Will sat at the wooden kitchen table and watched Carrie deftly move the thick wedge of pie from the tin pie pan to a white crockery plate and set it in front of him. She got a fork from the drawer, handed it to him and turned to pour him a cup of tea.
The aroma of cinnamon made his mouth water. He cut into the golden brown crust and juicy apples and put a forkful into his mouth. “Mm-mm, this is delicious, Miss Carter,” he told Louise. “You are the best cook in these parts.”
“Nonsense,” Louise said. “Anybody can make a pie.”
“Maybe so, but they don’t all taste as good as this one. Nor have as flaky a crust.”
“You’re joshing me.”
“I never josh about good food.” But he noticed that Louise blushed and smiled, pleased. She busied herself putting away the leftover food into the icebox.
Carrie poured hot water into her dishpan from the teakettle and attacked the stack of dirty plates with a rag and bar of soap. Will took his time eating his pie and sipping his tea for the pleasure of watching her. He could happily spend hours doing nothing but that.
They heard someone clump down the stairs. The front door slammed, making the women wince. Carrie glanced through the window and saw George crossing the porch with his suitcase.
“I hope the mosquitoes eat him alive,” Louise declared.
“Do you think he’ll be all right?” Carrie asked with a worried look on her face.
“Of course,” Will said. “It won’t hurt him to find out how the rest of us live.”
Carrie laughed. “I suppose not. But he does seem very angry.”
“Well, guess I’ll go out to the porch for a smoke,” Will said. “Thanks again for the pie.”
“You’re welcome.” Carrie watched him go as she finished washing the last of the pans.
“Oh, dear,” Aunt Louise said.
“What’s the matter?”
“Tommy went to bed early tonight. He said he wasn’t feeling too well. I didn’t realize he’d forgotten to take this plate of food for the guy they locked in the jail. And I think Jack’s left for the night, or I could ask him to do it for me.”
“We can’t let the man go hungry. I’ll take it to the jail. I’m about finished here.”
“Thanks, Carrie.”
Carrie stepped to the back kitchen door and tossed out the dirty dishpan full of water. She dried her hands on her apron, then took it off and hung it on the hook on the wall.
She picked up the dishtowel-covered plate and stepped outside onto the porch. Night had fallen and the summer air was warm. Cigar smoke tickled her nose and the squeak of a wooden bench made her turn her head. Will was watching her through narrowed eyes. Several other men also looked curiously at her, making her suddenly feel uncomfortable.
“Where are you going with that?” Will asked.
“Just up the hill to the jail.”
“Why?”
She stopped and stared at him, puzzled at his question. “Because the city pays us to provide meals for any prisoners there,” she said patiently.
He frowned at her. Honestly, what ailed Will? Why was he always disapproving of what she did? Did he think her incapable of walking a couple of blocks with a plate of food?
Ignoring him, she walked down the steps to the boardwalk and headed up the road toward the jail.
Darkness closed around her as she left the street lamps behind. There was a lamp in front of the jail, but none in the block until then.
At the jail, she passed the plate of food through the special slot left for that purpose under the bars. The man inside thanked her profusely. She was late; the man had probably thought he’d go hungry tonight.
Then she hurried back down the graveled street. Just as she stepped past the side of the Falls House, someone wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against a large soft body. A male voice growled in her ear to be quiet.
Fear sliced through her. She drew a sharp breath to scream, but a large hand clapped over her mouth, silencing her.
She struggled, but the arm around her tightened and she felt a large hand squeeze her breast. How dare he touch her like that?
“Think you’re too damn good for me, do you?”
It’s George! She recognized his rough voice.
He growled, “Maybe you should sleep out here under the stars with me. How would you like that?”
Anger and outrage gave her strength. Desperately, she kicked at him, then managed to open her mouth wide enough to bite down on his hand. She tasted blood.
George pulled his hand away, yelping, “You bitch!” She screamed as he slammed her against the side of the building.
A loud growl of anger came from nearby, pulling her attention away from George. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a second large man loom up behind him. Her heart sank. There were two of them. She struggled harder but George held her fast against the wall with the weight of his body. Another scream turned into a sob as she fought him. She’d never get away from them.
Then she realized the other man wasn’t attacking her; he was yanking George away from her. George let her go so suddenly that she fell to her knees. Gaining her feet, she scrambled away from the fighting men and sank back against the side of the Falls House. Her legs felt as limp as cooked spinach stems.
“Mind your own damn business,” George snarled.
“Like hell I will,” the other man replied. “Didn’t you learn your lesson at the dance hall last night?”
When she recognized Will’s voice, Carrie’s breath whooshed out in relief.
She watched Will slam George into the side of the building.
George sank to the ground and stared stupidly up at Will who stood over him, fists clenched, ready to hit him again.
Will glanced at Carrie. “Are you all right?”
Carrie swallowed hard. “Yes.”
When George showed no inclination to get up and continue the fight, Will growled, “Don’t ever let me see you near her again; is that clear?”
George nodded and wiped his bleeding nose.
“You’d better be on that morning train out of town,” Will added.
George dipped his head again and sent Carrie another hateful glance as though everything that had happened was her fault. Then he scrambled to his feet and hurried away.
Will turned to her and took her in his arms, holding her close in a comforting embrace. He smoothed back the hair falling into her face, asking, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
She bit her lip, trying to stop her body from trembling. It was over now. She was safe. “Ye...es. Thanks for rescuing me...again.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t see him sooner.”
“How could you see him from the porch in the dark?” She frowned, thinking, then said against his chest, “You were following me, weren’t you?”
He nodded, sheepishly, still cuddling her close in his arms. “When you headed up that lonely street, I wanted to walk with you, but I knew you’d say it wasn’t proper for me to escort you alone in the dark. I was afraid something like this might happen. From now on, take the prisoners’ meals up during daylight.”
She raised her face to look at him and lifted an eyebrow. “You aren’t my boss.”
“It’s only common sense, Carrie.”
“I suppose you’re right about that.” With a rueful grin she admitted, “Tom usually delivers food to the jail earlier while we’re serving the dining room. But he still wasn’t feeling well and he forgot to do it tonight.”
“Is he still hung over?”
“I suppose.”
“Carrie, please promise me you’ll be more careful in the future?”
She nodded and he dipped his head and touched her lips with his own. Then he deepened the kiss gently, insistently. When she didn’t respond, he sighed and held her close for another long minute, then said, “I’ll walk you back to be sure you get home okay.”
She hesitated, not wanting the men sitting on the porch to see her walking back to the boarding house from a dark street with him. “All right, but let’s go in through the kitchen.”
She pulled away and brushed the gravel from her skirt and smoothed back her hair to remove any traces of the scuffle.
He took her hand and they began walking down the alley toward the back door. She’d left the lamp burning and light from the kitchen window made a yellow square on the ground. “Watch out for the mud,” she said, remembering that she’d tossed out the dishwater there only a short time ago.
Beside them, a dark shape moved out of the shadows. Carrie opened her mouth to scream and Will pushed her quickly off to one side. Then she saw it was an Indian friend, Wolfman.
“It’s only Wolfman, Will,” she exclaimed, putting a restraining hand on his arm. “Aunt Louise buys supplies from him and his family.”
“Rabbits and strawberries for cook,” Wolfman said, holding up a gunnysack and basket to show his wares.
“Thank you, Wolfman. Aunt Louise will be pleased. She’ll probably have fresh bread for you tomorrow.”
They stepped into the kitchen where she’d left a kerosene lamp burning. Thankfully, the kitchen was empty. At least she wouldn’t have to explain the situation to anyone.
She took the food from Wolfman and put it on the table, thanking him again. He and Will eyed each other warily and then Wolfman disappeared out the back door as quietly as he’d appeared.
“He scared the life out of me,” Carrie said with a laugh. She hooked the screen door closed after Wolfman, then sank into the nearest chair and reached up to try to comb her hair back into some semblance of order.
Will watched her for a moment, then said, “I wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him, either. You’re still trembling. What you need is some hot tea.”
“I’ll get it.” She began to rise, but he waved her back to her seat.
“I’m perfectly capable of making a pot of tea,” he said with a frown. “I live alone, remember?” He moved the teakettle to the front burner. Lifting the lid of the stove, he added some wood, then blew on the coals to start them blazing again.
Then he reached into the cupboard for the teapot and two cups. “Where do you keep the tea?”
“In that crock on top of the stove. The tea ball is in this cupboard drawer with the spoons.”
Carrie felt silly being waited on. But she was still feeling weak and she couldn’t seem to stop trembling. Remembering her scare in the dark, she shuddered. “Do you really think George will leave town tomorrow?”
“He’d better, if he knows what’s good for him.”
“But he was here on an assignment from the Minneapolis paper.”
“There are lots of reporters here. Maybe his paper will get their reports from another one.”
“He didn’t object to leaving town,” she mused. “Uncle Joe telegraphed his newspaper this morning. Maybe they had already telegraphed George they were sending someone else to take his job.”
He raised an eyebrow in question as the teakettle began whistling.
She explained about the plagiarized article as Will scooped tealeaves into the tea ball, dropped it into the teapot and poured in boiling water.
“What a rat,” Will exclaimed. “Stealing your work and passing it off as his own. That makes me extra glad I hit him. I hope his newspaper discharges him for that.”
He filled their cups and sat down opposite her, pushing the sugar bowl toward her. “Put some sugar in it. It’s good for settling upset nerves.”
“Oh, you’re bleeding.” She reached out and gently touched his knuckles. “I’m sorry I didn’t even notice. Here you are waiting on me, when you’re hurt.”
“It’s only a scrape,” Will protested. “We have lots of those every day working on the logs. It’s nothing.”
“It was something important to me,” she said softly, eyeing him over the rim of her cup as she sipped her tea.
He was the nicest man she knew, she realized. And he was a logger who would leave in a few days as soon as they finished breaking up the jam. Their job would be over and she wouldn’t see him for at least a year, if then. He might not even be on the log drives next year.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
She nodded and rose to put their dishes into the dishpan on the side table, then put the rabbits and strawberries into the ice box, muttering, “I hope Jack remembers to go to the ice house for more ice in the morning. Most of this block has melted.”
He rose too. “Come on. I’ll walk you upstairs to your room.”
Nodding, she blew out the lamp and took his arm.
At her door, he hesitated, his eyes meeting hers. They seemed to be asking a question.
“Thanks again, Will,” she whispered, eyeing her aunt’s closed bedroom door across from hers.
“You’re welcome,” he replied softly.
He didn’t move away. He seemed to be waiting for a signal from her. A decision.
Daringly she lifted her lips, inviting his kiss. Heat raced through her as he wrapped his arms around her and molded her to him. This time she didn’t hesitate to respond and let him know his kisses were welcomed. She reveled in the delicious feel of his warm, hard body against hers. He gave her another kiss and another.
She wished she could stay in his arms all night. She reached behind her and quietly opened her bedroom door, then stepped through it. Will followed, closing the door softly.
Carrie’s heart pounded as he kissed her again and again in her darkened room. At last she was going to find out what all the fuss was about love between men and women.
Her skin flushed at the very idea of lying naked with him, bare skin against skin, no corsets or petticoats to separate them. He helped her undress, seemingly familiar with how women’s garments worked. Of course, she remembered. He’d been married.
The thought made her nervous. Would she measure up to his late wife? She knew nothing about making love with a man.
But the sensations his warm hands were leaving on her skin felt wonderful, and she forgot to be nervous. Only what she was feeling at the moment mattered.
She reached out and began helping him undress as well.
When he slid her chemise down and uncovered her breasts, she gasped and started to cover them with her hands.
“Let me, Carrie,” he whispered. “You’re so lovely!”
She shivered and stepped out of her chemise. She was naked and so was he. She slid a hand over his chest, needing to feel his bare skin. He pulled her against him, skin to skin. What a wonderful sensation.
He pulled back her quilt and eased her onto the bed, then slid down beside her.
Feverishly she kissed and tasted him, her hands exploring his big, muscular body.
He teased and kissed her breasts and soon she’d lost all track of who was touching what. Sensations spilled through her until she thought she would die with wanting more.
When he slowly entered her, pain made her gasp. Quickly he covered her mouth with his, whispering, “Shh. It’ll be better in a minute.”
And he was right. His movements, touches and kisses soon brought her warm, gripping contractions of pleasure. She felt him grow rigid, then sigh and roll to his side, still inside her, still holding her close.
“That was wonderful, Carrie,” he whispered.
“It certainly was,” she agreed softly. No wonder women married and put up with waiting on men if they were rewarded like this.
He eased away and kissed her again. “I must go to my own room.” Reluctantly, he let her go. He rose and quickly dressed.
“Yes.” He must not be found here. It would be scandalous.
She sighed, barely able to see him in the shadows. “Goodnight, Will,” she whispered.
“Sleep tight, Sweetheart.” And he was gone.
Sleep tight, Sweetheart. His words echoed through her dreams.
* * * *
The next afternoon she sat daydreaming of their love-making at her desk at the newspaper office. The fact that Will had called her “sweetheart” hummed through her mind. Had he meant it? Or was it only a casual endearment to him? Did he call Evelyn that, too? Had he called his late wife that?
Hank leaned over and said in a loud stage whisper, “A penny for your thoughts, Carrie. They look mighty interesting.”
Flushing, she sat up straight and sent him a withering look. “I doubt you have a penny to spare.”
Then she dipped her pen into her ink bottle and worked on the letter in front of her. She was writing to their legislator in St. Paul, to try to convince him that it was folly to blow up Angle Rock. It was important that the townspeople send as many letters as possible to counteract the loggers’ proposal. She’d talked to a dozen people who had promised to write, and now she had to get her own letter in the post.
If only her mind would stay on the letter instead of on Will. She had no business remembering his lovemaking instead of tending to business. She’d better remember her responsibilities, to help out Aunt Louise and earn her own and her brother’s keep. Even if Will did seem to like her and had kissed her and made love to her. And rescued her twice, too. Ah, such a man he was.
She wrote another couple of sentences, then read the letter over carefully before signing it, folding it and sealing it with wax.
Getting up to leave, she stopped at her uncle’s desk. “I’m leaving now. Do you have anything you want me to take to the post office, Uncle Joe?”
“No, not today.” He glanced at the address on the letter in her hand. “Writing to the legislators, I see. You still think it’ll help to send them letters, eh?”
She sighed at the doubt in his voice. “I have to do something.”
“They may not listen to women, you know,” Joe cautioned.
She raised her chin in defiance. “Then it’s all the more important that we speak up and convince a few men to write as well. Or half our little valley will be blown to smithereens by this time next year.”
He chuckled and said, “I suppose you’re right about that. I am doing something to help. See? My editorial for tomorrow’s paper is all about it. I do take your advice sometimes.”
She came around the desk and read his editorial over his shoulder. Moisture formed in her eyes. She bent, kissed the bald spot on the top of his head and hugged his shoulders. “It sounds great. I’m sure it’ll get some attention. Thanks, Uncle Joe.”
“Aw, it was no more than I should do,” he growled.
But she knew he’d done it for her rather than because he really cared about saving Angle Rock. He didn’t see the valley as romantically as she did.
Smiling at him through grateful tears, she hurried out. She pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and wiped her eyes. She knew he was right; the legislators rarely listened to women since they couldn’t vote. Her letter would have little weight with them. They would probably consider her a sentimental fool for caring so much about this.
But Uncle Joe’s editorial and the letters from other men it might generate certainly would help. Hundreds of people in the area read his newspaper and those who didn’t would still be likely to hear the matter discussed. At least everyone would now be aware of the impending disaster for their little valley.
She felt sure many people would be upset at the idea. She could only hope that the resulting talk would get action.
* * * *
Standing beside Cookie’s campfire, Will watched Carrie walk down the street. He admired her purposeful stride and the graceful swing of her long blue-checked gingham skirt. She was some woman all right. Remembering the way she’d tipped her face up to him for a kiss last night and later responded so sweetly to his lovemaking made him feel hot all over. Good thing his wool pants were heavy enough to conceal the evidence, or he’d be the talk of his camp. Best he quit lollygagging and get back to work.
The shouts of men encouraging the teams to pull the ropes working to dislodge logs mixed with the chatter of onlookers. Would these tourists never tire of watching the loggers? Why didn’t they stay home and do their own work? He felt like he was working in a stupid circus show.
He dipped his tin cup into the water pail and pulled it up, water spilling over the edge. He drank deeply of the cool spring water, then poured another dipper of water over his head. Hell’s bells, but it was a hot day. Must be ninety degrees in the shade. He stepped carefully around the horse droppings that large flies were buzzing around.
An angry shout amid the usual noise alerted him to a ruckus behind him. He turned to see Gus, one of his men, fighting with a farmer.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” Will yelled. Dropping the dipper, he dashed toward them to put a stop to the fray.
Before Will could reach them, the farmer pulled a knife from his belt and slashed at Gus. Blood dripped from his arm by the time Will reached them.
“Stop it, I say!” he yelled at both of them. He pulled them apart, grabbed the farmer. Digging his fingers into the man’s arm, he forced him to drop the knife to the ground, then shoved him away from Gus.
“He started it,” Gus said, holding his bleeding arm. “I was just doing my job when he rushed at me like a crazy man.”
Murmurs rose from the men who’d gathered around to see the fight.
“He’s the crazy one,” the farmer sputtered. “He was whipping my horses. Nobody abuses my animals. I rented them for work, not to be whipped.”
“He cut me. I’m bleeding like a stuck pig.”
“I’m taking my horses back to my farm if that’s how you think...”
“That’s enough,” Will shouted over both of them. “I’ll see to it your horses are not mistreated again.”
The farmer nodded stiffly, still looking doubtful.
“The fun’s over. Go back to work,” Will told the crowd of onlookers.
He turned back to Gus who stood holding his arm, blood dripping through his fingers. Pulling Gus’s hand off the wound, he looked at it and sighed. “Carl,” he said to one of his men, “take over this team while I take this fool to the doc-tor. It looks like he’ll need some stitching up. Cookie, hand me a clean towel.”
“Does this little burg have a doctor?” Gus asked doubt-fully.
“I’m sure it does, but we’ll have to find out where he lives. Anybody know?” Will asked the last stragglers of the crowd watching them. When he got only shrugs for an answer, he spied Tom helping Cookie. “Hey, Tom, where’s the doctor’s office?”
Tom looked up and answered, “In his house down on River Street. It’s the big white one a couple of blocks down that way.” He waved his arm. “You can’t miss it. There’s a sign out in front.”
“Thanks.” Will looked around for an empty wagon, but there were none available.
Cookie handed him a towel. Gus was looking very pale. Will wrapped the towel tightly around Gus’s arm, then took Gus’s uninjured arm and, supporting him, began walking in the direction Tom had indicated. A line of wagons and buggies was stopped at the toll booth near the bridge. As they struggled around it, Gus slumped. Before he reached the road, Will caught him and picked him up.
A couple of women walking by shrieked, “Oh, my goodness.”
“Look at the blood!”
“Is he dying?”
Will gritted his teeth at the women’s comments and growled, “Not if I can help it.” He ignored them and eyed his logger’s pale face. Gus sure didn’t look too healthy right now. Damn, but his arm was bleeding. No wonder he’d passed out.
Will laid him down on the boardwalk, then tore off a sleeve of his shirt and used it to tie the towel tighter around his arm. Then he picked Gus up again and strode on down the street.