A Bride for Noah (28 page)

“I'm sorry I shouted at you,” she said finally. “This isn't your fault.”

“I will speak to the men,” he promised. Then he extended his neck toward the plate she held. “Is that my supper?”

Smiling, she set the plate before him and lifted the napkin. “I set some aside before the swarm devoured it all.”

If he had been truly hungry, he would have fallen on the food as she expected him to. Instead, his gaze barely flickered over the plate. He seemed far more content to give her his full attention.

“So,” she said, mostly to fill the silence before it became awkward, “what are you doing here?” She gestured toward the ledger in front of him.

He shrugged. “Calculations. I keep tally of the men's work, their pay, and the number of trees felled every day along with the measurements and calculations of the feet of lumber each will yield.”

“Is that all?” She attempted a light laugh, though the weight of his gaze bore down on her. “I could do that for you.”

He straightened. “You could?”

“Of course. I'll be happy to. It would free your time up to chop down trees.” She battled the warmth that threatened to rise in her cheeks at the ravenous look in his eyes.

“Thank you.”

The words seemed to hold more meaning than they implied, and she didn't know how to answer. So she took a backward step and said nothing.

Noah's eyes bored into hers. “Evie, I…”

He seemed to be on the verge of something big, something of import. Evie's heart fluttered inside her ribcage, and her breath came shallow. She could not hold his gaze, and instead looked away.

Leaving the plate untouched, Noah rose and rounded the rough cedar log that served him as a desk. He came to her side and stood close, though he did not touch her. The silence inside the tent grew heavy. There were only a few inches between them, but those inches were charged with energy. Evie fought to keep herself erect. Every fiber of her being wanted to lean into him.

He cleared his voice, though when he spoke it was with a husky tone. “I want you to know how grateful I am.”

Was he going to kiss her? An almost magnetic pull on her lips had Evie leaning toward Noah, her face turned up to his. Her heart seemed to have stopped beating. She answered without really knowing what she said. “Whatever I can do to help.”

One inch of empty air stood between their lips. That air felt warm, hot even, as she gazed into Noah's eyes. She inhaled his breath, and her insides tickled at its warmth deep inside her lungs. As if pushed by an unseen force, she felt herself being pulled forward…

“Hey, ink slinger!”

A voice from outside the tent sliced through the air like a cold blade through hot bread. Evie jerked backward and busied herself
with settling her collar high on her neck. Noah too leaped backward as if burned.

“Yeah,” he answered in a loud voice, his gaze averted from hers. “I'm here.”

A man appeared in the tent's opening. “The pusher wants to see you.” When he caught sight of Evie, he jerked upright and snatched the hat off his head. “Evening, ma'am.”

Wordlessly, she smiled and nodded a greeting at him while Noah rounded the desk and snatched up his ledger. “Probably wants to see the day's counts. Samuel, see Miss Lawrence gets home safely, would you?”

Mumbling something about seeing her later, Noah hurried out of the building, leaving Evie in charge of the eager messenger, her emotions in turmoil.

The last week before the
Leonesa'
s scheduled arrival passed in a blur. Evie rose at three every morning for the trek up to the logging camp, where the ladies worked to get breakfast ready for the lumberjacks by four thirty. Her days were spent transcribing the production records that Noah scrawled down at the cutting site and gave to her at night. She calculated the men's work time and pay, keeping tallies to give to Arthur at night when the loggers dragged themselves back to camp. Supper was a silent meal, the lumberjacks too tired even to flirt.

And then the last log was cut.

The men's pace became feverish as they corded the floating logs down the streams and tributaries to the mouth of the Duwamish River, where they would stay until they were loaded onto the
Leonesa.
This work was completed a full day before the brig was scheduled to arrive, and the exhausted men gave a weak cheer and then stumbled to their cots for the first long sleep they'd had in weeks.

Evie spent that day at the restaurant with Louisa, seeing to the last arrangements before the wedding.

“I can't believe it.” Louisa ran a hand down the soft white mull of the wedding gown she had brought all the way from Illinois. It had been spread out on Evie's trunk. “In two days I'll be married.”

Seated on one of the stumps that the men had given her to use as temporary stools, Evie tugged her needle through the soft fabric of another skirt. The unaccustomed work since coming to this settlement had stripped an inch or two from Evie's waist, but the excess weight seemed to have crept onto Ethel's, requiring that the seams be let out of her nicest dress before she could wear it to the wedding. Since Sarah could not be found—she was probably off flirting with one of the men—Evie had volunteered.

She smiled at her friend. “You will be a lovely bride. Lucy has staked out a patch of wildflowers not far from here to weave into your hair the morning of the wedding. They're not sweetbriar, but they are very pretty.”

Louisa sank onto the edge of the cot, her eyes brimming. “You and the others have done so much to make sure our wedding day is perfect. Thank you.”

“You deserve it.” Smiling, she bit off the thread. “I'm still not sure about the tent, though. You're more than welcome to stay here. The girls and I will be happy to stay with Mary.”

“Oh, no. I'm looking forward to the tent. David has worked so hard on it.” She peered out the back window with a faraway gaze, toward the land that David had claimed as theirs. “The tent stands where we will one day build our home, which is a fitting place to spend one's wedding night.” A distant smile hovered around her lips. “David says the one thing he regrets is that he has worked so hard on this lumber contract that he hasn't had time to build a proper home for me. But I don't care.” Her gaze focused on Evie, and the smile widened. “As long as we're together, I don't care if we have to live in a tent forever.”

“Evangeline!”

The call filtered through the window, and Evie turned around to peer outside. Miles stood beside the totem pole, staring up at her.

“There you are, my dear.” He held up a paper and flapped it in her direction. “We must consult on these supplies you've requested.”

“I'll be right there.” She turned back to Louisa with a sardonic roll of her eyes. “If you weren't going along, I wouldn't trust that man to purchase a single bag of flour. I hate to ask you to keep watch on Miles while you're on your wedding trip, but you will check to be sure he has my supplies before you return, won't you?”

“Don't worry about a thing.”

Evie almost reminded her that it was
Miles
she spoke of, but merely shook her head. Setting her needle and thread aside, she folded Ethel's dress and left it on her cot on her way downstairs.

Outside, Miles studied her list with a creased forehead. “It says here you need twenty-five pounds of wheat flour. Are you sure that will be sufficient?”

“Perfectly,” she answered. “We still have plenty from our original supplies.”

“Only ten pounds of coffee? Surely we'll need twice that.” He leveled a scowl on her above the top of the paper. “The quantities you've listed here seem far from sufficient.”

As if he knew anything about the supply levels they would require. She drew in a breath and forced herself to speak calmly. After all, he was finally showing an interest. “I'm trying to keep our costs down. Since many of the men are leaving with the
Leonesa,
we won't need the vast quantities of food Cookee has been producing. At least not until they return.”

He dismissed her logic with a scowl. “You must aim higher, my dear. I shall double your list.”

Now she did snap. “Don't be ridiculous. We can't afford it, and we don't need that much.”

He folded the list, slipped it in his pocket, and patted it. “Leave the finances to me.”

She planted her hands on her hips and frowned up at him. “Because that has worked so well up until now?”

Instead of being offended by her sarcasm, he merely smiled. “With the money I shall make on my salmon, we'll have plenty for these supplies and I'll still be able to pay the bank.”

“Well…” As long as he paid the first installment of their loan, let him bring all the supplies he wanted. “See that you bring the tomatoes. And salt, since you've used all of mine to pickle your salmon.”

“I didn't use it all. You've still some left.” He turned and began strolling away toward the trail.

“I do?” Puzzled, Evie did a quick calculation. “Didn't you say you packed a hundred barrels of salmon? The brine—”

With a wave of his hand he cut her off, speaking over his shoulder. “Don't worry, my dear. I have everything well in hand.”

Evie stood shaking her head, staring at the trail after he disappeared. Knowing Miles, he would return with ten barrels of brandy and no tomatoes. If Louisa and David hadn't promised to keep an eye on him in San Francisco, she would have to go herself. That man needed close watching.

“Ship's in the bay!”

The shout rang through the forest and was picked up and repeated until Evie heard the announcement from at least four male voices. With a grin at Ethel and Lucy, they tossed the potatoes they'd been scrubbing into Cookee's giant pot, dried their hands on their aprons, and joined the stream of men running from camp to the dock.

“Where's Sarah?” Evie asked as they hurried down the trail at a rapid but appropriately dignified pace.

Lucy frowned, shaking her head. “She's gone off with Lester again. I expect they'll turn up down at the dock.”

Ethel caught Evie's eye behind the girl's back, one eyebrow arched high. Evie knew exactly what the look meant. She only prayed that Sarah would exercise more restraint when alone with a man than she did in public.

By the time they arrived at the landing site, a crowd had gathered on the shore. Not only the entire complement of the Denny logging camp, but a good representative of Duwamish people as well. Chief Seattle stood off to one side of the group on a patch of grass that lay slightly higher than the half-moon shaped beach. A handful of his tribesmen stood with him. As Evie had come to expect, Miles hovered at the chief's side, not far from a massive pile of barrels.

“Look at all those barrels of salmon.” Ethel shook her head. “To be honest, I never thought he'd do it.”

“Neither did I. I guess he proved us both wrong.”

“You want to know the best thing about it?” Lucy gave a prim nod. “We didn't have to catch a single fish. He did it all himself.”

“With the help of the Duwamish,” Evie reminded her.

“There's Louisa and David,” said Ethel. “And Mary's come too.”