Embers of Love (18 page)

In one smooth move Deborah turned. She didn’t say a word, but instead swung the pitcher forward and allowed the contents to hit Christopher Clayton full in the face. He stopped in midstep, his jaw dropping in surprise.

As water trickled down, dampening his bloodstained shirt and coat, Deborah offered him a sheepish smile. Dr. Clayton’s shoulders relaxed along with his expression. “I suppose I deserved that. I don’t often lose my temper, but when I do . . . Well, I’ll just leave it at that.”

She shrugged. “I completely understand. You might well have to do the same for me one day.”

He grinned. “I’ll remember to keep the pitcher handy.”

–––––––

Hours later, Christopher sat in the silence of his bedroom. Mrs. Foster had arrived with a half-dozen male relatives and directed them to take Butch back to his home. He had tried to reason with the woman one more time, but she wouldn’t hear any of it. Christopher gave up.

“His blood is on your hands now,” he declared. “If your son dies, Mrs. Foster, it will be because of your poor judgment.”

But she hadn’t heard him, or if she had, she didn’t care. No doubt she didn’t believe his words. Christopher ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Why could these people not understand the good he could do? He had a great deal to offer, and if he wasn’t allowed to do his job, Perkins would have no choice but to get rid of him. Then he would have left his mother and father, his siblings, and his life in Kansas City for nothing.

He shook his head. “God, did I misunderstand your direction? Did I fail to hear correctly?” He sighed. “What am I supposed to do, God? Please . . . show me the way.”

C
HAPTER
15

On their third night in the woods, G. W.’s companions seemed only interested in the amount of liquor they had left. Each evening, they had made a habit of sharing what they said was extremely expensive, smooth whiskey. They’d offered G. W. a drink each time, and each time he had refused. Had he any say on the matter, the men wouldn’t have brought liquor into his camp at all. He’d seen the results of alcohol around logging, and it usually resulted in someone getting hurt.

Stuart Albright seemed rather amused by G. W.’s abstinence. He spoke of it several times, but always G. W. maintained his calm and refused to comment. He certainly didn’t owe Albright an explanation. What G. W. chose to do with his evening was no one’s business.

Taking up a cup of strong coffee, G. W. walked away from the fire to think. He’d been watching Stuart Albright and trying his best to figure out what the man was about. The trio of easterners had discussed a great many ideas regarding logging. Apparently they were all in agreement that it would behoove them to buy up many thousands of acres of prime forest while the prices were still low. The idea grieved G. W. – this was his home, and the idea of eastern businessmen buying up the land really disturbed him.

They wouldn’t relocate to Texas; it was the mentality of “cut out and get out,” as Wright and Bishop had mentioned more than once. Use the resources until they’re gone, and then move on. There was no concern about what would be left behind in their destructive wake. G. W. remembered his father saying years ago that they were guardians of the land. That God had given mankind the earth to tend and care. Stripping the land of trees hardly seemed a good way to do either.

He finished off his coffee and headed back to the center of camp. To his surprise, Stuart Albright seemed to be waiting for him. He was sitting by the fire with a book, and when G. W. approached, he quickly pocketed the thin volume and stood.

“So, Mr. Vandermark, it’s my understanding that your family has been in Texas since before the Southern states seceded, causing the war.”

G. W. figured the man hoped to goad him into some sort of political argument. “That’s true enough.”

“Why did they choose to come here?” Albright asked.

“My father believed it was a good place to live,” G. W. stated. Albright pulled out a cigar and offered it to G. W., but he shook his head and continued speaking. “There was a mighty push for settlin’ this land.”

“If you have people living upon the land, it’s much harder for someone to come in and take it away.” He clipped the end of the cigar and drew a stick from the fire to light it. “It was not that long ago we were fighting Mexico for this very place.”

“So are you figurin’ to settle in Texas?”

Albright drew on the cigar for a moment. “I hardly think so, although I’m not against the idea of investing. I see the potential, just as Mr. Wright and Mr. Bishop suggest. There is a great amount of virgin forest to be harvested. It could prove advantageous.”

“For whom?” G. W. asked. “I don’t see that layin’ waste to the land is going to help the folks who stay behind.”

The man shrugged. “People will find other uses for the land. This seems to be hardy soil. Surely they can plant and raise crops or increase their herds and produce cattle for market. It’s a narrow view to believe the land is only good for one thing.”

“So you’d cut down all the trees and move on – leave the land to be cleaned up by someone else?”

“Probably.” Albright’s disinterest in the subject was clear. “So what of you? Will you stay after the logging is finished?”

“If I have any say about it, the loggin’ will never be done. I hope to pass this down to my children.”

“And you actually believe that is possible?”

“Of course it’s possible. My pa passed it to me and my brother.” G. W. decided to turn the tables on Albright. “So do you think your father and the president are gonna be impressed with what your friends are seein’ here?”

“I can hardly speak for either man. They will consider the profit to be made, and that alone will influence their decision. My father has a knack for such things. He’s always been able to see the future potential of a product or industry. He was born into money, but it was nothing like the vast fortune he’s created.”

“I think my father did the same thing here. When he arrived, he and his brother bought what acreage they could. It wasn’t much, but they continued to add to it, takin’ in small pieces of land as they became available. It wasn’t long before they could buy up bigger ones.”

“Was it always their thought to manage the land rather than harvest it?”

G. W. thought back to the days when his father had still been alive. The old sadness seemed to drape him like a wet blanket. How he wished his father were still here. He would be able to set Albright straight.

“My pa was a very wise man,” G. W. finally replied. “He couldn’t read or write well, but he had wisdom that few can boast. He loved God and his family – this land, too. All he ever wanted was to provide a good place to live for his kin and to honor God with whatever he did.”

Albright said nothing for several minutes. When he did speak up, his question took G. W. by surprise. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.” G. W. couldn’t imagine why the man wanted to know, but didn’t question him.

“I’m twenty-five. I’ve been college educated and have worked for my father’s business, just as you have worked for yours. The differences between us, however, are great. You are a man of the land. I dare say you probably can’t even read.”

“I can,” G. W. countered in a defensive tone. “Not well, but I can read some.”

The younger man considered this a moment and drew several puffs on the cigar. “Well, it’s not of any real concern. Andrew Johnson was illiterate when he was a child, and he became president. Anything is possible, I suppose.” He flicked the rest of his cigar in the fire as Rob approached them.

G. W. had no idea where Albright had planned to go with the conversation, but he seemed to be lost in his thoughts as Rob joined them.

“I’m bushed,” Rob declared. “Headin’ to bed.”

“I reckon we all ought to do the same,” G. W. replied. “I’m pretty tuckered myself.”

Rob nodded and yawned. “See you in the mornin’.”

G. W. returned his tin cup to its spot beside the coffee pot, then took up a lantern and lit it before kicking dirt into the fire to put it out. He thought about all the things he would like to ask Albright – things that might explain why he wanted to marry Lizzie. Or why he insisted the marriage was legal. He’d never been one to stick his nose in other folks’s business, but this time it really stuck in his craw. He didn’t want to see Lizzie hurt by this man.

“It must be hard on your pa, havin’ you gone all this time,” G. W. threw out.

“Not at all. He has plenty of employees to see to what is necessary. He’s far too busy trying to influence the president to worry about my absence.”

“What’s he tryin’ to influence the president about?”

The casual question seemed to take Albright by surprise. “Mostly he’s working to get legislation passed that will support the various causes of women’s rights. He’s a fan of the suffragette movement.”

G. W. considered this for a moment. “Must make him popular with Lizzie’s ma.”

Albright gave a laugh. “Indeed it does. She was quite glad to see her daughter wed to a family who could benefit her beloved cause.”

Well, at least that gave Harriet Decker a reason to push the marriage forward. But what was Albright’s reasoning? He clearly didn’t love Lizzie. In fact, as best G. W. could figure, Lizzie rather annoyed him.

He wanted to ask Albright outright as to why he had really come. Why was it he wanted to impose this sham of a marriage on a woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with him? But instead, he motioned with the lantern. “Guess we’d better turn in.”

G. W. didn’t wait for Albright’s approval. He started walking to where they had set up tents. Wright, Bishop, and Albright shared the larger of four tents while G. W., Uncle Arjan, and Rob shared a smaller tent positioned away from the easterners. The other two tents held the other Vandermark employees. They only spent the night out in the forest like this when they were working on a deadline for extra product.

Pausing by Albright’s tent, G. W. waited for the man to say something dismissive, but he simply ducked into the lighted tent without a word. Wright and Bishop welcomed him with the offer of a drink.

G. W. had plans to move his visitors deeper into the Vandermark holdings in the morning. He wanted to show them some of the differences in the trees available for harvest, as well as the hardwoods that were intermingled among the pines. Mostly, however, he wanted to finish this journey and get back home to Lizzie. He missed her and could no longer deny his feelings for her. He wanted to tell her how he felt – to tell her that he didn’t care about the mess with Albright, that he’d wait for her. Of course, there was a chance she didn’t feel the same way, but he didn’t think that was the case.

Rob and Uncle Arjan seemed to be waiting for him when G. W. entered the tent. They looked at him rather expectantly. G. W. secured the tent flap and crawled over to his bedroll.

“Guess we’ll be parting company in the morning,” G. W. said.

“Saw you talkin’ with Albright,” Uncle Arjan commented. “Did the man have anything of value to share?”

G. W. nodded. “Said his pa is working to get some laws in place that Mrs. Decker likes. Laws that help her cause.”

Uncle Arjan nodded. “So that’s why she’s come to persuade Lizzie to go back with them.”

G. W. unfastened his bedroll. “I figure it that way. But I still cain’t understand how Albright stands to benefit. Guess maybe in time that will come clear, too.” He crawled on top of the blanket and stretched out. It felt good to lie down and rest. His body ached from the day of work. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and put his thoughts on the pretty little blonde at home.

–––––––

The night passed much too quickly, and before he knew it, G. W. was being roused by his uncle. “Time to get up.”

He yawned and stretched. It was already getting light, and from the wafting aroma in the air, one of the men was already frying up some smoked ham. G. W. gathered his things and considered which direction they would head. He’d just as soon take the men back to Perkinsville, but he knew that Mr. Perkins intended them to see just how far the Vandermark holdings extended. Apparently there was discussion about them buying land just to the east of his family’s property line, and Mr. Perkins thought it would be good for the men to see exactly what the lay of the land was and how it could best benefit them.

They ate a quick breakfast, then started packing for the trip just as the train whistle sounded. Most of the men would spend the morning loading logs, while Sissy’s husband, George, and son David would continue felling trees.

G. W. secured their provisions on two of the pack mules, while Rob saddled the horse Stuart Albright was riding. Mr. Wright and Mr. Bishop held true to their word and seemed quite capable. They tended their own mounts, while Stuart Albright waited impatiently for Rob to finish.

“How much longer do you plan for us to stay out here?” Albright asked when G. W. came to saddle his own horse.

“I figure we’ll be back next Monday. Why?”

Albright seemed to consider this a moment. “I was thinking I might take the train back to your house. Mrs. Decker and Elizabeth must surely be ready to return to Philadelphia.”

G. W. stopped what he was doing and looked hard at Albright. “Lizzie’s got no plans to go back to Philadelphia. She’s told you that several times. Why do you keep insistin’ on it?”

The expression on Albright’s face clearly proved he’d been taken by surprise, but his tone bore no hint of such feelings. “She’s my wife.”

“She don’t see it that way.”

Annoyance crossed Albright’s expression. “It really doesn’t matter how she sees it. It’s the truth of the matter.”

G. W. shrugged, trying his best to hold his temper. “Seems to me a man oughta care about what a woman thinks when it comes to somethin’ as important as marriage.” He stared Albright in the eye. “Lizzie’s got a good head on her shoulders, and I think she can decide for herself what she wants. It’s obviously not bein’ married to you, so maybe you should just stop tryin’ to force the issue.”

Albright reddened. “Stay away from her, Vandermark. She’s my wife, and she will return to Philadelphia with me.”