Rugged and Relentless (17 page)

She shrugged it away to stand squarely in front of him—where she could best ignore the man. Besides, her friends already stood in front of the other three, waiting for her to begin taking back control of
their
town. None of them encountered the slightest trouble slipping through.
Naturally
.

“Now that you’ve each made the decision to stay,” she began, “it’s become excruciatingly apparent we’ll need to establish a few ground rules for how we’ll be running Hope Falls. Anyone who can’t follow these simple laws is welcome—”

The man behind her cleared his throat in a meaningful, manly sort of way, as though to punctuate her comment.

“No, make that
encouraged
to catch the next train.” She gave a bright smile to the assembled men. “I’m certain you can each find
it yourselves, but should the need arise, the fine gentlemen behind me are more than willing to … assist … you in departing.”

“Aye, that we will.” Rory Riordan’s agreement burst from his massive chest with no further prompting, an angry growl showing one and all why he’d been given the name Bear.

Evie couldn’t be certain if it was her words or the men who supported them that made the impact, but heads nodded around the room in agreement. Some more willing than others, but she wouldn’t quibble about it for now. Results were results.

“First and foremost, there will be no fisticuffs in the café, the mercantile, or on the job.” She held up one finger to signify this as the first rule. “Do I make myself clear?”

Another round of nods, peppered with yeps and all rights and even a few why nots, told Evie that she’d made her point.

“Next rule.” Cora spoke up. “After tonight, each of us will invite one man to share the evening meal that day. One chair will be open at either end of the table—for two of the four men behind us. This is not negotiable and cannot be changed.”

Evie held up a second finger, despite growing grumbles from the men. “If you take exception to our choices, you may leave town or, at the very least, the café for that night. Any squabbles or rudeness, shoving, or other such behavior regarding seating will result in loss of the next meal. No exceptions will be made, and no such behavior tolerated. Understood?”

“The same holds true if you refuse to work or the other men report you are not pulling your weight,” Lacey added.

“Or if you lie about your fellow worker in an attempt to belittle him in our eyes or cost him his meals,” Naomi finished.

Evie held up one hand, palm open, all five fingers outstretched. “Do we have an agreement thus far, before we continue, or does the crowd need thinning already?” She felt rather than saw the men behind them take a half step forward.

Mr. Creed’s breath warmed the back of her neck, the toes of his boots bumping the back of her own in a silent challenge.

She refused to skitter away, instead holding her ground.

No men stood up, protested, or otherwise demonstrated a need to be removed from her café. They were learning. Quickly.

“No disrespect will be shown to these ladies.” Mr. Creed started talking behind her, a rumbly reminder that not every man had learned something—and this one needed to stop trying to fight her battles for her before something awful happened.

Like Iget used to someone else taking care of things
. Evie swallowed a lump in her throat at the thought, horrified by her own reaction as he kept speaking in that low, gruff tone with just enough of a rasp to make it distinctive even when all the men spoke at the same time.

“Unless you offer an arm while walking alongside one or some such reason, not a one of you will lay a finger on any of them.” Creed’s voice lowered an octave as he issued this directive, the raw intensity sending chills down Evie’s spine.

     ELEVEN     

o
ch an’ ye be touchin’ so much as a hair on any lassie’s head I’ll be seein’ to it ye canna dance a fankle agin fer certain sure.” Rory Riordan’s booming oath all but shook the rafters. His accent became so thick, it would take Evie’s butcher knife to cut through to the English beneath it, but no one doubted he’d sore regret finding out the particulars of the Irishman’s threat. He sounded so irate by the very idea of any one of the men daring to sully one of the lassies, it made Evie want to smile. Rory seemed the finest of the lot to her.

She bit her lip to keep from ruining the fine impression he made on the other loggers and, after a swift glance, ignored the expressions on Cora’s, Lacey’s, and Naomi’s faces. Cora beamed fondly at the giant redhead. Obviously blood ran thicker than good sense when it came to her sister. Lacey’s eyebrows winged to meet her hairline. Naomi couldn’t seem to stop blinking.

Creed, for all his faults—never mind that Evie couldn’t think of any truly grievous ones at the moment as she knew she could come up with them some other time—saved them. He simply kept on spouting rules as if he owned the place. “You’ll not take an insulting tone when speaking to them, nor will you discuss
them with anything other than the proper respect. If any one of them takes exception to something you say, or the way you say it, an apology won’t be enough.”

“Not hardly,” Clump added, cracking his knuckles.

“I daresay we should add that, even if the ladies don’t hear something, but any of us”—the Gent gestured toward the four Guardians, as Evie dubbed them—“take exception to what you say, the same will apply. Gentlemen are gentlemen at all times.”

“That should be so,” Lacey agreed before she must have realized what the men maneuvered to do.

Evie stepped in immediately. “Be that as it may, no men will be made to leave Hope Falls without our agreement.” She gestured to the other women and looked the Gent, then Mr. Creed squarely in the eye to show she wouldn’t let them push out the others based on their own judgment. “That won’t do at all.”

“Of course not!” Naomi seconded her immediately.

“But ye need be sheltered when men forget themselves and act like bluidy savages, aye?” Mr. Riordan’s speech started clearing up more—a reflection of the lessening tension.

“We’ll decide what measures need be taken for what offense.” Evie looked around the room, letting her gaze rest on a few particular faces. She remembered which men made the comments to initiate this entire fiasco.
They already think I’m bossy—and I thought the same thing earlier. Why not show them the worst, so only the ones who are truly willing to live with it will bother courting me? At least I’ll make sure the others are protected
.

“Normally a lady doesn’t point, but since I don’t know your names, I’m afraid I’ll have to resort to using some sort of gesture to indicate who I mean. Please step forward if you’re included.” With that, Evie raised her entire hand and dipped her fingers in the direction of the men whose boorish comments had incited this ruckus to begin with.

First, the one who called her a spitfire who looked pretty when angry.
I refuse to be swayed by the fact he called me pretty
. Nevertheless,
she found it far easier to single out the man who’d called Naomi priggish, as well as the logger whose incomprehensible joke about public prissiness set off a round of hoots and hollers earlier. The fellow who’d admired Lacey’s “poufy” muttonchop sleeves joined the growing group as well. But Evie could easily admit, if only to herself, she took a special satisfaction in calling forth the observer who’d dared judge her bossy before one and all. The slight fellow she’d heard others label a “high climber,” who’d tried to muscle the other man out of his seat, rounded out the ranks of those she judged guilty of creating chaos.

“You want us to take these rascals outside?” Clump’s voice, just another way his name matched him, came out in low, almost guttural syllables—not unpleasant, but certainly noticeable.

“No, thank you, Mr. Klumpf.” Evie had to remind herself to add the
f
at the end of his name, since he’d volunteered his nickname and, worse, Mr. Creed referred to him as such. “Tonight, as the first night with the Hope Falls rules, we’ll take a first-step misbehaving measure.” She caught Cora’s smile as she remembered her childhood and knew what was coming. “My sister will be happy to tell you the cost for your actions.”

“Mother died before I left the nursery”—Cora shared more than Evie intended her to—“but I was blessed to have an older sister who helped raise me. Misbehaving brought penalties, but the first numbered among the harshest.” She cast a commiserating glance toward the men about to be sentenced. “No dessert.”

Poor dullards—it would’ve been kinder to take them to the train
. Jake couldn’t help but pity the fools. The hangdog looks on their faces showed they possessed enough sense to recognize what they’d lost. It seemed Miss Thompson hid something of a cruel streak, to make them stay and watch others enjoy whatever she’d baked.
I hope it’s those cookies
. His mouth started to water.

“No dessert!” one of them mourned in a low moan.

“Can’t we just apologize? This one time?” Another—the one who’d called Miss Thompson pretty when riled—attempted to bargain. That one would bear close watching from here on out.

“What is it? No, wait—don’t tell me.” The overeager big-mouth who’d commented on Miss Lyman’s sense of fashion clapped a hand over his eyes. “I might not be able to bear it.”

Jake noticed a satisfied smile tugging at the stern expression Miss Thompson wore. She wouldn’t give an inch.
Good. If she backs down, they lose all hope of corralling this group
.

“Tell us!” One of those who’d not lost his share piped up.

“It will be waiting for you when you return,” Miss Higgins promised. “Along with fresh coffee for every table.”

“Return from what?” Clump asked the question a breath before every other man in the room voiced some variation of it.

“Washing your dinner dishes.” Miss Lyman favored them all with a beaming smile. “If you’ll step outside, you’ll find two barrels by the water pump in the back. The first with soapy water, the second with rinse water. Wash your tins and forks clean and bring them into the kitchen, if you please.”

“You want us to wash our dishes?” Someone not-so-bright scratched his head and squinted. “Ain’t that woman’s work?”

A few grumbles of agreement sounded, but no one outright agreed.

Jake figured no one wanted to lose out on dessert.

“There are twenty people here tonight, and you all believe more will arrive in the next few days. We didn’t anticipate so many mouths to feed, and there are other things demanding our attention.” Miss Lyman squared her shoulders. “There are men who were injured in the mine’s collapse to look after, and other business matters to attend to. The ad asked you to respond in care of the postmaster, and we expected letters rather than men.”

Burying his face in the palm of his hand wouldn’t do any good, Jake knew, but the sudden explanation for the situation made too much sense. These gently reared women placed that ad naively
believing they’d weed through letters to select a small group of prospective grooms, and found a heap of timber beasts waiting for them when they stepped off the train. The mention of men injured in the mine collapse sat heavy in his stomach—it certainly wasn’t the excellent supper he’d eaten.