Chapter Seventeen

Waking to the peaceful light of day, wrapped securely within his warm arms, Erin could not deny the obvious any longer. She had fallen deeply in love with the mysterious man who had somehow managed to topple her sensible world.

“You awake?” Derek whispered.

She rolled over and faced Derek’s soulful gaze. “I am, and I’m wondering what it is you have planned for us today.”

He smoothed a stand of her hair between his fingers. “If you don’t have to rush into work today, I’d like to take you some place special after breakfast.” He tugged on a long tasseled rope hanging near his bedside.

“What’s that?”

He smiled. “You’ll see.”

Within minutes, Hannah’s voice called from behind the door announcing breakfast was waiting outside the bedroom door.

Erin trailed a finger along the silky mass of curls on his chest. “My, my. What service. Is this something you do every morning? Breakfast in bed?”

“Good Lord, woman. No.” Derek rose and donned his robe. “I wish I could, though.” He opened the door, wheeled in a rolling cart, and placed two cane chairs at each end. “This I arranged with Hannah late last night.”

Gazing at the plates smothered in eggs, ham, biscuits, and gravy, she all but salivated with hunger. “I can’t believe how famished I am this morning.”

Derek’s eyes paled as he surveyed her. “Eat, my dear. The damp chill of winter is in the air these days. You need to stay healthy.”

Erin frowned. “Heavens. I’ve always been healthy as a horse all my life, chill or no chill.”

“Be that as it may —”

A knock rattled the bedroom door.

Derek sighed. “Yes, what is it?”

The long pause coming from behind the door filled the large bedroom. Finally, a voice laced with melancholy announced, “Franz has informed me that the horses are hitched to the carriage, sir.”

“We’ll be there shortly, Mrs. Schauss,” Derek said.

Erin squished her nose. “She seems even more sinister than your man Franz. Have you ever thought of hiring cheerful staff?”

Derek choked on his coffee and smiled. “You know, that’s rather funny. Hannah, my cook — you met her — she’s cheery.”

“That’s true. Seriously, though. Franz scowls like a ghoul, and Mrs. Schauss, well, I don’t know what her —”

Derek raised his hand. “That’s just it, my dear, you don’t know. Mrs. Schauss, and I, well, let’s just say we go back a long way with one another.”

His gaze snapped from hers in a flash. Erin knew when to leave well-enough alone. Perhaps his current staff had been in his employ when he was married to his wife. Further, maybe they viewed her presence as a lame replacement for someone they had once cared about.

Brushing the troubling thought aside, she sipped her coffee, wondering if there was any word on the women’s vote from the day before. Normally, she would be rushing off to work, hot on the heels of the city’s biggest stories. But after the heated argument with her father and Frederick, followed by the night of passionate lovemaking with Derek, her restless curiosity felt tethered by her conflicted heart.

Franz met them out front and opened the door to the carriage. Erin scooted in and tucked the ends of the cumbersome coat under her bottom. Turning to Derek, she said, “This huge coat you’ve insisted I wear today tells me we must be going somewhere outdoors.”

Derek scooted in next to her and slid a hand over hers. “You’re right.”

She stroked the smooth fur on the garment. “What is this thing made from anyway — wolves?”

“Wolves?” Derek snorted and shook his head. “No, I can assure you it’s not made from the fur of wolves. The coat you’re wearing, my dear, is made from one-hundred-percent sheared beaver fur.”

Erin dropped her chin to her chest, examining the fur more closely. “Beaver. Hmm. You don’t say.”

Once the carriage drove outside of the city limits, they headed toward east, toward the forest. Muddy water from recent rains filled the numerous potholes along the way, making the lengthy trip exceedingly bumpy.

She squeezed Derek’s arm. “You’re taking me to one of your logging camps, am I right?”

“You’re a perceptive little thing, aren’t you? You’re correct. You asked me for a story. I think you should see another place I like to call home.”

The earthy aroma of moist soil laced with evergreen drifted up her nose. She breathed in deeply, letting the cool, fresh air linger inside her lungs. Tall green canopies darkened the narrow road the deeper into the forest they rode. Sword ferns and wet, lichen-covered rocks dotted the earth between huge tree trunks, and pinecones lay scattered amid brilliant hues of jade moss woven in a low bed of fog.

Sunshine illuminated a clearing directly ahead. The coachman wound along the muddy path, stopping when they reached the sunny patch. He descended the carriage, unhinged the horses, and tethered the handsome beasts to a weathered, gray stump.

Derek exited the coach and extended a hand toward Erin. “This is as far as we can go in the carriage.”

Glancing at the surroundings, she said, “I have absolutely no idea where we are.”

“We’re near one of my logging camps. This one in particular is special to me.”

She surveyed the lush surroundings, inhaling the cool air hinting of distant wood fires. “It certainly is beautiful out here.” She looped her arm within Derek’s. “What is it that makes this particular area so special, other than the obvious beauty?”

“Here you be, sir,” said Franz, holding out a wicker basket.

Derek grabbed the carrier and waggled his eyebrows. “First, my dear, we’re going on a picnic.”

“What? A picnic — in this cold?”

“You didn’t think I had you wear that huge beaver coat without a damn good reason, did you? Come on.”

He grasped her gloved hand, and they walked in the ray of sunshine illuminating a path, stopping when they came upon a rustic log cabin with gray smoke swelling from a stone chimney.

“Who are we going to see?”

He smiled and squeezed her hand. “This little place happens to be mine.”

A narrow, river rock pathway led to a small covered porch. Derek opened the door and gestured for her to go inside.

After looking at the cabin from the outside, Erin was surprised how much bigger it truly was inside. A smoldering wood fire graced the stone hearth, creating a cozy atmosphere within the rustic bungalow.

Derek leaned in. “The cabin is comfortable, but I should warn you, there’s no indoor plumbing.”

She hung the massive coat on an iron hook and meandered down the hallway, poking her head into each of the small bedrooms. “It’s really quite cute.” She glanced at the hearth and frowned. “Who lit the fire?”

“Gregore. You remember him from the party, yes?” he asked, busily opening the picnic basket and setting out the food. “Hannah makes the best fried chicken and potato salad this side of the Mississippi.”

“Gregore. He was the man dressed as a monk?”

“That’s him. He’s here from time to time and helps watch over the place for me.”

Derek rummaged through a drawer and brought back knives and forks. “Have a seat, my dear.”

Erin studied Derek’s handsome face. He appeared especially calm and comfortable. The forest, the cabin, the hissing wood fire in the hearth — it seemed a more natural environment for him than his palatial home on Grand Avenue.

Derek moistened his bottom lip and spread a linen napkin on his lap. “I have an idea. Suppose after we eat, instead of walking, if you’re up to riding horseback, we can venture up the road and see the men working at camp. You’ll have a good idea of what goes on around here — for the newspaper.”

She smiled. “I may have spent my early years in New York, but once I came to Everett it was though I’d been born to ride a horse all my life. Sounds wonderful, Mr. Rudliff.”

While they finished their meal, Franz saddled the horses. Derek eased Erin up onto the smaller gelding, and he climbed on the larger steed.

After slowly venturing along a sun-filled trail, they made a sharp turn onto a narrow path enveloped by thick green canopies of hemlock, cedar, and fir, blocking out the bright light. The sudden damp chill sliced her cheeks. She gazed up at the treetops that appeared to ascend into the heavens.

“Derek. How tall are these trees? Some appear to go straight to the stars.”

“The tallest we’ve taken down was well over four-hundred feet tall. A mighty Douglas fir about four-hundred-and-fifty years old.”

“Amazing,” she murmured.

The soft sound of trickling water resonated from somewhere nearby. They followed the path leading to a clearing. Thick gray stumps and stubs of timber, as far as she could see, dotted the landscape. She swallowed a gasp. Having just come out from under the towering lacy green canopy moments earlier, the land before her now appeared ravaged and desolate. As they headed farther, shouts and the steady buzz of hissing machinery grew louder, echoing across the hills.

Several men tending a fire in front of a row of wooden bunkhouses came into view. A slovenly woman hung wet laundry on a weather-beaten rope secured between trees, nodding her head as they rode passed.

Derek tipped his hat. “Ma’am,” he said. “Gentlemen.”

“Good afternoon, sir,” the men said.

As they drew closer to the increasing noise, dozens of brawny, thick-chested men with muscles all but bursting from their woolen shirts came into view. Some sharpened axes while others held giant, toothy saws.

Derek explained the noise she was hearing came from the “steam donkey” up ahead. Operating the machine required the services of several men. The choker-setter attached the cable to a log; a donkey-puncher tended the steam engine, and a spool-tender guided the whizzing line over the spool with a short stick. Erin murmured each job, hoping to commit his words and imagery to memory for when she wrote her article later.

An especially tall young lad the men called “Little Timber” was what Derek referred to as “the whistle-punk.” His job was to communicate the choker-setter’s position among the logs to the steam-whistle on the donkey engine. When the choker-setter secured the line, the whistle- punk tugged his wire as a signal to the engineer, letting him know the log was ready to be hauled in. As soon as one log was yarded, it was removed from the line. Horses then hauled the line back from the donkey engine to the waiting choker-setter and the next log.

They rode deeper and stopped. Derek thrust his arm back, gesturing for her to hold back. “Stay right where you are, and watch this.”

Shouts rang out. Derek identified the two men as “fallers.” One fellow shouted, “Down the hill!” and men quickly scattered like fleeing rats. She looked up at a massive tree quivering and swaying just before it fell like a mighty beast on the sodden earth in a monstrous, deafening thud, causing the very ground to tremble. Then as quickly as the men had dispersed to get away, they scrambled toward the fallen tree, and the process started anew.

This was the first time she had ever set foot in a logging camp, and the process of getting wood from the forest to the mills was far more complicated than she had ever imagined. “I had no idea. I’ve heard these men worked hard, but I had no idea how hard.”

Derek turned, his piercing eyes locked upon her gaze. “Which is why I wanted to bring you here. I have three other camps, as well, but my cabin here reminds me of my humble beginnings.”

Erin winced. Her back had begun to ache from sitting upright on the saddle so long.

“Are you tired, dear?” He looked up at the sky. “Perhaps we should return to the cabin and rest the horses a while before I have Franz hitch them for the return home before dark.”

“Derek! Miss Richland!”

Erin turned to see the man she recognized as Gregore jogging up the path toward them.

“Ah, Gregore,” said Derek. “Another fine job having the cabin ready for my arrival. When do you go back to the city?”

“I’m due at the morgue tomorrow.”

Derek leaned toward Erin and frowned playfully. “And you think Franz is sinister. Gregore works part-time at the City Morgue.”

Erin scrunched her nose and smiled. “Oh, my.”

“What?” Gregore asked defensively. “Someone has to do the job.”

Derek smiled. “I know, I know, and you’re a good man.”

Gregore grabbed the reins of Erin’s horse. “Let’s get these beasts hitched.”

She dismounted, and Derek and Gregore tethered the horses to a post. Up ahead, a cluster of burly men stood in a circle, cursing and shouting at one another.

“What’s that all about?” asked Erin.

Derek jutted his chin out, gesturing toward the boisterous group. “I believe I have some business to tend to. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Won’t take but a moment.”

Erin watched as Derek strode toward the group of men and began talking to the group. She wondered if he had said something about her, because they all glanced in her direction at once.

“So, Derek says you’re here to see the logging camps,” said Gregore. “Are we going to be in the newspaper and terribly famous?”

She laughed. “I don’t know about famous.”

He removed his hat and scratched his scalp. “Say, what did you ever find out about the murders at the cemetery and that poor girl downtown? Sure is a shame to have such a thing happening in our little part of the world. Did I hear a large wolf was seen in the city, too?”

“That’s what they say.” Erin lowered her gaze. “It’s the most awful thing. I’m not sure we’ll ever really know exactly what happened to that unfortunate girl.”

“But I heard there was a witness —”

“Ah.” Derek patted Gregore’s back. “I think that business situation is taken care of.”

Gregore’s gaze snapped to Erin then back to Derek in a flash. “Oh, all right, then. I’ll bid you two farewell.” He plopped his hat on his head at a rakish tilt and stuffed a smoldering corncob pipe in his mouth. “Nice talking to you, Miss Richland. And good work on those stories you’ve been writing on the women’s vote.” He sauntered toward the other men, still hovering in a small circle.

She tilted her head, smiling, watching Gregore leave. “I like him.”

Derek’s eyes followed hers. “I do, too. Gregore’s a character. The man should have been in the theatre.”

They rode leisurely back to the cabin. Upon entering the door, Erin removed her boots and plopped on the sofa with a long sigh.

Derek frowned. “You look exhausted. Would you like to lie on a bed and relax?”

She sprawled out, using a cushioned arm as a pillow. “No, I’m fine here,” she said, her voice trailing away with the nagging need for a nap. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

He knelt by her side and swept up loose strands of hair that had fallen across her cheeks. “You rest, then.”

* * * *

ERIN woke to voices outside. She rose up, peered out the cabin window, and saw Franz and Derek, their brows knitted together in angry frowns. She wrapped a wool blanket across her shoulders and listened.

“It must have been those massive potholes. Damn thing is split to hell,” said Franz.

“Well, that’s just perfect,” Derek sneered. “I’m not taking her all the way home on horseback, that’s for sure.”

“I’ll try to get this fixed by tonight, but I’m not sure —”

“Christ Almighty!” Derek thrust his hands into his coat pockets and started for the cabin door. “Do what you can, Franz. We need to get her out of here.”

Derek burst through the cabin door. She sat up tall and tugged the wool blanket to her chest. “Did I hear something about the carriage wheel?”

He stood frozen, the lines on his face deepening as he shut the door behind him. “I thought you were asleep. What else did you hear?”

The question caught her off guard. She narrowed her eyes, studying him. “Well, nothing. I just woke up. Why?”

He waved his handed dismissively. “Oh, no reason.”

“Are we stuck here — for the night?”

Derek bit down on his bottom lip, and the muscles along his jawline pulsed. “Franz will try his best to repair the carriage, but we might be stuck here for a bit longer than I had planned.”

Thank heavens she had sent the note to her father. Not that he would be any less worried. But with him under the assumption that she was staying at Delia’s to “cool off,” at least he wouldn’t be calling the sheriff or sending out a search party.

Derek rocked on his feet, frowning, gazing out the window as the dying sun dissolved in the evening sky. The orange sphere dipped low, glowing like fire between the thick tree trunks and hills. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, but he appeared lost in thought, bewildered, alone, as though he had forgotten she was even there.

From the small window, she saw Franz walking up the path with a mallet thrust over his shoulder. He knelt by the carriage and began banging away unmercifully. In between the pounding and thumping, he cursed up a storm rivaling even the roughest longshoreman, kicking at the injured wheel for added emphasis.

Derek turned and said, “Will you be all right here by yourself for just a bit?”

“Of course.” She wove her finger through the loop on his trousers. “Take as long as you need. If I get hungry there’s plenty of leftover chicken.”

His gaze turned to the burning embers of the fire. He opened the door and returned with an armload of split firewood. He placed two logs on the fire and set the remainder in the copper caldron next to the hearth.

“Stay inside,” he said. “There should be enough warmth from the fresh logs. Toss a few more in there if you get cold.” He lit two lanterns. After placing one by her side on the small end table, he grabbed the other and said, “I’ll be back shortly.”

Erin smiled. “I know how to keep a fire going. Don’t worry.”

A hasty peck on her forehead replaced the passionate goodbye kiss she had expected, before he headed out the door. She watched as he marched down the darkening path with the lantern lighting his way, his frame disappearing to nothingness as the bleeding sun gave way to the rising silver moon.

Stacks of old magazines, books, and papers filled the cabin’s niches, keeping her occupied. Wind whirled outside, and a biting draft blew gusts of cold air beneath the front door.

Outside, the gleaming moon glistened above the arcing treetops, casting claw-like shadows scraping across the windowpane.

She surveyed her surroundings. Tea, perhaps. She rummaged around the tiny kitchen. One by one, she found the necessary items. A spoon. A cup. A kettle to boil water on the fire. A tea ball and tea in an old tin. She scanned the room. But what about water?

That’s right. No water.

Derek had mentioned there was no indoor plumbing. She remembered seeing a water jug inside the carriage.

She sank on the couch on her knees and gazed out the window. Franz was nowhere to be seen, and the carriage sat perched off the path at the edge of the forest. She stared at the large garment hanging by the door, debating wearing the massive beaver coat for such a short distance. Perhaps she could simply wrap the wool blanket across her shoulders, hightail it down the path to the carriage, grab the water, and rush back. Then she’d have tea in no time.

Crisp maple leaves blew inside, whirling like orange tops across the wooden floor the moment she opened the door. She stepped outside, yanking the brass knob forcefully to shut the cabin door. A powerful gust nearly ripped the blanket from her clutches, and the fiery lantern she carried wobbled precariously.

Hmm. Racing to the carriage would be out of the question. She trod carefully, steadily, keeping the lantern from flailing about in the biting wind. Sidestepping puddles and mud, she made her way to the side of the carriage. She opened the door, extended the lantern, and grabbed the water.

After tying the wool blanket around her waist, she grabbed the lantern and jug of water and closed the door with a heavy sway of her hip. She narrowed her gaze, trying to focus in the near darkness.

A rushing blast of icy air whirled through the forest, howling like a wounded animal caught in the arcing treetops. Birds squawked wildly as they fled their perilous roosts groaning with imminent warning.

A towering branch high above her head snapped, and she heard the harsh scrape and whirl as it raced toward her.

Shrieking, she jumped away, just before a massive, splintered branch crashed to the ground with a shuttering thud.

Heated blood ripped through her veins, and her heart pounded so fiercely she thought it would leap from her chest. Willing her numb feet to move, she inhaled deeply and exhaled in slow, shallow breaths. To her left, a shadowy figure darted across the path in a flash. Within seconds, another figure scurried past her, disappearing behind a thick trunk to her right.

She held out the lantern. The flame vibrated in tune with her shaky hand. “Who … who’s there?”

The only reply came from a screeching owl above. She inched her feet forward, toward the cabin. One step, two, three —

A large figure moved swiftly across her hazy line of vision about twenty feet away.

“Dear God in heaven,” she whispered. The lantern wobbled in her hands as she angled it forward at arm’s length. “Just get me back to the cabin, and I promise I’ll —”

At the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs on the forest floor, she stiffened. She stared straight ahead at the cabin, then glanced back and faced the disabled carriage. Gauging the distance, she figured she stood about halfway between the two.

The smell of wood smoke billowing from the chimney beckoned a reprieve. All at once, she made a mad dash for the cabin.

Though her feet flew forward as fast as humanly possible, she felt as though her body were moving in a slow wave.

To her right, something with glowing amber eyes crouched low and paced toward her. To her left, another creature with the same glowing eyes moved in.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

She froze and dropped the water jug. Slowly, she stepped backwards, one foot behind the other. With each shaky step, the creatures slowly advanced toward her, side-by-side, mere yards away from where she stood. Moving into view, the beasts hunkered lower.

Moonlight angled across the path, illuminating large, protruding snouts and bared teeth. Bristled fur glistened, and their wild scent seeped into her nostrils.

Cautiously, never taking her eyes off the beasts, she stepped backwards until her back hit the side of the carriage. She extended her arm, slanting the trembling flame toward the two creatures. “Get. Go away,” she croaked.

Trying not to blink, she focused on their thick paws and curled nails gripping the earth, as though ready to pounce at any moment. Illuminated gray vapor rose from their nostrils, drifting like fog in the stiff breeze.

Her heart hammered, thundering in her ears, the pounding force rising into her neck, threatening to strangle her.

One of the beasts growled and bared its massive, ivory fangs. The other snarled in return. In unison, they slowly advanced toward her.

Dear God. Oh, Lord in heaven. Don’t let me die. Please don’t let me die.

The creatures roared and sprang into the air, lunging straight for her.

She screamed and hit one in the face with the lantern. The other snapped wildly at the wool blanket draped around her waist. The lantern fell to the moist earth, and the flame extinguished in a single blue flash. A sheath of clouds veiled the moonlight. In an instant, darkness consumed the area.

“Derek! Help!” she shrieked. The harrowing sounds of her terror echoed across the forest as the beasts tore at her clothes, ripping the protective blanket to shreds.

Her fingernails snapped painfully as she scraped and groped her hands along the carriage door. Gripping the handle, she flung the door open and scrambled inside, tugging the door behind her.

“No! Get away!” Screaming like a ghoul into the night, she tugged and pulled, but the door was caught on the larger beast’s throat. Trapped against the carriage door, the massive head and jaws snapped violently. In one swift movement, she kicked the creature in the mouth.

The animal retreated with a yelp, and she slammed the door shut. She hadn’t time to catch her breath before the second beast slammed into the carriage, scratching the door in a frenzy of grinding claws against metal.

The first injured beast shook off her kick with a single shake of its massive head, then leapt onto the outside bench. Clawing and chewing, it shredded the exterior in its frantic attempt to reach her.

Pure terror numbed her throat. She couldn’t swallow.

Or scream.

Or cry for help.

Unblinking, she focused on the sliver of moonlight emerging through the towering treetops, illuminating the large glistening fangs as the beasts ripped at the carriage. The taste of bile stuck in her throat with the frightening realization. Soon they would break the glass, and she would be torn to shreds within their mighty jaws.

And she would never have had the chance to tell Derek she loved him.

She gulped in jagged breaths, trying to calm her racing heart, threatening to leap out of her mouth. Suddenly, a massive gust of wind rattled the carriage, threatening to topple it over. She sank in the seat, covering her face with trembling hands.

Then, just as swiftly as the howling wind had ascended, it was gone, replaced by a deep chorus resounding in the distance. Animals howled, feral sounds resonating in unison through the immense dark woods.

Had the two beasts retreated?

Breathless and weak as a newborn kitten, she slowly rose up, wiped the vapor from the window, and peered outside.

Crack!

The window shattered, and glass shards embedded in her hands and wrists. She hurled her body to the opposite side as a massive furred head with drooling fangs and glowing amber eyes bounded inside the broken window.

She saw another creature bounding toward the carriage with amazing speed. In a flash, the beast tore into her furred attacker and dragged it outside the shattered window.

Wild animal scents blasted into her skull as she watched the beasts rolling in balls of bristly fur outside the carriage.

Dizzy and nauseated, she squeezed her eyes so tightly shut, stars danced against her eyelids. A deep growl sliced through the darkness, followed by a high-pitched yelp, then another.

The familiar scent of bayberry laced with evergreen wafted into the shattered carriage window and straight into her brain.

A stone hearth. Wine. Making love.

She opened her eyes and stared at the large, blue-eyed wolf standing triumphantly over the injured beasts lying near its massive paws.

Fangs, fur, blue eyes.

Blue eyes.

His blue eyes.

Dear God.