On Sunday afternoon, Carrie stood in Martha’s parents’ flower-scented parlor, listening to the minister read the wedding vows for Lute and Martha.
Carrie knew everyone in the room except Lute’s parents who’d just arrived from their farm in Wisconsin. Martha’s parents looked nervous and harried by the rushed event, but were friendly to everyone.
The bride wore a happy smile and looked lovely in her mother’s white lacey wedding dress. She said her vows in a strong, confident voice and Lute did likewise.
It was evident to everyone present that she and Lute loved each other and were happy with their plans for a life together.
Carrie envied their happiness, and then she reminded herself that envy was a sin. She swallowed and pushed those bad feelings away. She truly was happy for her friend and wished her and Lute a long and prosperous marriage. She just wanted a similar fate for herself.
The lovely wedding made her think of Will and how much she wished a similar event for them. She swallowed, realizing her feelings for Will went way beyond physical desire.
She wanted him for her husband. Oh, God, she’d fallen in love with a forbidden logger. A logger who would be leaving soon—leaving her behind. She sighed. Martha’s mother glanced curiously at her and Carrie forced a smile.
She tried to listen to the minister’s words but her mind soon wandered back to her own dilemma again.
Maybe she’d never marry. If not, she would have to accept whatever life God had in store for her. Who was she to question His plans for her? He’d taken her parents home to Himself and left her with the responsibility of a young brother to raise. Perhaps He saw that as enough to fill her life. She must accept her fate.
She must not let Martha and Lute see her sad mood. It would spoil their day to think she was unhappy.
She smiled as they turned to their guests and the minister introduced them as man and wife. Martha smiled back and came toward her, arms outstretched for a hug.
Resolutely, Carrie hugged and kissed the bride and congratulated the groom. Then they all moved to the dining room to enjoy the refreshments and open the gifts everyone had brought.
As soon as she politely could, Carrie slipped away and walked back to the Falls House. She hurried to her own room to change, then took a little time for herself. Throwing herself down onto her patchwork quilt, she indulged herself in letting some selfish tears flow. She cried for the loss of her own dreams, which would probably never come true.
* * * *
Friday was a hot July day, much like the weather had been on the fateful day this trouble had started. The sky was clear and blue, with only a few light, fluffy clouds. A soft breeze stirred the leaves on the trees and cooled Carrie’s face as she made her way down the crowded street and across the road to the river. People seemed to be everywhere, lining the banks of the river. Would their little town ever be the same again?
Carrie climbed to the mossy spot under the pines where she and Martha had watched the jam on that Sunday in June. Had it really been only a few weeks ago? So much had happened in her life since that day, it seemed much longer than that.
She settled down on the ground and pulled out her notebook to begin taking notes for Uncle Joe. He’d heard about the big new effort to break the jam that was to happen today and sent her to get the story for him.
The huge mass of logs looked much the same, although she knew they’d gotten many small hauls of logs to float downriver to the sawmills at Stillwater.
She thought of how hard Will and the other log owners and their crews had worked to break the jam. It seemed for every log they’d succeeded in freeing, more had arrived from upriver to pack in behind the ones stuck in the sharp bend at Angle Rock. She’d begun to hate the grinding, crashing sound of moving logs.
Martha and Tom joined her there on the cliff overlooking the river.
“What’s happening?” Tom asked, out of breath from his rush up the hill to get to them. “All the loggers are excited about something big going on today. And see, now they’re all getting off the river.”
Carrie said, “Come sit down beside me and watch the loggers.” Martha settled down on the pine needles.
Tom protested, saying, “I don’t want to sit. I can see better standing up.”
“They’re making another attempt at breaking the jam loose with dynamite,” Carrie explained.
“They’ve tried that before and it didn’t work,” Tom scoffed. He stood beside the pine tree and looped an arm around it.
“Lute says they’re going to try a really big charge of dynamite this time,” Martha said nervously. “I hope it goes all right.”
“Isn’t that Lute going out on the logs, now?”
“Yes, that’s him,” Martha said, jumping to her feet. “Oh, my, he’s carrying the dynamite out there right now to set the bomb off.”
“The men are all getting off the logs, away from where he’s going. Yikes, it looks dangerous. And it is dangerous, isn’t it, Carrie?” Tom asked, his voice filled with awe.
“Yes, it’s very dangerous, Tom.” Carrie’s voice shook with nervous fear. It was much more dangerous than she wanted to admit. She glanced at Martha, who was watching Lute and paid her no attention.
“Yes, it certainly is, Tom. Lute says dynamite is always scary and unpredictable to work with. Oh, I can’t look,” Martha said, covering her face with her hands.
She waited a minute, then uncovered her face and stared out at her new husband. “What if it goes off before he wants it to? I’ll be a widow before I’m a mother. And my baby will be fatherless before he’s even born. Oh, dear!” Martha wrung her hands.
“Have faith, Martha. Calm yourself by saying a prayer that he’ll be safe,” Carrie said, putting her arm around Martha.
“I can’t think of any words to pray.” Martha hid her face again.
Carrie hugged Martha tighter. “That’s all right. Your feelings are enough. You don’t need words, too.”
She and Tom watched Lute pick his way carefully across the tangle of logs, then stop at the head of the jam and place the dynamite.
“He’s coming back, Martha. He’s safely out of the way.”
“Thank goodness!”
They waited along with everyone else for the big explosion. And waited. And waited.
Nothing happened.
“Why isn’t it going off?” Tom asked.
“Oh, God, it didn’t blow. Now what will they do?” Carrie asked.
“I don’t know,” Martha said, wringing her hands.
* * * *
Down on the riverbank, Lute looked despairingly at Will. “The fuse must have burned out before it reached the dynamite,” he said, his voice rough with dread. “I’ll have to go out to relight it.”
Will shook his head. “That’s too dangerous, Lute.”
“There’s no other way. I have to do it, Boss.”
“It could be just burning slower than we thought. Let’s give it more time.”
They waited longer. Still nothing happened.
The crowd murmured and grew restless. The loggers all looked to Lute and Will, unsure of what to do next.
“I need to relight it,” Lute insisted.
“If it’s just burning slow, it could blow up right when you get out there,” Will objected.
“Ya, Boss. I know that. But it has to be done.”
“No,” Will said, shaking his head. “You have Martha and now a baby coming to think of. It’s my responsibility. I’ll do it. It’s just a matter of relighting the fuse, isn’t it?”
Lute nodded, reluctantly.
Will took the matches.
He cast a glance at the spot on the cliff where he knew Carrie and Martha were watching. Yes, there they were, under that tall pine. She was probably praying for his safety, he knew, and somehow that knowledge was comforting. The Lord knows I need some help today, he thought, and added a prayer of his own.
He turned back to the river and stepped out onto the tangled mass of logs. The space between him and the place where Lute had put the dynamite seemed much longer now than it had before.
* * * *
Up on the cliff, Carrie and Martha held each other as they watched.
“Will’s going out there instead of Lute,” Martha said, relief evident in her voice.
“Oh, God!” Carrie exclaimed, putting a fist in her mouth to stifle her prayer. “Please keep him safe.”
Martha put her arm around her. In a stricken voice she said, “I’m sorry, Carrie. Forgive me. I didn’t mean to sound so happy that it’s your man taking the risk instead of mine.”
Carrie held tightly to Martha’s hand, never taking her eyes off the big logger picking his way across the logs. She didn’t even think to object to Martha calling Will “her man.”
* * * *
People lined the banks everywhere along the shore. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as they watched Will skip across the logs until he was near the spot where the dynamite was.
Fear of the danger involved in what he was about to do leaped into Will’s mind and he resolutely pushed it aside. He couldn’t let that stop him.
What he’d said to Lute about having a woman to think of applied to himself as well, even though Carrie didn’t yet know he thought of her as belonging to him. He didn’t want to leave this earth yet, either. He wanted to stay here and make a new life for himself and Carrie. Nevertheless, not my will, but Thine be done. The line from the prayer jumped to his lips unbidden.
Carefully, he made his way across the slippery logs toward the spot where Lute had placed the bomb.
With a sudden pain in his heart, he realized he loved Carrie. He should have told her so, long before now. Why had he been afraid to say so? And what if now he never got the chance to tell her?
Love was the most important thing in his life. He loved his mother and sisters and brothers, too, of course. But not in the hot, needy way he loved Carrie.
He stumbled a bit, and forced his attention back to keeping his footing on the wet logs and to remembering Lute’s instructions.
Was he near the right spot? This looked like it, but where was the damned thing? What if the bomb blew up in his hands before he got it re-lit?
There it was. He couldn’t see any red glow of fire so the fuse probably wasn’t just burning slow. Carefully, he bent down and reached for it. He gave a sigh of relief that he couldn’t see any glow on the fuse at all. It was out.
He picked it up, re-lit it, held the match an extra second to make sure the fire had taken, and then carefully put the fuse back in place.
Rising, Will lifted his hand in a quick wave of victory to his men and then quickly stepped from log to log, hurrying back toward safety. He’d never moved so fast in spiked boots in his life, all the while sending up a prayer to God asking Him to keep him from falling on the slippery logs now.
* * * *
Martha said, “He’s there. It hasn’t blown yet.”
“It’s re-lit! He’s coming back,” Tom said.
“Hurry, Will. Oh, please, hurry!” Carrie begged. “Come on, get out of the way, it’s gonna blow!”
Carrie watched, her hands still covering her mouth, as she finally let out her breath in relief. He was almost to shore and safety.
“Will’s safe! Thank God!” Carrie could barely see him through her happy tears.
With a mighty roar, the dynamite blew. Logs and splintered pieces of logs flew high in the air like a waterspout. Some bounced off the high cliff walls, then fell back to the riverbed.
Then, grinding and crashing, the logs began to move. The dammed-up water began to trickle through, faster and faster, until it rushed. The weight of the water forced the logs forward now that the jam at the head was loosened.
Men yelled, “Yeah! It worked! The logs are moving!”
Quickly the men hurried back onto the logs and began frantically working their peavies and poles to keep the logs straight and floating downriver. They knew they had to work fast to prevent them from turning sideways and jamming up again.
As the freed logs in front moved downriver, more and more of the dammed-up water behind the logs began to find an outlet and rush downriver, carrying more logs with it.
Shouts of joy mingled with the roar of the water and the crash of logs as the whole mess of logs and dammed-up water began to move downriver between the tall cliffs.
Tom jumped up and down and Martha and Carrie joyfully hugged each other on shore. Together they watched as, little by little, the huge jam disintegrated downriver and out of sight around the bend.
Finally, there was a clear path through the center of the river for logs from upriver to move. Two long miles of logs bounced and danced along past them, free at last.
Tom objected, “But only the middle of the river is cleared. There are still a lot of logs stuck along the sides of the river. There’s Big Jumbo over there in the wing, see? That one is so big, it even got named.”
“Yes, I see it.” Carrie answered. “I heard about that big one. It belongs to Isaac Staples, I believe. The ones left behind are in shallow water. It takes a lot of water to float the heavy logs, you know. Some of them got pushed up on shore by the weight of the logs behind them. The men will have to push those back into the river a few at a time later. There’s still a lot of work for them to do. Oh, I must get these notes down before I forget the details.”
Carrie settled down on the ground and picked up her notebook to begin writing down the events of the day for Uncle Joe’s newspaper.
Martha nodded and answered Tom’s question. “I remember after the last jam, the loggers worked on the cleanup for weeks, getting all those stragglers off the banks and sand bars back into the main stream so they could float down to the sawmills. But the jam is broken now, so the main work is done.”
Tom asked, “So, what happens to the logs, now? When they get downriver?”
“Now they’ll float about thirty miles down to Stillwater to the booms. The booms are sort of holding pens made of floating logs chained together. They catch the logs where the river is wider and the current slower. Then it’s up to the sorting crews at the sawmills to divide the logs by their marks and pay the owners for them.”
“So all the logging crews will leave here soon?”
Carrie said, “Not today, but yes, most of them will leave pretty soon, Tom.”
“Well, I’m glad they broke the jam, even if I won’t have a job helping Cookie anymore.”
Carrie sighed. “I’m sure Cookie will let you know when you’re no longer needed to help him.”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
She was glad they succeeded too, she told herself. But her heart was heavy at the thought Will would soon be leaving. Would she ever see him again?
* * * *
The morning of the Fourth of July dawned to pouring rain.
As she set the table for breakfast, Carrie glanced out the dining room windows at the dismal skies. “Our parade will be ruined.”
“Never mind,” Aunt Louise assured her. “Jack says it’ll clear up within the hour. And you know he’s always right when it comes to predicting the weather.”
“You’re always quoting Jack. I think you like him.”
Louise flushed. “Of course I like him. Why shouldn’t I like him? He’s the best helper I’ve ever had.”
Carrie raised an eyebrow as she noticed her aunt’s red face. She suspected Jack was more to Aunt Louise than just a helper, but decided not to pursue the matter.
“I hope he’s right about the rain letting up. It would be a shame to waste all the work of making pies and ice cream.”
Aunt Louise laughed. “Don’t worry, it would still get eaten. I’ve never yet seen good food go to waste among all these men.”
“True, Auntie. But if it keeps raining and the roads are muddy, a lot of the farmers and their families won’t come into town, so the crowds won’t be as large.”
“Well, let’s worry about feeding our boarders their breakfast now. As for the rest of the day, we’ll have to take what comes and like it or lump it. There’s nothing we can do about the weather. The Good Lord will decide on that.”
“I suppose.” Carrie headed back to the kitchen for the platters of eggs, sausages, and flapjacks as the first of the men filed into the dining room. They seemed to eat the food as fast as she could carry it out to them. She was kept busy running back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen.
In between, she kept an eye on the weather and was pleased to see Jack was right. By the time all the men had eaten their fill, the rain had stopped and the sun was out. Steam rose from the sidewalk where the sun warmed the wet wood.
Aunt Louise announced, “Listen, everyone. We won’t serve any more meals here at the boarding house today. You’ll find lots of places to buy food at the stands that will be lining the streets in a little while. So we’re taking the rest of the day off, to enjoy the festivities ourselves.”
The men murmured agreement, and filed out. Will was among them and stopped to give Carrie a warm smile.
He asked, “When is the parade?”
“This forenoon. You’ll see them lining up out here on Bench Street in about an hour or so. I hear it’s supposed to be one of the largest parades we’ve ever had.”
“Quite appropriate to celebrate our success with breaking the jam yesterday.”
Carrie looked warily at his face and dared to ask, “Will you be going back to Stillwater soon?”
He nodded. “Yes. Tomorrow. I’ll leave part of my men here under Sven. There’s a couple more weeks’ work to be done here, but I need to get back to supervise the claiming of our logs from the boom site and the sawmill operation now.”
Her heart felt like a leaden weight in her chest. “I’m sorry to see you go,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. She didn’t want to let him see how much she meant those words.
“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “I suppose your boarding house will be less busy without us.”
She drew in a sharp breath at his reference. “I suppose I deserve that. It’s true we’ll miss the business you brought, but I will miss you, too.”
Will raised a hand to touch her arm, then glanced around to see who might be watching and dropped it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound so nasty. I will miss you too, Carrie.” His voice was soft and velvety and his blue eyes met hers. “Can you spare an hour or two to watch the parade and enjoy the festivities with me?”
She smiled. “I have the rest of the day off. I’d like that.”
“I’ve told my men they can stop work to watch the festivities, too. I’ll meet you later on the porch.”
She shook her head. “My family always watches the parade from the balcony upstairs. There’s a door at the end of the hall that opens out to it. Martha is coming, too. It’s the best place in town to watch the parade.”
“All right. I’ll meet you there, then.”
“It’ll be crowded. I’ll save a chair for you.”
“You do that. See you later.”
An hour later he and Lute joined her and Martha on the balcony. Carrie sent Will a welcoming smile and patted the chair she’d saved for him. He slid into it. Carrie was immediately aware of his big body beside her, though he wasn’t even touching her. Her pulse pounded erratically.
Lute sat next to Martha and she blushed prettily as he put his arm around her. Carrie noticed and wished Will dared put his arm around her in public like that. But, of course, Lute and Martha were married now, so they had every right to touch each other, while she and Will were not committed to each other at all. Would they ever be? Her heart felt heavy at the thought that they probably had no future, despite her growing feelings for him. Today might be the last one they could spend together.
She forced her mind back to enjoying the present celebration. She must not spoil today’s joy by thinking of tomorrow’s sorrow.
The procession lined up down the street, horses stomping impatiently. People crowded the sidewalks, milling about, each trying to claim the best spot to see the parade.
“When are they going to start?” Tom asked impatiently.
“I heard they’re waiting for the delegation from Franconia,” Aunt Louise said.
At last the procession began to move. The Osceola Cornet Band stopped in front of the Falls House and played before heading across the bridge.
Next came a long group of wagons from the Franconia Lumber Company, including the Marine Cornet Band, a load of dressed lumber, a load of shingles, a load of lath, a load of edgings, and all their employees in uniform. The Chisago Lakes Choral Society, a Minstrel troupe performing on the platform of a wagon and a miniature mill and engine, steam up, drawn by mules, all drove by. Then came citizens in decorated carriages.
“Even the horses’ harnesses have ribbons and flowers on them,” Martha said with a laugh.
Each town tried to outdo the next in their decorated wagons and buggies. There was harvesting machinery, a blacksmith shop with men at work, a load of furniture, a grocery wagon, and an old-style livery rig.
Most of the carriages were elaborately decorated in red, white, and blue, with banners naming the business they represented. Some people wore masks or were dressed in comic costumes. One large chariot drawn by four horses carried a young lady for each state in the union. Another from the St. Paul and Duluth Railroad carried the foreman and his section crew, with a hand car on a railroad track and ties. There were wagons with harness, clothing, groceries, and even a drugstore with a prescription clerk at work.
“Look,” Tom said. “There’s a wagon from the meat market. It’s even got live calves and sheep on it.”
“I do believe they were right,” Aunt Louise said. “This is the longest parade yet.”
An announcement proclaiming that the toll bridge was paid for and was now free for all to use was met with loud cheers and a round of applause from the crowd.
“Where will the parade go now?” Tom asked.
“Across the bridge, then down Main Street of St. Croix Falls. Then the people marching or riding in the parade will have refreshments and disband. They’ll finish up the festivities with speeches and singing,” Carrie explained.
“Later there will be a dance in the Couvillion Hall and there’ll be music and dancing on the streets, too,” Martha added.
“Yes. The Pierce Brothers Orchestra is playing in the Hall, and the brass bands will be out on the streets.”
“Don’t forget the food booths, races, and games,” Lute said, rubbing his stomach.
“Well, I can see we might as well forget getting any more work done today,” Will said with a good-natured laugh.
“Don’t you think your men have earned a day off?” Carrie asked, glancing at Will.
“You’re right. Plenty of logs went downriver yesterday to keep mills busy for a while. They don’t need the logs left here right away. The clean-up work can wait for a day.” Will stood and clapped a hand on Lute’s shoulder. “Let’s go down and join the fun.”
“That sounds good to me, boss,” Lute said, giving Will a wide grin.
“Can I go walk around with my friends?” Tom asked, tugging at Carrie’s arm as they went back inside.
“All right, but stay out of trouble,” she admonished.
“I promise, Carrie.”
Determined to enjoy their last free hours together, Carrie walked with Will around the booths. She watched him join in a trap-shooting contest, and they ate at various booths, enjoying fried chicken, hot rolls, sweet cakes, and fresh raspberry pie with homemade ice cream.
“Did you hear that the push to blow up Angle Rock was defeated?”
Carrie turned to Will, a big smile on her face. “Oh, Will, that’s wonderful. I’m so glad.”
Will nodded. “So am I. Besides ruining the valley, I’m quite sure the effort would have cost far too much for what possible benefits it might have had.”
They walked on, side by side, sharing the pleasures of the day.
Once, she was surprised to see Aunt Louise and Jack sitting in the shade of a tree, heads together, talking. Jack was smiling at her aunt in a way Carrie had never noticed before. Were they sweet on each other?
“What are you thinking?” Will asked, following her stare to the couple.
“Ah, nothing. I just noticed Jack and Aunt Louise over there.”
“I see. They seem happy together, don’t they?”
“Yes. I…I didn’t know they saw each other, outside of working at the boarding house, I mean.”
“What, you think older people can’t fall in love?”
Carrie glanced at him quickly. “I suppose they can. I never thought much about the subject.”
Will laughed. “Since Ma started seeing Marvin Burns, I’ve thought about it quite a bit.”
Carrie wondered what part the fact that Marvin was Evelyn’s father played in his feelings. She asked cautiously, “Do you mind that your mother is interested in another man? I mean, other than your late father, of course.”
Will considered. “Yes, I do mind, in fact I spent a lot of time resenting the man. But, as Ma has reminded me a time or two, she has to live her own life.”
Carrie nodded. “I’m sure Aunt Louise would tell me the same thing, if I dared mention that I’d seen her with Jack today.”
Will smiled. “Then maybe it’s best you don’t mention it.”
Late in the afternoon the band began to play and they danced with the others on the street. Soon the shadows lengthened as the sun dropped behind the hill. The lamp-lighter lit the street lights and dancing seemed much more romantic in the shadows.
A couple of times, Will danced her to the shadows and kissed her. Carrie clung to him and wished the evening would never end.
Then another thunderstorm rolled in. That ended the dancing outdoors. Laughing as they ran through the rain, they hurried indoors to continue their dancing in the Couvillion Hall.
The band there was already playing. A large group of loud merrymakers crowded the big room.
“Let’s claim a table before they’re all taken,” Will said. He pointed to an empty one across the room.
A few minutes later, Carrie saw Martha and Lute come in and waved them over.
“Too bad they can’t do the fireworks, now, because of the rain,” Martha said, as she and Lute joined them at a table along a wall.
“I’ve heard they’ll do them tomorrow night instead.”
“We need the rain to give us more water to float the rest of the logs downstream,” Will said. “Right now, the river level is so low, we’re having to make a dam to save it to get enough water. It’s a lot of extra work.”
“You’re right. There’s always a silver lining for someone,” Carrie said and laughed.
“That there is. Don’t fuss about it,” Will replied. “They’re playing another waltz. Let’s dance.”
Carrie went into his arms and gave herself up to enjoying the music and the wonderful feeling of being held by him. If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe he really loved her and this was not the last night he’d hold her in his arms. She didn’t want to think about him leaving tomorrow.
Will held her and moved to the music. He glanced over her head at the little threesome of men sitting on the raised platform in the corner of the large room. They seemed to know the music by heart, or maybe they played by ear. Anyway, as their fingers moved on their fiddles, their eyes watched the crowd dance in the shadowy, lantern-lit room.
His time in this little town was over for this year. He probably would have no reason to return until next spring. And if all went well with the drive then, as it did in most years, he’d only spend a few days here then.
Certainly nowhere near enough time to court Carrie as a proper woman like her should be courted. He closed his eyes and breathed in the lavender scent she wore. He’d miss her.
He loved her, but he couldn’t just tell her that and leave. And there was no time to stay.
He had a business to run. He was only narrowly going to avoid bankruptcy after the horrendous costs of breaking this logjam.
And the fire in his other mill certainly hadn’t improved things for them.
She smiled up at him and he tightened his hold. If only things were different, he thought. If only he’d had time to romance her properly or could stay and do it now that the crisis was past.
Now it was too late for them.