When Love Comes My Way Read online

  “What have you done this afternoon, Echo?”

  “Oh…I went to Menson’s store.”

  “Did you shop?”

  Her friend shook her head. “No, but I enjoyed the outing. I get lonely sometimes.”

  She stopped and took Echo’s hands. “You know what? I have an extra coat that…that I have tired of.” She was tired of everything in her valises, and Echo seemed in need of the garment. “The color would look lovely on you. Would you like to have it?”

  Echo’s head dipped shyly. “That’s very kind of you, ma’am, but I don’t think I should accept. I appreciate the offer, though.”

  Tess was surprised by the young woman’s hasty refusal, but she recognized pride when she saw it. However, she also knew the coat Echo was wearing could not adequately protect her from the long Michigan winters. “You really are welcome to have it. I’d like to have new clothes, but I can’t very well justify them if I keep the ones I have. You’d be doing me a favor if you’d accept it.” It was becoming increasingly clear that, even with her memory loss, she had a practical side and was more than willing to use it.

  “I surely do thank you,” Echo said. “I’m sure your coat’s very pretty, but I—”

  “Your husband wouldn’t mind, would he?” Tess wondered if that could be the cause for the girl’s hesitancy. The men talked at night, and she heard the stories of Echo’s husband and how he ruled the roost with an iron will. Most shook their heads and called him names a lady shouldn’t hear.

  Echo shrugged. “I don’t think he’d mind.”

  “Good. Then it’s settled. You will walk with me to the bunkhouse and I’ll give you the coat.”

  Echo chuckled softly. “You surely are a stubborn woman, Miss Yardley.”

  She laughed. “Well, I’m not sure about that, but it appears I could be.”

  “Waite says I have a determined streak a mile long. Maybe that’s why you and me take to each other. Thank you kindly. I’m sure it will be a real blessing.”

  “I thank you.” Tess grinned and squeezed her friend’s hands. “You haven’t seen the garment yet.”

  Chatting with Echo about other things, Tess made her way carefully along the icy roads. They were forced to step aside whenever sleighs loaded with monstrous logs edged by them.

  Occasionally one of her bunkhouse neighbors would call out a friendly greeting, and she would smile and wave. From the deep woods, she could hear the increasingly familiar sounds of crosscut saws, the splintering of trees when they began to fall, and the faint cries of “Timberrrr” as the giant widow-makers came crashing to the ground.

  When they arrived at the door of her room, Echo asked, “Aren’t you afraid staying here with all these men?”

  “At first I was scared to death, but not anymore. They are very kind to me.” Tess inserted her key in the lock, and they entered her quarters.

  “My…” Echo’s gaze roamed the room. “This is small.”

  “Very, but I try to think of it as cozy.” If she thought of it any other way, she would claw at the walls, screaming. She reached for a valise and took out the coat. Shaking out the folds, she smiled. “This should fit you nicely.” She slipped the heavy garment over Echo’s shoulders. “Sometimes I wish I had a room with windows so light could get in. One with lots of hot water and bath salts and…” She took a deep breath. “Oh, well, it’s useless to wish for the impossible. No one has their own room in this camp.”

  “Big Say does,” Echo said, running her hands over the thick gray wool, smiling.

  “He does, doesn’t he.” It was a statement, not a question. “Where is it again?”

  “Above Menson’s store.”

  “That’s right. And how many rooms does he have?”

  “I don’t know. Probably only one, and it’s pretty small, they say.” She turned in a pirouette. “This is so pretty. I’ve never had anything this fine.”

  She was pleased her gift made Echo so happy. Why, the woman’s smile went from ear to ear. Tess had never seen her as carefree as she was at that moment. “Then you must wear it with joy. It looks beautiful on you.”

  “I will… and thank you again.” Echo kissed Tess on the cheek. “I’d best be getting on home. Gotta fry up some squirrel for Waite’s supper.” The light left Echo’s eyes. It was obvious to Tess she didn’t want to leave.

  “May I walk part of the way with you, my friend?”

  Echo’s eyes lit up. “I’d like that.”

  When they reached the fork in the road, Tess hugged Echo and the woman left for home. She, however, continued on until the road split a second time. It was late afternoon. The tall pines were casting off cold shadows, and darkness would soon overtake the light.

  Up ahead, a giant bluff came into view, and she saw great piles of logs stacked horizontally upon each other. Tess began to wonder if she might be lost, but she knew she was in no immediate danger because she could see a crew of jacks working in the distance.

  Wrapping her scarf tightly under her chin, she climbed to the top of the mound. The wind sent a bone-rattling chill through her. Leaning over a wooden railing, she peered cautiously down the steep incline to the bottom, some five hundred feet below. The men above her were systematically feeding the logs into a wooden flume to send below to the banks of Lake Huron. Several jacks worked at the side of the wooden shoot, pitching shovels of sand on hot spots to prevent fire breaking out from the friction created by the logs zooming down the flume, one right after another. She watched for a long time until she heard a familiar voice.

  “You’re going to freeze your nose off up here.”

  She turned to find Jake standing behind her, cupping his hands as he blew warmth into his gloved fingers. A different sort of chill raced down her spine. He towered over her like the pine he harvested, only he took her breath away.

  “Hello. I was getting a breath of air and I noticed the logs.” She turned back to watch another one sail down the flume. He stepped closer so that he was beside her at the railing. The fabric of his coat sleeve brushed hers, and the unexpected contact caused her heart to flutter like the wings of a trapped sparrow.

  “This is the roll way. The logs will stay here until the spring. The men on top of the piles handling the cant hooks are called top loaders.”

  She was fascinated by the scene taking place below her. The men, working high atop the decked logs at the base of the flume, would place a six-foot pole with a loose dangling hook on its end against a log. Then they would bear down on the handle to give it a pull, and the log would cant over. Just like everything else she’d seen in the camp, the job looked dangerous.

  “Those men must be extremely sure-footed.”

  “A good cant hook man has to be,” Jake said in a tone that was almost cordial for a change.

  “What happens to the logs?”

  “With the first sign of the spring thaw, they’ll be sent downstream to the booming grounds. There they’ll be sorted according to company marks, gathered together into rafts with rope and hardwood pins, and then sent to the sawmill.”

  Her gaze was riveted on the action below. “It’s all so fascinating.”

  He nodded, moving to lean against the railing beside her. “Any small error in judgment during a log jam could prove fatal for the men, bringing tons of timber down to crush them into pulp.”

  “My, that’s a terrible thought.” She was beginning to understand just how greatly these men put their lives at risk every day for their employer. She respected their loyalty. “What are those symbols on the end of the logs?”

  “They are company marks. That’s how the sorters at the booming grounds know which pen to pull them into when they come through.”

  Squinting, she could barely make out the initials WT encased in a tight circle on the bottom of each log. Of course, Wakefield Timber. She should have known. She wasn’t sure why, but she had no inclination to seek the warmth of her room. It felt so right standing beside Jake. As though it was something she’
d done all of her life, as though it would be something God intended her to do for the rest of her life. A shiver rocked through her as the wind blustered and howled.

  Jake stood to his full height. “You’d better be getting back to the bunkhouse. It’ll be dark shortly.”

  Turning, she followed him down the incline. “I’m not sure I know how to get back,” she confessed. “I thought I did, but now I’m confused.”

  “Miss Yardley, you shouldn’t stray away from the familiar. It’s easy to get disoriented, and if you get lost it could mean your life.”

  She bristled at his slightly scolding tone. There was no, I’m sorry you’re confused, or It could be from your head injury, or Oh, that’s a shame, Miss Yardley. Let me escort you back to your room. No, the best Jake Lannigan could muster was a clipped “You shouldn’t stray away from the familiar.”

  Her day had been taxing enough without his adding to it. Why did she even want him to walk her back?

  “I’ll be tied up another few minutes, but if you want to wait, you can walk with me,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she said briefly. “It’s ever so nice of you to offer.” She huddled deeper into her coat and watched snowflakes whirl around her while Jake spoke with a couple of his men. She sighed. She couldn’t deny that she had enjoyed their few moments alone on the hill, even if he was short with her.

  Though he would consider the walk as nothing more than a duty, she’d find it a bit more memorable. When she fell in love, she hoped it would be a man similar to Jake Lannigan, only more cordial. She didn’t care for his gruffness, but the air around him was certainly charged, even electrifying. When he walked into a room, she felt his presence before she saw him.

  Had she ever been in love? Surely she hadn’t, because she was certain that the occasion would be so memorable that nothing, not even a blow to the head, could erase that memory.

  A few minutes later, Jake stepped from the shadows. “I’m afraid I’m taking longer than I expected. I still have to check on my crew downriver. I could arrange for you to ride in a sleigh with one of the teamsters.”

  “I don’t mind walking.” Though she was numb to the bone, she was willing to endure the cold to be with him.

  They fell into step. She wasn’t surprised that he had very little to say to her. Racking her brain for something to chat with him about, she was painfully aware that they had little in common. He cut trees and she taught school, though she hoped he was better at his job than she was at hers.

  Today was only her first day back to work, but she was appalled to note that her students caught on faster than she did. By late afternoon one of the boys sat next to her desk and worked on an arithmetic problem with her. Neither one could come up with the right answer. Maybe the head injury had knocked her stupid as well as stealing her memory.

  She hurried to keep up with Jake’s long strides, taking two steps to his one. He must have noticed, and she was pleased when he slowed his pace for her.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  Snow had begun to fall. “Yes…a little.” She was pretty sure that if she stumbled, she would crack apart. Tess wondered yet again why anyone of sane mind would choose a place like Michigan to teach school during the winter.

  She was shocked when Jake took off his heavy jacket and draped it around her shoulders. “Mr. Lannigan, I can’t take your coat!” Then the heavenly warmth from his body enveloped her. The feeling was quite intimate, and she drew the coat closer around her.

  He shrugged. “I’m accustomed to the winter here.”

  His scent lingered, and she found it comforting. He didn’t smell the way the other men did, strong and disagreeable. He smelled of woods and pine and, unless she missed her guess, soap. He must wash more often than just on Saturdays.

  She found herself wondering what it would be like to have big Jake Lannigan as her husband. She’d heard talk in the bunkhouse that as foreman of Wakefield Timber, he had to be able to whip any man in his camp, if the need arose. And apparently it had, many times.

  His strength was respected among the crew, and from what she’d overheard in the bunkhouse, he never picked a fight unless he had just cause, and he’d never been bested in a fair battle.

  She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. The fabric of his plaid shirt couldn’t begin to hide the tight ridge of muscles in his massive arms. She wondered what it would be like if he swept her into those arms and held her tightly. His strength could be frightening, for she knew he could probably snap her in two with his bare hands. Yet she would bet that when Jake Lannigan wanted to be, he was as gentle as a lamb.

  She laughed softly when she thought of how she’d just mentally compared this tall, powerful giant to a lamb. His voice broke into her thoughts. Surely—in her former life—she’d had no such scandalous thoughts about the opposite sex.

  “Did you say something?”

  Her face flooded with guilt when she realized he’d caught her thinking about him. She shuddered when his question seeped in. Was she talking out loud? She was horrified, although she would never let him know that. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I thought I heard you ask me something.”

  “Um…no.” She smiled. “I’m too cold to ask anything.”

  “How did your first day at school go?”

  “Oh.” She drew a deep breath of icy air because she suddenly felt extremely warm. “It… it went okay.”

  “Did the children give you any trouble?”

  She noticed his guarded tone and wondered why. Did he think her incapable of performing her job? She glanced up and smiled. “None that I couldn’t handle.” Thinking back at the day’s events, she wondered how long she’d be able to tolerate it.

  Someone had taken the screws and nails out of her chair. Scooter Wilson had turned all the girls’ coats inside out after recess. Toby Miller threw a pile of horse dung into the stove, and the ensuing stench had nearly caused her to cave in and dismiss class early, but she’d grimly soldiered on, refusing to knuckle under to her students’ pranks.

  She’d continued the history lesson with a handkerchief pressed over her nose. Then she calmly announced, at the end of the day, that she was assigning the boys the unpalatable task of memorizing the prologue to Romeo and Juliet. When she told them they were to recite it orally during class the following morning, King Davis had released a string of cuss words that made the hair on her arms stand straight up, but she’d held her ground.

  “Good,” Jake said. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

  The chuckle that followed sounded almost sinister. As if he knew something she didn’t. She glanced up into his mesmerizing hazel eyes. “Did I say something funny?”

  His demeanor instantly sobered and he turned his gaze away. “No, ma’am. Just clearing my throat.”

  “You don’t have to keep calling me ma’am.” He never called her by her given name and she wanted to hear him say it. “My name is Fedelia.” The name still seemed foreign on her tongue, but it was a nice enough name. Fedelia. She would rather it be Alice or Rose. Rose would have been nice. Fedelia sounded…stuffy.

  A shout from the side of the road diverted their attention, and they paused when three men of Jake’s crew ran out of the woods. One of them was carrying another man over his shoulder, and blood streamed from the man’s injured leg, leaving a bright-red trail in the white snow.

  “We need help here!” someone shouted.

  Jake broke into a run, and Tess was close behind. Two jacks put the injured man on the ground, and she quickly averted her gaze when she saw the deep, bloody gash in the man’s thigh. The sight made her light-headed. Suddenly the woods tilted. She took a deep breath and willed herself to focus.

  Jake dropped to his knees. “Frank.”

  She watched as Jake wrapped his strong hands around the man’s leg, trying to stem the flow of blood. The poor man was writhing on the ground, his face contorted with pain.

  “What happened, Frank?”

&nbs
p; “Ax bit into me…”

  Her heart pounded hard in her chest. Oh, God, please help him. Mercifully, before he could finish telling his story, Frank passed out. “Thank You, Father,” she whispered.

  “I need a tourniquet...”

  Jake started to unbutton his shirt, but she was already reaching under her skirt to tear a long strip from her petticoat. An instant later she handed it to him. The foreman worked quickly to stem the flow of blood, but it was gushing out of Frank into red pools.

  “Jake, he’s gonna bleed to death,” a jack warned as he peeled off his coat to cushion the injured limb.

  Leaning back on his haunches, Jake drew a skinning knife from the leather sheath fastened to his belt. “We have to get him to camp to see if Doc can save this leg. I need somebody to hold that gash together.”

  The man holding the jacket grew paler by the moment. Then he turned away from the gruesome sight.

  “Sherman?” Jake barked.

  “I can’t do it, Jake. I’ll puke for sure.”

  She closed her eyes. Help me be strong. She reached out and put her hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I’ll do it,” she said softly. Jake glanced up. She knew her face was probably as white as the strip of petticoat she’d handed him, and yet she hoped he saw a determined spark in her eyes.

  “Are you sure? It won’t be pleasant.”

  She nodded. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

  “Let me cut a bigger piece off of your petticoat. We need a lot of tension to stop the blood flow. It’s going to hurt like the blazes when I tighten it, and he isn’t going to like it.”

  She modestly lifted her skirt so that he could cut a long, wide piece of cloth. Then she let his coat fall from her shoulders and knelt down beside him. With his brief instructions and all of her strength, she held down the powerful man while Jake placed the cloth around his leg and tied it. He reached for a tree limb, put one end under the dressing, and then twisted the tourniquet tight.

  Tess felt sorry for the man, who was drifting in and out of consciousness and screaming for mercy when he was awake. His agonizing cries shattered the quiet hillsides, and tears rolled down her face. She willed herself not to faint.