Rugged and Relentless (28 page)

“I was wantin’ to know what the lassies want done with their furniture and such,” Riordan was saying. “Another train’s come in, and things won’t fit in the ladies’ house.”

“Sounds like something the women need to oversee.” Lyman grinned. “Mr. Creed and I need to discuss a few things, but I think I can trust Mr. Riordan to watch over the ladies.”

“O’ course.” Riordan gave Jake an arched look—quite the accomplishment for a shaggy lumberjack the size of a mountain. “Not a single lass will fall on my watch, Mr. Lyman.”

“I don’t mind falling, Mr. Riordan,” Evie mentioned as he ushered them out the door. “So long as I take a stand first.”

Jake Creed let out a low whistle as he shut the door for a second time. “Rare to see a woman with that much spunk.”

“Cora’s one in a million,” Braden agreed, looking at Creed with narrowed eyes.
Who’s this stranger to notice? He’s only known her for a day. Not nearly long enough to appreciate her. Maybe I should wait and talk to Riordan instead
.

“I meant the other Miss Thompson.” Creed sauntered back toward him. “Not that your fiancée isn’t a rare woman, but her older sister beats her for spirit and sass.”

She’s not my fiancée. You’re wrong about her spirit. And I’m not enough of a fool to tell you so, with nearly twenty men running loose in town
. Braden shook his head.
Besides
… “Evie’s caught your eye, has she?” As though he needed to ask. He’d seen it in the way Creed looked at Cora’s sister, spoke to her more than anyone else, waited for her reactions.

“She’s a pretty woman.” Creed’s noncommittal response told Braden everything he needed to know. “Any man too blind to see it can still taste her cooking and figure some of her worth.”

Some
. Braden would have laughed if he hadn’t been in the same
predicament over Cora a couple of years back. A man who met a Thompson sister and couldn’t get her out of his head qualified as walking wounded. But the man in front of him couldn’t yet guess he’d been dealt the blow to bring a man down … on one knee.

Wish I still qualified as walking wounded
. He stared at his legs, encased in casts and strapped down so they wouldn’t move.
Instead, I’m worthless. Unable to keep Cora safe from her own choices or other men, I have to sit here and do nothing
.

No. Not nothing. He eyed Creed, deciding not to press him about Evie. It wouldn’t do any good, and he had bigger problems. “You were saying you could enlist two other men to lead the timber crews, after they cleared the sawmill site. Men you’d trust to look after your own sister or wife?”
Or Evie, at least
. Braden couldn’t say how much Creed’s interest in her put him at ease when it came to Cora, Lacey, and Naomi. When it came to Evie herself, well …
Evie’s the strongest, and Creed strikes me as honorable. This, and prayer, is the best I can do
.

“Yes, I would trust Lawson and McCreedy. They’re good men and better bosses.” Creed sank down into the high-backed wooden chair beside the bed, steepling his fingers. “There’s something I need you to know before they arrive, Lyman. You’re trusting me with your family, so I’m going to be straight about mine.”

Braden didn’t say a word. Didn’t make any promises. If Creed revealed something that made him a danger, he’d have to be removed from Hope Falls. One way or another.

“My name isn’t Creed. It’s Granger. I had a falling out with my family—my father in particular—about four months back. I left the name and family business behind, but these men will know me as Granger. They’re smart, but if they slip up, I don’t want it to take you by surprise.” His piece said, Creed stopped.

“Granger.” The name floated through his mind like a dust mote, catching a beam of light but fading before Braden could catch it. Then, “Like in Granger Lumber? Montgomery Granger?”

“My father.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your falling out.” The loss of his own father, a five-year-old wound, gave a sudden ache.
Dad would tear his hair out if he knew I’d gone out West and left Lacey alone. If he knew Lacey sold Lyman Place and broke our legacy
… Braden winced at the thought. “Never easy to break ties.”

“Sometimes a man has to walk away.” Creed’s stoic shrug hid a world of pain and reasons Braden could only guess at. The only reason he knew they existed was because he’d told himself the exact same thing about letting go of Cora.

“I’ll want to meet each of the men, put names to faces, learn where they’re from, what they do, and which woman they’re interested in.” Braden set his jaw. “If we both agree he’s no good, I want you and Riordan to see him out of town.”

“The women should be here for those interviews, Lyman. They have a say in who goes and in who they’re willing to have court them. Besides”—Creed started to chuckle—“I don’t see how we can chase all of them from the room whenever you meet with someone. You’ll need to discuss the idea with them before planning it, but I’m glad you’re asking me to be present if the meetings occur.”

“They’ll occur.” Braden shot him a look. “You want to size up the competition or just hope they make fools of themselves?”

“Size them up.” Something flashed in Creed’s eyes, a sort of determination too intense for the situation. It left in a blink. “Not just as competition, but as workers for the outfit.”

“That’s the last issue.” Braden leaned forward, unable to conceal his interest. “A man of your background and experience wouldn’t be wasting his time if he didn’t see at least a possibility for success, which is more than I would have believed if my sister approached me with this scheme. My question is how slim are our chances of making it work?”

“To be honest, Lyman, I can’t answer that.” Creed rested a boot on his footboard. “You’ve got the land, you’ve got the forest, and you’ve got a snake-off of the Colorado River to help you transport
trees to the mill. The railroad already runs through town to carry lumber to buyers. Pretty much an ideal setup if you’ve got the capital to get it up and running.”

“So, aside from the start-up investment, you’re saying Lacey’s dreamed up an entirely plausible business proposition?”

“And a lucrative one, at that. Lumber’s at a premium, with New England forests suffering over a century of harvesting. A lot of places out West run into trouble with the transport. That’s why the river and the railroad put you in an optimal position.” Creed gave a slow nod. “I don’t know about your finances, or how much of that the ladies managed to plan. The figures run high, but a lot of that is the land. If you run dry in start-up, you could consider taking on investors.”

“After the failure of the mines, none of my contacts would invest in another venture associated with my name.” Braden rubbed his forehead. “We don’t have contacts in lumber.”

“I do.” Creed paused. “And I say it’s a sound investment.”

“It relieves my mind to hear you say so.” The streaks and shoots of pain starting in his legs couldn’t be ignored much longer, but Braden needed to finish this. “As much as it shames me to admit it, I don’t know the state of our finances. I don’t know what all Lacey’s done in the past month … aside from sell the house and buy the rest of the mine. I couldn’t say what price she paid for the mine, or how much it takes to begin a mill or pay the workers. Lacey and I will have to talk.”

“For now, your workers are taking their meals as payment. That and the chance to court your sister, cousin, and Miss Thompson. They’ll eat a mighty amount of food, but that’s always included aside from pay, so you’re coming out far ahead.” Creed appeared to think for a moment. “Then again, considering the cooking, everyone’s coming out ahead in the bargain.”

“So they’re lounging around town, eating like horses, doing nothing until they’re organized?” The headache that hadn’t completely left came roaring back. “That can’t last, Creed.”

“It seems like the mining company emptied the cookhouse and the sheds before selling the land, so they weren’t functional. The diner wasn’t equipped for supplying and feeding a logging camp, so today the men are building a storeroom onto the back. They’re also redistributing the goods the women brought along.”

“No need to tell me they brought enough to sink the Ark.” Braden almost smiled at the thought. “Or overburden a train.”

“They made it here yesterday just fine, by all accounts, but had been sending things ahead for a few days. Today’s the last of what they sent from Charleston, but they have Draxley making orders right and left for the mercantile and diner.”

“Any other men should arrive tomorrow, you said?” Braden saw the nod and dared to ask, “Think any more will arrive?”

“I’d stake my claim on it, Lyman. Spring’s the slow season for logging. Rains make it worse than foolhardy to work with saws and axes, and mud ups the danger for days afterward. Even during dry days, running sap makes for harder work and lots of cleanup and wear and tear on tools. There’ll be loggers available to come.”

“We have long winters here. Spring doesn’t show itself until May. That’s why you’re finding sap a problem so late in the year,” Braden agreed. “So even though we’re coming up on summer, that means eighteen would be a low number? Will we need more workers at this point, or is this a viable reason to send some away in the first few days before they eat us dry?”
Fewer men make it easier to watch over the women, safer for everyone
.

“It depends on the finances, Mr. Lyman, but I can tell you there’ll be enough work for two dozen men to clear the site, construct a working flume, and build the mill itself.”

“Building a mill doesn’t take that long, Creed! I’ve seen it done by two men in a matter of weeks with brick and mortar.”

“A small, rural mill, perhaps. An industrial sawmill, built from lumber hewn from your own trees, as it should be, will take longer.” Creed’s boots hit the floor. “You’ll lose standing if you order precut lumber from another mill, Lyman. If you don’t stand
by your own product, your competitors will broadcast it.”

“Understood.” Braden leaned back, more relaxed than he’d felt since he spotted his sister the afternoon before. “So we can actually turn Hope Falls into a sawmill town.”

“Those women got in over their heads with that ad.” Creed got to his feet. “But the mill could keep you afloat.”

     TWENTY     

S
inking into a nice, soft feather bed—the dream dogged Evie’s every step after the busiest week she’d ever spent. She’d thought the time after Father’s death would rule as the most hectic time of her life. Moving herself and sixteen-year-old Cora while Evie struggled to set up the business took every ounce of energy and ingenuity she scraped together.

This time, it isn’t simply Cora, the move, or the business. It’s the men.
Evie gave a bone-weary sigh.
If Mother had survived, she would have warned me about how exhausting they are, always needing something, constantly wanting attention and praise
.

And food. Merciful heavens, the amount of food these men packed away boggled the mind. She’d run through the supplies she’d brought along and almost half of the first order she’d put out the day after their arrival. Worse, the dairy cows had been held up in a freak spring storm, leaving Evie fantasizing about all the recipes she’d create if only she had milk and cream.