The Lumberjack's Bride (8 page)

Her eyes followed Julianne's movements. “You look plumb tuckered out.”

“I am a little.” Julianne carefully placed the clean clothes into the drawstring bag that was still a bit damp. “The baby doesn't sleep well at night. He seems to have a permanent tummy ache that keeps him from resting both day and night. Is there something I can mix with his milk to help him, or should I water it down so it isn't so strong?”

“Well he seems to be okay right now.”

Julianne glanced briefly at Jonathan then jerked her gaze back to him. He lay quietly in Maggie's arms staring up at her, his eyes wide and alert. Julianne rushed to Maggie's side. “Hello there, JoJo,” she cooed softly. He turned his head toward her but his eyes never focused. She kept her voice quiet and gentle, barely able to contain the happiness at seeing him so peaceful. “You're feeling better, yes you are.” He turned his head to Maggie's chest and closed his eyes. In seconds he was asleep, his tiny legs stretched out, no sign of pain in his tummy.

Julianne went back to finish packing the laundry bag. “There has to be an easier way to do the laundry.” She muttered more to herself than Maggie.

“That bad, eh?”

Jonathan whimpered. Julianne's gaze darted to the baby. Maggie gently jiggled him in her arms.

“When we came up with this idea, I hadn't planned on having a baby to take care of, too.” She set the bag down by Maggie's chair.

The older woman stood to leave. She handed Jonathan over with a quick kiss to the forehead. “Well, you'll get used to it. Women been taking care of their children and doing the laundry at the same time for many a moon.”

“Maggie, is there an Indian tribe nearby?” Julianne adopted a nonchalant pose, needing to confide the afternoon's scare, but uncertain if Maggie would mention it to Caleb or not. If she could ascertain whether she and Jonathan were safe, then she'd continue the wash as if nothing had happened. On the other hand…

“Why, sure there is. Didn't you see the traders and the Indian men down at the wharf? I'd say they're closer to you than the town, though, seeing as how they travel the canal right at the foot of yer hill.” She shuffled to the door, clumsily hefting the bag to her shoulder. “Why'd you ask? Did you see something?”

“No,” Julianne noticed that the lie slipped out much easier than the first lie she had told. “I just noticed some marking at the foot of the hill where I wash clothes, and they looked like Indian. I wondered if I should be afraid.”

“'Bout the only time I've seen the Injuns in these parts get stirred up was when some no-count white man was a doing the stirring.”

Julianne lifted the bar and Maggie swung the wooden door open.

“No reason to fret on their account. There's no danger from the redskin people. It's those good-fer-nothings at the sawmill you gotta worry about.” Maggie's features turned to stone as she picked up the bag and left before Julianne could reply.

“Now, what do you suppose got into her craw?” she asked the sleeping baby as she shut the door and dropped the bar into place.

Julianne spent the rest of the afternoon straightening the cabin and cooking dinner. She took a piece of fatback and placed it in the pot of beans boiling on the woodstove. When the meal was nearly ready, she slid a pan of yeast bread into the oven, and soon the smell of fresh-baked bread filled the air.

As she worked, she pondered Caleb's words from the day before. He'd said the house was hers and he'd given her Jonathan. She examined her feelings and realized for the first time in her life, she felt a bottomless peace and satisfaction. The scare this afternoon had shown her that she had a lot to be thankful for. She had a home and a husband—sort of—and she had a son. A sense of strength came to her, and Julianne determined to turn over a new leaf. To do things right. Was this what people meant when they said they had gotten saved? Or made a decision? She decided right then to be a better person. One that Caleb could depend on and be proud of.

She wiped her hands on her apron and went to the window for what seemed like the hundredth time. The sun had already set, and gray streaks of night mingled with the last light of day. Worry began to gnaw at her newfound confidence.

Where was Caleb?

He'd said he would try to get home early and take her to the river to do laundry. Not that she still needed to do it, but he didn't know that.

Julianne paused and stood perfectly still, listening intently for the sound that had pegged her attention. There it was again. A tinkling like that of a bell. She leaned into the window and squinted to see more clearly. The sound grew closer until she could make out two dark forms coming toward the house.

Had the Indians returned? She scooped up Jonathan and held him close.

“Julianne!” Caleb's rich voice called to her.

Julianne hurried out the door. She made out Caleb on his horse, and he was leading a cow toward the house. The moon crept from behind the clouds long enough for her to see a bell around the cow's neck.

“What do you think of her?” Caleb asked when he came even with the porch. He slid off his horse.

Julianne cuddled the baby closer still. “I think it's a cow.”

“Not just any cow. This here is Maybell, and she's our new milk cow.” Caleb patted the beast on the neck.

“Maybell? You named her?” Julianne tilted her head to search Caleb's face.

His resonant laughter filled the night. Caleb led the horse and cow toward the barn. “No, I didn't name her. The little son of the farmer I bought her from named her. The man assures me we can get at least three gallons of milk a day from her. What do you think of that?” He pushed the barn door open and led the animals inside.

Julianne followed him into the barn.

He closed the animals into separate stalls, unsaddled his horse and fed and watered them both.

“Caleb?”

He closed the stall door and turned to face her. “What's wrong, honey?”

The concern in his voice and the way he called her
honey
drew Julianne's affection-deprived body to him. She fought an overwhelming need to be in his arms. Surely this all stemmed from the scare she'd had earlier. You couldn't grow close to someone in less than a week. She heaved a sigh. She hated to disappoint him again, but she didn't see how not to, so she blurted it out.

“I don't know how to milk a cow.” She tried to stop the trembling of her lower lip.

Caleb put an arm around her shoulders and turned her toward the door. “Well, I do, and I'll teach you.”

“Thank you.” Her appreciation sounded stiff and unnatural even to her own ears.

* * *

Caleb felt her pull away from him. He gently dropped his arm from her shoulders.

“Dinner is ready.” Her voice came out as a sigh of relief.

It troubled him that she felt ill at ease in his presence. “I'll get washed up.” He headed for the side of the house where the well stood.

Pouring cold water into a basin, Caleb prayed.
Lord, I can't make this woman trust me, and I can't make her like me either. I know I'm supposed to love her, but she's making it awful hard when she shimmies away from me like a horse in a bed of rattlers. Please help us both to grow in your love. Amen.
He finished his quick sponge bath and hurried into the house.

As he entered the front door, Caleb remembered he'd promised to take her to the river to wash clothes. “I'm sorry, Julianne. I plumb forgot about taking you to the river.”

She held Jonathan in one arm and served dinner with the other. “That's okay, Caleb. I'm sure you have your reasons for being late.”

Her tight voice and the way she clung to the baby expressed in more than words to Caleb that his new wife was unhappy with him. “We can go tomorrow, if you would like to. The boss gave me a couple of days off.” Caleb didn't tell Julianne the foreman had given him the time off because he thought they needed a honeymoon.

Julianne waited for him to bless the meal before answering. “That will be fine.”

They ate in silence. Julianne continued to hold the baby long after he'd finished his bottle and gone to sleep. Caleb wasn't sure what had gotten into her. The day before, she'd only picked up little Jonathan when he'd needed a clean diaper or if she was feeding him. What had caused the change?

As soon as the last spoonful of beans reached his mouth she started clearing the table. Caleb thought about whittling but changed his mind. He watched her move the baby from one arm to the other as she worked.

He stood and walked over to the basin of water where she washed dishes. “Here let me have the baby for a while. I haven't seen him all day.”

Caleb found himself looking deeply into the blue eyes turned up at him. It seemed she was reluctant to hand the baby over to him. For a brief moment, he thought he saw fear, but then relief seemed to wash over her expression.

The baby snuggled into his chest and sighed heavily. Caleb carried him to the table and took a good look at the chairs. What Julianne and the baby needed was a good rocker. Caleb decided he'd make them one, with butterflies and puppies in a field of flowers carved into the high back.

“How are the baby's bottles holding out?” He sat down at the table and studied his nephew's little face.

Julianne wiped her hands on a cloth. “The bottles are okay, it's the nipples I'm worried about. I washed them this afternoon but they still look and smell pretty bad.”

Caleb looked up. “I'll start making him a new one tomorrow. Do you think the others will last until I can get it made?”

“Depends on how long it takes. What are you going to make it out of?” Julianne rubbed at the small of her back.

“I'll whittle it out of wood. Shouldn't take but a day, maybe two.” His thoughts turned to the rocker. It would have to wait until the new nipple was finished. He glanced up to find Julianne staring at him.

Concern laced her tired blue eyes and tiny lines marred her forehead. “Oh, Caleb, the splinters will hurt his little mouth and besides he won't be able to suck a wooden nipple.”

Caleb stood up and took the baby to his crib. “I'll make sure it's smooth and the hole will be very tiny so that he won't get too much milk at one time.” He turned back to the kitchen and bumped into Julianne who had followed him closely to the cradle.

She tried to back out of his grasp, but her feet tangled up with his boots and he felt them both falling.

Caleb twisted his body, barely feeling the soft bed beneath him as Julianne landed on his chest. Air whooshed from his lungs.

Her dark hair covered his face, and she let out a little squeak. Caleb felt her hands on his chest and the pressure she applied as she pushed herself up.

For reasons he didn't know or understand, Caleb wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He stared up into startled baby-blue eyes.

Julianne's dark hair created a curtain around their faces. Her sweet breath mixed with his. Their lips paused, mere inches apart.

Chapter 8

J
ulianne felt the movement of his breathing beneath her. His compelling green eyes stared up at her, questions glittering in their debts.

“Would it be too much for a husband to ask for a kiss, sweet Julianne?” His whole being seemed to be filled with waiting.

She noticed he watched her mouth intently. His hand moved from her waist to pick up a curl and rub it between his finger and thumb. He brought her untried senses to life. Where her voice came from, Julianne wasn't sure. She heard herself whisper. “I am your wife, Caleb. If you want a kiss, all you have to do is take it.”

Caleb dropped the captured curl and gently set her from him. “I won't take your kisses. They are something you will freely give or I won't have them.” He pushed himself off the bed and left the cabin.

Disappointment worked its way into her confused thoughts. He hadn't kissed her. She let out a long audible sigh. Julianne thought men always took what they wanted. Caleb hadn't. Confusion filled her mind. She hadn't wanted him to take the kiss, and yet she felt the need to sample one from him.

She quickly changed into her nightgown and prepared for bed. After brushing her hair, she climbed under the quilts.

Why hadn't he kissed her? She flipped over onto her stomach. The thoughts troubled her. Why did she care that he hadn't kissed her?

“I should be grateful.” She breathed into the pillow. But, she wasn't. Julianne chalked it up to being overly tired from her day at the stream.

* * *

Caleb left the house torn by conflicting emotions. She had made him sound like a caveman. “‘I'm your wife; all you have to do is take it.'” He mimicked her words out loud.

Didn't she know he wouldn't force himself on her? Hadn't he told her as much?

Disappointment ate at him. Her breath and hair had smelled fresh and clean. Everything about her seemed pure.

Caleb admitted he'd wanted the kiss. What would it be like to touch her sweet lips with his?

He stomped out to the barn. The horse neighed, and the cow mooed. Caleb picked up the lantern that sat on a small shelf by the door and lit it.

He walked over to his horse and rubbed its nose. “I don't understand my new wife.”

The cow released a low sound that snagged Caleb's sense of humor, and he chuckled in spite of himself. “Oh, you understand her do you?” He moved across the stall and scratched behind the cow's big velvet ear.

“For just a moment, I was sure she wanted the kiss as much as I did.” He moved away from the animals to a pile of wood that sat at the back of the barn.

Caleb searched through it until he found a small piece of wood. He carried it back to the old stump he used as a stool. A knife lay on the ledge close by and he picked it up and began to whittle.

Prayers peeled from his soul with each shaving of wood.