George landed on his rear and sat on the floor, looking stupidly up at them. The crowd parted around them, quickly stepping away from the big logger who stood scowling over George. Snickers and guffaws rippled through the onlookers.
“What’d ya do that for?” George asked, rubbing his jaw.
“The lady said she wanted to sit down.”
“But I want to dance some more.”
“Thanks, Will,” Carrie said, unable to keep the relief out of her voice. “I think it’s time to leave.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll take you home, then,” George said, trying to get to his feet.
Will growled, “You’re in no shape to take the lady anywhere. Go drink some tea and sober up. I’ll see the lady home.”
“But I came with him,” Carrie said doubtfully. She’d always been taught a lady goes home with the same man who brings her to a party. Dare she break that rule? Surely there were exceptions.
“Yeah,” George growled. “Stay out of this, log man.” He struggled to stand, and wove back and forth, wildly swinging a fist at Will, but coming nowhere near him.
The crowd that had gathered around them tittered.
Carrie wanted to disappear. Making up her mind, she took Will’s arm and lifted her chin. “I doubt you can walk that far, George. I’ll go with Will.”
Will didn’t wait for George’s reply. He took her arm and started walking to the door. The crowd parted quickly to allow her and the big logger to pass. Carrie liked the way people respected him. It made her feel safe.
They stepped out into the cool, dark night. A light wind tickled her face and blew her long skirt against her legs. Carrie breathed in the fresh air, so welcome after the acrid odor of the kerosene lanterns and the thick cigar smoke in the dance hall.
“Thanks for getting me out of there,” she said. “I should have left when they started drinking.”
“That’s no way to treat a lady, drunk or not.”
She smiled in agreement and matched her steps to his. How different it was to walk with a tall man with a long stride. She could use her normal pace.
But she found herself wanting to dawdle, to make this walk back to the boarding house last a while longer. His arm felt warm and solid under her hand. She wished she dared to stroke the hard muscles, to feel their strength under her fingertips. Her improper thoughts shocked her. She cast him a glance from under her lashes and found him looking down at her. Could he tell what she was thinking?
Their eyes met and held. Their steps faltered and stopped. The night was dark around them, making her feel as though they were alone in the world, although she could still hear the music from the dance hall. Farther down the block, a gas street lamp cast a small circle of light.
She licked her lips in a nervous gesture. He drew in a sharp breath, then turned her to face him and pulled her into his arms. He bent his head and touched her lips with his.
Carrie felt the strength leave her legs and raised her hands to his shoulders to keep from falling. He deepened the kiss and she answered in kind, ecstasy sliding along her veins like honey on a hot biscuit. She clung to him, wishing for more, oh, so much more.
His hand skimmed along her side and sent a thrill of sensation along her body. When he cupped her breast in his hand, she heard a soft moan, and then realized it had come from her own lips. She was allowing him scandalous liberties, but she didn’t want to stop him.
His other arm held her tightly now. He lifted his lips from hers and feathered little kisses down the side of her throat, sending shivers down her back.
From nearby the dark, quiet night was shattered by a dog’s bark, then the sound of someone retching.
She pulled away from Will. At the same time he dropped his arms and stepped back.
Her cheeks as hot as the rest of her body had felt a moment before, Carrie caught her breath, feeling chilled without his arms around her. She looked around but couldn’t see anyone.
Leaving her on the boardwalk, Will walked over to a bush and reached into the shadows behind it. He pulled a boy to his feet and brought him closer to Carrie. She could hear the dog barking again and then other footsteps running off into the darkness.
Carrie gasped when she realized Will was holding her brother. “Tom. What are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be home in bed.”
Tom shrugged, trying to free himself from Will’s strong grasp. “Lemme go!” He put a hand to his mouth to keep from vomiting again.
“Are you ill?” Carrie asked.
Will laughed. “Drunk is more like it. Where’d you get the liquor, boy?”
“Dance,” Tom mumbled. “I...I jus’ wanted to see what a dance was like, Carrie. I heard my buddies talking about it like it was something spesh...shal so I wanted to see. I meant to go right home. But I met a couple other boys and we got to talkin’...”
Carrie drew a sharp breath, too upset to reply. Hadn’t she raised her brother to know better than this? She’d tried to do her best on her own, but a boy needed a father.
Will shook Tom’s arm. “I asked you where you got the liquor, boy?”
“One of the guys left a bottle behind outside. He set it down and went to take a leak behind a tree. So we snitched it. We only wanted to taste it, Carrie.”
“Watch your language. And you must have done more than taste it,” Carrie replied through tight lips. “You’d better go to bed, now. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
“Okay.” He hung his head.
Carrie felt sick. She shouldn’t have gone out and left him alone, shouldn’t have trusted him to go to bed when he knew everyone in town would be at the Couvillion Hall. It was normal for a boy his age to be curious, wasn’t it?
Will released him. Tom took a couple of steps toward the boarding house, then sagged toward the ground.
Before Tom hit the boardwalk, Will caught him and lifted him easily to his shoulder. “I guess he needs a bit of help getting home,” he said with a grin. “Ready to go?”
She nodded, tightlipped with anger at her brother, yet scared when she saw he seemed to have passed out. “Do you think he’ll be all right? Or should we take him to the doctor?”
Will laughed. “I doubt he drank enough to hurt him. And he threw up a lot of what he did drink. He’ll just sleep it off.”
“Oh. That’s good.” She sighed in relief at Will’s calm reassurance.
They walked the last block to the boarding house.
Inside, she picked up a lighted kerosene lamp from a table in the kitchen and turned up the wick. She led the way up to Tom’s bedroom.
She admired the way Will carried her brother on his shoulder like he weighed nothing at all. Still, she was embarrassed that Tom should need help getting home. What would she have done if she’d found him alone? If Will hadn’t been there to rescue her yet again?
Inside the small room, she set the lamp on his dresser and turned back the crazy quilt on his bed. The lovely hand-stitched covering was the last one her mother had pieced together before she died. She’d made it of odd shaped scraps of leftover fabric from her own dresses. Carrie treasured it because each piece held memories.
She hoped Tom wouldn’t be sick again and spoil that special quilt. She debated whether to find a different one for him, but doubted there were any extras, because every room in the boarding house was full.
Tom appeared to be asleep on Will’s shoulder. Or had he passed out?
Will laid him on the bed, then took off his high-top leather shoes. “Do you want me to undress him?”
She shook her head and pulled up the quilt over him. “Let him be.”
She blew out the lamp. They went back out into the hall and closed Tom’s door behind them. She glanced at her aunt’s closed door and started down the hall toward her own room, anxious not to be caught with Will should Aunt Louise hear them and come out of her room.
Will caught her by her arm, stopping her, and said quietly, “Don’t be too hard on Tom.”
She turned to look at him, angry that he dared to interfere in her methods of child rearing. “He needs to know this is not acceptable behavior,” she said primly.
Will grinned. “I know that. But whiskey is also something every boy has to try on his way to becoming a man. Let him be a normal kid, Carrie.”
She chewed her lip worriedly. “You don’t think he’ll continue drinking after this?”
“Hardly. He’ll feel awful in the morning and probably won’t touch the stuff for years because of this. I think he’s learned his lesson for a while.”
“I hope so.” She sighed. “I guess I’m not a very good mother to him. I should have realized how tempting it is to a growing boy to see what the grown-ups were doing up late at night.”
“I think you’re a very good mother to the boy. Nobody can be everywhere. And you need some fun, too.”
That she certainly did. But not if it meant neglecting Tom so that he got into trouble. Was Will right? Had Tom learned his lesson? “I...I’ll think over what you said. Thank you for helping me get him home. Goodnight, Will.”
He took her chin in his hand and turned her to face him, wrapping his arms around her. “Now, I’d like to finish what we started,” he said softly.
She gasped and felt a hot flush rise in her face. Squirming, she shook her head, but her feet refused to move to carry her away from him.
He laughed. He pulled the comb and pins from her hair, undoing the braid and letting it fall around her shoulders. He slowly ran his fingers through it. “I love your hair. It’s so long and silky.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“You sound surprised,” he said, his fingers still stroking through her hair.
“I...I didn’t expect a logger to notice such things.” She caught her breath. Why had she said such an impolite thing to him? She should be ashamed.
“I’m not just a logger all the time.”
He sounded amused rather than insulted, she thought, relieved. “I really must go. How can I thank you for helping me with Tom? An extra piece of apple pie, perhaps? I could put one aside for you in the kitchen after supper tomorrow.”
“I’d love that. But right now, I’ll settle for a goodnight kiss.” He smoothed her hair back, cupping her face in his hands. He held her gaze for a long moment. When she didn’t object, he bent his head and kissed her.
Waves of delight flowed over her, reminding her how vulnerable she was to this man’s touch. She must be careful. He’d leave town as soon as the logjam was broken, and then where would she be?
But her arms crept up around his neck and she kissed him back. It felt so good to be held in his strong arms like this. She sighed in disappointment as he lifted his head and smiled down at her.
Then he picked up her hand, put her comb and hairpins into it and closed her fingers around them. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingers and let her go, murmuring, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”
He moved down the hall to his own room and went inside, leaving her standing there in shock.
When his door closed, she scurried down the corridor to her own room and ducked inside.
Leaning against her door, she touched her lips, reliving that goodnight kiss. How did he do that? Make her forget her proper upbringing and make her want to hold him and allow him access to her body in any way he wanted?
Her lower body hummed with desire, for what she did not even know. Still, she knew it was for him and that he could have satisfied that wanting.
She went to her dresser, dropped the hairpins onto it and lit the lamp with trembling fingers. Turning to her washbasin, she poured in lukewarm water from the pitcher and splashed it over her face in a vain attempt to cool it.
She stared at her flushed face in the mirror and scolded herself for acting like a wanton woman.
Then she lifted her hairbrush and brushed her long hair. She pulled a lock over her shoulder and peered at it in the mirror, remembering how he’d run his fingers through it. Was it really as special as he seemed to think? Tonight her thick tresses crackled with life and strands stood on end following her brush. Was he only sweet-talking her? Absently she pulled the long strands out of the bristles and tucked them into the china hair receptacle on her dresser.
She put the bone-handled brush down onto the dresser, blew out her kerosene lamp and undressed, then slipped into her nightgown. Crossing the cool linoleum floor in bare feet, she opened her window to allow some fresh air into her room.
In the distance she could still hear the music playing at the hall, though she knew it was very late. It would have been nice to spend more time dancing in his arms. But she had to get up very early to help with preparing breakfast for their guests. She wasn’t a lady of leisure, after all.
She sighed and climbed into bed. Alone in the dark, she relived the wonderful sensations his kisses had created in her. Was that what it was really like between a man and a woman after they were married? She tried to imagine getting naked for a man like Will. The idea spread warmth all over her.
What did Will look like naked? She’d never seen a man unclothed, only her little brother when he was small. She’d helped her mother bathe and dress him.
She felt herself blush at having such wicked thoughts. Best she say her bedtime prayers and stop thinking about things she would never experience. No man was going to want an old maid of twenty-one with the additional burden of a young brother to raise.
It was a long time before she fell asleep and when she did, she dreamed of Will doing far more than kissing her.
In her dreams, she slept in his arms and caressed him from head to toe. She slid her hands along his long muscular arms and rubbed her bare bosom against his hairy chest. The hairs tickled her nipples and his big hands caressed her bare back and undid the ties to her chemise.
She moaned in her sleep with wanting him, and tossed and turned without getting any relief.
* * * *
The next morning she was disappointed to find Will wasn’t at breakfast. He must have eaten with his men, she thought. George didn’t appear either, to her relief. She hoped he had a hangover after all he’d drunk at the dance. It would serve him right.
Thinking of drinking made her remember Tom and wonder how he was feeling. He probably had a hangover as well. She’d peeked in on him this morning before she went down-stairs. He’d been sleeping soundly, though she’d seen and smelled evidence of his being sick again during the night.
Should she punish him in some way? Or should she listen to Will, who thought making himself ill was punishment enough for Tom? Of course, she’d make Tom empty his own chamber pot and mop the floor in his room today. Cleaning up his own messes was certainly fair punishment. Tom would think being made to do women’s cleaning work was a very harsh punishment indeed.
She sighed and began clearing the tables as the last of the guests went outdoors. Being a single Mom to her brother wasn’t an easy task. One minute he seemed like a small boy, playing childish pranks and the next he acted like a man, taking a job without her permission and drinking whiskey. What would her father have done if he’d lived?
The thought made her sad, yet she smiled as she realized he’d probably have lectured the offender for an hour. Enduring one of Papa’s personal sermons had been a pretty awful punishment. She remembered having endured a few herself. No, she wouldn’t do that to Tom.
Will’s idea of letting the consequences be punishment enough had more appeal.
She scrubbed the maple syrup drippings from the oiled cloth on the dining room table, then carried the dishes to the kitchen and began washing them.
Tom finally appeared an hour later, looking pale, peaked and very sheepish.
“Where’s Aunt Louise?” he asked cautiously.
“She went to the store for baking supplies.”
“Are you going to punish me for drinking last night?”
Carrie hesitated. “You know my rule about not going out at night. Are you going to disobey me again?”
He shook his head, then winced at the movement and looked green.
“You’ll have to clean up after yourself. You can’t expect the hired girl to clean your room or carry out that smelly mess.”
“I already did that. I opened the window to air the room and mopped the floor, too.”
She grinned. “You didn’t want one of the hired girls to complain to Aunt Louise, did you?”
He nodded, managing a small grin. “You won’t tell Auntie, will you?”
Carrie thought a minute, letting him worry about her decision. “I don’t think she needs to know this time. But if it happens again....”
“It won’t. Thanks, Sis.” He started for the door.
Carrie frowned. “Where are you going?”
“To my job helping Cookie, of course. The water barrel is sure to be empty after he’s served the men breakfast. He’ll need it filled before noon.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling up to it? You haven’t even eaten any breakfast.”
“I’m fine. I’m not hungry right now.”
Carrie sighed, watching him go. This was one of those ‘almost a man’ days, evidently. Will would most likely say letting Tom work while he was feeling sick was part of the consequences he needed to face. She took off her apron and headed for Uncle Joe’s.
* * * *
At the newspaper office, Joe was waving a copy of the Minneapolis paper and shouting at Hank, “How the hell did they get the article from my paper for this?”
Hank cowered over his worktable, mumbling, “I don’t know, Sir.”
“Humph. It’s even in the exact words Carrie gave me. And where is Carrie this morning, anyway? She’s not usually so late.”
“I’m here, Uncle Joe,” Carrie said, stepping into the office and closing the door behind her. “What’s wrong? What’s all the yelling about? You know excitement isn’t good for you. Please sit down.”
“This is what’s wrong, girl. What do you know about this?” He thrust the paper at her and stomped to his desk for his pipe. He sat down and lit it with shaking hands. Through narrowed eyes, he watched her read the article and saw dismay spread across her face.
“How did they get this, Uncle Joe?” she gasped. “It’s my article, almost word for word. Isn’t that plagiarism?”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m mad, girl. I’m glad to hear you want to know how they got it, too.”
“Surely you didn’t think I gave it to them?” Carrie’s voice was incredulous.
Joe’s face reddened. “We...well, I didn’t think you would, girl. But you did go to the dance with their reporter last night...”
“I would never give him my work. Besides, George and I are no longer on good terms.”
Her uncle’s eyebrows raised in question.
“That’s right,” she said. “You left the dance hall before the fight, didn’t you?”
His eyes narrowed and his brows dipped in a frown. “What fight? What happened last night?”
Carrie swallowed and hesitated. A whole lot that I can’t tell you about. But right now she was too angry to think about the nice part of last night.
She explained, “George got drunk and made advances to me on the dance floor in front of everyone. Will had to hit him to make him behave. He was so drunk, I didn’t even let him walk me home.”
Joe scowled. “Did George hurt you?”
She shook her head.
“I’m glad to hear it. I don’t much like him.”
“I wish you’d tell that to Aunt Louise. She’s been encouraging him.”
“I will. That reporter is a sleazy one.”
Carrie smiled. “You say that about all of your competitors, Uncle Joe.”
“Well, I’m right about this one. And that paper you’re holding proves it.”
“I’m afraid you’re right about that.” Carrie wrinkled her brow in thought. “You know, George came into the kitchen for a drink of water the night I wrote this,” she said. “He made me nervous and I left. I couldn’t find my notebook the next morning. I had to re-write it from memory. In fact, this has a sentence or two I remember writing the first time that I didn’t put into the article the second time. See?” She moved to Uncle Joe and pointed to a paragraph.
“So, do you think he found your notebook that night and copied it?”
Carrie nodded. “That’s probably what happened. I’m sorry, Uncle Joe. I shouldn’t have left my notebook in the kitchen. I’ll guard my work more carefully after this.” She didn’t dare comment on the fact that lately Joe had been printing what she’d written, but barely rewriting it at all. He still didn’t put her name on it, though.
She walked back to her worktable, noticing a pleased smirk on Hank’s face. So, she thought furiously, Hank figured he and Uncle Joe were right about women, did he? They thought women couldn’t be trusted to do a man’s job. Well, men could make mistakes as well. George was a man, and he’d made a big mistake taking her words and sending them to his paper as hers. But what could she do about it?
* * * *
When she returned to the Falls House, she told Aunt Louise about the plagiarized article.
“So that’s what this is all about,” Aunt Louise said. She stood on tiptoes to reach the top of the cabinet and brought down Carrie’s notebook and handed it to her. “I found this on the kitchen table this morning after you went to Joe’s. I thought it was odd. I knew you’d never leave it behind if you needed it at the newspaper office today.”
“George probably put it there after he was sure I’d left,” Carrie said bitterly.
“Was Joe angry?”
“Practically purple. When I arrived this morning, he was yelling at Hank, thinking maybe he’d passed it to them for extra cash.”
Aunt Louise looked worried. “He didn’t discharge you, did he?”
Carrie shook her head. “No. But it does support his idea that only men should write the real news.”
“Well,” Aunt Louise said, “I think it’s time for our friend George to move on.”
“Oh, but I don’t want you to lose a boarder because of me.”
“I’ll have no trouble renting his room to someone else,” Aunt Louise insisted. “Besides, I heard about the fight at the dance last night, and about why Will hit George. I don’t want anyone who treats you like that sleeping under my roof.”
“I love you, Auntie. You’re a dear.” Carrie gave her a hug.
“I think I’ll show this notebook to Joe and tell him about finding it, so he’ll know it wasn’t your fault.”
“I doubt it’ll change his mind about women, but it’s sweet of you to try.”
“Humph. Joe can be the stubbornest man alive, even if he is my only brother.”
Carrie laughed. Picking up a stack of plates, she went to set the dining room table for supper.
As she brought platters and bowls of food to the boarders, Carrie tried her best to act normally, though her mind was in turmoil after the recent upsetting events. Will gave her a hungry look which made her blush and think of their kisses.
George was obviously still feeling the effects of his over-indulgence and barely glanced at them.
As the men filed out to go to the porch for their evening smokes, Aunt Louise stopped George and told him, “This is your last meal at the Falls House. I want you to pack your things and get out of here now.”
“Now? But the last train’s gone. And every room in town is taken. Where am I going to sleep?”
“That’s not my problem,” Aunt Louise said stiffly.
“I’ll leave in the morning,” George said.
Will had stopped at the door to listen. Now he stepped toward George and said, “You’ll leave when the lady says you should. This is her boarding house. Besides, it’s summer. Lots of loggers are sleeping under the stars. No reason you can’t do the same, even if you are a city feller. Buy a blanket from the General Store to sleep in.”
George sent Carrie an angry glance. “This is all your doing, isn’t it?”
Before Carrie could open her mouth to deny that charge, Aunt Louise snapped, “I make my own decisions, Mister. And I don’t want anyone living here who doesn’t respect my family members.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll leave.” He stepped quickly past Will.
“See that you do,” Will said. He stood, feet spread, watching George hurry up the stairs to get his things.
“I appreciate your backing me up, Mr. Tellers,” Aunt Louise said.
“You’re welcome, Ma’am. Let me know if he gives you any further trouble.”
“Thank you.” Louise smiled and went into the kitchen.
“Thanks, Will,” Carrie said.
He grinned. “You’re welcome, too. Did you save me that extra piece of apple pie?”
At the mention of pie, a warm shiver ran through her. She remembered how they’d kissed last night when she’d made that promise. The look in his eyes told her he was remembering it too.
“Yes, I did,” she said, trying to keep her voice normal. “Come out to the kitchen.”