Rugged and Relentless (37 page)

“Not in private, with just the four of us. Men plague us everywhere we go except the kitchen or the house. Mrs. McCreedy spends as much time in the diner as Evie these days, and Arla only leaves the house in our presence.” As always, Naomi wielded logic like an infallible weapon. “When can we speak alone?”

“Not now. Now is the time to practice marksmanship and ensure we can all protect ourselves if need be.” Lacey darted a meaningful glance in Evie’s direction, raising her eyebrows.

“Don’t you do that, Lacey Lyman.” Evie shook a finger at her. “Don’t you look at me as though I’m the only reason we come out into these woods and fire bullets into stacked cans.”

“You’re right.” Lacey’s patience frayed like the edging of an old satin ribbon. “You’re not the reason we fire bullets into those cans, Evie. How could you be, when you’ve never hit one!”

“That was uncalled for, Lace.” Cora sprang to her sister’s defense. “Every single one of us needs the practice.”

“Some more than others, and Evie’s the worst of the lot. Stop looking at me as though I’ve committed some terrible grievance by being honest about it! Right now, your sister would be lucky to hit the broadside of the bunkhouse at ten paces.” She knew she should stop talking. Knew that the anger surging in her chest and
venting through her words shouldn’t be aimed at Evie, but Lacey couldn’t hold it inside anymore.

Nothing, but
nothing
, had gone right since they arrived in this town, and something needed to change. Since Lacey couldn’t magically make the men into husband material or whip up a functioning sawmill as easily as a loaf of bread, the only way to ease the pressure in her chest was to cry. And Lacey Lyman didn’t cry over trivialities. She cried when her parents died, then waited five years before tears swamped her over Braden. In between, not a single salty speck marred her record.

Which meant she had a solid four years and ten months to go, at the very minimum, before indulging in another bout. Or until she had a child. Either/or. But neither one of those options allowed for standing in the middle of the woods, surrounded by friends she’d just insulted, while two dozen lonely men waited for them to hurry up and get hitched.

Maybe
, Lacey considered,
I need to rethink my terms
.

In the meantime, her three closest friends all stared at her as though she’d donned a dress four years out of date. Their shock should have spurred her to make amends, but it only brought up her defenses even more. What right did they have to judge her?

“Lacey, what’s gotten into you?” Cora reached out. “None of us is good at everything. We accept each other’s shortcomings and pool our talents to make the load lighter for everyone.”

“I’m tired of carrying so much,” a voice sounding suspiciously like her own snapped at her best friend. “Who bakes bread three times a week? Lacey. Who has to keep Braden in line? Lacey. Who teaches you to protect yourselves, or thinks to ask the men what they’re looking for in a wife while everyone reprimands her? Lacey!” She threw up her hands. “For pity’s sake, you three can’t even
eavesdrop
properly without me!”

The more things she listed, the tighter her chest constricted. Why did everything have to be so difficult?

“That’s enough, Lacey Danielle Lyman.” The stern note
in Evie’s voice put the old headmistress to shame. “You’ll stop indulging in this morass of self-pity right now.”

“It’s not self-pity.” To her horror, she felt tingles running up her nose, the precursors to unsheddable tears. “All three of you know I’m telling nothing but the truth!”

“A very small part of the truth,” Naomi chastised. “We’re all working hard. Evie does the lion’s share of all the cooking and planning even with Mrs. McCreedy here. Before she ran herself ragged cooking and figuring what supplies we’d need to keep the town going, I suppose you didn’t notice how hard she worked to keep the men in line? Mr. Creed contributed to that success, but he’s been a difficult one to rein in on his own account, and we have Evie to thank for that, too.”

“That’s true.” Lacey gave a great big sniff. “I know you do a great deal, Evie. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it. I—”

“And if you think you’ve managed to keep your brother in line, you need to open your eyes, Lacey.” Evie drew a comforting arm around Cora. “My sister never complains over the way Braden continues to treat her, but I see the way it wears. It’s between them, but she takes the most care of him and reaps the worst of his temper in return. And she washes most of the pots and pans!”

Evie’s outburst, coupled with the misery Cora didn’t hide for a few moments, weighed heavily on Lacey’s conscience.
I did this. I brought them here and convinced them to place the ad
. Sniffling wasn’t slowing down the tingles very much anymore.

“Naomi’s the one who steps in to keep peace or put someone in his place without starting a fight.” Cora took a turn now. “She’s the one to look after Mrs. Nash, and she does most of the milking, too. Even now, she pumps most of the water we need when none of the men are around to take on the task. Each and every one of us does our part, Lacey. It’s shameful to hear you imply that we leave the worst of the work to you.”

“That isn’t what I said, and not what I meant,” she protested. “It just seems as though you three don’t notice what I do, or think
I fool around and don’t contribute or take everything as seriously as anyone else. And that’s not true!”

Evie spoke softly after a long silence. “We notice what you do. And I think you see your own plans more than you see the larger picture. Since we came to Hope Falls, you’ve slowly stopped involving us in your decisions, Lacey.”

“I’m thinking of all of us. How can you say otherwise?”

“Small things, at first.” Naomi wet her lips. “You didn’t think to help us understand the logging terms when it would have helped so much, and you knew we had no chance to read the books.”

“You waited until Naomi and I left the room to change your mind and allow Creed and Braden a chance to plot together.” Cora’s nostrils flared. “That put Evie in the position of stopping the men from scheming or supporting you. She chose to support you because we’re a team, but you don’t think that way.”

“Of course we’re a team!” Lacey looked from one upset face to another, reading the disappointment in each one.

“Then you shouldn’t have asked the men to narrow down their choices when you knew the rest of us would object.” Evie shook her head. “With each day, you’re acting more like your brother, Lacey, choosing what you think is best for all of us instead of letting us decide how we want to proceed. We don’t like it.”

If asked, Evie felt confident she could list quite a few things she didn’t like, but Lacey’s increasingly self-centered attitude happened to be one she could help change. Or at least try to.

The incredible growing laundry pile back at the house would wait until the next day they found some spare time. The four of them needed to band together again before everything fell apart. Because, loath as Evie was to admit it, Lacey and the laundry just might be the only two things on that list she could fix.

Not that Lacey needs fixing
, Evie corrected then glanced at her friend.
And perhaps her nose
, she added.
I’ve never seen one
turn precisely that shade of crimson before
. Then again, she’d never seen Lacey cry. Or even come close to crying. A sudden surge of sympathy for the youngest member of their group had Evie drawing Lacey into a hug.

“Well, I don’t like it either.” Lacey’s nose brightened another shade. “Especially since I didn’t know I was doing it.”

Naomi fished one of her never-ending store of embroidered handkerchiefs from a pocket and passed it to her cousin. “We know, Lace. If you realized, you would have stopped.”

“I don’t even like it when”—she paused to rub her nose, adding the luster of a polished apple—
“Braden
acts like Braden. That’s not the sort of thing I ever aspired to, you know.”

“Everyone’s tired and trying to settle into an unfamiliar place.” Cora patted Lacey’s shoulder. “Making the best of things sometimes brings out the worst in us, I think.”

Evie stared at her little sister, who’d grown up and gained wisdom when she hadn’t been paying close enough attention. Perhaps Cora could brazen out Braden’s recovery, after all.

“The entire plan collapsed before it started,” Lacey moaned. “It’s just like the first time I visited a dressmaker’s shop with Mother and wandered out of sight. I found the most beautiful gown draped over a dressmaker’s doll—an absolute vision of a dress in gold and cream—and nothing would do but I try it on. They warned it wasn’t finished, but I begged and pleaded and cried until Mother insisted and they agreed.”

Spoiled little bratling
, Evie couldn’t help but think.

“The moment they put it on me, dozens of pins jabbed me and it fell apart before I got to the mirror.” Remorse filled Lacey’s voice. “I feel as though I put each one of you in that dress when I convinced you to write the ad and come here.”

“It’s not the same, Lace.” Naomi rejected the comparison.

“Yes, it is. I forced you into something that didn’t fit. It jabs and pokes, and it’s all falling apart before any of us gets the chance to see how beautiful it should have been!” She crumpled the
handkerchief, her nose fading to deep pink.

“Lacey, you’re a persuasive woman, but you couldn’t have forced me to take part in your plan.” Evie took responsibility for her own choice. “I said no once and could have again. All of us did. Not one woman who stands here was dragged across country, kicking and screaming against the injustice of it.”

“If you ever question how willing we were, just look at how much we packed.” Cora’s giggle sparked a round of chuckles.

“It’s true,” Naomi joined in. “We brought along a library and a diner, sent ahead enough to stock a mercantile, and packed up everything needed to begin four homes and families. How many women can claim they carry an entire town when they travel?”

“Only four that I know of.” Lacey cracked a smile.

“So we’ve encountered a few obstacles and made mistakes along the way,” Evie acknowledged. “That doesn’t mean we can’t make it right.”

     TWENTY-SEVEN     

S
omething was wrong. Jake felt it low in his gut, the same way he’d known when Edward found trouble. The air lay thick in the room but thin in his throat when he breathed deep, his pulse thrumming in anticipation.

Sleep would elude him if Jake reached for it, but he didn’t close his eyes. Tonight called for readiness. He didn’t speak a prayer—God, in his opinion, was bigger than mere words. Wasn’t the Creator of all a God of action? One who saw into hearts, listened to thoughts, and heard hopes? So Jake lay in wait, thinking of what might be needed—of Him … of the Lord who watched over His own.

He waited to see if he’d be part of that protection, if that was the reason raw energy filled his mind instead of rest. He prepared, wordlessly, for whatever would disturb the quiet of the bunkhouse. Quiet, in this case, a relative term. It may be the dead of night, but silence found no home here.

Snores and grunts punctured the peace at regular intervals, joined by assorted thuds and thumps as restless limbs bumped against wooden walls. Several slept in their boots. Outside, wind whistled through sharp branches, forcing its cold inside to tickle the flames of their fire.