When Love Comes My Way Page 11

  Occasionally she leaned over and gently cradled Frank’s face against her breast, crooning softly to him while his tears soaked the front of her coat. He was so young—maybe twenty or twenty-one—and so afraid.

  “My leg… don’t cut off my leg, Jake,” Frank begged. His cries echoed across the frozen countryside.

  “I won’t, Frank, but Doc might have to. Otherwise you could bleed to death.”

  “Let me die then. Just let me die. I don’t want to lose my leg,” he pleaded. Speaking to the sky, the young man pleaded, “God, please let me die.”

  She knew his physical pain was excruciating, but the agony in his heart seemed ten times worse. Glancing down at the wound, she realized Jake had all but stopped the bleeding.

  “We’re going to have to get him to Doc Medifer so he can get that sewed up, if he can, and get blood flow back into that leg.”

  Snowflakes clung to Frank’s wet lashes, and he stared vacantly up at the growing twilight.

  “Can you hear me, Frank?”

  Frank barely nodded.

  “You’ve lost a lot of blood, but we’re taking you to Doc’s now to see what he can do. Don’t give up on us.”

  When he met her gaze, the strain in Jake’s eyes tore at her heart. Tess knew he cared for every man on his crew, but his tender words showed her a side of the man she hadn’t yet seen.

  “Do you think you can hold this stick in place and keep the tourniquet tight while we transport him?”

  “Yes.”

  He turned to one of the jacks. “See if you can flag down a sleigh.” The man took off at a run, and Jake focused on the other jack. “Let’s get him to the road. We need to hurry.”

  She took the tightly wound stick in her hand and fought to keep it from springing loose. It was harder to hold it in place than she had expected. She rose to her feet when Jake and the second jack lifted Frank in their arms, as gently as they would a baby, and carried him to the already waiting sleigh.

  A man took the stick from her hand and held it in place as Frank was laid in place. She was so cold and exhausted she didn’t know if she could take much more. She just wanted Frank to keep his leg and live a long, productive life.

  Someone handed Jake his coat, and turning to her, he draped it around her shoulders once again. She was nearly frozen, but she was proud. She hadn’t complained once.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, numb to the bone. “I feel so terrible for him that he might lose his leg.”

  “He’s alive, though. If he loses his leg, at least he’ll have his life,” Jake said gruffly. “Thank God for His mercy.”

  Her face wet with tears, she studied his grim expression. “And that’s enough?”

  Jake stood beside her, watching the sleigh carrying Frank slowly fade out of sight. “If a man has no other choice, it has to be.”

  13

  Walking to Menson’s store one afternoon a few weeks later, Tess was amazed to realize how commonplace the camp routine now felt to her. Even so, she still shuddered when she recalled the tragic afternoon when Frank Kellier was hurt. His injury had been too severe for recovery, and Doc had been forced to remove his leg. Her heart broke for the young man. She had visited him often during the bleak, dark days of his convalescence. The loss of the limb had left Frank in a deep depression.

  Every day for more than a week she’d stopped by Doc Medifer’s house after school to read to Frank from the works of Charles Dickens, but he failed to respond. She knew it would take a long time for both his wound and his heart to heal.

  During the days, the winter winds whistled around the eaves of the tiny schoolhouse, accompanied by thick layers of snow, which fell with monotonous regularity. Two weeks ago she had turned the page of the desk calendar to November.

  Teaching was still such a challenge. The coal-oil lamp sitting beside her cot burned long into the night as Tess struggled to prepare lessons for the following day. Over and over the question came back to haunt her. Why would she have chosen to teach when she apparently had no talent for it? The most basic English grammar problem had her pacing the floor and wringing her hands in frustration.

  The cramped schoolroom wore on the dispositions of both the students and teacher. With each passing day, she knew something should be done about the learning conditions. A larger schoolroom desperately needed to be built, and the children… well, the children were intolerable, and if she’d had anywhere to run, she would have after the first day. Unfortunately, she had nowhere to go.

  But it hadn’t taken long for her to reach her first firm decision. Having children was out of the question. She seemed to vaguely recall someone saying that children were a blessing sent from above, but if the children of Wakefield Timber were an example of parental bliss, she would happily forgo that hallowed state and buy a goat instead. She figured she could always sell the goat if it got out of hand, but she didn’t have the same option with children—though, goodness knows, at times she was sorely tempted when it came to her students.

  Yet her days weren’t all bad. There were times when she found herself almost happy. She had formed a satisfying, close relationship with Echo, and the men couldn’t have treated her with more respect.

  Whatever Jake had said to them about leaving her alone worked. They implicitly heeded his warning, and now she considered them all loyal friends.

  Every night some sat around playing cards, while others were already snoring away in their bunks by seven o’clock. A number of them would lie in bed reading Western novels and outdated pink copies of the Police Gazette as the rancid odor of drying socks, melting shoe grease, and pitch pine scented the air.

  A few gathered around the old-timers, listening as they spun their tall tales about Ho-dogs, Paul Bunyan, Johnny Inkslinger, and snow snakes. From a far corner someone would strum a guitar and softly whistle “The Red Light Saloon.”

  Men were a funny lot, Tess had decided. They liked to think they were the stronger sex, but she knew otherwise. Though their brawn made them seem indomitable, they had a simple honesty and concern for their fellow workers she admired. She knew the jacks would fight one another at the drop of a hat, going directly for physical satisfaction, using fists, boots, and sometimes teeth to settle a dispute, but she’d also seen a gentler side to them.

  To those who treated him fairly, the timber worker was a square dealer and a true friend. He might have a rough exterior, but he also had a heart of gold. Tess would find herself smiling while she listened to a man brag about his record cuts in the woods, the amount of whiskey he could drink, the fights he’d fought, and the women he’d loved. Yet she knew this rough bear of a man could have his heart touched by a friend’s anguish, the love of a good woman, or the brush of a child’s hand.

  But with every rule of thumb, there was an exception, and she happened to run into one on a late Saturday afternoon. She’d headed for Menson’s store to buy material to make a hat. The thought had suddenly occurred to her that morning. She had no idea if she could fashion one, but the idea intrigued her.

  The camp store was bustling with activity. Christmas was just weeks away, and Henry had his hands full waiting on customers. Tess browsed through the piece goods trying to decide what she wanted to purchase. The ribbons and laces were eye-catching. Tess thought about buying one or the other for Echo, but she knew her friend’s clothing supply was limited and a fancy hat would look silly worn with a simple cotton garment.

  Three jacks burst into the store, talking loudly and shoving each other like small, rowdy boys. The odor of their dirty, unwashed bodies cast a pall over the few ladies present.

  Henry glanced up from behind the counter and looked none too happy to see them. It was obvious the men had been drinking, a vice strictly prohibited in camp during cutting season. Although a few of the crew piled into sleighs and made the trip to Shadow Pine on Saturday nights to carouse, they knew they had to be stone-cold sober by the time four thirty Monday morning rolled around.


  The bell over the door tinkled again, and Tess’s pulse leaped the way it always did when she saw Jake enter the store, André following. In the weeks since the accident involving Frank, Jake hadn’t been quite as reserved toward her, but she sensed he was still going out of his way to avoid contact.

  As the big foreman strode to the counter to make his purchase, André spotted her and walked over.

  “Bonjour, mademoiselle!”

  “Afternoon, André.” She wished she could find the sight of the brawny, dark Frenchman as stimulating as the sight of his reticent boss. André was good-looking enough to attract any woman he chose. Not only was he handsome, but he was polite as well. She knew that most women would give their eyeteeth to have him show the smallest amount of interest in them, but it was Jake Lannigan’s attention that made her heart race. For the life of her, she didn’t know why, but for some reason his standoffish nature intrigued her.

  Lannigan was a head taller than the Frenchman. His eyes were a little brighter, his lashes were a little longer, his hair was a darker chestnut, and his close-mouthed, knowing smile made him more intriguing than any other man in camp.

  And in the midst of such superb masculine specimens on which to base her opinion, that was saying something.

  “Are you going on the sleigh ride tonight, ma chère?”

  Tess snapped out of her daydreams, returning her attention to André. “I don’t know anything about a sleigh ride tonight.”

  “It is an annual event this time of the year. We meet after supper in front of the bunkhouse. A few of the men have sweethearts in Shadow Pine, and they join us. There are ten—maybe fifteen—sleighs, and we stop along the way to cut the camp Christmas tree.” André snapped his heels together and bowed. “You will find the evening quite enjoyable, mademoiselle, and I would be most honored if you would permit me to escort you.”

  She glanced wistfully at Jake as he paid for his purchase. “It sounds like fun, André, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to go.” There was a geography test first thing Monday morning, and she knew she would have to spend the entire weekend studying.

  “Oh? You do not like sleigh rides?”

  “It sounds delightful, but I’m afraid I have work to do.” Her eyes drifted back to Jake. If by some miracle he had been the one to ask her, would she have cast her responsibilities aside and gone?

  “Can this work not be postponed?” André’s smile had turned boyishly coaxing. “The holidays come but once a year, ma chère.”

  Tess sighed. “I know, and I would love to go, André, but I really mustn’t.”

  “Such a shame. For one so lovely to be stuck in such a small, stuffy room, with only the smell of drying socks to keep her company while others are skimming across the countryside, having a marvelous time! Are you sure this work cannot be postponed for only a few hours?”

  “Why do you cut the camp tree so soon? The holiday is still more than a month away.”

  “Ah, we celebrate earlier and longer than others. Come with us!”

  She was about to refuse again when her attention was diverted to the three men who had entered the store earlier. Their playful remarks were beginning to contain offensive language.

  Jake’s harsh glance must have been a discreet reminder that women were present. The jacks quieted momentarily, but shortly one shouted a ribald joke to the other, and the three burst into snickers. The foreman stepped over to confront one of the men.

  “Waite, you, Ben, and Jess need to take it outside,” he said quietly.

  “Hey, Jake, we was jus’ havin’ some fun,” the most inebriated of the three scoffed.

  “Have your fun somewhere else. There are ladies present.”

  “Ladies?”

  Waite Burne glanced around until his drunken gaze focused on Tess. It was the first time she’d seen Echo’s husband. His mouth spread into a leering grin that repulsed her.

  “Well, you’re right. There shore is. Lookee here, Ben. There’s a right purty woman among us!”

  “Waite,” Jake kept his voice low, but the tone was firm. “You know the rules. No drinking in camp. You and your friends see me in my office when you sober up.”

  “We’re jus’ havin’ us a little Christmas nip,” Waite said. “You can’t really consider that drinkin’, Jake.”

  “Move on, Waite.”

  “All right…I’m goin’. But I’d like to wish this purty little woman a merry Christmas first.” Waite edged past Jake. “Hello there, honeybunch.”

  His bleary-eyed gaze skimmed her up and down, and he swayed unsteadily. His voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper when he leaned closer to her. The smell of hard liquor turned her stomach. Poor Echo.

  “If you’ve been a good little girl, ol’ Waite’ll give you a little sugar in your Christmas stocking.”

  Jake stepped into Waite’s path. “Leave now.”

  Tess noted that the warning held a note of finality. An uneasy silence fell upon the room as the two men faced each other. They were both large and formidable examples of manhood.

  “I don’t mean no harm—” Waite began.

  “Go,” Jake said.

  Ben and Jess eased forward. “Com’on, Waite. Let’s git on over to Shadow Pine. We don’t want no trouble here.”

  Waite’s eyes shifted to Tess and then slowly back to Jake. “Shore, Ben. Big Say knows I’m just liquored up—don’t mean no harm.” Waite winked at Tess, and then he began to move toward the doorway. “Merry Christmas, ma’am, and a right fine New Year to you.”

  She turned away and a moment later the door rattled shut. Without a word, Jake followed on the heels of the three men.

  “I am sorry you had to witness that,” André apologized.

  As the shoppers resumed their browsing, she addressed the Frenchman. “So that’s Waite Burne?” She was appalled by the fact that the unkempt man was Echo’s husband.

  André nodded and looked out the window. “Yes, that is Waite.”

  “Is he like this often?”

  André shrugged as he turned back to her. “Normally Waite would not hurt a fly. When he is sober, he can outwork any man in camp, but when he drinks, he is crazy like a loon. He is always very sorry afterward, but I do not know how Echo puts up with him.” Dismissing the subject, he returned to their earlier conversation. “You are sure you will not change your mind about the sleigh ride?”

  “Thank you, André, but I’d better not. We have an important test on Monday.”

  He shrugged good-naturedly. “You will miss the fun.”

  “My loss. Perhaps another time.” Picking up a bottle of lemon toilet water, Tess made her purchases and left the store.

  When she stepped outside, there was no sign of Jake or the other three men. She tried to shrug off the disappointment that cast a shadow over her day. She realized she’d been hoping Jake might have had business near the bunkhouse so they could walk together, but, of course, that was silly. Jake Lannigan would never wait around to walk Fedelia Yardley home.

  Wrapping her scarf tighter under her chin, she started to cross the street just as loggers were bringing their horses into camp. With her mind still on Jake, she glanced up to see eight or nine of the horses galloping in her direction.

  Stunned, she froze as the animals thundered down on her in a quest to reach the watering trough. She would have been trampled beneath iron hooves if a pair of strong arms had not snatched her quickly out of harm’s way. Startled, she looked up to see a pair of handsome hazel eyes just inches from her own. A moment later Jake set her gently on her feet, but he kept his hands on her arms until he seemed sure she could stand on her own.

  “You might start watching where you’re going, Teacher.”

  Tipping his felt logging cap politely, he walked on as a heated flush rose to her cheeks. Oh! The man was insufferable! He saved her life and then chided her?

  Jerking off her bonnet, she stuck her tongue out at his retreating back before she turned and marched back to the bunkhouse, happy
to have that out of her system.

  14

  Creaking harness and melodious sleigh bells brought an envious smile to Tess’s face as she stepped from the cookshack later that evening.

  Row upon row of horse-drawn sleighs sat waiting to be boarded. In a jovial mood as they piled aboard, the wild woodsmen broke out into hearty choruses of “Jingle Bells.”

  French–Canadians, wearing colorful headgear and bright scarves, hoisted wives and girlfriends into the sleighs. Blond Finn giants already had their women snuggled beneath furry lap robes, waiting for the festivities to begin, while men from “down below”—southern Michigan—piled into the remaining sleds. All seemed prepared to put aside their good-natured rivalry to have a good time.

  She could hear the friendly ribbing when men shouted back and forth to one another. The French–Canadians were dubbed “Frogs,” the men from across the pond were called “greenhorns” and “Hunkies,” and the Saginaw toughs were “the valley boys.” She had stopped trying to keep them all straight long ago.

  Lars Rurik, a big congenial Swede, spotted her. She grinned and started backing up when he stood up in his sleigh and shouted at her to climb aboard.

  Waving back at him, she called, “I can’t. I have work to do!”

  The man waded through the maze of bodies and jumped out of the sleigh, shouting, “No vone vorks the night Lars cuts the Christmas tree!”

  Before she could stop him, the burly woodsman descended upon her. Amid her shrieking protests, he caught her up in his Herculean arms and carried her to the waiting sleigh.

  “Lars, put me down!” she demanded halfheartedly, though by now she was longing to join the merriment.

  “Vork later, voman. Tonight ve have fun!” Lars boomed.

  Bells merrily jingled and laughter filled the air when the loaded sleighs began pulling out of camp. Tess made up her mind that the test could wait. For once, it wasn’t snowing. And overhead, a full moon lit the snowy countryside almost as brightly as day when the sleds raced through the center of camp.