally released Evelyn’s hand.
* * *
As soon as everything in the camp was secured and the safety ropes were in place, the jacks returned to the bunkhouse where Jones did a headcount to make sure all the men had made it back from the woods.
“You’re going to have to make sure you keep the fire stoked tonight,” he told the jacks. “It’ll be colder than a witch’s tit, and you’ll be lucky if you don’t wake up to an inch or two of snow in here tomorrow morning.”
Some of the jacks crawled into their bunks, while others hunkered down on the deacon’s seat. A few of the men continued to fill whatever chinks they could find, hoping they would not wake to snow in the bunkhouse the next morning, as Jones predicted. Before long, the dinner triangle sounded, barely rising above the winds, and the jacks filed out of the bunkhouse, one at a time, grabbing hold of the safety line that led to the shanty.
The jacks seemed more rambunctious than usual that night after dinner, with the men wondering what the blizzard might bring and how long they might be holed up before it ended.
“What if Sam didn’t make it to town before the brunt of the storm hit?” one of the men asked.
“When did he head out?” another asked.
“He headed out in the middle of the night, long before we even woke,” said Poker Pete. “Chances are good that he made it to town before things got too bad, but he definitely might be delayed if he tries to return tomorrow.”
Poker Pete spent more time with Sam than any other jack. Some of the jacks guessed it was their mutual passion for cards and whiskey that cemented their camaraderie. They both also had a bully streak running through them.
The wind slammed against the bunkhouse in intervals, howling so ferociously that it seemed as if the entire forest was screaming. About an hour before lights out, when Evelyn figured that Sarah would finally be alone in her shed after the nighttime cleanup, she rose from her bunk and pulled on her outer clothing, then retrieved her pipe and tobacco from her pack. Whiskey Jack leaned over the top bunk.
“You’re going out in this weather, are you, George?” he asked.
“Feel everything closing in, Whiskey,” Evelyn said. “I’ve got to get some air before I bed down for the night.”
“Well, if you’ve got to go, you keep a tight grip on those ropes out there,” Whiskey Jack said.
“Will do. From the sound of those winds, they could pick up any one of us and carry us away.”
Evelyn bundled up with layers, pulled on her mittens, and walked toward the door. The other jacks were accustomed to her stepping out at night, but that night, she caught the attention of many of them.
“You’re going to freeze your balls off out there, Bauer,” Poker Pete yelled from the other side of the bunkhouse.
The others jacks laughed loudly. If they only knew, Evelyn thought.
“Well, it’s not like that equipment is doing me any good up here,” Evelyn said. “If you know what I mean.”
The jacks broke into laughter again, and Evelyn pushed the door open, the wind on the other side pushing back. She secured the door and grabbed on to the safety rope that led to the shanty. The snow had already blown into drifts, some nearly thigh high, and the visibility was zero. Evelyn carefully pulled herself along and, after what seemed like forever, she finally made it to the shanty. She latched on to the line that led to Sarah’s shed, and when she reached it, she pounded on the door. No answer. She pounded again, hoping the trip had not been in vain. The door opened, and Sarah pulled her in out of the cold.
“I was wondering if you’d come,” she said.
Evelyn wiped a hand over her face, wet with snow.
“The other jacks think I’m crazy,” she said. “I can’t dawdle here too long. I don’t want them to think I got lost out there.”
“It’s almost time for lights out,” Sarah said. “They’ll be conked out before they even realize you’re still gone, but I won’t keep you long. Sit down here and warm up, and then I’ll redo your wrap for you. I’ve got some salve that might soothe the wound some.”
Evelyn sat down and removed her coat, and she felt a fluttering in her stomach, realizing that Sarah would be…seeing her.
“Are you all right in here alone tonight?” Evelyn asked.
“Sounds like the winds are going to blow down these walls at times,” Sarah said. “I’ve got plenty of wood, though, and at least I don’t have to deal with Sam pacing back and forth in front of my door all night.” She sighed.
“He does that?” Evelyn asked.
“Some nights,” she said. “I keep the chair jammed up under the doorknob, in case he ever tries to enter. Not that I think he would do anything to cause me harm.”
“Has he ever tried to come in?” Evelyn asked.
“No, but the extra measure reassures me. At least I would have some warning. Let me stir the fire and we can get started. You can take off your coat and sit.”
Sarah gestured toward her cot. Fluttering filled Evelyn’s stomach once again.
“All right,” she said.
Sarah picked up a metal poker near the woodstove, opened the stove’s door, and stirred the coals.
“That should do for now,” she said.
“This place is so small,” Evelyn said. “I thought the bunkhouse was cramped.”
“At least I’m not stuck in the shanty with Sam,”
Sarah said. “Take off your shirts and I’ll help you remove your wrap.”
Evelyn removed her mackinaw. Sarah searched through her few belongings until she found a tin of salve, and when their eyes met, Evelyn quickly dropped hers, feeling shy. She took off her long john shirt, and a shiver crawled over her. Sarah looked at her unabashedly and reached over to gently and carefully unfasten the pins that held Evelyn’s wrap in place. The panel of linen was dirty and soiled with sweat from the long days of work, and it smelled as if it had absorbed all the odors of the bunkhouse.
“It’s so tight,” she said. “I don’t know how you can even breathe with it on, furthermore do the work that you do.”
“I knew the work up here would be hard, but I never could have imagined this,” Evelyn said. “George never really went into detail about what it’s like up here. Every part of my body aches.”
“Life on the farm must be a dream compared to what it is here,” Sarah said.
“It’s a difficult life, don’t get me wrong. But we get our breaks, our moments of relief,” Evelyn said. “This is nonstop.”
“My life with Abigail was so simple and easy,” Sarah said. “I’m almost embarrassed.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Evelyn said. “That was your path, just as the farm is mine.”
“It must have its charms,” Sarah said. “Doesn’t it?”
“Ah,” Evelyn said. “Folks do like to romanticize about farming, and it does have its perks—the self-sufficiency, the beauty of the land. The most difficult aspect is being in a position where one’s livelihood is so dependent on nature. No one controls nature.”
“I know,” Sarah said. “Compared to that, my life up until now has been so routine, commonplace in a sense. Can you raise your arms?”
Evelyn felt so self-conscious in that moment that a wave of panic surged through her, and she felt as if she was burning up. She raised her arms. Sarah was so close to her, before her, that she could feel the warmth of her breath. Evelyn’s entire body tingled. Sarah slowly unraveled the wrap until it was completely removed, and she dropped it to the floor.
“Well, you are a woman, indeed,” she said to Evelyn, taking her in. “I never would’ve known, under all the male clothing.”
Evelyn sat speechless as she felt herself blushing to crimson. She felt so foolish, sitting before this attractive, young woman, half undressed.
“I’ll make you a fresh wrap,” Sarah said. “Not fully actualizing what this place might be like, I packed a few linens, as if I’d actually need bedding.”
She giggled a bit. She rested a hand on one of Evelyn’s shoulders, and Evelyn stopped breathing for a moment, sitting still, in silence. She raised her head, her eyes meeting Sarah’s, and she then quickly looked away. She felt like such a klutz in that moment, compared to Sarah, and she had to admit that she was attracted to her in a way she never felt possible. She found her feelings so confusing. Part of her thought that the feelings were arising because of the role playing—George, Evelyn. It’s as if I’m confusing myself with someone else, she thought.
“I don’t like the look of these bruises,” Sarah said matter-of-factly. “I want to wash you down before I use the salve.”
She sat beside Evelyn on the bed, dipped a cloth into the small bucket of water, and began to rinse off Evelyn’s back. Her touch was soft, gentle.
“I’m sorry if it’s cold,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” Evelyn said. “I’ve been cold since the day I got here.”
Sarah smiled and put the cloth in the water again, wrung it out, and softly scrubbed Evelyn’s neck. She then moved to Evelyn’s breasts. Evelyn stiffened, and the surge that she felt, between her legs… An unfamiliar warmth traveled through her. Initially, she thought it was only because she had gone without any touch except for that of her children since George’s death, but even with George she had never experienced what she was feeling in that moment—a surge of titillation. Without thinking, she pulled away from Sarah.
“Are you okay?” Sarah asked. “Did I…?”
“I just caught a chill,” Evelyn answered quickly, not wanting Sarah to suspect anything else.
“I’m done anyway,” Sarah said. “I’ll just dry you off.”
They sat beside each other, surrounded by the noises of the blizzard outside—the crescendo of the wind rising to a roar and shaking the shanty. After she dried Evelyn’s back, Sarah reached for the tin of salve and scooped some out. She first rubbed it onto Evelyn’s back using solid, firm strokes.
“When you and Abigail met, how did you know…? What made you…?”
Evelyn felt herself stuttering, at a loss for words. Sarah looked at her.
“I discovered that I was attracted to girls, well, women, eventually, when I was in the orphanage,” Sarah said. “When Abigail took me in, she was so kind, and beautiful… My feelings for her took root in no time, and from there everything just seemed to happen naturally. She had been with a woman before me, but that ended when that woman’s parents pressured her into marriage. Have you always been drawn to men?”
“There was never any actual thought process,” Evelyn said. “Being with a woman would never have entered my mind. My relationship with George was formed more of necessity than passion,” Evelyn said. “He was a good man. We’d known each other since youth, but… By the time both of my folks were gone, my sister Helen was already living and working in the small town nearby. She’s been living with another woman for years, in a relationship like the one you had with your Abigail. I had always suspected it, but we only recently talked about it.”
“Do you think you would marry again?” Sarah asked.
“I don’t think so,” Evelyn said. “I can’t see myself seeking out a man.”
“If you could have any life that you wanted, what life would that be?” Sarah asked.
“I wouldn’t be here,” Evelyn answered.
They leaned into each other and laughed.
“Beyond that, I never contemplated having a life any different than the one I have now. I wouldn’t give up the children or the farm for anything, but I don’t think I will want another man in my life. I assume I’ll spend the rest of my life alone.”
“I am beginning to have that same fear for myself,” Sarah said. “What are your children’s names?”
“Peter is the oldest,” Evelyn answered. “He’s ten. Karl is seven, and little Louise is four, soon to be five. I think about them all the time. I’m sure everything is okay on the farm, or my sister would have contacted me, but…I’ve never been away from them before, even for a day.”
“They’re fortunate,” Sarah said. “You obviously would do anything for them that you had to.”
“Anything, any time,” Evelyn said.
“I admire your loyalty,” Sarah said. “It’s a most attractive trait.”
Evelyn couldn’t stop looking at Sarah’s lips—full, rose-colored, delicately curving.
“I should get ready to go back,” she said, though she regretted having to leave when she felt so at ease, when she and Sarah were just beginning to know each other.
“I wish you could stay,” Sarah said. “I wish we had more time.”
Evelyn wished the same thing but knew it was impossible. She sat quietly while Sarah tore a strip for a new wrap from a sheet.
“I don’t want to make this as tight as it was before,” she said.
“You’re going to have to,” Evelyn said. “I can’t take a chance of it coming undone.”
Sarah sighed.
“Okay,” she conceded. “Lift your arms.”
Evelyn raised her arms and Sarah began to wrap the strip of cloth over her breasts. When it was firmly in place, she fastened it with the pins.
“That should hold,” she said. “Say good-bye to Evelyn and hello to George.”
Evelyn rose to put on the rest of her clothes, dreading her return to the bunkhouse.
“I wish we could do this more often,” Sarah said. “This is the
first real conversation I’ve had since arriving here.”
“We have to be careful,” Evelyn said. “I worry that Sam already has his suspicions, and I’ve already had a few quarrels with the jack they call Poker Pete. I imagine he’d like nothing more than to see some trouble come my way.”
“I understand,” Sarah said.
“You sure you’ll be okay in here tonight?” Evelyn asked as a gust of wind rattled the shed. “Maybe you should stay in the shanty for the night.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sarah said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“That you will,” Evelyn replied.
Sarah cracked open the door, and Evelyn ventured out into the storm as a swirl of snow spun into the shed. Evelyn grabbed on to the rope that led from the shed to the cook shanty. She could see nothing ahead of her but the blowing whiteness. Each step against the wind was a struggle, the wind most often winning—one step forward, two steps back. At the shanty, she snagged the rope that led to the bunkhouse. When she finally reached it, a drift of snow banked the door. With one hand still on the rope, she laboriously cleared a small opening before the door with her free hand, then, using all the strength she had, she pulled the door open.
She didn’t think she had been absent for much more than half an hour, but the bunkhouse already felt frigid. With the lights out, the faint light that emanated from the woodstove lit the room only slightly. She made her way to the stove and put in two more logs of wood. When the fire flared, she saw that a light layer of snow was, indeed, covering the inside of the bunkhouse, just as Jones had warned that it would. Evelyn made her way to her bunk, kicked off her boots, removed her coat, and crawled beneath her cover. The snoring of the jacks mixed with the sounds of the whining wind. Whiskey Jack hung his head over the top bunk.
“Was beginning to worry about you, George,” he said.
“Got a bit turned around out there,” Evelyn said, startled that he was still awake. “Storm’s not slacking up at all.”
“Sure you didn’t stop by that shed for some warming up with the flunky, Bauer?” Poker Pete piped up from the other side of the room.