White Water Passion Read online

  The men held a tense silence as they stared at each other. Men and their silent exchanges. Why couldn’t they talk it out like women? Sure women sometimes got so chatty that they ended up sounding like chickadees in springtime, but at least everyone could tell what was happening.

  “Mr. Smith said to tell you same as last time. You are responsible for the Devil May Cares,” Simon said.

  Garrett turned to Beth, and that same breathless feeling she often felt when he looked at her fogged her brain once more. He shifted on his feet and drew closer. “Be warned, nothing happens within the ranks of my men that I don’t know about.”

  “I’ll wager you’re an extremely hospitable captain,” she teased. He simply stared until the moment grew uneasy. Like a child in the midst of a scolding, she dropped her gaze to study the mud on the toe of her boots. Perhaps she should tamp her enthusiasm down a bit. “Warning acknowledged.”

  “We need to build your strength so you will be physically able to take on the river should you fall in. If something happened to you…” He left the words hanging, but his face read like a blank slate, impossible to cipher, and quite boring. The more she got to know this side of Garrett, the less her fantasies about him enticed her, but then there were those fleeting moments when his eyes softened and she wished he’d let her into his good graces. Not that she deserved his respect after the stunt she pulled, but it was for a good cause. Soon enough he’d see her way of thinking. He moved a fraction closer and all she could concentrate on was his words.

  “Each morning after breakfast, you will meet me near the lake until the river run. Be prepared to train.”

  She gave a slow nod and stared deep into his ever-changing hazel eyes. He held her gaze for a few moments, before giving a slow blink, and turning away. She let go of the breath she’d held during that moment. With one simple look he could rein in her enthusiasm and make her want to follow his every direction—something she wasn’t used to doing. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

  With a frown and a shake of his head, he turned to her brother. “What else did Paul say to you?”

  Simon flashed a toothy grin and straightened up with pride. “John’s gone this year, so I am foreman of the Missoula camp.”

  Garrett’s shoulders relaxed and the furrow of his brows lessened. He slapped her brother on the shoulder. “This job has truly turned into mud if you’re in charge.” Garrett lifted his head in a silent salute. “Seriously though, the job couldn’t have gone to a better leader, Simon. Well done, my friend. You deserve it. You do good work.”

  Simon nodded. “I’ve got to get the mail car emptied and deliver the letters to the long-term camps before they leave. Can you show Beth…er, Brent, around?”

  “I need to have a quick word with Paul, and then she can follow me about camp.” Garrett slapped her brother on the shoulder while he walked past. Beth couldn’t help but watch the easy way he communicated with the lumber mill big bug—the man in charge. He smiled and shook hands with Paul, comfortable in the role of leader. This was the man she’d seen on the street the other day, the one she couldn’t help but admire. A true leader of men.

  After a few minutes, Garrett returned and gave her brother a stiff nod. With a quick show of gratitude, Simon shuffled off, leaving her with the feeling that she wouldn’t see him again until nightfall.

  Garrett glanced down at her and his mood changed. The smile on his face faded. He cleared his throat, and shifted from one foot to another. A different person than the one who bantered with her brother, and she suspected the other men in camp. She would tolerate his gruffness for the chance to help the people of Bonner and her beloved, yet grumpy, brother. She needed to focus anyway, and find out who had been on the platform that day, hidden around the corner from where she’d sat waiting for Simon.

  Garrett motioned for her to accompany him as he made his way through the camp.

  Beth smiled and followed. The care he took with each person they encountered was vastly different from the arrogant spirit he showed toward her. He was friendly and caring. Why couldn’t he treat her the same? What was it about her that he despised so much?

  After visiting with a rough-looking young man with teeth like a mule, Garrett threw her a quick look and turned to the path before them as they circled the camp.

  “I find your shrewd smile unnerving. Should I be worried?” The corners of Garrett’s lips twitched as if he held back a smile. His face and posture showed haughty indifference, but those brief tells gave her a deeper insight into who he was—the man he didn’t want people to see, or at least didn’t want her to see.

  “Not at all, I was simply admiring how easy you are with your fellow loggers.”

  “I have known them for years and feel obliged to ensure they are well taken care of.”

  “Are they all Devil May Care boys?” She studied a young boy busy splitting wood and paused. If Garrett wasn’t so keen on walking the camp, she’d stop and help the kid. What an awful existence to be small, yet have the responsibilities of a man. Life was rough up here in the camp.

  “No, they are not all rivermen.”

  “Why do you feel the need to watch over all of the men in camp? Don’t they have leaders?”

  “Yes, but they are also my friends. And I am the leader of the Devil May Cares”

  “How considerate,” she paused, and then slid him a sly grin. “Do you always accentuate your words in such a way?”

  “Good speech is an essential part of good leadership. A leader cannot expect his men to follow orders if they can’t understand him.”

  “True, but don’t your men get tired of trying to understand you? I thought loggers were usually jaunty and easygoing. You on the other hand, are not.”

  He held out his arms to direct her to the center of camp, but the lines on his face grew severe once more. Her words had made a mark on the man. Instant regret niggled in her chest. Although his attitude today had been less than hospitable, some might argue he simply held a reserve where she was concerned. Which was understandable seeing as she’d blackmailed her way into his life. He didn’t deserve such harsh words from her.

  A boy she’d never seen before trotted up to them, and held out an envelope. “Message for you, Garrett.”

  Garrett took the paper. “Thank you.”

  “Who’s that?” Beth watched the boy disappear along the same trail some of the lumberjacks had taken earlier that day after they’d jumped off the train.

  “One of the cook’s boys from the Bonner camp.” Garrett opened the missive, and read it. He pinched his lips tight, and tucked the note into the inner breast pocket of his jacket. Whatever was on the note didn’t make him any more agreeable.

  “If you’ll follow me.” His movements were rigid and his face unreadable once more. He turned off the path. “You can take the first week to help the cook. We all do it. Best to get it out of the way so you can then concentrate on learning the river rules.”

  “You said I would help the cook if I misbehaved. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “It’s not permanent. It’s an extra duty everyone here does.” He patted his jacket pocket where he’d stuck the letter. “I have something I need to attend to, and I need to figure out the best way to bring you into the river crew. Having you help Aunt June for the first few weeks will give me some time to do so. You’ll still get to train with us, but you’ll also be helping the cook. Take care, though—Aunt June can’t keep secrets. What you say to her will be made known to the entire camp.”

  What he said made sense, and if it would help her cause, she’d do it without argument, and shield her secret. She needed to grit her teeth and bake a blasted apple pie…or whatever the cook had planned for the evening. Damn it. “So you make the cook rotation as well? You must be very important to everyone in camp, not just me.”

  “I am no one of great consequence, but I have a goo
d rapport with the cook. Everyone calls her Aunt June. She is my aunt by blood, but has adopted the rest of the men as her family.”

  “I feel as if I should know Aunt June, but I can’t quite figure out why.”

  “No doubt your brother has talked about her before.” Garrett gave a secretive smile. “She seems to adore Simon more than most.”

  “I suppose that’s why. So is it difficult having a woman constantly watching your every move?” She gave a teasing smile, but he didn’t see her. His body remained stiff, as if the fact she joked about herself slid past him.

  “I hardly notice my aunt. She keeps to her fire and cabin, and I to my job.” Garrett Jones was harder to break than a diamond, but that didn’t mean she would give up. Someday she would chisel through his pride. Get past whatever reserve he had toward her, and perhaps even grow to like her. After all, he was her brother’s friend. In the meantime, she had to find a way to get out of cook duty.

  * * * *

  “And who have we here?” Aunt June studied Beth until she wiggled in her shoes. After a long, judgment-filled stare that left Beth wanting to chew her lip, the cook turned to pour a pot of steaming liquid into the cast-iron pan heating over the open fire pit. Beth relaxed a bit. The woman’s large, maternal frame gave a sense of home, as if one could approach her with any trouble, and she could make it disappear. Beth couldn’t help but smile at the woman as she placed the now empty pot on the ground, turned with hands on hips, and gazed at them both. “A little young to be runnin’ with the likes of this one, aren’t you?” she asked, motioning toward Garrett.

  “Can I speak with you in private, Aunt June?” Garrett asked before Beth had a chance to greet the good-natured cook.

  “Of course.” Aunt June turned to Beth. “Would you mind stirring this, young man?”

  Beth nodded and Garrett ushered the cook to the other side of a little cabin sitting nearby.

  Adjusting her position to the opposite side of the fire—the side closest to the whispering couple—Beth tried valiantly to hear what was being said, but with no luck. She concentrated instead on stirring the pot. He wouldn’t tell her secret, would he?

  “This is Simon’s cousin, Brent,” Garrett introduced when they returned.

  Aunt June’s eyebrows shot up. “Is it now? I’ve heard so much about you, young Brent.”

  “You have?” Beth fidgeted in the overly large jacket and tried to suppress her sigh. By all accounts, Garrett hadn’t given up her secret. At least she hoped he hadn’t. So who had talked about her to Aunt June?

  “Can Brent have first cook duty? I need to train him for the river runs.”

  “Certainly.” Aunt June slid a white, stained rag off her shoulder and handed it to Beth. “Young Brent can start with wiping down the table and then set the tableware on the serving bench.”

  With what sounded like a stifled sigh of relief, Garrett gave a slight bow to first Aunt June and then Beth. “I have something I need to do. If you’ll excuse me, you’ll be in good hands with Aunt June. I’ll return as soon as I’m able.”

  The cook nodded, and Garrett scurried away. Beth’s stomach knotted as she watched his retreating back. She felt safer when he was near. Being alone in the quest to maintain her guise made her want to run for the train and hide in the railcar until it left. She needed to lift her chin and face the moment in a way that would make Garrett proud.

  What sort of thing did make Garrett proud?

  She turned her attention to Aunt June and gave an awkward smile. “Is he always this way?”

  “Only around women.” A strange glint glistened in the cook’s eyes, and sent Beth’s heartbeat soaring. The trees surrounding the camp seemed to suck the air right out of the clearing. What was the old woman thinking? Had Garrett actually told her of Beth’s secret? Aunt June turned her smile to the ground, and then back up to Beth. “Curious how he acts that way around a strapping young lad such as yourself.”

  After a long pause where the cook stared with what Beth could only call a challenge, she shrugged and continued, “Yes, well, what you need to know about me is that I don’t bite, and I don’t gossip. Secrets are always safe with me.”

  Beth’s heart beat with alarm. She knew. She had to.

  “Why, just the other day I heard a luscious little tidbit that I swore to never tell.” Aunt June prattled on as Beth began to wipe down the long, weathered table—one ear bent to the cook’s words, but not fully hearing what she said until, “She will be coming in a few days to help me out, you know. It will be her first time in a logging camp. I think you’re going to like her. She’s a might giddy at times, but has a level head about her.”

  “She sounds very agreeable.” Heavens to Betsy. Who was she talking about? I really should learn to listen better. She focused on Aunt June’s cliché response, but it was too late. The agreeable girl would show up. Was Aunt June going to try to make a match between Brent and another girl? Or did she know about her little escapade? Beth tried not to show the small bout of panic turning her stomach into a pit. Complications were not what she needed. For the first time since the train, she was starting to doubt this brilliant idea.

  Aunt June heaved the cast-iron pan off the open flames and set it on the ground with a thump. “We’re gonna need a few more dishes for this hungry bunch. Run into my cabin and fetch the spare tin before the rest of the men come thundering in here.”

  With a nod, Beth tossed the rag over her shoulder and did as ordered, keeping one eye on the older woman as she walked away. She still didn’t know if Aunt June was always cheerful, or if she knew the secret. Either way Beth wasn’t going to give any fuel for the gossip fire.

  The little cabin was decorated with a rough female touch, but pleasant nonetheless. It was a logger’s world bejeweled with feminine trinkets and delicate doilies over the horizontal surfaces. A small bed stood in the corner covered in a colorful hand-sewn quilt.

  A ruckus sounded through the trees outside, so Beth grabbed the stack of plates and tin bowls and hurried to the table near the fire. Excitement bubbled in her stomach when she recognized the gentle mayhem of rowdy men in the distance.

  Aunt June set the large pot at the end of the serving table and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her sleeve. The rumble of shouts grew louder as the men began to race into the camp.

  “Don’t you worry about these boys. They tend to plow in here at mealtime like bulls down Main Street. Despite their manners, they’re all angels.”

  “Except us Devils,” a thick man shouted as he clambered onto the middle of the bench.

  “Yeah, Aunt June,” another logger bellowed. “Don’t let Gar hear you call him an angel. God knows we have a hard enough time keeping him on this side of death.”

  “Why’s that?” Beth adjusted her voice to an even deeper tenor, hoping no one saw through her disguise. Aunt June smiled down at the pot of food as she stirred. Beth furrowed her brows. By the sly smile on her face, she knew a secret she wasn’t yet willing to tell.

  The first man who spoke leaned on the table with his elbows and raised his head in greeting. He kept his thumb rested on the side of his chin with fist open before his face—as if sizing her up. “He’s a risk taker. He’s always the first to ride into danger and the last to come out.” He eyed her. “Name’s Wallace…Wall for short. What’d you say your name is?”

  Beth cleared her throat and moved to help Aunt June dish up the vittles. “Brent.”

  “Where are you workin’, Brent?” Wall asked.

  “With the Devil May Cares.”

  Several of the men surrounding the table snickered.

  “Ain’t no way you’re a Devil boy,” one of the men toward the end of the table called out.

  “He is too. Heard it from Garrett myself.” Aunt June plunked down a bowl on the serving table, the contents splashing on the gray weathered top. “Now, al
l of you boys get over here and get your supper. I’m no serving slave.”

  “That there’s Blue.” Wall motioned toward the man who’d made the Devil-boy comment. “Over there’s Dick, and Clint. There’s a few more of us due in a few days. We’re all Devil May Cares. The rest of these jacks are timber beasts.”

  “Come get your supper, boys. It ain’t gonna stay hot forever.” Aunt June plopped down another bowl on the table.

  Beth glanced over the dozen men shuffling into line, their rough-worn clothes hidden beneath layers of dirt.

  “If you haven’t already seen him,” Wall continued, “Garrett will be along in a while. He’s our leader.” The grumble of hungry men sounded behind Wall’s words as he took his place in line.

  “I’ve met him.” Beth handed out the bowls as the men filed on by.

  “And he agreed to let you ride?” one of the timber beasts asked.

  Wall nodded sideways toward the man. “That’s Luther. He was in line for the job you got.”

  “This here is Simon’s cousin,” Aunt June let out, shooing a lingering logger down the food line.

  “S’that so?” The corner of Luther’s lip lifted in disgust as he grabbed up his bowl and sat at the table. “So we have to bow to you too?”

  Beth shook her head. “I don’t—”

  “Oh, bosh, Luther,” Aunt June scolded.

  “Don’t get yer back up, Luther.” Wall took his food and headed toward the table. “You know damned well the Devil May Care job wasn’t yours, and Simon will be a good boss. Way better than ol’ John was. We’re lucky he shucked outta here this year. Simon will take care of you beasts better than that mudsill that done left.”

  Luther dipped low over his bowl and shoveled a sloppy spoon full of stew into his mouth. Brown liquid dripped down his chin, but he didn’t bother to wipe it clean as he scowled at the tabletop. Beth felt bad for him. She didn’t mean to disrupt anyone’s lives but Simon’s and Garrett’s, but there was no way to change the course she’d started.