The Lumberjack's Bride

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Authors: Jean Kincaid

BOOK: The Lumberjack's Bride
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JULIANNE MAXWELL IS A BRIDE WITHOUT A GROOM

Stranded in Seattle after her intended married another, the mail-order bride can't return to the troubled life she fled from. She has little choice but to marry the handsome logger who steps in to rescue her. And though Caleb Hansen is gentle and kind, Julianne can't trust him with the truth about her past.

“L
OVE WILL COVER A MULTITUDE OF SINS
.”

—1
Peter
4:8

Caleb understands that Julianne needs a home, and he needs a mother for his orphaned infant nephew. He knows nothing about his new wife, or the memories that haunt her. But he can tell their connection goes deeper than convenience. He'll do whatever it takes to make them a real family, before Julianne's secrets drive them apart…

“Do you know what that ring stands for, Julianne?”

Julianne looked at the ring in question. “It means I'm your wife.”

Caleb reached across the table to capture her hand. “What else does it mean to you?”

She tugged on her hand but Caleb refused to release her. “It means I am to do anything you ask me to,” she whispered, and lowered her lashes.

Caleb rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Julianne, we are married. You are not my slave, and I'm not your master. We are partners, and someday I hope that we will be best friends.”

He watched a tear trickle down her face. “That ring means more to me than you will ever know. It means you are my wife, my friend and the woman who holds my heart.”

Her head snapped up. “You don't love me.”

“You're right. But I plan to.”

Jean Kincaid
can be found most mornings knee-deep in devotionals and day planners. She loves the early hours spent with the Lord. Jean speaks at ladies' retreats and women's events, and enjoys all things mission related. Her heart's desire is to create stories that will draw people to a saving knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Books by Jean Kincaid

Love Inspired Heartsong Presents

The Marriage Ultimatum

A Home in His Heart

Wedding at the Hacienda

The Lumberjack's Bride

JEAN KINCAID

The Lumberjack's Bride

And above all things have fervent love for one another,
for love will cover a multitude of sins.

—
1 Peter
4:8

To my sisters, Sherlene Watson and Martha Taylor.
A threefold cord is not easily broken.
So thankful for you both.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 1

Logging camp outside Seattle,
Washington, 1866

“I
'll give you eighty dollars for the little lady, Sloan!”

“No! I'll pay you one hundred dollars. You owe me, Sloan.” Judging by the speaker's rotten teeth and tattered clothing, Julianne Maxwell figured it had to be a gambling debt Sloan owed him, for the man's appearance definitely was not that of a banker.

She grew hot with resentment and humiliation as the loggers auctioned her off like a milk cow at a Saturday farm sale. Her annoyance increased when she found her hands shaking. What had she done?

When she'd made plans to escape from New York, Seattle had seemed the perfect place to settle down. She'd arrived in Puget Sound four days ago, traveled on Skid Road through the Duwamp town, and now here she stood, smack in the middle of a logging camp in the biggest mess of her life, bar none.

Weariness enveloped her as she tried to concentrate. It appeared her day of reckoning could be postponed no longer.

The men crowded closer, and the air thickened with tension. Never in all her born days had Julianne smelled so much sweat, dirt and foul breath all in one small space. She took a step backward only to find the men had closed in on her from behind. She searched the crowd for the only person familiar to her; a woman named Maggie who had given her a ride from town.

“What in blue blazes is going on here? Why aren't you men working?” The loud voice parted the sea of soiled bodies, and the large man attached to it made his way to her. With an ax propped on his shoulder, he looked down his eagle nose and continued to demand answers. “What's the cause of this ruckus, Sloan?”

Julianne chanced a look at the man who stood by her side. Sloan Kellywood twisted his hat in his hands and refused to answer.

“I'll tell you what's going on here.” A woman's voice rose as she pushed her way through the crowd. Maggie.
Thank You, God.
“This no-good-for-nothing mule of a man ordered himself a bride, then up and married one of the Skid Road girls in town. That's what's happened. Now his mail-order bride shows up, and he doesn't want her.”

Maggie stopped in front of Sloan. She pushed a bony finger into his chest. “He's selling her off like she's his personal property or something.”

Conscious of intense scrutiny as every eye looked her over from head to toe, Julianne felt sure her face had just caught fire.

The big man spoke to Sloan. “What gives you the right to sell this woman?”

“She owes me for the ship fare. And I want my money, boss. She owes me.” Sloan's voice rose in anger. He stepped away from Maggie's abusing finger.

Julianne watched Sloan puff out his chest. How could she have believed his letters? This was not the man who had written to her. He just couldn't be. While his words hadn't been flowery, that man had shown kindness in his words. She fought back tears of disappointment.

“Now let me get this straight, Sloan. You sent for her; she came. Did you send a wire telling her you were already married and that she should return the money?”

“No, boss…”

The boss interrupted Sloan, his impatience with the matter evident in the expression of disbelief on his face. “Then she followed your orders. She's arrived and you don't get your money back.” The tone of his voice said,
and that's final
.

“But she didn't even bring a trunk, boss. There wuz no boxes nor nuthin'. Just her satchel of clothes.” The man's whining voice set Julianne's teeth on edge. A valise with a few personal possessions was all she'd had time to pack.

“What in thunder are you talking about, Sloan?” The big man dropped the ax from his shoulder to the ground and leaned on the handle, his chin jutted forward, a less than subtle threat to Sloan that he'd better clear things up in a hurry.

“I sent an extra hundred, Boss, for her truesole. Took me nigh on to a year to save that money.”

“Her what?”

If her circumstances had not been so dire, Julianne would have laughed at the look on the boss's face.

“Trousseau,” Maggie corrected Sloan, then she turned her gaze on Julianne as if she, too, wondered why Julianne had arrived so lacking in possessions.

“I was expecting her to bring some of them fancy linens from New York. You know, boss. Towels, sheets and curtains to outfit my new home. Maybe some good pots and pans to cook with. And she was supposed to buy several fine dresses and material to make more. I paid to have all that frippery, but she showed up empty handed, with just that old valise.”

Julianne about swallowed her tongue. She'd never heard a man lie so outright before.

“What do you have to say about this?” The boss turned to her and demanded answers in the same booming voice he'd used on Sloan.

Now wasn't the time to turn into a weeping female, Julianne told herself. She pulled her shoulders back, forced herself to stand tall, and answered as honestly as she knew how. “I'm confused, sir. I don't know what he's talking about. I didn't receive any money, just a letter saying to come. So…I signed on with Asa Mercer, the man who brings out brides for men in remote areas of the west. When I explained to him that I was betrothed to a man in the area and didn't have the means to get here, Mr. Mercer agreed to let me travel with them. He paid my fare.”

“You liar! I sent the money for your ticket!” Sloan swept his arm upward to strike her.

Julianne cringed and stepped back. The heat and stench of unwashed bodies at her back halted her retreat. When no blow came, she opened her eyes and looked at Sloan under the cover of her eyelashes.

The big man held Sloan by the front of his shirt. His angry voice rumbled over them like hot lava. “No man hits a woman in my camp.” He growled in Sloan's face, then shoved him away. He turned his gaze upon her, his dark brows slanted in a frown.

“Sir, I never received the money, only the letter saying for me to come.” Her voice shook but she forced her gaze to meet Sloan's. It was the truth, and she mentally dared him to deny it.

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