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  He held the object out, and Simon took it. “It looks a bit fresh, but I don’t see anything else to make it seem off. Why?”

  Wall shook his head and tucked the widowmaker under his arms to take it with. “No reason.”

  Carrie shivered next to Simon despite the fairly warm forest air. She’d been through enough and needed the relative safety of camp.

  “We’d best get back.” Simon slid his hand to the small of her back and hoped the warmth would ease her fears even a little. The way she did for him whenever she was around. Even though she was the bane of his existence, she was also the light on a cold winter’s night. He’d die if her light was ever extinguished the way his had been.

  Chapter 4

  Simon plopped down onto the log facing the cook cabin with his tin bowl of bear stew. Somewhere in the night the body of the man lay in a railcar, undisturbed in the condition and clothes he’d died in, ready to be taken down to his family to be buried. At the mill a doctor would examine the body to make the final call, but Aunt June and Garrett were convinced that the first accident of the season happened before it even began. After the winter crew finished moving the Grove, the trees above had become dangerous—more so than usual. If Carrie had wandered beneath a falling branch and been crushed, he didn’t know what he would have done. Without her, he’d die too. She was the only thing between him and an early grave.

  Carrie’s hands shook slightly as she dished the food, and she took a deep breath, the shock of the day wearing on her. Not only the dead man, but getting lost in the forest. Either incident was enough to make a flowery woman wilt for a month, but Carrie wasn’t weak like the ninnies in town—despite the tears. She stood tall and worked while keeping her tears hidden behind smiles most thought were genuine, but he knew better. She was scared and tired. She needed to lie down like a wilting Missoula miss.

  He stretched his feet out and crossed them at the ankles, taking care not to dip his toes in the fire. Not that the pain wouldn’t be a welcome distraction from Carrie. The woman who took up every thought he had. She stood, serving food with false gumption. Each time she scooped another serving, her ladle clanged against the metal bowls. Was it his imagination, or were there a lot more men than normal gathered around Aunt June’s serving table?

  A lanky man stepped before Carrie and tossed her a wolfish smile, while another stood next to him fingering the hilt on his knife with one hand and holding a tin plate with the other. The second man stared at Carrie as though he’d never seen a woman before, but the first man surveyed her with a hungry gleam in his eyes.

  Simon straightened his back, and sweat formed at his hairline when he recognized the first fool. Why the hell was the chiseler faller from the Bonner crew in the Missoula supper line? He inclined his head. “Oy, Thomas, don’t you have a cook back at your camp?”

  His words drew the attention of most of the group, but he didn’t care. The fool needed to know he wasn’t welcome here. The Missoula camp, and the women who graced their cook fire, were not prizes for every logger on the mountain. Especially not a Bonner boy. Carrie wasn’t some logging crew perk to be handed out to every man who showed up for the season.

  “Sure we do,” Thomas said, not even bothering to look at him as Carrie dished food into his bowl. The blasted fool smiled as he moved down the line. “But the women are a lot more pretty in the Missoula camp, and I’ve heard that the berry pie she makes is the best this side of the divide. Jake and I came here for both.”

  Thomas motioned toward his leering friend, who responded by widening his lecherous grin and giving a bosh request. “Marry me, Ms. Carrie?”

  Carrie gave another false smile, and her face grew red. A color similar to the one Simon now saw as the blood pumped hard through his temples. He jumped to his feet and took one hard step forward. “Miz Carrie didn’t come up here to be hounded by a bunch of blowhards looking for a woman. If I see you taking up space at Aunt June’s table again, I’ll clean your plow until your mule runs away.”

  “You leave them boys alone,” Aunt June interrupted, and dropped a clean stack of bowls down on the table next to Carrie. “There’s plenty of space at my table, and more than enough food to be served.”

  “He’s a curly wolf, Aunt June.” Simon turned his sight to the plump older woman. “Carrie didn’t come up here to be ogled by a bunch of deadbeat blowhards.”

  “And you cut a swell yourself, right?”

  His cheek twitched. God, I could use a drink. It wasn’t a year ago that Aunt June would never have talked to him in such a brash manner. Cut him down until he was nothing but a hollowed out bag of bones. He fought the urge to let his emotions show as he stared into the old matron’s eyes. “You used to think so.”

  “Still do, but only when you aren’t acting like my goddaughter is a new toy you don’t want to share. You ain’t spoke for her yet.”

  “That’s not what’s going on and you know it.” Simon pinched his lips together as a dull ache began to radiate from his forehead. He ran his hand over his forehead to help ease the tension and chanced a glance at the small woman in question, still serving the hungry men. She squinted as if concentrating on her job, but after a moment she flicked her gaze to him and they locked eyes. Her long lashes fluttered, and she focused on her task. The damned hounds before her didn’t deserve to have a woman as perfect as Carrie dishing their food. She shouldn’t be up here in the first place. If it wasn’t for her blasted plan to fix him, she would probably be back home with her parents. Safe from the timber wolves of the lumber camp.

  “Well, the moment my goddaughter comes to me and says she done run away and married you is the day I’ll let you beat the tarnation out of every man who comes a courtin’. Until then, mind your supper and let them men be.”

  “But Aunt June.” Simon took a small step toward the matronly cook, but she shooed him away with a flick of her wrist.

  “I’m more than capable of looking after Carrie. Not that she needs anyone to dog her every move. Now, unless you’re planning to propose to Carrie right now, I suggest you stop bulldozin’ my guests.”

  “Guests? You invited them?” Simon crossed his arms over his chest and adjusted his stance.

  “I did. A few of these boys were asking about Carrie. I invited them to eat with us so’s they could meet her.”

  His neck grew hot and perspiration dripped down the thick muscles in his back. Why in the hell would Aunt June solicit Carrie’s romantic attention in such a way? “I wasn’t aware you’d turned into a madam during the winter season.”

  “Get out.” Aunt June’s face grew red, and her chest heaved with short breaths. “I’ll not stand for your bullish behavior in my camp.”

  “I’m done anyway.” Simon stomped toward the wash bin and tossed his bowl inside. The water splashed up and soaked the front of his pants, but he didn’t care. With one last glance at Carrie, he pivoted and stomped past the cabin and toward the trees. His cheek twitched near the scar, but the rage within his soul stopped him from turning around.

  What the hell was Aunt June’s game? Carrie wasn’t some whore for her to lend out to every man who showed an inclination. Hell, in a camp where women were sparse, even a priest would turn into the devil for a woman.

  And Carrie was more beautiful than any woman he’d ever seen in a logger’s camp. Her hair shimmered with streaks of gold, and her eyes made the blue of the far-off mountains green with envy. If Aunt June wasn’t careful, she would lead her goddaughter right into the mouth of a predator.

  * * * *

  “Are you certain Simon is all right out there?” Carrie swiped the rag over the last dish in her bin, set it in the wooden crate, and watched as the last man plopped his tin into the water and headed out of the cook camp. Her nerves from the day’s events still caused her hands to shake, but she couldn’t think about that now. Simon had been in a right state when he left. “I haven’t se
en him come down, and he forgot his knife.”

  “To Hades with him.” Aunt June tossed a sour glance in the direction Simon had disappeared an hour ago. “That boy needs a good set-down. Maybe a switch to the backside. Your desserts don’t belong to that man. Yet.”

  “You don’t think that little scheme you pulled was a little over the top?”

  “What scheme?” Her godmother pursed her lips and moved them back and forth, like she always did when hiding a lie.

  “The one where you brought in men to make him jealous. I don’t know why you’d do such a thing. There’s nothing between him and me but friendship. No need to go making him mad.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about. Thomas and his fellow timber beasts are friends of mine, and they love my bear stew. And you are the only unmarried woman under 50 in this camp. I won’t be surprised if every river rat and at least half the homeboys stop to look at you. You’re certain to get a man or two who wants to court you.”

  “I was here last year and no such attention befell me then.”

  “Last year Beth was running around in britches, and Victoria graced us with her presence. They were probably scared of gettin’ too close to the boss man’s daughter. You need to make certain the only man you fall for is Simon.”

  “Aunt June,” Carrie chided, and crossed her arms over her chest, extending her right foot. The meddlesome woman was dear to her soul, but irritating just the same. “I’m not falling for anyone. Quite the opposite, in fact. And Beth is still in britches.”

  “If I were thirty years younger,” Aunt June responded, “I’d take Simon for myself. Besides, ain’t no man been hurt by a little jealousy.”

  “I beg to differ. A jealous man, especially one like Simon, is a weathered stick of dynamite. Capable of causing all kinds of pain.”

  “Don’t you worry about him. I know what I’m doing. You take care of yourself and don’t go falling for a logger, or worse, gettin’ ruined by one. Your mother would murder me on her doorstep the moment I don’t bring you home whole.”

  “Next time I won’t hold my tongue.” Carrie heaved the crate up into her arms. “I swear, your plans have caused a constant ache in my stomach ever since we went to visit that doctor.”

  “Then perhaps you should hike up to the mineral pond and drink some of the healing waters. We’re in this, and we’re going to make the man whole again. No matter what the cost.”

  “I want to help him out more than anyone, but we haven’t done a bang-up job yet. If anything we’ve pushed him further away.” Carrie walked toward the cabin and set the crate inside the door, then stood tall to turn back to where Aunt June sat watching her. “I’m tired of the deception. Simon deserves better than constant lies and trickery.”

  “Well, then, missy. Why don’t you go have a nice long set-down with that man? Get him to see the light. Maybe even school him on the proper way to treat a woman he desires.”

  “Aunt June.” Carrie shouldn’t be shocked at her godmother’s constant push for her and Simon to be together. It was common knowledge that Aunt June favored the roughened timber beast. The way she’d joked lately, though. As if she had some secret plan in motion. “Are you trying to marry me off to Simon?”

  “Only if he comes back to us. Ain’t no way I’m marrying you off to that old grumpard when you can have the charming man we used to know.”

  Oh, good Lord. The woman was notorious for meddling in other people’s affairs. “I appreciate the help, but I don’t plan to marry anyone. Thank you. I want to be like you. Work up here until I wither away.”

  “Nonsense. This is no life for you, girlie. Sometimes a girl like you needs guidance in finding a match. And most of the time men need a huge push.”

  “Don’t push too hard. You’ll end up shoving him right off a bluff.”

  Aunt June flashed a toothy smile. “I can’t promise anything, but you should go talk to the man. I think he needs a little calming. It’s gettin’ on in the day. Let him know I still plan to make him his traditional breakfast in the morning.”

  “Any idea where he might be?” Carrie scanned the outlying area, but only a few young loggers scurrying toward their destinations flashed past her vision.

  “Most of the men are setting up their sleeping quarters right about now.” Aunt June pointed toward a small but worn trail leading up a gentle slope, but Carrie already knew where the men slept from the previous year’s excursion with Beth. Aunt June slipped her worn apron over her head and, in a few steps, hung it on a peg near the door to her cabin outside the dining area. “Be back by dark or I’ll come searching for you myself.”

  Carrie didn’t miss her godmother’s true intent on sending her to Simon, but the truth was he did need her. She knew how to help him whenever he spiraled into such an angry state. Temporary as her effect usually was on him, at least she could try to give him some sort of happiness in his life. Even if just for a moment.

  She scooped up Simon’s forgotten knife and headed toward the loggers’ cabins, searching the ground as she went. Mud caked the damp trails and deep green ferns surrounding the path, but what she wanted to find was color in the dense brush.

  She adjusted her step to take a steep incline in the path when a flash of blue deep in the trees caught her attention. Carrie pursed her lips and searched the trail before her in hopes of catching Simon sauntering down the hill, but only a squirrel skittered in the trees.

  Carrie hiked up her skirts and stepped over a large fern and into the undisturbed dirt off the path. Unlike last time, she would go no farther than the flowers and return without wandering. Luckily the flowers were only a stone’s throw from the path. Not that it didn’t make her nervous to go back into the wild trees again.

  She searched the branches above, but no widowmakers hung precariously in the quivering limbs of the vigilant pines. She let a deep breath go she didn’t even realize she’d held, and quickened her step. The vibrant hues of the blue flowers made the corners of her lips tip back in a smile. For the last year she’d kept Simon’s study vibrant with a dainty yellow thing that grew in her mother’s garden, but this was much more beautiful. As usual he would grumble about the smell, but then settle in with a more cheerful mood after he gave in to her insistence. Perhaps this time he’d argue a little less about the cheerful gift.

  In half the time it took her to get to the flowers, she was back on the trail headed for the cabins with a knife in one hand and flowers in another. As she rounded a bend, six crude abodes dotted the space between the trees—almost double the amount of cabins from the previous year. Men slid in and out the doors, some carrying their belongings slung over their backs, others exiting to talk with their fellow loggers who lounged against trees or buildings outside, but on first look Simon was not among them.

  Near the door of the cabin farthest from her, Garrett stood with arms crossed over his chest, his stance wide and brows furrowed as he conversed with the new leader of the Devil May Cares. She picked up her pace. “Garrett!”

  With a nod to Wall, he turned to her.

  “It seems to be a common question of mine to you and Beth, but have you seen Simon?”

  Garrett motioned with his head toward the Grove. “He’s working off some of his ire.”

  Carrie pursed her lips as she turned her attention to the trail leading from the cabins to the Grove. She clutched the little blue flowers tight in the palm of her hand. After this morning’s journey into the wild, she had no desire to wander into danger, but she desperately needed to talk to Simon. Make certain he was all right.

  “I see you ended up with my knife somehow.”

  Carrie lifted the object in question. “Simon forgot it at camp. I’m bringing it back to him.”

  “Those are pretty flowers. Forget-me-nots?” Garrett brought his gaze from the knife, to the flowers, and finally to her face as a strange glint shone in his e
yes. “Are those for Simon as well?”

  “Beth and I have kept him supplied with something pretty in his study to lighten his mood. It seems to work,” she said pointedly. Although she knew how it must look. A decent, prudish woman would never bring gifts to a single man. All her life she’d been the moralist with a penchant for trouble—brought on by the hands of Elizabeth.

  “You and Beth have?” He questioned, the corner of his lips twitching.

  “Okay, I have. But Beth has been busy with you. So, I took it upon myself to help him while she was away.”

  Much to Garrett’s graciousness, he simply smiled. “I’ll take you to him. If you’d like.”

  The tightness in her chest eased. She dropped her shoulders a fraction and smiled.

  Garrett turned toward the trail and motioned for her to proceed. “I hope you and Aunt June know what you’re doing, toying with the man the way you are.”

  “I don’t think anyone in this life knows what they are doing. Someday we’re all going to wake up and realize no one ever learns from the mistakes they make.”

  “Is bringing Simon up here a mistake?” Garrett held back a long branch extending over the path, and she eased past.

  Once clear of the obstacle, Carrie stopped hiking for a moment. “I hope not.”

  Her friend’s husband let the branch go and paused long enough to nod, then moved up the trail. She followed. Was this all a blunder? Had she brought him up here, only to make him worse with Aunt June’s games? And why did Simon care that another man was interested in her? And what in Hades had happened in his study? It was as though she had lost all rational thought when he stalked toward her like a predator. Her breath grew shallow at the memory, and she pressed her hand between her breasts to stop her body from reliving the moment.

  Carrie crested the hill. Last year she had thought they might have had something between them as she nursed him back to health, but then he’d spiraled into his own personal hell and forgotten all about them. So she’d given up on any thought of Simon loving her. Frankly, she had no desire to fall into marriage, or even love, anytime soon. Her focus was only on making Simon whole…and in keeping her promise to her parents. If she turned out like Aunt June—adventurous spinster that she was—then Carrie might have a chance at forging her own happiness in life, without needing a man to provide.