Log Cabin Christmas

by Margaret Brownley

  He had her hemmed in.

  “I’ve been waiting for this chance, Adie. You’re a hard one to catch, but I knew I’d get you sooner or later.”

  Her palms began to sweat. Her heart thumped in panic. “What are you doing here in the middle of the morning?”

  “I volunteered to tell Cookie we shot a deer. He needs to come skin it so we can have some good eatin’ tonight. What a bonus to find you here by yourself.” He touched her cheek with his rough hand.

  She recoiled at his touch, trying to think of a way to escape. Maybe if she slipped under his arms and ran faster than she ever had, she could get back safely inside.

  Derek spat a stream of tobacco juice into the snow, wiping his mouth on his shoulder. He leaned in, planting a hard, heavy kiss on Adie’s mouth. The sickeningly sweet, pungent scent of the cheap corn liquor he loved to drink flavored his breath, to nauseating effect. Bile rose in her throat when his cracked, dry lips scraped hers.

  She couldn’t scream. She tried to plant her arms on his chest and push him away, but he grabbed her wrists, pinning them against the log wall. All blood flow to her hands ceased.

  The blows her high-buttoned shoes landed on his shins didn’t bother him. He leaned in harder. She couldn’t draw a breath. The world spun. Bright colors flashed behind her eyes.

  Then two hands grabbed Derek around his neck and pulled him off her. She gulped air. Noah tightened his grip on Derek, his thumbs on the shorter man’s windpipe. “You’d better leave your filthy hands off this lady.”

  Adie wilted against the building in relief.

  Noah shook him. “Stay away from her. Do you understand?”

  The big man fell to his knees.

  “Do you understand?”

  Derek nodded. Noah released his grip and gave the jack a kick.

  But then Derek stood and spun, fists balled, lunging at the slender man, who darted to the side moments before those huge fists would have connected with his stomach.

  Fear jerked her legs from under her. She slumped in the snow.

  The giant took another step toward Noah. Before he could strike, Mr. Larsen emerged from the wanigan. “Ah, Owens, perfect. Cookie mentioned he needed more wood chopped. Since you’re free, you can take care of that. Get your axe. The woodpile’s behind the kitchen.”

  Mr. Larsen stood with his hands on his hips. Derek searched a moment before locating his ax next to Adie. She didn’t want to think about what he would have done if he’d remembered it. She’d been so afraid for Noah she hadn’t noticed it beside her.

  “Come on, Owens, let’s go.” Mr. Larsen still stood in the store doorway.

  Derek surveyed Noah and Adie. Her skin felt like it crawled with ants. “This ain’t over. My pa was a weak-willed man who let my ma beat up on him. I’m not like him. Not at all. I always get what I want. Watch and see if I don’t.”

  Chapter 5

  After Derek left, followed by Mr. Larsen, Noah helped Adie to her feet. Her heart trembled at his touch, along with the rest of her body.

  He wrapped his arms around her.

  She wished she could clean the taste of Derek—with his tobacco and booze—out of her mouth.

  “Can’t you see you’re not safe here? You need someone to protect you. You need me.” He paused for a moment then tightened his embrace. “You have to marry me.”

  His hold warmed her. She stopped shivering, yet she couldn’t bring herself to admit he was right. “You did protect me today, even though we aren’t married. Derek took me by surprise and had me pinned before I could react, but Daddy taught me to fight for myself. Look, you came to my rescue at the precise moment I needed you. We don’t have to be married for you to watch out for me.” Relief mingled with disappointment at those words.

  “I saw Owens coming through the woods as I went to join the other loggers. For a while I kept going, but God gave me this feeling that things weren’t right. Part of me knew I had to go after him. If I hadn’t been late today, I wouldn’t have seen him. There’s no telling what he would have done if I hadn’t stopped him. If he surprises you again—and he will—you won’t be able to protect yourself.”

  She tried to ignore the truth in his words but couldn’t. All the labor in the camp had made her strong but hadn’t made her grow or put on weight. She’d only be able to fend off Derek if she had the element of surprise on her side.

  “I’ll be careful. Next time I’ll pay better attention.”

  Noah shook his head and released his hold on her.

  If only Daddy were here to give her some advice. Of course, if Daddy were here she wouldn’t be in this pickle. Adie didn’t know what to do. How could she marry a stranger? Cookie encouraged her to do so, but what did he know about marriage and a woman’s heart?

  Stepping to the side and looking up, she examined Noah. A slight smile curled his lips, and something about him that she couldn’t pinpoint exuded warmth and kindness.

  Her father had told her Noah came to the camp this winter to earn money for seminary. He wanted to be a preacher. All the preachers Adie knew rode the circuit. They didn’t settle down. Unless he wanted to be a big-city preacher. That kind lived in fancy brick houses, not in cozy log cabins. Either way, she’d be forced to give up her dream forever. She’d never have her quiet, peaceful life.

  Noah reached out to her. He stopped before he touched her. “Adie?”

  She turned her back to him, thinking of Derek. Her arms tingled where he’d squashed her wrists. The crush of his weight against her hadn’t fully eased. What could she do to defend herself? He had well over a hundred pounds on her. If he came back for more like he promised, would it end as well as it had today? She knew the answers to her own questions.

  Noah was right. She was alone. Defenseless. A lumber camp was no place for a young woman. Women worked in other camps. Much older women, married women. Or the other kind, the kind she didn’t want to be, but the kind she’d end up as if Derek had his way. She’d be easy prey then for any man in the camp.

  She didn’t have another choice.

  She turned toward Noah, staying out of arm’s reach. “I’ll marry you.”

  Noah stared at Adie as she stood by his side in her simple brown gown. He’d never seen her in anything other than her faded work clothes, covered with an apron. This must be her Sunday best.

  Mr. Larsen, who served as justice of the peace among his other duties, intoned the words of the marriage ceremony. Noah didn’t hear a word.

  She clasped her hands in front of her so tightly her knuckles turned white.

  “Do you, Noah Bradford Mitchell, take this woman …”

  Did he? Yes, this was the right thing to do, the thing the Lord would have him do. He may never lead a congregation as their pastor, but he would serve the Lord this way.

  He’d insisted the blacksmith fashion crude rings for them. Derek Owens and the others needed a visual reminder that Adie was his wife and that they had to stay away.

  They said the appropriate words at the appropriate times, and so they were married.

  By the time Adie returned to her little cabin after supper dishes that evening, Noah had built up the fire, and warmth enveloped the small space.

  Noah. Her husband. How strange that sounded. How odd to see him in this place.

  She studied him as he stirred the logs, muscles rippling under his lumber shirt. He had a strong profile with a regal-looking nose and the indefinable quality of compassion about him. And he was good-looking.

  Adie heard her mother’s voice in her head. “Handsome is as handsome does.” So far, this applied to Noah inside and out.

  She warned herself not to lose her heart to this man. God had a way of taking from her all the people she loved. Caring about another person led to heartbreak in the end. She’d have to exercise caution so she didn’t come to feel for him.

  He noticed her and placed the poker on the mantel, next to the daguerreotype of her parents. A picture of another couple with several childre
n had joined it. She furrowed her brows.

  “Those are my parents and sisters. While I waited for you, I brought my things from the bunkhouse. I won’t get in your way, but I’d like to have my picture there, too.”

  “I don’t mind.” And she didn’t, until she spied his quilt on Daddy’s bed. When she’d changed her clothes after the ceremony, she’d folded her father’s quilt, the one from the bed he and Mama shared, and placed it in the small trunk at the foot of her bed. Noah’s red star coverlet looked strange there, out of place. At least he’d kept the sheet hanging between the two rope beds.

  “You are bothered. I can tell.”

  She shook her head, unwilling to speak the lie.

  “Come on, sit down. It’s been an unusual day. I made a pot of black lead.” He poured them each a cup of coffee.

  He sat across from her. “This is strange to both of us. We need time to get to know each other and feel comfortable together. I’ll keep my promise and not, well … you know. But I want us to be friends. Life will be easier if we can get along.”

  “Thank you.” She sent him a small smile to let him know she appreciated his kindness. “I’d like for us to get along.” But not too well or too close. “Tell me about all those sisters of yours.”

  She’d picked a good topic. While she sipped her coffee, he told her about each of his sisters, their personalities, their likes and dislikes, and the families of the ones who were married. In spite of her heart’s warning, she laughed when he told her how he’d teased them, pulling boyish pranks like snakes in beds and frogs in lunch pails.

  “Of course, they got even with me. I remember one piece of pumpkin pie complete with a dollop of Pa’s shaving cream instead of whipped cream.”

  She laughed, surprising herself. She shouldn’t be merry so soon after her father’s death, but it did warm her heart.

  He leaned back in his chair and took a swig of his coffee. “Now it’s your turn. What about your family? I know you don’t have any siblings, but do you have cousins? Aunts and uncles?”

  “I don’t have any family.” The ache in her chest returned full force and then some. She wanted this conversation to end. Scraping her chair back, she stood. “It’s been an exhausting day. I’m going to retire. Good night.”

  He opened his mouth as if to question her but slammed it shut. “Good night, Adie. Sleep well.”

  As she closed the sheet that served as a curtain, the one separating her from her husband, she remembered how her parents said good night. Such a tender look would pass between them. Her father would take her mother in his arms, hold her close, whisper into her hair, and kiss her for a long time.

  The memories brought tears to her eyes. The knowledge that she would never have that kind of relationship sent them streaming down her face.

  Noah thunked his forehead with the palm of his hand. How could he be so stupid, bringing up her family like that? They had been having a good time, getting along. She laughed in all the right places and put him at ease. Then he had to go and mention her family, right after her father passed away. What a dummkopf. He knew she didn’t have any family; Quinn had told him more than once.

  From now on he would need to choose his words with care. He knew he had to protect her from the uncouth men in the logging camp. He didn’t realize he’d have to protect her from himself.

  Chapter 6

  Adie washed, dressed, and left the cabin the next morning before Noah woke. He marveled at the long hours she worked. At four, Cookie woke them with his call, “Daylight in the swamp,” and they were at the mess hall by four-thirty. He never thought about how early Cookie and his assistant rose to have the meal ready.

  Anticipation swelled in him when he thought about her. His wife. To care for and watch over. The task almost overwhelmed him. She’d be part of his life from now until he died.

  On the short walk to the mess hall, he met some former bunkmates. Roger, the one with a spotty beard, clapped him on the back. “So, Preacher Man, you enjoy your wedding night?”

  He tried to convince himself that the wind made his cheeks burn.

  “How lucky to have a woman to keep you warm. Wish I had one.”

  He let them believe he and Adie had a true marriage, to keep them from bothering her.

  As they entered the mess hall, he spied her bringing pancakes from the kitchen. The men broke Cookie’s absolute silence rule as she came with the sweat pads. “Morning, Mrs. Mitchell,” they chorused. An invisible brush painted her cheeks pale pink. My, she was beautiful. Part of him came to life when he gazed at her.

  She sashayed to his side, and a red curl, escaped from its pins, bounced along. “Good morning.”

  He grinned like a kid with a peppermint stick.

  A jack at the far end of the room shouted, “Come on. Kiss her already.”

  The men pounded on the table. “Kiss her! Kiss her!”

  Cookie emerged from the kitchen, glaring at those who broke his no-talking rule. Noah asked Adie the question with his eyes. She nodded. He rose and wrapped his arms around her. Their first—and probably their last—kiss happened in front of a crowd. He bent and placed his lips against hers. They were warm, soft, and tasted like syrup. She leaned into him. Everything faded but the whoosh of blood in his ears.

  The men cheered, and they parted after a too-short time. Cookie raised his voice. “Enough. If you want breakfast, you’d best be quiet.”

  As if doused with ice water, they hushed. Noah, awash in embarrassment, shoveled pancakes on his plate and drowned them in butter. Adie returned to the kitchen, a rush of cold air filling the void beside him. He missed her.

  He remembered the promise he made last night. He had to round up his stampeding emotions before he hurt her.

  Only the scrape of forks against tin plates made noise. But the stares of the men dug into him, like his mother’s when he’d been up to something.

  He hurried, wondering which dish Adie had prepared—sweat pads, cackleberries, or doorknobs. Ma would scoff at his jack lingo and tell him to speak proper English.

  With his stomach satisfied, he went to find her. He had to see her. Sometimes she came with Cookie when he brought pots of steaming soup, but not always.

  “Where you going, Preacher Man?” Derek, stationed in front of the kitchen door, spat the words. No one could mistake the challenge in his voice and tone. He might be sober at breakfast, but liquor was sure to make him feel bulletproof by sundown. Bulletproof enough to challenge Noah with more than words. Best to set Derek straight now, in front of everybody.

  Noah leaned around his rival, placing his left hand on the table. The hand with the crude ring. “I’m going to see my wife.”

  Derek spoke through clenched teeth, his chaw bulging in his cheek. “You made a mistake. I’d wager the marriage ain’t real. Hope you don’t regret it, ‘cause things ain’t over between us.”

  Back in the kitchen, Adie tried to concentrate on frying bacon. Not that concentrating on anything was easy, considering Noah’s kiss. She knew they had to put on a show for the jacks, but, against her will, she wished the kiss could have been real.

  Noah’s gentleness proved such a contrast to her vile encounter with Derek. The pleasant aroma of shaving cream clung to his face, making her want to draw closer. His lips, which she felt certain had never spat tobacco juice or touched a drop of strong drink, felt full and luxurious—yet unmistakably manly. When they broke away from each other, she’d sensed he hadn’t been unaffected. Had she seen a flicker of longing, of what could be?

  No. You can’t think these things. This is a marriage of convenience. That’s all.

  The sound of the door opening completed her journey back to reality. She turned to see Noah. Instead of the soft look he’d worn after their kiss, the angles of his face were hard. He bore the stance of a rabid dog straining to be let loose. All fantasies evaporated. “What’s wrong?”

  “Stay away from Owens.”

  “Why?”

  “Have
Cookie bring out the platters. Or I’ll serve. And don’t go outside for water. Cookie can.”

  “He won’t hurt me.”

  “Was I wrong about him coming after you?”

  Every ounce of her hated admitting defeat. She didn’t want anyone to know she was afraid. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  He touched her upper arm. The heat of his hand soaked through her cotton sleeve and made her shiver. “Come with Cookie when he brings lunch. I don’t want you alone.”

  The old man piped up from the big griddle across the room. “Don’t worry none. I got my eye on her.”

  Adie laughed. Now two men observed her every move. Soon they’d be escorting her to the outhouse.

  Noah touched her cheek then stepped back. “Don’t go out alone. Cookie can walk with you wherever you need to go.”

  She couldn’t suppress her giggle.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “We’ve been married less than a day, and already we’re thinking the same thoughts. Mama and Daddy finished each other’s sentences.” She warned her heart not to get attached. She’d had enough heartache.

  Compassion filled Noah’s eyes. “See you later.”

  “You be careful, too.”

  She couldn’t bear another loss.

  Adie had two Dutch ovens from tonight’s stew to wash, and then she’d be finished. She longed to return to the cabin. How would she and Noah spend their evening? She recalled Mama darned socks or mended petticoats while Daddy whittled, their cabin snug against the bitter winds. Daddy had done a great job with the chinking. Not a finger of cold had seeped through.

  That was all she wanted. Not a big house with so many rooms you got lost, but a cozy cabin with a loft. She’d slept in their cabin’s loft before Daddy had started wandering. In the summer, rain pattered on the roof inches from her head. In the winter, frost covered the windowpanes and hoary nails in the eaves.