Embers of Love (8 page)

G. W. nodded. “I suppose you could say that. He knew the yellow pine was good wood, even though a lot of folks didn’t care for it. He had a way of doin’ the right thing, at the right time. Too bad I didn’t.”

“Why do you say that?” Lizzie watched the play of emotions in his expression.

“If I had been like him – knowin’ what to do at the right time – Pa might be alive today.”

“Maybe he should have trained you better,” she suggested.

“There’s no call to say that. Pa was a good teacher. Like I said, he was smart. He taught me and Rob real good.”

“Well, I suppose I’m confused.” She gave him an innocent smile, hoping he wouldn’t realize the trap she’d put in place. “If your father was smart and trained you well, and if he knew all of the dangers about the business, but continued to log anyway – how can his death possibly be your fault?”

G. W. opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He looked at her for a moment and shook his head. “You book-learned women sure have a way of confusin’ a guy.”

“Maybe it’s not as confusing as you think. I’m just suggesting that accidents have a way of happening, no matter how smart or careful people might be. You know the risks in your job. Your uncle and brother know them, too, yet all of you go out to work every day. Your father knew the risks and even had a choice to do something else. He chose to stay with logging.” She smiled. “I think maybe it’s time to consider that his death was simply one of those risks he was willing to take.”

“Well, here you are,” Rob declared as he joined the twosome. “I’ve been lookin’ pert-near everywhere for you.”

Lizzie held G. W.’s gaze for a moment longer, then cast a glance toward his brother. “Your sister brought me here, and it’s so much cooler here in the shade that I couldn’t help but linger. I’m afraid I’ve been talking your brother’s ear off.”

Rob plopped down on the ground in front of Lizzie. “You can talk my ear off anytime you like.” He grinned. “I reckon that would suit me just fine.”

Deborah saw Rob heading over to join G. W. and Lizzie and frowned, wishing it were her instead. She’d been swarmed by people all afternoon. Most folks wanted to welcome her back, but others were would-be suitors who seemed quite bold in rekindling previous acquaintances.

“Miss Deborah, I wonder iffen you’d like to take a walk with me,” Sam Huebner asked.

She looked up at the tall, lanky man. She’d known Sam for just about as long as anyone. His folks had been good friends with hers. “Hello, Sam. How are you?”

His smile broadened. “So you remember me.”

“Of course I remember you. You’ve hung around my brothers and worked for my family nigh on forever.” She noticed his brother working to spark an interest with one of the Perkins girls and nodded in that direction. “Looks like Stephen is sweet on Annabeth Perkins.”

Sam followed her gaze. “He’s got rocks for brains. Ain’t no chance of courtin’ her, and he knows it.”

“Well, I suppose a man can dream.” She turned back to Sam. “What of you? Have you settled down and married?”

He turned red and shook his head. “No, ma’am. Wouldn’t be here talkin’ to you iffen I had.”

Deborah spied her mother approaching from behind Sam. “Well, don’t worry, Sam,” she said, moving to the side. “One of these days the right gal will come along. If you’ll excuse me now, it looks like my mother needs me.”

She was glad to hurry away before he could say anything else. When she reached her mother, Deborah couldn’t help but grin. “You saved my life.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

Linking their arms, Deborah walked with her mother toward the tables of food. “Sam just asked me to take a walk with him. I needed an excuse not to go.”

“But why? Sam’s a nice boy. You might have enjoyed a walk.”

Deborah shook her head. “I don’t think so. He can’t even read.”

“You would reject a man’s love because he couldn’t read? Your father couldn’t read very well, and yet I loved him.”

Deborah felt chastised. “I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean it to sound like that.” She let go of her mother’s arm. “I just . . . well, it’s so hard sometimes.” She looked around the gathering of people. “I wish I could explain it.”

Her mother smiled and reached out to smooth back an errant strand of hair from Deborah’s face. “Why don’t you try?”

“I’m glad to be home – truly I am.”

“But . . .”

“But . . . I don’t really know. Things feel different, yet they’re the same. I feel different, yet I’m the same.”

Mother shook her head. “Nothing stays the same. It might have some of the same appearances, but changes are always taking place. The town’s grown a bit. There are new buildings and people. The mill has expanded. You’re older and, hopefully, wiser. You’re more educated and have experienced more than you had two years ago.”

“I know, and maybe that’s part of the problem,” she said, feeling like such a snob for even continuing. “Mama, I loved learning. I love reading and writing. I love books that teach me new things. I want to discuss those things with others, but this isn’t exactly the place to find someone of a like mind.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I completely understand.”

“Do you really? Because I’m not sure I do. I feel horrible for it. It sounds like I think myself better than others, but that’s not it at all.”

“Of course not,” her mother agreed. “Just because you have one interest and someone else has another doesn’t mean either one of you is better. Zed Perkins knows how to run a sawmill. Jack knows how to engineer a train. You can’t drive a train. Does that make Jack better than you – worse than you?”

Deborah shook her head. “But I’m afraid that when it comes to courting, it will be a problem. Not that I have time for that.” She ignored her mother’s frown. “Mama, when Sam suggested a walk all I could think about was how I could never marry someone like him. I know that’s horrible, and I’m sorry.” She looked at her mother in desperation. “Please don’t hate me, but I’m not sure I could fall in love with a man who didn’t have an education.”

Her mother reached out to pat her cheek. “Darling, when the right man comes along all of these things will fall into place. Don’t fret over it. No one is asking you to marry Sam. The important thing to keep in mind is whether or not you’re like-minded when it comes to God. Being unequally yoked can certainly pertain to other things, but spiritually, it is a never-ending battle that no married couple should have to endure. You need a man who first and foremost loves God.”

“A man who loves God and is intelligent,” Deborah said. “Of course, he should be thoughtful and kind, as well.”

Her mother laughed. “And it wouldn’t hurt if he was handsome, too. Maybe even well off.”

Deborah grinned. “Well, if we’re making a list, we might as well add it all.”

Mother gave her a hug and released her. “I’m glad you’re home. I missed your sense of humor and open frankness. Just don’t fret over what you can’t change. Folks here are just glad to be working and have a roof over their heads. Reading and writing isn’t something they miss.”

“Maybe not, but maybe that’s only because they never had it to begin with,” Deborah replied. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

Her mother nodded. “Sometimes that’s the best way to get by. I find it a lot easier to be content when I’m not pondering the things I miss.”

“Like Papa?”

“Yes,” her mother said with a sigh. “He was my best friend, and it’s hard to lose that. I know he’s in a better place, but sometimes I’m lonely.”

Deborah didn’t know what to say. She longed to be able to say something that would give her mother just the right sense of assurance, but truth be told, Deborah felt completely unable to help. What did she know of losing a mate – a best friend of nearly thirty years?

Finally she put her arm around her mother’s shoulders and simply held her close. Sometimes, words simply had no power to help.

C
HAPTER
7

J
ULY
1885

The weeks of June slipped into July, and as the heat grew more intense, Deborah’s efforts to set up the Vandermark Logging office did, too. She had decided the best way to get organized was to actually have an office. In the past, Uncle Arjan had just carried a ledger around with him to the logging site and then back to his small cabin just a few yards behind the main house. Now, however, Deborah believed the size of their organization merited a place for everything and everything in its place.

There was a sewing room on the ground floor of the Vandermark house that would work quite well. With her mother’s enthusiastic encouragement, Deborah arranged for her brothers to move the sewing things upstairs to the storage room, where she and Lizzie could fix it up properly. There would always be mending and sewing to see to, but Mother said they could tend to it on the second floor as well as on the first.

Still, Deborah knew it was a sacrifice. The upstairs was much warmer in the summer, and while they saved most of their major sewing projects for the cooler winter months, it would still be less than ideal. Maybe in the future she could encourage her uncle and brothers to build a separate cabin for the office.

With Lizzie’s help, the office took shape quickly. Deborah arranged a small desk, several chairs, and bookshelves, along with other things she would need. Now that she was settled, the trick was to interpret her uncle’s chicken-scratch notes. Often she found a few figures and a name without any other comment. Deborah was hard-pressed to know exactly what they meant, but she gradually began to recognize his style.

She was just finishing tallies on May’s figures when her uncle and Mr. Perkins showed up at the door of the office. Uncle Arjan looked rather perplexed.

“Sorry to bother you, Deborah, but Mr. Perkins has some papers for us to look over.”

“Good to see you, Mr. Perkins. Come in,” Deborah said, putting down her pen. “Pull up a chair and tell me what you need.”

“I told Arjan that I wanted someone in the family to read over this contract. One copy is for you and one’s for me. I need to have it signed to take with me when I go to Houston on Friday.”

“A contract?” Most everything related to the business had always been done on a handshake. Contracts had never been needed among friends.

Mr. Perkins looked rather embarrassed as he handed her the papers. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not my idea. The bank wants me to give them proof that I have a steady supply of logs pledged for production at the sawmill. I’m getting signatures from all my major providers.”

Deborah began reading over the contract. “But why?” she asked without thinking. She glanced up and smiled. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

The older man shook his head. “Not at all. Like I said, I know this comes as a surprise. Here’s the situation: I want to double the size of the mill.”

“Double?” She looked at her uncle. “Would that mean we would have to double our output, and double the number of employees, as well?”

“It would definitely mean adding people,” her uncle replied.

Mr. Perkins moved forward. “See, I need to get a pledge of so many logs so I can project our board feet. This becomes a sort of collateral for the bank. They will see the contract agreements as a promise of production and your agreement to sell only to me, and in turn they can feel safe in loaning me the money I need for the expansion.”

Deborah couldn’t begin to imagine what that would do to the size of their small community. “I suppose you will have to bring in additional stores and housing for the workers, as well.”

“Yes indeed. I’ll be adding at least another ten houses right away, with plans for twenty more. Now that we have the new doctor – not that folks will go see him – ” he muttered under his breath, “the missus wants me to think about bringing in a full-time preacher and maybe build a regular icehouse.”

“All of those things would be very nice, especially with additional workers.” Deborah looked at the papers again, and then to her uncle. “Has Mr. Perkins gone over the numbers with you?”

Uncle Arjan nodded. “He did.”

“And are you in agreement with that number?” She glanced down to look at the figures once more. “It says here that you’ll provide logs with a potential of ten thousand board feet a day until the mill’s first phase of additions is complete. After that, you’ll increase to fifteen thousand, and after phase two and the completion of all additions, you’ll increase to at least twenty thousand board feet a day, with bonuses paid if you go over your quota. Oh, and it’s all to be paid in cash rather than script.”

“Yes, that’s always been our agreement. As for the amount of wood, I think we can do that, so long as we get in a good crew of workers,” Uncle Arjan told her.

“And you’ll have a few months to get them trained,” Mr. Perkins added. “Once I get my loan, I intend to see the work completed by Christmas at the latest. That will give you a full five months to hire and train your men.”

“I’m comfortable with that,” Uncle Arjan declared.

Deborah worked some figures on paper for a moment. “So eventually you will need to provide something like between twenty-seven and thirty-five trees a day by the time the mill is doubled. Is that correct?”

Uncle Arjan laughed. “I told you she was the smart one in the family.”

“What about these figures on what you’ll pay Vandermark Logging?” Deborah asked Mr. Perkins. “Shouldn’t there be an allowance for escalation, should the price of lumber go up?”

“She is the smart one,” Mr. Perkins agreed. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of that myself. Shows that my mind was purely on my own gain, and for that, I apologize. Why don’t we figure a percentage that will be acceptable to both of us?”

“A figure based on increases of more than five percent in finished lumber prices could trigger the escalation clause. If the prices bottom out, we would revert to the original base price. That base price, however, could not be allowed to drop – at least not without new negotiations. If we have to pledge to provide a specific amount of board feet and take penalties if we fail to meet our quota, then you must, in turn, pledge to pay for the wood even if the market suffers. There should also be a clause that allows for acts of God – fire, hurricanes, and such.”