Riding the Flume (19 page)

They stopped in front of her. “Francie . . .” her mother's voice caught on a half sob and she put out her hand. “We thought you were dead,” she whispered.

Francie clasped her mother's hand in her own. “I'm fine,” she said. She wanted to wrap her arms around her mother's shoulders, but she didn't dare.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Francie's father said to Mr. Court as the newspaperman stepped up beside them. His voice trembled slightly and he cleared his throat. Francie wondered if he were so angry he couldn't speak.

Mr. Court shook his head. “She can take care of herself,” he answered with a small smile. “I don't think you need worry about Francie.”

Francie felt her mother's hand tighten in her own, but her father's eyes narrowed as they rested again on Francie. That wasn't what he wanted to hear, but it's true, Francie thought, surprised. She remembered, belatedly, that she'd pulled her hair back in the style Carrie had favored, but she stopped herself from reaching up and pulling out the pins. Let him see how much she looked like Carrie. She stood up a little straighter and stared back at him.

“I'm sorry I worried you,” she said, glancing from her father to her mother. She had to press her lips together to keep herself from going on, from trying to explain why she had to do it.

Her father nodded and exchanged a glance with her mother. Francie knew that look—it meant that he had more to say on the issue. But he only touched her shoulder and motioned her to walk beside him. “Let me do what I have to do, daughter,” he said. “We want to get you home.” He took her mother's arm once more and they walked down the path to Carrie's tree.

Francie could see her mother's gaze go up and up, and she heard her breath catch as she looked at the tree. Once she glanced at Francie with wide, wondering eyes. But her father stared straight ahead as if the tree were invisible to him.

Sheriff Bennett had been sitting on the ground underneath the scaffolding talking with the loggers. When he saw Francie and her parents he stood up. “Ah,” he said,
dusting off his hands. “Cavanaugh.” He touched the brim of his hat and bobbed his head at Francie's mother. “Ma'am.” Then he took Francie's father's arm and led him slightly aside. “Cavanaugh, you have some business to settle here, I believe. Did you know that old Robert Granger had willed his land to your daughter, Mary Carolyn?”

Francie's father cleared his throat. “I do now,” he said. “Frank Court gave me the details.”

Lewis Granger stomped over to them. He glared at Francie and ignored her mother. “Cavanaugh,” he said, “the company will pay you five hundred dollars for this section of land. I can have a check to you by Monday.”

Francie's mother made a small sound and put her hand over her mouth. Francie knew she was thinking about what they could do with that money at the hotel.

Her father glanced over at them and then back to Granger. “Five hundred dollars? That's quite a bit of money, Granger. I believe the company bought the rest of the land for one hundred dollars a section.”

Granger swallowed, and Francie remembered that five hundred dollars was what he had received for the land himself—four hundred more than anyone else had!

“It's worth it to us,” Lewis Granger answered. He hooked his thumbs under his suspenders and smiled at Francie's father.

“Father, please.” Francie's heart was pounding in her throat so she could hardly speak. “Please. Don't do it.”
She saw a spasm of pain cross her father's face and he looked down at her with unseeing eyes.

Francie's mother gripped her arm, and Francie turned to see that her face was creased with worry. “Francie, please,” she begged. But then her eyes went to the tree again, and she shook her head. “I just don't know what's right,” she whispered.

“Cavanaugh,” Lewis Granger continued. “You've been a firm supporter of the company from the beginning, and you haven't been the worse for it. You'd never have made that hotel a success without the company.” He looked at the men gathered around them and nodded, as if he were making up his mind about something. “Now I'm going to let you in on a fact that's not generally known. This depression has hurt us badly, and we've been forced to spend more than we could afford to keep this operation going. If we can't log this section it might put us under.”

He stepped back and hid a small smile behind his hand. Francie thought he looked like a gambler playing a winning card. “That's crazy,” she burst out. “You've logged the whole basin. How could these few acres make that much difference?”

The look Lewis Granger gave her was icy. “You shut up and leave this to your betters,” he growled at her. “You've caused me enough trouble already. I've half a mind to put the law onto you!”

Francie saw her mother's head jerk up. Her father stiffened,
and Francie was surprised to hear the anger she'd expected to be directed at her lash out at Granger instead. “Don't speak to my daughter like that, Granger,” he said, and the cold warning in his voice was clear.

Granger stepped back. “I beg your pardon,” he said, and he even gave a slight bow. “I didn't mean to give you any offense. But this is a decision for the adults to make, don't you agree, Cavanaugh?”

“I do,” Francie's father answered. He put his hands in his pockets and stared down at his feet.

Francie held her breath, but when her father didn't look at her, she felt as if a lump the size of a boulder had settled into her stomach. Her mother was staring out at the devastation the loggers had made around Carrie's tree.

“I just don't see how I can be the one to put the company in the red,” Francie's father said finally.

Francie couldn't let him finish. She grabbed his hands and spun around to face him. “Papa, I know I've disappointed you. I know you'd rather have Carrie here than me, but please, please, listen to me just this once.” She looked up into his face, which was suddenly twisted into an expression of such pain and sadness it made her catch her breath. But she couldn't stop. “If you let them cut down this tree, it will be like Carrie dying all over again. Please, Papa, we can't have her back, but don't take this last part of her away from me.” She held onto him as if she was drowning and he was the only lifeline.

Her father's face went white, as if she'd slapped him, and she realized that the crowd of loggers around them had become utterly silent. She turned to find that her mother had covered her face with her hands—her shoulders were shaking.

Francie felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over her. She closed her eyes. Once again, she'd crossed the line; she'd embarrassed them in front of everyone. Her father lifted his eyes to the men around them and then looked back at her. She saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

“Francie,” he whispered, using her nickname for the first time since Carrie died. “With all my heart I wish I had both you and Carrie here. I could never choose one over the other.” He lifted a shaking hand and touched her hair. “You look so much like her . . .” he swallowed again, and she saw that his eyes were red with unshed tears. “When we couldn't find you yesterday . . . before we got Court's telegram, and I thought I'd lost you, too . . .” He took a breath that sounded like a sob. “I couldn't have borne it.” He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. He was gripping her hand as hard as she had been gripping his, and she felt, suddenly, that she was his lifeline, too.

“But I can't be the one to put the lumber company under,” he continued. He let go of her hands. “It's not the money. It's not just my hotel. It's the jobs of all these men, too.” He looked out at the loggers, and Francie heard
shuffling as some of them shifted on their feet. “What else can I do?”

He was right. Francie knew it as soon as the words were spoken. If the company went broke, all those men would be out of work.

“Besides,” Granger said, “this section is already cut. It's too late to save these trees—why not save jobs instead?” He patted the pocket of his shirt as if he were looking for his pen to write out the check then and there.

Granger had won and he knew it. Francie could hardly stand seeing that smug look on his face. She gritted her teeth and looked around the valley—once thick with growing pines. Now it looked like a desert—Carrie's tree was the only one left.

Her mother sighed, and her cheeks were wet with tears. “If there were only some way to turn back the clock—but the damage has already been done. We can't put the trees back.”

Francie stared at her, and an idea suddenly blossomed in her mind. But would her father accept it? “Mama is right,” she said slowly, turning to her father. “We can't put the other trees back. So why don't we sell them the wood they've cut already? We could even let them log the rest of the section as well—everything but Carrie's tree.”

“That's preposterous!” Granger's face turned dark red. “The company has already paid for this lumber once. Paying again would put us even farther on the road to ruin!”

“And who did they pay it to last time?” Francie dug her fingernails into her palms to stop herself from shouting. “I think it was you!”

Francie's father put his hand on her shoulder. “Calm down, daughter,” he said. “Let me handle this.” He turned to Granger. “A moment ago you were offering me five hundred dollars for the lumber in this section.” He folded his arms. “I believe I'm missing the point here.”

“The point is,” Granger spluttered, “that tree's half the wood in this section. Without it, the deal's no good to us. We'll go under and it'll be your fault. We've got to bring down that tree!”

Francie watched her father. His eyes narrowed, but his glance strayed to the loggers, standing grim and silent, and she knew he couldn't do it, couldn't take the money away from the company.

“Papa!” She grabbed his hand again to get his attention. “What if we give them the rest of the wood in the section. For free. Then it won't cost the company anything more than it did before. All they'd lose would be Carrie's tree.”

Francie's father blinked and his eyebrows rose. “Give them the lumber? Is that good business sense?”

Francie wanted to scream, but she tried to keep her voice calm. “This isn't business! This is saving Carrie's tree without taking the loggers' jobs.”

Francie's father stroked his mustache with his finger. Then he glanced at Granger.

“That tree's half the wood in this section,” Granger said again. His jaw was set and his hands were balled into fists.

“If one tree's gonna make the difference between life and death for the company,” one logger called out, “then I might as well quit right now!” Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd of men surrounding them.

“It seems like a fair deal to me,” Mr. Court said, grinning. “And you'd save the company that five hundred dollars, too.”

Francie's father gave Francie a long look. Then he looked at Francie's mother, and there was a light in his eyes Francie had not seen there in a long time. Francie's mother gave a slight nod. Then her father turned to Granger. “That's our offer, then. You can have the wood you've already cut and the rest of the lumber in this section free and clear, but you don't cut that tree. And we keep ownership of the land.”

Granger's face was so red Francie thought he might burst. “I'll have to discuss it with Mr. Connor,” he growled. He shoved the men nearest him aside and stomped off up the hill toward the pass.

“They'll take it,” Sheriff Bennett said, watching Granger's back. “Granger can't afford to take a stand on this. I doubt if we could prove foul play in the death of his brother, but there's something very fishy about the whole thing. How does he know the man's dead? And why was
he paid five times as much as anyone else for his section? He knows I'll be looking into it.”

“Do you think he killed his own brother, then?” Mr. Court asked.

Sheriff Bennett stroked his chin with his fingers. “He's a mean one, but murder? I don't think he'd go that far.”

Mr. Court shoved his hand in his pockets. “But the lumber company wanted this land. What if Old Robert refused to sell? Maybe there was a fight. Robert fell or hit his head—some kind of accidental death. Suddenly what Granger wanted to happen did happen—his brother is dead. Set the cabin on fire . . . a four-hundred-dollar bonus for his trouble . . .”

“Hold on, Court.” Sheriff Bennett held up his hand. “Sounds like you're writing one of those dime novels to me. It makes me nervous when a newspaperman begins to speculate in advance of the evidence.”

Mr. Court grinned. “Sorry,” he said. “But if Connor accepts the Cavanaughs' offer it might be an indication of possible wrongdoing.”

“Why wouldn't he accept it?” Sheriff Bennett asked. “Connor can't afford to turn down free lumber even without the wood in the big sequoia.”

“We weren't sure we could bring that giant down in one piece, anyway,” one of the loggers put in. He glanced at the tree, and his look was wistful. “Sure would've been fun to try, though.”

“Looks like we get the rest of the day off, boys,” Charlie said, slapping his hat on his thigh. “I think I'll go ride the flume into St. Joseph.” He looked sideways at Francie as everyone laughed, and the crowd began to break up.

Francie flushed. “I'll never hear the end of that,” she said under her breath.

“Not for a while,” her mother answered. “I just hope those men don't break their necks trying to best you, Francie.” She coughed and put her hand over her mouth, and Francie thought she might be concealing a smile.

“And there's also the matter of your punishment.” Her father gave her a stern look. “Your mother and I can't condone that wild ride into St. Joseph, no matter how glad we are that you made it there safely.”