Anything for You (31 page)

When the door opened and cold air gushed through the kitchen, Gypsy quietly ordered, “Per, keep everyone working. We're already behind schedule.” She wiped her hands and turned to smile at the man in the doorway. “Mr. Glenmark, welcome to the cook shack. Can we get you a cup of swamp water? There are some cookies in the larder.”

“I'd like to talk to you.” He motioned toward her room. “Alone.”

“All right.” She ignored the twisting in her stomach. Never had Daniel asked to speak to her privately. Avoiding her crew's shocked expressions, she led the way into her room. When Daniel shut the door, she asked in a whisper, “Do you think this is wise?”

He shrugged, but the motion was sluggish, as if he carried huge logs on his shoulders. “Let them think what they wish. We need to talk alone. Even Farley's office isn't private.”

“Daniel, I'm sorry I burst in there like that.”

“Don't apologize, Gypsy.” He sat on the chair next to her bed. His graying mustache drooped over his mouth. “Even after all this time, it seems odd to call you Gypsy.”

“It's my name. Papa always said I'd end up wandering the world like a gypsy.”

“Because he never expected you to, I'm sure.”

“Maybe not, but I've seen more than I ever thought I would.”

He smiled weakly. “At last I can tell you I didn't think you'd last a season in the north woods. Now you're finishing your third winter up here.”

“This snow came as an eye-opener. Sometimes I think I'll never get warm again.” Her studiously cheerful expression faded. “How are you doing, Daniel?”

“Fine. Fine.”

“Daniel?” She had not expected the tension to remain in his voice. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Sylvia—”

“Is fine.”

Gypsy closed her eyes. His terse answers could not hide the truth. Putting her hand on his arm, she whispered, “I know I should have written, but—”

“You're always busy.” He laughed. “Blame that on your boss.”

“I usually do.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “Are you here because of Rose Quinlan's death?”

“That disturbed me, but what I've heard since bothers me more.” He folded her hand between his. “Why did you try to keep Farley from sending word about the attack on you?”

“I knew how you'd react. You'd come up here and insist I leave.”

“Justifiably.”

“I can't leave here, Daniel.”

“Of course you can.” His lip twisted as he looked around the room. “You could come back to Lansing with me.”

Laughing, she sat on the bed and rested her elbow on the iron footboard. “When my feet are half frozen and the stove refuses to stay warm at four in the morning, I'd jump at such an offer. However, my life is here.”

“But for how long? This arrangement was never meant to be permanent. Why don't you come back to the life you should have?”

“Honestly, Daniel, I like it here. Every day is different from the one before it.”

“Especially the day you were attacked in the woods?”

“Adam Lassiter is an efficient spy.”

He smiled sadly. “That's exactly why I hired him. Farley was supposed to use him in the office, but apparently his being here in the kitchen has worked out well.”

“Yes.” Looking past his broad shoulder, she could keep from meeting his steady gaze. She did not want to risk revealing how wondrous Adam's tenure in the kitchen had been. “Does this mean you've come to let him know his work here is done?”

Rubbing his hands together, he shook his head. “You don't know how much I wish I could tell you yes. His work isn't done. Farley is still in danger.”

“Farley?”

“I thought you knew I'd sent Lassiter to keep an eye on Farley. I'm surprised Lassiter didn't tell you.” He sighed. “You might as well know the truth. Farley is the target of the trouble here. Unfortunately for Mrs. Quinlan, her death was just a warning to him.”

She stared at the floor. In retrospect, all the facts fit together. By killing Lolly Yerkes, the murderer convinced Nissa to leave behind a camp of angry, bored men. Rose's death had increased fear among the superstitious loggers. If the camp's cook had been slain as well, Calvin Farley could have been ruined.

“But why?”

Daniel raised his hands in a frustrated shrug. “If I had that answer, I'd know the murderer's identity. I have no answers. Lassiter has none. Do you?”

“To be honest, I never thought of anyone wanting to kill Farley. Beat sense into his head? Yes, because I've wanted to do that myself. But kill him? No.”

Rising, he said, “That, however, is the truth.”

“Does Farley know?”

“I think he suspects. Haven't you noticed how oddly he's been acting?”

Laughter was easy. “He always acts odd.”

“That's true. Now tell me, how's your staff this year?”

“Excellent. I have them well-seasoned by this time.”

“I have no doubt.” Putting his hands on her shoulders, he smiled more sincerely when she placed her hands over his. “This has worked well for both of us. When you asked for this job, I never guessed one of the most famous kingbee cooks in the north woods would be a queen bee named Gypsy.”

“I like surprising you.”

“You never fail to.” He bent to kiss her cheek, but froze at a sharp knock on the door.

It opened before they could move. The expression of amazement on Adam's face became anger. The rest of the flunkeys stared at what looked like an interrupted tryst between their boss and the owner of Glenmark Timber Company.

Gypsy stood as Daniel pulled his hands back. While he made a production of straightening his vest, she went to the door.

“I wasn't under the impression you had free access to my private quarters, gentlemen.” Her voice remained even, but the flunkeys crept away.

Except Adam. He smiled coldly. “You told me to get the biscuits ready, but I need to know how many you want.”

“The usual amount.” She pushed past him. When she did not hear him follow, she turned. Her words died unspoken as she saw the quick glance exchanged by Adam and Daniel. “The bread is ready for baking, Adam. See to it, please.” Without a pause, she added, “Mr. Glenmark, will you be joining us for supper tonight? I know the jacks would enjoy your company.”

“I'll be dining with Farley.”

Again her calm wavered. “Perhaps you can convince him to move back into camp. The camp manager should be here with his men and not out there alone with his grief.”

He started to put his hand on her shoulder, but pulled it back hastily. Clasping his hands behind his back like a naughty boy, he said, “I'll be here for breakfast.”

“I'll be sure to make the coffee extra strong.”

He grinned. “You think I can't stay awake without a powerful jolt of swamp water?”

“When was the last time you got up before the sun did?”

“You're right, Gypsy. Have it strong.” He walked out of the kitchen, silence in his wake.

The flunkeys flinched when Gypsy clapped her hands sharply. “Gentlemen, this isn't a museum. If you want to pretend to be statues, do it elsewhere. The jacks will be here in two hours.”

As she reached for a clean apron, a hand grasped her uninjured elbow.

Adam asked in a low voice, “What did Glenmark tell you?”

“What did he tell
you?
”

“You know I must be circumspect about my work.” He frowned. “I can tell you he's distressed about what's been going on here.”

“And that's news?”

“Honey, I can't say more at this point.”

“You can. You don't trust me.”

“You didn't trust me, either.”

“
Didn't!
But I told you—” She glanced at the other men.

“So when are you leaving?”

“When the spring thaw comes.”

He put his arm around her shoulders, herding her toward the larder. “Gypsy, didn't Glenmark order you to leave?”

“No,” She shrugged off his arm. “He asked me if I wanted to go.”

“Gypsy, you need to get out of here. If that guy comes back—”

“He can't come back when he's already here in camp.”

“All the more reason for you to leave.”

She shook her head. “Here I have a hundred men who are watching over me. If I leave, who would look after me? You?”

“I can't.”

“I know. You're here to watch over Farley.”

“He told you that?”

“Yes.” She folded her arms in front of her. “He trusts me.”

Although she thought he would retort angrily, he said, “Gypsy, getting involved with Glenmark could be dangerous for you. Think about what you're doing.”

She smiled icily as she raised her chin in defiance. “I am, Adam. I can assure you that, for the first time in longer than I want to admit, I'm thinking clearly. Getting involved with Mr. Glenmark might be dangerous, but becoming involved with you was just plain stupid.”

When she walked away, he called after her, “Gypsy, wait!”

Whipping her coat around her shoulders, she ordered, “You get to those biscuits. I need some fresh air. I'm tired of the stench of lies.” She slammed the door to cut off his retort.

She had hoped when she offered Adam an ultimatum, he would relent and be honest. Instead, he had shut her out again.

She wondered how many times a heart could be broken.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Farley looked peaked as he lurched across the dining room to grab an unused coffee mug off a table. Holding it out, he commanded, “Fill it up! Now!”

Glancing at Gypsy, Oscar obeyed. He filled it only halfway because Farley's hands trembled as if with palsy. When the camp manager started to argue, Gypsy motioned the younger man away.

“Sit down.” She pointed to a table which had been cleaned of dirty dishes.

Farley dropped heavily to the bench. Coffee splashed on the table, but he ignored it. “Why didn't you tell me, Gypsy? I thought you were my friend. Why did you keep this a secret?”

“Keep what a secret?”

“Why Lassiter is here.”

She wiped up the dark stream of coffee. “I didn't know until Mr. Glenmark told me yesterday.”

“He wants me to move into the bunkhouse. He already arranged for a sled to take my furniture into Saginaw, where I can get it at the end of the season. Generously, he's allowing me to stay on until the drive down the river.”

“Then?” she prompted.

He gulped his coffee. “He offered me a position at the sawmill. I have my choice of taking it or finding another job. He's determined I won't be out here next winter.”

Gypsy sighed. Like her, Farley loved life in the north woods. The sawmill would bore him.

When she opened her mouth, he held up his hands. “No false consolation, Gypsy.”

“If you want honesty, I'll give it to you. After all, it's a refreshing change.”

“What do you mean?”

Realizing she had said too much, she answered, “Nothing, except that I think you should be honored Mr. Glenmark thinks so highly of you that he wants to protect you and keep you at Glenmark Timber Company. No, listen to me,” she ordered when he began to interrupt. Rising, she put her hands on his shoulders. “He could have told you to walk. That would have been the easiest for him. He could have ignored whatever convinced him to send Adam here. For the love of heaven, Calvin, he's spent money to keep you alive!”

“I should have known you'd defend Glenmark! After all, you've enjoyed having Lassiter here. With him drooling over you, he's let two women be slain.”

“Adam's been trying to help.”

He stood and sneered, “Lassiter will leave you as soon as Glenmark crooks his finger. You've just been convenient for him.”

Gypsy's hand struck his cheek before she could halt it. Hearing a startled gasp behind her, she stared, wide-eyed, at Chauncey. The inkslinger's face was as colorless as Farley's. She said nothing to either of them as she rushed into the kitchen.

Oscar asked, “Gypsy, are you all right?”

“Farley's just in one of his snits.” When she saw his disbelief, she continued, “Let's get going on lunch.”

“Are you sure?”

She smiled. “I'm fine. Thanks, Oscar. You're a good friend.”

“Just want to make sure you don't get hurt again.”

“Get to work!” She slapped his arm playfully as he turned back to the table. Glancing about the room, she noticed Adam was not there. She was not surprised he was gone while Daniel was here.

She wondered what the two men were discussing. Then she wondered why she cared. A sorrowful chuckle cramped in her throat. She did care. That was the problem. As much as she might despise Adam for failing to trust her, she could not halt her heart from yearning to belong with him.

Somehow she must change that.

She simply had no idea how.

The oxen led the sled along the rutted road. Gypsy kept one hand on the seat and the other on her bonnet as the runners bounced into a pothole. Beside her, Adam swore. The sled hurdled a deep chuckhole. He put out his arm, but she gripped the seat.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“I guess a thank you is a start.”

“A start?”

His grin lightened his voice. “I wasn't sure you'd even speak to me after I barged in on you and what Oscar generously calls your gentleman.”

She looked at the swaying haunches of the oxen, her gloved hands clenched in her lap. “Mr. Glenmark isn't my gentleman, as both you and Oscar put it. He's my boss.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He is!” She clamped her lips closed when he regarded her from beneath his hat, which was drawn low over his ears. Defending herself was useless. In his jealousy, Adam refused to listen. A fresh pang slashed through her. She had given him the very excuse he needed to end their uneven relationship.