Rainy Day Dreams: 2 (23 page)

The man acknowledged Jason from his position near the head rig before returning to his work. Jason nodded his farewells at the workers he passed on his way to the shack’s exit, where Will waited. As soon as the blockhouse was finished, he intended to spend his evenings here, working alongside Don so he could get to know him as he had Will. Henry had given him a frank rundown on the strengths and weaknesses of both men yesterday.

“Donald’s a good operator.” Seated behind his desk in the crowded office, he’d leaned over the surface toward Jason and kept his voice low. “The men respect him. But he doesn’t read, and when he adds two and two he comes up with twenty-two. That’s why I couldn’t give him your job.”

One question answered, at least. Jason had leaned on his hands, which were planted on the edge of the desk, and asked in an equally low tone, “And what about Will? Seems to me like he would make a fine mill manager.”

“Trying to give away your job already?” Henry had grinned up at him, and then waved off his protests. “Truth be told, I offered him the job. He turned it down on account of his grandson. Said he couldn’t expect Louisa Denny to keep the boy day
and
night.”

As he passed by the engine, which chugged along with a satisfactory rumble, Jason watched Will talking with one of the men who was making an adjustment to the rollers. It couldn’t be easy raising a boy alone. The fact that the man took the task so seriously spoke well of him. If he’d had a son when Beth died…

He shied away from the thought and the accompanying stab of grief. Lengthening his stride, he approached the pair.

“Everything all right here?” He inspected the roller where it connected to the infeed deck.

“Fine.” Will slapped the man on the back. “Coleman knows what he’s doing. Been here since Henry built the place.”

Coleman’s chest swelled at the praise, and Jason nodded his approval. Then he and Will left, walking side by side down the
narrow street that skirted the inlet. A load of logs was floating there, waiting to be milled. Jason and Will shared the companionable silence of men who worked together, respected one another, and were quickly becoming friends.

When they reached the intersection where Jason turned to go up First Street toward the blockhouse, Will stopped.

“I’ll join you shortly. Want to go check on John William first.”

Why, then, wasn’t he heading up to the Denny home? Jason started to ask, but at that moment the sound of men’s shouts reached him.

“What in the world?”

He whirled and looked in the direction the noise had come. There, a few yards past the wharf, a brawl was taking place. It didn’t take more than a glance to recognize Big Dog, and the flash of red hair beside him had to be Red. Half the brawlers wore flannel, the other uniforms, all of them covered in mud. And no wonder. As he watched, Big Dog grabbed a sailor in his powerful hands, lifted him bodily, and tossed him to the ground. The man landed with a splat that sent mud showering the area. He rolled over and leaped to his feet, then charged back into the fray.

Jason’s gaze was drawn to a lone woman standing at the edge of the wooden dock. Even from this distance he recognized Kathryn’s profile. What in the world was she doing down here? Her posture stiff, she stood watching the fight with both hands clasped over her mouth.

He and Will exchanged a quick glance and took off at a run. Plowing into the battle, Jason headed toward Big Dog, who seemed to be at the center of the melee.

“Hold off!” When the huge man drew back a fist in preparation for landing another punch on the sailor in front of him, Jason hooked an elbow around his arm and held tight. “Stop this right now!”

Big Dog tried to shake him off, lifting Jason completely off his
feet, but then caught sight of his face. He hesitated, and for a second Jason thought he’d been successful in stopping the fight. In the next instant, pain exploded in his face and he found himself on his backside, rubbing his jaw.

“Hey!” bellowed the big man. “That’s my boss, you stinking squid.” He charged forward to retaliate.

The blast of a gun from somewhere behind him stopped the fight. Jason turned to see a horse galloping toward them, Noah Hughes in the saddle with a rifle aimed straight into the air. The men grew still.

“What is going on here?” His shout held almost as much force as the gunshot. “I looked down here from up on the knoll to see a bunch of men rolling around in the mud, beating each other bloody.”

“They insulted a lady.” Red stood straight, his nose held high with self-righteous indignity. “No man among us is gonna let ’em get away with that.”

“We were
helping
her.” A sailor nearby shot a poisonous glare toward Red. “She
asked
us to help.”

Big Dog folded his arms across his powerful chest. “Didn’t look like help to me. You were tossing her back and forth like a rag doll.”

Heads turned toward the dock, where Kathryn stood as though frozen in place. Her eyes were wide as dinner plates. She lowered her hands from her mouth, and cleared her throat. “M–my wagon got stuck in the mud.” Tears trembled in her voice, and Jason almost felt sorry for her. “I didn’t mean to cause”—she swept a hand toward the men, who were a sorry sight indeed, covered in blood and mud—“this.”

Noah cleared his throat. “Sounds to me like a misunderstanding.”

“It weren’t neither!” shouted someone Jason couldn’t see.

“Yeah, and we ain’t about to let no dirty—”

“Hold it right there.” Jason cut the man off before another insult could reignite the brawl. He picked himself up off the ground and cast a stern glance around the group. “Let’s all go about our business. I know my crew has somewhere to be. And if you sailors don’t,
maybe we ought to send someone over to the ship to see what Captain Gansevoort has to say about the matter.”

The suggestion brought the desired effect. The sailors began snatching up their hats and making a hasty retreat.

When they were gone, Noah nudged his horse toward the dock. “Are you all right?” he asked Kathryn.

She gave a shaky nod.

He addressed the men. “Why don’t some of you get that wagon out of the mud so Miss Bergert can be on her way?”

Jason stood off to one side while they hurried to obey. When the wagon stood on more or less solid ground, they helped her onto the bench. In a trembling voice, Kathryn thanked them over and over for coming to her aid. When Noah suggested that some of the men see her safely back to the Faulkner House, she protested that she had to deliver the sandwiches to the blockhouse. They headed in that direction, Noah walking his horse beside the wagon and her rescuers surrounding her on all sides.

Jason stood watching their departure, running a tentative finger over what was rapidly becoming a swollen jaw. An experimental wiggle told him it wasn’t broken, thank the Lord.

Will came up beside him. “What did I tell you about that woman? She’s trouble.”

Surprised at the vehemence in his voice, Jason looked at the man. “I’m not sure this was her fault.”

“Of course it was,” he snapped. “What did she expect, hanging around the docks by herself? What was she doing down here anyway?”

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at a row of shacks lining the waterfront. “Maybe she had an errand.” Jason kept his tone carefully even. What had Kathryn done to provoke Will’s anger? Obviously something more than a visit to the wharf.

Unpleasant laughter erupted. “An errand involving a boatful of sailors?”

The crude insinuation shocked Jason, especially coming from a man who was normally calm and even soft-spoken. “I don’t think that’s called for,” he said by way of mild reproof.

Will’s lips tightened. “You don’t know her kind. I do.”

Jason shook his head. Arrogant, irritating, occasionally flirtatious, and obstinate in the extreme. There was plenty to criticize about Kathryn. But whatever else she might be, she was a lady. Of that Jason was certain.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on her?” He studied the man. “What has she done to make you dislike her so much?”

For a moment, he thought Will might answer. Then the man jerked his head sideways. “Take my advice and cut a wide path around her.”

He walked off. Not toward town, but toward the shacks lining the waterfront. Jason stared after him for a minute and then shook his head. Somewhere in Will’s past he had been dealt a harsh blow by an untrustworthy woman. Unfortunately for Kathryn, she obviously reminded him of that woman.

Brushing the worst of the mud off the seat of his trousers, Jason took off for the blockhouse.

Will left Jason behind, barely mindful of the mud that sucked at his boots. A sick knot wrenched tight in the pit of his stomach. That woman hadn’t been here but a few days and already she’d caused a riot. Somehow she managed to slither her way into the affections of the men.

Well, he knew how. Hadn’t he seen her in action before? He kicked a chunk of wood out of his way with enough force to send it flying several yards. She was well aware of the effect her femininity
would have on a bunch of woman-hungry men, and she didn’t hesitate to use it to her advantage.

Now it looked like even Jason was in danger of falling for her charms. That she had set her sights on the handsome mill manager Will didn’t doubt. He’d seen the way she looked at him when that sailor punched him, the way her gaze kept returning to him. Will shook his head. How could a sharp man like Jason not see through her schemes? Sure, she appeared innocent and frail, standing there on the pier watching the chaos she had caused. She even managed to look like she was close to tears. For all he knew, that might not have been faked. No doubt she’d bitten off more than she could chew when she played her flirtatious game with a boatload of sailors. She set out to enjoy a little sport with them, intent on spending an evening watching them vie for her attention. But then things had gotten out of hand.

What was she doing down here anyway? He lifted his head, searching the area ahead of him. An Indian woman picked her way across the muddy street, her feet bare and a wide, shallow basket propped on her hip. From one of the distant huts came the wail of a baby. High-pitched laughter drew his attention to the place where a group of children played at some game not far from where the familiar figure of Princess Angeline stood over a fire pit stirring a huge pot with a board. John William’s blond hair stood out starkly against the black hair of the Indian children.

An invisible hand snaked into his gut and squeezed. Had Kathryn come down here to see his grandson?

“John William!”

The children all looked up at his shout. John William’s face lit with a smile that would normally have warmed his grandfather’s heart. Today nothing could penetrate the chill that invaded his chest.

“Time to go.”

The child came obediently to his side. With a nod of thanks to
Princess Angeline, Will turned and headed toward town with his grandson at his side.

“Are we going to the blockhouse?” the child asked.

“Not tonight.”

“But you said you’d show me—”

At a sharp glance, the boy fell silent. Will automatically shortened his stride so John William didn’t have to run to keep up, thoughts whirling in his mind. He couldn’t stand by and watch Jason get his heart handed to him by a trollop. Nor would he let her near John William. Somehow he would have to find a way to reveal the kind of woman she really was beneath that innocent mask she wore.

Ten

Wednesday, January 16, 1856