Rugged and Relentless (33 page)

“Thank you, Arla.” Naomi gave the woman’s shoulder an encouraging pat. “We’re glad to have you and Martha with us.”

“I wish I could say I’m glad to be here.” Arla looked down at the lumpy, half-peeled potato in her hands. “Truth is I miss my Herbert something dreadful and want nothing more than for him to have never choked on that fish bone. He’d be such a wonderful father, and I’d still be in my own house. …” Her voice trailed off, eyes shining with tears she wouldn’t let fall. “But since I can’t have that, I’m grateful to have found friends.”

Evie’s own vision went a bit misty, so she nearly burned the next piece of fried corn mush. “It’s selfish of me to say so, but I’m glad you and your baby are here. You’ll be the one to make Hope Falls a real town, Arla. Until a place sees a baby, it’s only an outpost at best.” She heard the others agree with her, except the part about her selfishness, but Evie knew.

She knew how much she’d ached for a little baby, though she’d given up hope of ever holding her own son or daughter as years passed by and no man showed the slightest interest in proposing to her. Evie accepted awhile ago that Cora would be the closest she’d come to having a daughter and convinced herself to be
content in her role as an entrepreneur and chef.

Lord, why is it that whenever I feel comfortable with the path You’ve set me on, the road takes a sharp curve? I resigned myself to the entire scheme of advertising for a husband, but it snowballed out of control before we even arrived in town. To be honest, Jesus, I’m almost afraid of what will happen when I resign myself to choosing a husband from amongst these strangers. What strange turn will You bring then? Give me faith to trust You, and some sign that the husband of Your choosing wants me for more than my property or my cooking, but myself
…

“… shoot him.” Lacey finished saying something Evie wished she hadn’t missed. “Of course, it takes more than just aim. I’d imagine you need great courage and determination to fire.”

“Don’t hesitate, lassies.” Mrs. McCreedy covered another platter of scrambled eggs and planted her hands on her hips. “Once Miss Lyman teaches you to shoot, pull the trigger the instant you know you’re in danger from any man, you ken?”

“Yes, Mrs. McCreedy,” Evie chorused dutifully along with the others, but she couldn’t help thinking of a pair of changeable blue eyes. Laughing one moment, icy with rage the next …

There’s more than one kind of danger to guard against
.

The sound of gunfire made Jake’s blood run cold. Without another thought, he dropped his end of the saw he’d been manning with Gent and took off running toward the sound.

Praise God, it’s not coming from town
. He barely noticed the prayer. Jake rarely prayed. He believed in the Lord, didn’t believe most people bothered to live up to what He laid out in the Word, and washed his hands of paying lip service to any of it long ago. But he’d accepted the truth, and those sorts of thoughts slipped out in intense times.

Jake hoped God saw it as a good thing—that he did the best he could and handled most of what came his way as he saw fit,
but didn’t hesitate to call for help when he needed it. And if the women were in trouble, Jake would take any help available.

Pistol drawn, he slowed, taking cover behind trees as the haphazard shots grew louder. Closer. From the sounds of it, he’d circled behind the shooters, which meant they fired
away
from town. Good. That meant everyone might just survive this.

Then he heard it. A feminine shriek.
The only women for miles are ours
. Jake threw caution to the winds and ran toward the bloodcurdling sound, heart pumping so loud in his ears he almost missed the next sound. This one stopped him cold.

Giggles?
Jake canted his head toward the cheerful sound breezing toward him. No doubt about it—girlish giggles filled the forest. Right before another shot rang out.

“Did I hit anything this time?” Evie’s call made him blink.

Did she
… Then he understood. The women were practicing their marksmanship, learning to shoot as a precaution against the many threats surrounding them.
That’s my girl
.

“Wait and let me go check. I didn’t see any of the cans move, but perhaps you scratched one.” Miss Lyman’s voice sounded farther and farther away as she presumably went to check a target. A few moments later and, “Well, I’m sure you hit something, Evie. But not in the vicinity you aimed for.”

“Razzlefrass,” Evie muttered. “I should be good at this.”

Jake paused in the act of creeping toward the stand of trees guarding the voices, easing into a better position rather than rushing now he knew the situation. He snickered silently into his sleeve at her assertion she should be good at shooting, as though everything came easily to her. Then …
Razzlefrass?

“Razzlefrass?” Miss Higgins repeated the strange phrase. “That sounds like a berry jam, Evie. A tart one, I think.”

“I used to wonder why my sister can’t say something simple, like fiddlesticks, when something irks her.” Miss Thompson’s amusement carried to him. “Now I enjoy the words she concocts.”

So do I
, Jake decided.
I wonder what others I’ve missed
.

“Peduncle
remains my absolute favorite,” Miss Lyman mused. “There’s something so whimsical about saying it. You cannot help but smile when you do. Try not to … peduncle …”

“I’ve told you a thousand times, Lace, I didn’t make that one up. A peduncle is the stem of a piece of fruit. I’ve offered to show you in the encyclopedia several times!”

“But that’s less fun to believe, Evie. Now why don’t you try again, but this time, squint at the target when you fire.” Miss Lyman seemed to be the one directing firing practice.

Jake took advantage of the noise to steal forward the last bit he needed to see them all clearly. Sure enough, the four women stood in a long, clear expanse. At the end, they’d balanced several cans atop a broad rock. From here, Jake could make out more than a few holes in the beaten metal.
So at least one of the women can shoot accurately. Maybe more
.

“I’ll go check for myself this time.” Evie stalked toward the end of the field, determination lengthening her stride and emphasizing the sway of her hips. She was a sight to behold. Right up until she counted the number of bullet holes in the cans and a frown furrowed her brow. She counted again and let out a strange, unfeminine sort of frustrated sound.

“Don’t worry, sis,” Cora called out. “You’ll get it.”

“This is our second lesson, and Lacey had no trouble teaching you and Naomi. Shouldn’t I be doing well by now?” She nibbled on her lower lip, obviously distressed over not being good at something she’d set her mind to excel in.

It’s about time. I was starting to wonder if there was anything Evie set her mind to that she didn’t master
. Jake caught himself grinning and immediately frowned.
An imperfection in no way makes her perfect
, he chided himself. Stupid notions like that got a man in trouble. Jake watched as Evie took aim again and missed by a mile.

This time he couldn’t stop the grin.

     TWENTY-FOUR     

T
he grin abandoned him by the time he sat next to Braden Lyman for the first of the “interviews” the women agreed to. Everyone sandwiching into one room made for a tight fit, so Jake removed the dresser and washstand for the meeting and brought in a bench for the men to sit on. It took up less space than chairs and had the added benefit of seating two if the women decided to speed things along by taking them in pairs.

Jake saw the benefit in that but also wanted the opportunity to take a good, close look at each suspect individually, without having to divide his attention. If two suspects were questioned together, he’d be more apt to miss some small sign to indicate that Twyler’s disguise had slipped.

Every one of Jake’s instincts told him he’d tracked Twyler to the right place this time. The feeling grew stronger the less he wanted to leave Hope Falls, spurring him toward his real purpose. The proposed mill made for good cover, and nothing more. The women made for a constantly aggravating diversion.

But, ultimately, the entire setup would lead him to Edward’s killer. Smiling faces hid treachery, and the longer it took Jake to find Twyler, the longer it gave the vermin to get close to Evie. Or
one of the other women, he supposed, but by and large, the men paid Evie the most attention.

Jake couldn’t blame them. He could see why some were put off by Miss Higgins’s cool reserve when Evie’s warm smile provided such contrast. And Evie’s shirts with their simple lines made a far more approachable picture than Miss Lyman’s fussy frills and overblown sleeves. Even if Miss Thompson weren’t engaged to Braden, the men would most likely prefer her older sister. So Jake couldn’t blame them. But he didn’t have to like it.

He sat in what he’d begun to think of as his customary place between Evie and Miss Lyman, near Braden. Sure enough, the women all agreed they should send the men in pairs. If need be, they decided, they could always speak with one in private. For now, their main concern was speeding things along.

Robert Kane strolled through the door first, his coloring and build placing him squarely on Jake’s list of suspects. Most loggers carried more muscle after years on the job. His unctuous smile and ingratiating air whenever one of the women happened to be nearby put him in another category. That one didn’t reflect well on the man either.

A second man trailed in his wake. If Kane strode with an overabundance of confidence to make himself seem taller than he truly stood, Chester Fillmore’s retiring nature made the man smaller. The same height, build, and coloring as Kane, Fillmore shrank into himself. And away from scrutiny, Jake noted.

Lyman began with the basics—what jobs the men performed, how many years of experience each had, whether they’d worked with ponderosa pine or Douglas fir before, or anything larger.

“We’re fallers, the pair of us,” Kane answered for both. “I’ve put my hand to some bucking work when whipsaws will do and, all told, done about seven years in the woods. Two in Puget Sound, five farther east. Douglas fir’s about the largest I’ve brought down.” He named two lumber outfits he’d worked with.

“I’m a faller, as well, with four years. Three in Oregon, so I’ve
gone up on springboards to take down coast redwoods fourteen feet across if they were one.” Fillmore’s voice came out quiet enough everyone strained to hear him. He didn’t name any companies he’d worked with, but then again, Lyman hadn’t asked. Kane volunteered that information, and Fillmore didn’t seem the type of man to use three words when a nod would do.

“Where’d you put in this past winter?” The crucial question, from where Jake sat. It’d take some time to make inquiries and follow up whatever answers the men gave, but this provided the starting point to sniff out a liar. It came closest to the real question on his mind:
Where were you in January, when some coward fitting your description shot my brother?

Kane named a small outfit in an isolated area, not likely to be well known or listed by any others in town. Nevertheless, his response made Jake’s back tense in recognition. If he didn’t misremember, that’s where McCreedy had spent the season. He could verify or debunk the smooth talker’s story that very afternoon. He didn’t let any of his racing thoughts show in his expression, keeping it bland.
Even if Kane left for Christmas and didn’t return, that’s a strong sign he’s hiding something
.