Chapter One

Northern Wisconsin
Thursday, December 18, 1930

Still a week until Christmas and Patrick Martins’s gloved fingers were nearly frozen. He flexed them on the handle of the crosscut saw he shared with his sister’s friend, Kyle Docherty. Kyle’s stocking cap hid his shaggy strawberry-blond hair but not his wind-burned ears.

They’d already notched one side of the hardwood tree to control the direction of its descent. Now they bit the teeth of the saw into the tree’s opposite side. Back and forth they drew the saw. Sweat gathered on Patrick’s back. His arm muscles burned, the pain the only feeling that reminded him he was alive.

“Timber!” The voice of his brother, David, had Patrick and Kyle pausing their work.

The tall tree Patrick’s brother had cut with his lumber partner teetered before cleanly crashing to the ground. Kyle tugged their saw to get it moving again, but while they worked, Patrick watched as a handful of men attacked the felled tree. They would trim the branches until only the trunk was left. Then they’d drag it over to the sled wagon where a pulley system lifted the log to the top of the horse-drawn sleigh that would take the towering load down the icy road to the rail line.

Their foreman, Emyr Hughes, directed the loading. He owned the team of four draft horses that pulled the sleigh. Stories told how he and the owner of the Alaric Lumber Company, Arthur Alaric, grew up together. While Alaric founded the lumber company, Hughes kept it running. He swore like a taskmaster, drank like Patrick’s father, and had a beautiful daughter Patrick—and every other lumberman, except saintly David—had a difficult time keeping his eyes off of.

“Put yer mind back on the tree, Martins,” Kyle grouched, his Scottish brogue accentuated by his grumpiness. “You’re going to get us killed.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. Yes, lumbering was dangerous. Yes, a lumberman needed to keep focused so he didn’t get hurt. But, frankly, Patrick liked the danger, the thrill. It reached past the numbness that had calloused his heart since his mother died when he was a kid.

“I aim to get home to Sam,” Kyle muttered. Usually, he had an easy smile on that freckled face of his, but not today.

“What was that?” Patrick shoved the saw back at Kyle, causing him to oomph.

Kyle sent the saw back just as hard. “You know how I feel about her.”

Just now, Patrick didn’t care. He wasn’t about to let another man destroy his sister’s life, as their father continued to do. “You stay away from her, you understand? Samantha deserves better than you.”

The man was a fisherman, working in the lumber camps to earn a living during the offseason. Like David. But Patrick didn’t need the money, not really. He had no needs. Only a quest to stay occupied. However, Kyle and David, risking life and limb out here, showed how a girl could turn a man’s head.

Women made a man do things he regretted. Not to mention the responsibility they required. Patrick shivered. Never would he tie himself to someone who needed that of him. No duty meant no reason to fail. As his father did. Because he would never be like his father.

“Martins!”

A crack brought Patrick’s head around faster than Kyle’s shout. When had they cut through the trunk?

“Timber!” Kyle yanked the saw from Patrick’s hands and they dodged the falling tree.

The tall giant of the forest tipped, tipped, caught. Its wide-reaching branches tangled with those around it. Then it snapped, dropping the trunk to the ground and leaving the large crown caught in the treetops. A widowmaker.

The cold from Patrick’s fingers shot through his body. Had his inattention done this?

“What in blazes is going on here?” Hughes stomped over. The man was as thick as he was tall, with a graying blond beard that covered his chest and a knit hat that smashed down a wavy mane. The skin around his eyes looked like wrinkled leather, but his eyes themselves were as dark as coal. Patrick involuntarily took a step back.

Kyle stepped forward. “Sir, it’s my—”

“Accidents happen.” Patrick cut him off. He might not approve of Kyle calling on his little sister, but he wouldn’t let him take the blame for something that wasn’t his fault.

“Accidents will get you killed, Martins.” Hughes seemed to grow.

Patrick squared his shoulders and refused to show the unease that threatened to choke him.

“Instead of casting blame, let’s get that tree down.” David. Always the big brother coming to his rescue.

Hughes didn’t blink. “Fine. Get it down. This young pup is on mess clean-up tonight.”

Patrick clenched his teeth. He wouldn’t let the big man get a visible reaction out of him.

“Come on.” David pulled Patrick’s shoulder. “Let’s get to work.”

Hughes would make Patrick move first, so he had no choice but to let David lead him to the ropes they had ready for just such an occasion. He hated the powerless feeling that rolled through him. It reminded him too much of when his mother died and his father resigned from being a dad. There had been nothing he could do to stop his mother’s death or his father’s leaving, and there was nothing he could do to stop Hughes from shoving his superiority around.

He slammed his palm into a tree. A worthless action that only caused his hand to ache.

“Hey.” David grabbed his arm. “Get a hold on yourself, Patrick, or you’ll get tossed out. Maybe get the rest of us in trouble too. Or worse. These things aren’t called a widowmaker because it’s a cute name. That branch could get loose and kill someone. Understand?”

“Yes, Dad.” Patrick glared at his older brother. The old resentment that David’d had to take over a parental role rose up strong.

David closed his eyes on a sigh. “I’m not arguing with you. Do your job.”

“Fine. Send me up.” A widowmaker didn’t scare him because he had no one depending on him. If he was hurt, if he died, he left behind no one who needed him.

Meredith Hughes pressed her fists into her aching back before bending over to pull yet another tray of biscuits out of the oven. “That’s the last of them, Mrs. Nelson.”

“Wonderful.” The thin, older lady held out a wooden spoon. “Come taste this. I fear it’s more watery than I hoped. Not even Christmas and I’m already running low on herbs. It’s going to be a long winter at this rate.”

Meri dumped the biscuits into a basket, covered them with a cloth, then took the spoon from the cook. “You know how to make the simplest meal taste like home. I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

“Pish-posh. You can flatter a fly.” But Mrs. Nelson watched closely as Meri sipped a sample of the bubbling stew.

“Delicious.” And Meri was telling the truth. Or maybe she was just hungry. She was always hungry these days. “Are the herbs truly running low already?”

“Yes, dear. Everything we have left is what I managed to grow over the summer, and it wasn’t much.”

Meri tried to push away the fear that hovered close to the surface. “I overheard Father saying the company might be near bankruptcy because of the crash.”

“I have heard the same. Holt Lumber closed their camp last year. I don’t see how Alaric will survive if the larger companies have all died out or moved west.”

“Where will you go if you don’t work here?” Meri busied herself with setting the coffee on the stove despite her shaky fingers. The men would be coming to mess cold and hungry from a day in the forest, or what was left of it. There were so few pockets of trees left in Wisconsin, the lumber companies had been selling off their cut-over land.

Mrs. Nelson rested her hands on her narrow hips, surveying her domain. “Mr. Nelson and I aren’t getting any younger, and we don’t see much of our grandchildren. With her husband gone, perhaps we’ll move to Crow’s Nest to be closer to our daughter.”

“Crow’s Nest?”

“It’s a small fishing town on Lake Michigan.” She waved a hand toward the forest. “You know those lumberjacks, David Martins, his brother Patrick, and their friend Kyle? They’re from Crow’s Nest. Mr. Nelson got them jobs up here for the season.”

She knew the faces that went to those names. The clean-shaven David who moved with such ease. Kyle, who dominated the vocals during the Saturday night singalongs. And Patrick. So handsome with that blond scruff he called a beard.

An uncomfortable feeling of jealousy spurted through her. What would it be like to have family or friends go out of their way to help? She’d give her last penny to have someone champion her, especially after Leo died so unexpectedly this summer, leaving her in such a precarious state.

“It’s normal to get more emotional, you know.” Mrs. Nelson gave her an understanding smile. “Are you sure you have nowhere else to stay for the winter?”

Tears pressed her eyes, and she kept her head ducked while she arranged the food line. “Nowhere, even if Father let me leave.” And when he found out her mistake? She’d be at the mercy of his storied temper once again.

Cold air swept through the mess hall as the first wave of lumberjacks effectively ended their conversation and banished her emotion. Mrs. Nelson filled bowls with stew, and Meri added a biscuit and mug of coffee before handing a meal to each man as they filed past. Meri found herself paying closer attention to David Martins and his friend Kyle as they took their trays from her, and noting that David’s brother Patrick was not with them. Patrick was definitely the most handsome of the trio—not that she cared.

In past years, she would occasionally flirt with the lumberjacks, even if her father put the fear of him into the men if they should so much as smile at her. Leo had disregarded Father’s warning, and look where that got them. Now she still smiled at the jacks, but it was a mask to hide behind.

She forced a brighter smile for her father as he went through the line, but he ignored her. Ever since Mama died when she was little, he’d ignored her, unless she was a target of his temper. Why couldn’t she escape somewhere? Maybe Mrs. Nelson would let her go with her and Mr. Nelson to this Crow’s Nest place. Except, by then, when the spring thaw had melted the ice and the logging season ended, it would be too late.

“Can I get a cup?”

Meri jerked her head up to find Patrick across from her, his eyes twinkling. “Of course.” She poured coffee into a mug. Why did the man have to be more handsome than the other jacks? Why was she even thinking that way? Coffee splashed on her skin. Ow!

The slightest frown showed he’d seen her discomfort despite her attempt to surreptitiously wipe her hand on her apron. But he only nodded and went to join the other men.

“That’s the last of them.” Mrs. Nelson handed her a damp cloth. “Go wipe down the tables as the men leave, and let them know we have a small portion left for seconds.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Meri scurried into the large mess hall. Two long tables, with benches on either side stretched the length of the room. She stayed on the periphery, careful to keep her distance from the men. A touch from one always sent her father into a rage, if he saw it.

A few jacks went back to the kitchen for seconds, but most moseyed out into the darkness. She stacked the empty bowls and turned back to the kitchen only to catch her toe on the end of the bench. She stumbled, but two muscular arms caught her before she fell.

“Easy there.” Patrick.

Her cheeks flamed hot.

He set up her upright, his hand skimming her waist in a protective way. Questions popped into his eyes, transforming to concern, as he glanced at her belly. Her heartbeat jumped to triple time. He’d figured out her secret.