Authors: Dorothy Garlock
“Me, too. Me go see Odette.” Jeanmarie held out her arms to Ben. Her big eyes had a pleading look he couldn’t resist.
“All right, little curly-head.” Ben lifted her up to sit on his arm. She grinned at her mother over his shoulder.
“You’re spoiling her, Ben.”
“Little girls are supposed to be spoiled. Isn’t that right, curly-head?”
“Uh-huh,” the child replied.
Dory stood clutching the back of the chair. Having Ben and Odette here had been wonderful, not only for her, but for Jeanmarie.
Her child was basking in their attention.
“Good man, Dory. I wish he’d stay on here.” Wiley was watching her intently. “The young’un took to him.”
“They’ll stay until the engine is set up. Then they’ll go. Ben would never work permanently for Louis and Milo.”
“You an’ the young’un could go with him.”
“For goodness sake, Wiley. He hasn’t asked me. Hasn’t even hinted of it.”
“He ain’t got no wife. Can’t ya—”
“—No, I can’t. He either stays because he wants to or not at all.”
Steven could hear the big saw blade singing before he reached the mill. Milo must have quieted down, or Tinker wouldn’t have
started the saws going. Damn Milo. He had come back to camp with cut lips and full of fight. The story he told about his fight
with Ben Waller convinced no one but his closest cronies. After a day of drinking, he had ordered the men to load the firebox
so that he could start up the donkey engine. Fearing that the boiler would blow up, they had refused.
Milo had become raving mad and kicked over the stove in the bunkhouse. Luckily there had been enough men around to put out
the fire that had started when the hot coals had come in contact with a stack of blankets and a straw-filled mattress. Then,
while the majority of the mill hands were at breakfast, he had climbed up on the platform and pulled the lever that set the
two large circular saws whirling in midair. Above the blades was a system of belts and pulleys, any one of which could break
or grow hot and burn through. Free of a log. the saws had begun to sing a high unwavering note that had brought Tinker on
the run.
Strong as an ox, Tinker had wrested the controls from Milo, shut down the machinery, and pulled him off the carriage.
Steven had been tempted to send someone to the home-stead, but he knew Waller was down there and he was afraid Waller and
Louis might have had a set-to over Dory. It was best that the workers know as little about that situation as possible, so
he had gone himself.
Steven rode to the barn and handed his horse over to a muleskinner who sat on the rail fence waiting for his animals to drink.
“Louis back?”
“Not yet, but Milo drank enough to pass out. Cook kept pouring it to him. That damn Milo’s goin’ to get hisself or somebody
else killed. I got a notion to hie my tail on over to Malone and see if he needs another muleskinner.”
“What happened after I left?”
“He started a fight with Tinker, and Tinker put a headlock on him. When he yelled at Tinker that he was fired, Tinker laughed.
Milo went crazy, jumped on the boiler and started hitting it with that twenty-pound maul. It took four men to hold him. He’s
plumb crazy.”
Steven walked to his cabin, unlocked the door, went inside and carefully wiped his feet on the floor mat before he placed
his hat on the hatrack beside the door. This had been his home for sixteen years. His first two years at Callahan Mill had
been spent in the bunkhouse with the men. They had been the most miserable years of his life. Then, with two years’ wages
in his pocket, he’d had the cabin built during the off season and had gone to Coeur d’Alene for the furnishings. His cabin
was off-limits to everyone in the camp, including Louis and Milo.
Steven went to the glass-fronted cabinet and poured himself a brandy. Carrying the short-stemmed goblet to the window, he
stood and looked out over the mill site.
How long was he going to have to stay here? Was it going to take the rest of his life to repay his debt to George Callahan?
He had said when the time was right, do what you think best. Steven glanced at the false-fronted bottom of the cabinet where
the heavy iron safe was hidden. He sighed. He owed George Callahan his life. The best he could do was to give him a few more
weeks or months of it. Things were coming to a head. He could feel it.
Dory was preparing the evening meal when James rode into the yard, dismounted, and led his horse to the barn. She hoped he
had worked out in his mind whatever the problem was that had been bothering him when he had ridden away that morning. It worried
her that he might have become aware of just how cruelly Louis and Milo treated her. James was so dear to her. If anything
should happen to him, it would break her heart. She and Jeanmarie would be alone. The only thing she could do then would be
to throw herself on the mercy of the Malones. She shivered at the thought.
James came directly from the barn to the house.
“How is Odette?” he asked, as he flung his saddlebags over the back of a chair.
“Feeling much better. Jeanmarie is with her.” When James frowned, she added, “Odette doesn’t mind. She’s very patient with
her. The last time I looked in, Jeanmarie was drawing the first four letters of the alphabet on the tablet. Doesn’t that beat
all?”
James looked at his sister’s smiling face.
She was pretty.
Her eyes glowed, her cheeks were flushed. She appeared to be happier than he had seen her in a long time. Did it have anything
to do with Ben Waller? It had occurred to James only recently how lonely it must be for her here. It was obvious that she
and Jeanmarie had formed an attachment to Odette. Had it extended to Odette’s father?
“There’s something I want to talk to you about before Ben and Wiley come in and while the little mop-head is upstairs. Lordy,
that kid is so smart, I’m sure she knows a lot more than we think she knows about things.”
“What do you mean?” A shiver of dread had traveled down Dory’s spine.
“She’s a talkative little imp, yet I’ve never heard her say a word to Louis or Milo. She took to Ben like a duck to water.”
“Well… you’ve heard the old saying that children and dogs know when people like them. Jeanmarie senses that our brothers don’t
bear any love for us. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
James washed his hands in the basin and slushed water onto his face with his cupped hands.
“No,” he said while drying his face. “It’s something else.” After hanging the towel on the bar above the wash-bench, he ran
a comb through his hair and straddled a chair. “I saw Chip Malone today.”
Dory’s hands stilled. “You went there?”
“I saw him in Spencer—at the saloon. Chip has always been fairly decent to me. A couple of times he’s called his men off when
they would have picked a fight with me and some of my men.”
“Louis hates him with a most unreasonable hatred. It gets worse as the years go by. I realize that I’m partly responsible
for that even though Louis doesn’t hate them out of any love for me.”
“Regardless of who hates who and why, I’m getting sick of hearing about it. Louis pushes so we’ll have more logs in the river
than Malone, so we’ll cut more board feet at the mill. I was for getting the donkey engine. We’ll be able to snake the timber
out easier and faster, but I’m not going to push my men to work sixteen-hour days in order to beat Malone to the river.”
“Is that what you and Chip talked about?”
“We talked about you and Jeanmarie.”
“Oh.” Dory couldn’t conceal the shudder of fear that went through her.
“Mrs. Malone is poorly. He wants you to bring Jeanmarie to see her.”
Dory drew in a deep breath. “He what?”
“Mrs. Malone wants to see her granddaughter.”
“So he admits that she’s Mick’s child? That’s the first I’ve heard of that.” Dory whirled around to face her brother. “I don’t
trust him.”
“I don’t think he has anything in mind other than giving his sick wife the pleasure of being with Jeanmarie. He was sincere.
I’d stake my life on it.”
“He was sincere all right,” Dory sputtered. “Sincere about getting me there and keeping my baby. If he did that it would take
an army to get her back.”
“Think about it, but don’t think too long. Mrs. Malone hasn’t left her bed for a month.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, if it’s true. Mrs. Malone has been… kind. But, James, how do we know he’s telling the truth?”
“There’s ways of finding out. I talked to McHenry at the mercantile. He said that she’s not been in lately and the Malones
have bought supplies for a sickroom.”
“I hadn’t thought of Mr. McHenry. Nevertheless, I don’t dare go to the Malones. It would be like sticking my neck in a noose.”
“Would you go if me and Waller went with you?”
“You and Ben? He wouldn’t go.”
“You want to bet on it? Well, think about it. It’s up to you.”
Dory changed the subject when she heard voices on the porch. She always grew edgy when the Malones were discussed.
“Steven was here today looking for Louis. Milo is on one of his tears.”
“How many did he fire this time?”
“Three, but Steven told them to stay and to keep out of sight until Milo sobered up.”
“It was stupid of Louis to leave the mill if Milo was drinking.”
Wiley and Ben came in. Ben’s head was wet and he had on clean clothes. He had bathed—something Dory had longed to do for the
past several nights, but there was no chance with James and Ben in the house.
“How did it go today?” James asked after they had hung their coats on the pegs.
“Good. I’ll head back to the mill in the morning and get that monster ready to pull up to wherever you decide you want it.”
Ben clapped Wiley on the shoulder. “This old man knows his stuff.”
Wiley beamed and shifted his chaw of tobacco from one cheek to the other.
“Wiley Potter, you spit out that chaw before you come to the table,” Dory said firmly, her smile taking the edge off her sharp
words.
“Lucifer! I forgot ’bout it.” Wiley headed for the door and stepped outside. “Sure hate to waste a fresh chaw,” he said when
he returned. “Ben took so long with his bathin’ I got tired a waitin’. It ain’t healthy to be washin’ so much. It ain’t stunted
his growth none… yet, but it might’a addled his head.”
“Just when I was fixing to take this old codger with me and make him a partner in my own milling business, he has to go ruin
things by talking against me. I’m going to need a good man to make hinges and hasps for doors and—”
Ben’s steel-gray eyes, alight with humor, flashed to Dory and darkened with concern. Her feet seemed to be glued to the floor.
Her hand paused in midair, and her face was drained of color. Her eyes were flooded with tears.
“You can’t take Wiley,” she said with a sob. “You just can’t—I’d be here all alone.”
Then, to the amazement of the men watching, she burst into tears and ran out of the room.
Ben was stunned.
Wiley’s mouth dropped open.
James hurried after his sister. Ben could hear the low murmur of his voice coming from the darkened hallway leading to the
stairs. He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He would remember the haunted, desperate look in her eyes for
as long as he lived. He had to put things right.
At the end of the hallway Dory was turned to the wall, her face buried in her bent arm. James stood behind her with his hand
on her shoulder.
“I’m… sorry. I’ll be… all right. Just give me a… minute.”
“You’ll not be left here alone, Sis. Wiley will stay as long as you want him. He dotes on you and Jeanmarie.”
“Ben will go and… take Odette.”
“Ah, Sis. We have no control over that. I didn’t realize you’d been so lonesome.”
“May I talk to her?” Ben asked.
James’s hand dropped from his sister’s shoulder. He looked into Ben’s face with a puzzled frown on his, then turned and walked
back into the kitchen.
Ben moved to stand close behind Dory. He lifted his hand to touch her, but let it fall back to his side.
“Dory, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just talking to hear my head rattle. I’m not much for chit-chat and at times I talk
without thinking. Not for the world would I lure Wiley away from you. He wouldn’t go anyway. He thinks the world of you.”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “Please don’t cry, Dory. Please.”
“I’m… not… cryin’.”
He turned her around and wiped a finger across her cheek. “Then what is this wet stuff on your cheeks?” he asked lightly.
She sniffed. “I don’t know what got into me. I’m… so ashamed.”
He gripped her shoulders with both hands. “You carry a load here on these shoulders. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Sometimes I wonder if this is all there is to life… just existing from day to day.”
Standing there, close to him, a naked hunger to be held possessed Dory. Her face was lifted to his. He was looking down at
her. She could feel his warm breath on her wet cheeks. Their faces were only inches apart.
“Oh, Ben, life is so hard.” The sad note in her voice touched something deep in his heart.
“Yes, it is. But you’re strong. You’ve endured a lot and still hold your head high. You’ll not be whipped and cowed. You’ll
come out on top.”
Then she was leaning against him, her cheek against his shoulder, and his arms were holding her loosely. She closed her eyes
to savor the moment, and the fresh, clean scent of his leather vest crept into her senses. It was heaven, pure heaven. The
palms of her hands were trapped between them. She moved them around his sides to his back. They stood for a long moment holding
each other. Then he lowered his head and pressed her cheek tightly to his. It was a precious moment and a delicious weakness
flooded through her.
“Ah… sweet, wonderful woman,” he whispered, and kissed her forehead gently. His gentleness was at odds with his desire to
press her tightly to him. His heart raced with the need to find her lips with his and kiss her with fierce abandon. As he
held her he felt as if he had found a part of himself that had been missing without his even being aware of it.