A Log Cabin Christmas (33 page)

A
die washed, dressed, and left the cabin the next morning before Noah woke. He marveled at the long hours she worked. At four, Cookie woke them with his call, “Daylight in the swamp,” and they were at the mess hall by four-thirty. He never thought about how early Cookie and his assistant rose to have the meal ready.

Anticipation swelled in him when he thought about her. His wife. To care for and watch over. The task almost overwhelmed him. She’d be part of his life from now until he died.

On the short walk to the mess hall, he met some former bunkmates. Roger, the one with a spotty beard, clapped him on the back. “So, Preacher Man, you enjoy your wedding night?”

He tried to convince himself that the wind made his cheeks burn.

“How lucky to have a woman to keep you warm. Wish I had one.”

He let them believe he and Adie had a true marriage, to keep them from bothering her.

As they entered the mess hall, he spied her bringing pancakes from the kitchen. The men broke Cookie’s absolute silence rule as she came with the sweat pads. “Morning, Mrs. Mitchell,” they chorused. An invisible brush painted her cheeks pale pink. My, she was beautiful. Part of him came to life when he gazed at her.

She sashayed to his side, and a red curl, escaped from its pins, bounced along. “Good morning.”

He grinned like a kid with a peppermint stick.

A jack at the far end of the room shouted, “Come on. Kiss her already.”

The men pounded on the table. “Kiss her! Kiss her!”

Cookie emerged from the kitchen, glaring at those who broke his no-talking rule. Noah asked Adie the question with his eyes. She nodded. He rose and wrapped his arms around her. Their first—and probably their last—kiss happened in front of a crowd. He bent and placed his lips against hers. They were warm, soft, and tasted like syrup. She leaned into him. Everything faded but the whoosh of blood in his ears.

The men cheered, and they parted after a too-short time. Cookie raised his voice. “Enough. If you want breakfast, you’d best be quiet.”

As if doused with ice water, they hushed. Noah, awash in embarrassment, shoveled pancakes on his plate and drowned them in butter. Adie returned to the kitchen, a rush of cold air filling the void beside him. He missed her.

He remembered the promise he made last night. He had to round up his stampeding emotions before he hurt her.

Only the scrape of forks against tin plates made noise. But the stares of the men dug into him, like his mother’s when he’d been up to something.

He hurried, wondering which dish Adie had prepared—sweat pads, cackleberries, or doorknobs. Ma would scoff at his jack lingo and tell him to speak proper English.

With his stomach satisfied, he went to find her. He had to see her. Sometimes she came with Cookie when he brought pots of steaming soup, but not always.

“Where you going, Preacher Man?” Derek, stationed in front of the kitchen door, spat the words. No one could mistake the challenge in his voice and tone. He might be sober at breakfast, but liquor was sure to make him feel bulletproof by sundown. Bulletproof enough to challenge Noah with more than words. Best to set Derek straight now, in front of everybody.

Noah leaned around his rival, placing his left hand on the table. The hand with the crude ring. “I’m going to see my
wife.”

Derek spoke through clenched teeth, his chaw bulging in his cheek. “You made a mistake. I’d wager the marriage ain’t real. Hope you don’t regret it, ‘cause things ain’t over between us.”

Back in the kitchen, Adie tried to concentrate on frying bacon. Not that concentrating on anything was easy, considering Noah’s kiss. She knew they had to put on a show for the jacks, but, against her will, she wished the kiss could have been real.

Noah’s gentleness proved such a contrast to her vile encounter with Derek. The pleasant aroma of shaving cream clung to his face, making her want to draw closer. His lips, which she felt certain had never spat tobacco juice or touched a drop of strong drink, felt full and luxurious—yet unmistakably manly. When they broke away from each other, she’d sensed he hadn’t been unaffected. Had she seen a flicker of longing, of what could be?

No. You can’t think these things. This is a marriage of convenience. That’s all
.

The sound of the door opening completed her journey back to reality. She turned to see Noah. Instead of the soft look he’d worn after their kiss, the angles of his face were hard. He bore the stance of a rabid dog straining to be let loose. All fantasies evaporated. “What’s wrong?”

“Stay away from Owens.”

“Why?”

“Have Cookie bring out the platters. Or I’ll serve. And don’t go outside for water. Cookie can.”

“He won’t hurt me.”

“Was I wrong about him coming after you?”

Every ounce of her hated admitting defeat. She didn’t want anyone to know she was afraid. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

He touched her upper arm. The heat of his hand soaked through her cotton sleeve and made her shiver. “Come with Cookie when he brings lunch. I don’t want you alone.”

The old man piped up from the big griddle across the room. “Don’t worry none. I got my eye on her.”

Adie laughed. Now two men observed her every move. Soon they’d be escorting her to the outhouse.

Noah touched her cheek then stepped back. “Don’t go out alone. Cookie can walk with you wherever you need to go.”

She couldn’t suppress her giggle.

“What’s so funny?”

“We’ve been married less than a day, and already we’re thinking the same thoughts. Mama and Daddy finished each other’s sentences.” She warned her heart not to get attached. She’d had enough heartache.

Compassion filled Noah’s eyes. “See you later.”

“You be careful, too.”

She couldn’t bear another loss.

Adie had two Dutch ovens from tonight’s stew to wash, and then she’d be finished. She longed to return to the cabin. How would she and Noah spend their evening? She recalled Mama darned socks or mended petticoats while Daddy whittled, their cabin snug against the bitter winds. Daddy had done a great job with the chinking. Not a finger of cold had seeped through.

That was all she wanted. Not a big house with so many rooms you got lost, but a cozy cabin with a loft. She’d slept in their cabin’s loft before Daddy had started wandering. In the summer, rain pattered on the roof inches from her head. In the winter, frost covered the windowpanes and hoary nails in the eaves.

Her daydreams took her so far from Camp Twelve that she jumped out of her skin like a snake when two hands grabbed her around the waist. She yelped and spun around, planting her foot in the man’s belly.

She’d expected Derek. Instead she found Noah, doubled over, clutching his midsection, groaning.

She covered her mouth in horror. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

Cookie rushed to Noah’s side. “You gotta watch out for that gal. She’s tiny, but she’s got a mean punch.”

Noah nodded but didn’t speak. She pulled over Cookie’s bean-snapping chair. “I’m sorry. I know I hurt you, but did I do permanent damage? Do you want some water?”

He waved her away. “I’m fine.”

“I thought you were Derek. I was daydreaming, and you scared my heart right out of me. Forgive me? Please?”

She put on her best I-won’t-do-it-again face, the one her father couldn’t resist.

“Your father taught you to fight well. Next time I’ll be noisier.”

He hadn’t forgiven her. He must be upset. But if she thought about it, he shouldn’t have come from behind her. What had he been thinking?

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you home. I don’t want you out alone, even a short distance.”

She repented of the bad things she’d thought. “I’m almost done.”

She hurried through the rest of the pots. Before long, she and Noah entered their cabin. A toasty room greeted her.

A book, papers, a pen, and an inkwell littered the tiny table. Curiosity overcame her, and she went for a peek. She sat in the chair, her feet grateful to rest.

The book was a Bible, its leather cover worn. Guilty about snooping, she didn’t read the papers.

Noah sat opposite her. “It’s a letter to my mother. I can’t send it until spring. More than likely, we’ll be home before it arrives. But Ma said to tell her all about camp life. I write a little every night.”

“Did you write about our marriage?”

“Yes. Would you like to read it?”

She was afraid of what he might have said. “No. Will you tell her I kicked you?”

Noah guffawed, the sound as rich as pound cake. Maybe his laugh meant he wasn’t as angry anymore. “Only if you want me to.”

“We’d better skip that.”

“Would you like to write something?”

A sudden shyness stole up on her. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“You’ll love my mother. And she’ll love you.” He embraced her hand with his own. Unbidden tears welled in her eyes. Oh, to have a mother again.

He removed his hand, leaving her bereft. Her reaction caught her off-guard.

He opened his Bible. “I’d like to read.”

She stood. “I’ll leave you alone.”

He motioned for her to sit. “I’d like to have devotions with you.”

She perched on the edge of her chair, tentative. Daddy had read his to himself. She hadn’t read the Bible in ages. Her mother’s sat in the bottom of her trunk. She didn’t understand how God could take Mama from the daughter who desperately needed her.

“I’m going through the Psalms. I’m up to 103. Is that all right?”

She nodded, and he began. She didn’t hear most of the passage until he said, “Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.”

Did the Lord pity her? Did He love her? She didn’t think so. Otherwise He wouldn’t have left her without parents and married to a man she didn’t know.

He finished reading and she stood suddenly, knocking over her chair, hurrying from the room.

A
s it often did, the rhythm of the crosscut saw grinding through the sweet pine carried Noah’s thoughts far away. In the past weeks, they’d wandered to Adie.

Butch, his partner, broke the tempo, wiping his sweaty forehead and stretching his muscles. “What’s eating at you, Preacher Man? Your eyebrows are scrunched.”

Noah made an effort to smooth them. “Nothing.”

“There can’t be trouble with your wife already. You’ve been married less than a month.”

If Quinn were here—and if he weren’t Adie’s father—he’d let the words flow like water. But Butch wouldn’t understand. On the surface, things with Adie sailed smoothly. Noah anticipated the evenings, when they sat and chatted.

But when talk turned personal, things changed. She withdrew. Most of the time she fled before prayer.

Why couldn’t he break through her defenses? They’d be together forever. He wanted to know her. Why couldn’t he get close? What caused her to shut herself away?

Butch wouldn’t understand.

“No trouble. I couldn’t ask for a better wife.”

“You sure couldn’t. You landed a beauty, with her curves and the way she swings her hips.”

Noah’s breakfast hardened in his stomach. “That’s no way to talk about a woman, especially not my wife. Let’s get back to work.”

Butch picked up his end of the saw and shrugged. “Sure wish I had a woman like that.”

The lump in Noah’s gut grew. Were others speaking the same things about his wife?

Adie inhaled, enjoying the soft, cool air after the heat of the stoves. Her boots crunched on the snow as She and Noah walked home one evening. The stars in the inky-black sky danced for them. Not a breath of wind blew. Temperatures were almost balmy.

“Do you mind if we take a walk?” She had a question to ask him, but her nerves acted up. Perhaps it would be easier if she couldn’t see him.

Noah, wearing his lumberjack coat with a bright-red scarf, strode beside her. “Let’s stay around the clearing. We don’t need problems with Owens.” He sounded troubled.

They strolled in silence, their feet breaking the sheen of ice before sinking into soft snow. All the while, she contemplated how to phrase the question. Her future loomed in front of her. She knew it wouldn’t be what she wanted, but she desired to know what it would be.

Without warning, she stumbled into a hole in the snow left by another’s foot. Noah reached to steady her and then offered his arm. She wrapped her fingers around his elbow. Now her heart tripped.

When the tip of her nose stung from the cold, she decided she had to ask. No better way, she supposed, than to come out with it.

“Where is your seminary? Will we go there right away in the spring?”

The footfalls beside her paused, and she stopped too. She could almost hear him holding his breath.

Very softly, so quiet she almost missed his answer, he said, “I won’t be going. I’m not going to be a pastor.”

Did he speak those words? “Why not?”

“Things have changed.” He didn’t elaborate, and she chose not to press him.

Her hopes for the upcoming years brightened. His father farmed, and perhaps Noah would, too. “We could homestead somewhere. Minnesota or Iowa.”

“No, I’m not going to farm.”

“Cattle ranching? One of the farmers Daddy and I worked for last summer headed west.” The desert and mountains were dry, but there had to be trees along the rivers for their cabin.

“Maybe I’ll try my hand at banking. Bankers lead a settled life. We’ll go to my parents’ home while I look for a job. I think Madison or even Milwaukee.”

A banker? In the city? His voice fell flat, devoid of enthusiasm, not like when he spoke about pastoring. Banking wasn’t his dream. What had changed that he couldn’t or didn’t want to go to seminary?

Her. That’s what.

They had married. Now the lumber company fed and housed them. When spring came, that would disappear. He’d be financially responsible for her. The money he’d saved for seminary would be used to provide food and shelter for her.

All her energy drained away. She withdrew her hand from his elbow. “I’m tired. Let’s go home.”

What could she do? Her best course of action might be to have the marriage annulled as soon as the thaw came. Then he’d be free.

It could be her Christmas gift to him.

The moon rose and cast its pale light across Noah’s face. Lines radiated from his eyes and etched paths around his pinched mouth. He’d given up everything to marry and protect her. She hadn’t realized that. Her husband was the most unselfish man she’d ever met. Her heart swelled even as it broke into thousands of tiny pieces.

Noah walked beside his wife, gulping lungfuls of mid-December air. Adie’s question started him thinking. He hated contemplating the future.

Since he was little, he’d loathed farming. The smells from the cows and pigs had caused him to upchuck more than once. He’d been ashamed of being so weak, but he was powerless against it. As the only boy, he’d had no choice but to help his Pa. He’d had to do his share of the chores.

When he was fifteen or sixteen, a guest pastor spoke at church. He’d never forget the passage the reverend preached on. “Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest.” God had stirred his soul, and Noah had known he’d found his calling.

Or he thought he had. Now he needed a new profession. One that didn’t require an education he had no means to finance. Banking sounded dreary and dull. He hated the idea of being surrounded by money all day. But he had to find work because he had a wife.

Adie finished the dishes early a few nights later. She swept the floors and insisted Cookie retire. Noah hadn’t arrived, but she decided not to wait for him. What could happen between here and the cabin? She wouldn’t be out of screaming range of her husband.

She slipped on her long, blue wool coat and snuffed out the lights. In the depths of winter, the nights were dark and long.

Jack Frost worked hard. A frigid blast met her as she stepped outside, the weather far different from a few nights ago. Fat snowflakes whirled around her, a storm in the making. Lowering her head, she pushed forward.

She hadn’t progressed more than a few feet when she ran into a hard, solid object. A man. “Noah, I’m sorry I didn’t wait. We finished early, and I started home. But I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too.” Derek sneered.

Chilled to the bone, Adie attempted to sidestep the tree-trunk frame of the man in her path. He shifted behind her, grabbed her wrists, and held them bothin his huge hand. With his other hand, he covered her mouth. Pressing forward, he pinned her against the mess hall wall, his hand still over her mouth. His rancid breath passed across her neck.

She struggled against his weight.

He crushed her.

She gasped.

He spit tobacco into the snow then wiped his beard across her back. Her stomach heaved, but she refused to vomit.

“You listen up good. I aim to have you. You tell your old man that he needs to be on watch. One day, I’m gonna come for him.”