A Bride for Noah (7 page)

“No, I do not understand. You told me you would handle the finances, and I expected you to uphold your end of the bargain.”

Noah kept his eyes fixed on the mug resting in front of him, though he was keenly aware that across the table creases had formed in Evangeline Lawrence's high forehead.

“And I shall, my dear. Don't worry.” Uncle Miles reached out and gave her hand a paternalistic pat, a gesture Noah would not have dared. Judging from the fire blazing in the young woman's eyes, he risked pulling back a bloody stump.

“Do not patronize me, Miles.”

No, this woman would not tolerate being patronized. Everything in her bearing said so, from the rigid set of her spine to the way she thrust her delicate jaw forward. Her shapely lips formed a hard line.

“Perhaps he means…” Noah fell silent when she turned those blistering eyes on him. He picked up his mug and took a long pull at his cider. Let Uncle Miles explain himself.

Beside him, his uncle's expression became solemn. “All right. I won't patronize you.” His low, careful tone commanded the attention of both Noah and Evangeline. “The truth is I was unable to put my hands on all the money we needed before we left Chattanooga.”

Evangeline's jaw went slack. “But I thought you said you could provide the funding for my restaurant.”

Noah glanced up. “What restaurant?”

They both ignored him.

“I did, and I have. Just this morning I concluded my business with the bank and have secured the funds we need. I had hoped to have the arrangement in place before now, but an investment of this sort requires multiple levels of approval.”

Evangeline leaned across her teacup to hold his eyes. “Do you mean you
borrowed
the money? I thought you were the only investor, that the money was yours. You told me you were coming with me to ensure that the expenditure of
your investment
was handled correctly.”

Uncle Miles shifted in his seat, his hand on the glass in front of him. “Yes, well, that didn't work out as I had hoped. Some of my previous investments haven't produced the anticipated income, and I found myself running short.”

Now it was Noah's turn to stare at his uncle. “You've run short of money?” Though Noah didn't know details of his mother's family fortune, he remembered from childhood visits the opulence of Uncle Miles and Aunt Letitia's lifestyle. Miles's inheritance from his father had been significant, and Mother had told him that Letitia's dowry was considerable.

“Of money to
invest
,” Uncle Miles corrected. “I could not, in all conscience, put at risk the amount it will take to establish a successful business in the wilderness from my personal funds.”

Hot, angry blotches covered the creamy skin of Evangeline's neck and face. “I thought you believed in this venture.”

“Oh, I do,” Uncle Miles rushed to say. “And so does the bank manager, which is why he agreed to loan us the funds we need.”

“Us?” Her voice, shrill with alarm, drew the attention of those at nearby tables.

He frowned. “It's your business too, my dear.”

With an obvious effort she lowered her voice, though she could not look at him as she spoke. “Are you saying you borrowed money on my behalf, in my name?”

“Of course. After all, we are partners in this venture, as you keep reminding me.”

The flush on her face deepened to an alarming shade of purple, and her hand trembled. “Your role in our partnership was to provide the funding.” Her voice shook, and she clamped her teeth together for a moment before continuing. “If you have failed in that, then our partnership is no longer valid.”

“Oh, my dear, of course it is. I have secured the necessary finances, just as I promised.”

“Using my name,” she ground out.

“Using
our
names.” He leaned back in his chair. “That was why the approval process took so long. The bank managers are not accustomed to loaning money to women.” His shoulders lifted in an apologetic shrug. “Without my assurances that I would personally oversee the venture and do all in my power to ensure its success, their answer would have been no.”

The color in her cheeks faded, and her mouth opened and closed several times as she tried, and failed, to speak.

Noah had listened silently long enough. He'd followed their conversation enough to draw a few conclusions, and he didn't like what he heard.

“Am I to understand that the two of you intend to open a restaurant at our settlement?”

Evangeline tore her glare from Uncle Miles and turned it on him. “That is correct. At least, that was the plan before you stole half of the produce we need.”

Noah ignored the accusation. Clearly she was upset and lashing out wherever she could find an easy target.

“I think the idea has merit.” Uncle Miles's finger traced the thick rim of his glass. “A new town needs trade to thrive.”

“What town?” Noah shook his head. “You don't understand. The settlement isn't even a proper lumber camp. There are no buildings, no blacksmith, no general store. There is no place to put a restaurant.”

Doubt darkened the round eyes across from him, but Uncle Miles dismissed him with a wave. “Not yet, but there will be. In your letter you spoke of your dreams to turn that camp into a proper settlement.” He slapped Noah on the shoulder with a large hand. “We believe in your dream, boy, and we're prepared to invest in it.”

Noah shook his head. “But a restaurant? The men eat for free. We provide their meals at the camp.”

Now Evangeline's jaw softened enough to speak. “And what does your cook make, Mr. Hughes? Beans and salt pork?” Her tone dripped scorn.

“Actually, we have a pretty good cook at the camp.” He went easy on the praise because of late the men had grumbled about the number of meals consisting of beans and boiled venison.

“I am better than
pretty good
.” She spoke with confidence.

“And not only that,” put in Uncle Miles. “She's a woman. And there are more coming with us.”

Noah turned toward his uncle. “You brought women with you?”

“Only three. Four, counting Evangeline. But that's four more than you've got now. And all of them are unmarried.”

She cast one more glare toward Uncle Miles and then turned a sweet smile on Noah. “Don't you think the men would prefer a delicious home-cooked meal served by a woman to beans and salt pork around the campfire?”

“We have a cook shack.”

She sniffed. “Our restaurant will be more than a ‘shack' and will allow the men a choice. I gather there aren't a lot of choices in this camp?”

Noah was forced to concede that she had a point. The men would probably flock to the establishment, and if the other women
were as pretty as Evangeline they'd stampede to get there. Still, he had a bad feeling about this idea. What would Arthur say?

He shook his head. “I still don't think you understand. There is no town.”

“You let us worry about that.” Uncle Miles picked up his glass and drained it. “We've clearly thought this through and arranged for everything.”

“Everything except tomatoes, oranges, and peaches.” Evangeline aimed a scowl his way.

Noah bit back a sigh. She may be an attractive woman, but he had a hunch she was going to continue her harangue about fruit all the way to Elliott Bay. The voyage was sure to be one big headache on a ship the size of the
Commodore
, where there would be no place to escape her. And
three
others like her?

He'd rue the day he'd sent Miles and Leticia that Christmas card.

He shook his head. Restaurant. At the logging site.

Five

June 15, 1852

Elliott Bay, Oregon Territory

E
vie held on to the rail, her gaze fixed on the land as the ship skimmed the shoreline. Never had she seen anything so beautiful as this part of the Oregon Territory. The dense forest grew almost up to the riverbank, trees taller than any building and as big around as a dozen of the largest oaks back home. When they'd left the southern part of Elliott Bay and entered the Duwamish River, she had been unable to tear her eyes from the mountain peaks towering above the tree line in the distance. In Tennessee the mountains rolled with the landscape, their peaks smooth and tree-covered. These were steep, sharp, and majestic, their snow-capped peaks thrusting boldly toward heaven. She drew a deep breath into her lungs and tasted the difference in the air. Here it was cleaner, and so fresh with the scent of cedar that it was almost sweet on her tongue.

“Look!” Beside her, Sarah pointed to a place on the shore far ahead of them. “Is that a pier?”

Evie squinted through the misty drizzle that had begun an hour past. That brighter spot might be a clearing in the tree line, and the dark structure in the river could be a pier.

“I wouldn't call it anything so grand as a pier.” Noah's voice behind her made her start. She hadn't realized he had joined them. Throughout the last leg of this journey he seemed to go out of his
way to avoid her, and that was just fine. “A small dock is more like it. Just big enough to moor the ship and unload her cargo.”

Ethel, who had dragged herself from her bunk to join them on deck, turned her head to answer. “I don't care if it's nothing more than a gangplank, so long as it gets me off this boat and onto dry land.”

Evie awarded her a sympathetic smile. Though the journey had been smoother in the days since they left the open ocean, Ethel still suffered terribly from seasickness. Even now, when the ship's deck was nearly as steady as a wagon on an even road and the river almost flat, her skin held a slightly green tint and her red-rimmed eyes were dull and watery. Not blessed with beauty to begin with, she looked truly dreadful. No doubt it would be several days before she recovered.

A shout from the shore drew their attention.

“Oh, look.” Lucy gestured toward a figure standing just outside the tree line, one arm waving above his head. “It's a man!”

She and her sister exchanged an excited glance, which made Evie smile. The man on the shore apparently caught sight of the passengers lining the ship's deck. His hand rose to shield his eyes, and then he thrust both arms in the air to wave with more energy. Giggling, Sarah and Lucy waved back. The man turned and shouted something into the forest and then took off running upriver toward the clearing.

“Ladies, I believe you've been spotted.” Noah's dry tone drew Evie's attention. She turned her head in time to see his lips twist into a wry grin. “No doubt they're flipping coins to see who gets to escort you off the ship.”

“Good.” Miles joined them from below deck. “They can help unload the cargo.”

Evie turned her back on him. He had tried to charm her ever since they left San Francisco, but she had not yet forgiven him for misleading her about the finances or for signing her name on the
bank loan. His promise to the bank manager that he would personally oversee the restaurant chafed. If he intended to meddle in the day-to-day operation of her business, he had another think coming. No doubt they were going to butt heads in the coming months.

The drizzle thickened and became a cold rain as they neared their destination. Evie pulled her cloak close against the chill and considered going below in search of shelter, and thereby avoid Miles's company. No, she was already so wet it would make no difference. Thank goodness the brim of her bonnet was wide enough to shield her face, though the water dripping off the back had long since saturated her hair.

The ship's captain began shouting orders to his crew and sailors ran to the ropes. On shore, a small crowd of men had gathered to watch their approach.

“Would you look at the size of that one,” murmured Ethel.

There could be no mistaking the one Ethel meant. He stood a full head above the others, his blond hair slicked tight to his head by the rain. Evie tore her gaze away from him and realized all of the men on shore were big, with hulking shoulders and muscles she could see even under their flannel shirts. Most wore beards, and to a man their hair was long and unkempt. Any one of them would make James look like an altar boy, and her former fiancé was a strong man. Sarah and Lucy were almost bouncing with enthusiasm.

Plagued by a sudden fit of nerves, she turned to Noah. “I see no ladies. Did you not say there were women and children?”

“A few. Their cabin is a bit of a hike from here.” He waved toward the group on shore. “These, m'lady, are your future customers. Not a pretty bunch, are they?”

“They are…” She cast about for a word. “Big.”
And dirty.
But she kept that observation to herself.

“Most of them are massive,” he agreed. “They have to be strong. Jacking is hard work.”

She cast a questioning glance his way. “Jacking?”

“Lumberjacking. You saw the size of those trees. Takes a lot of muscle to fell and ross a tree like that.”