A Bride for Noah (31 page)

From the grin Big Dog didn't bother hiding, the offer of help didn't fool him. Noah spent more and more time at the restaurant, working with Big Dog on the new furniture, stacking firewood, or even carrying water from the nearby stream. Or sometimes merely sitting on a stool, talking to the ladies as they cooked. Evie liked those times best, though her stomach was in a constant state of flutter whenever he turned that special smile her way. Like now.

When the table had been set in place, the three of them stood back to admire the room. Four identical tables had already been placed around the room, each of them covered with a linen tablecloth. Candles with glass chimneys rested on each surface, and when the sun's light failed they cast a soft yellow glow around the room. Curtains hung at the windows, waving gently in a slight breeze and giving the restaurant the homey atmosphere she had hoped to achieve. There were no chairs yet, but Big Dog promised to start on those as soon as he finished the last table. In the meantime, she had agreed to borrow a few benches from the camp since the cookhouse had been unused since the men left on the
Leonesa
. Though she disliked the clunky things, her customers needed a place to sit while they ate supper.

The restaurant was not yet officially open, but Evie already enjoyed a nightly custom. Big Dog ate breakfast, lunch, and supper there every day as reimbursement for his work on the furnishings. Randall, who had decided to try his hand at trapping until the logging crew started up again, usually showed up around suppertime with an offering of rabbit, turkey, or the occasional brace of pheasant. Even Arthur and Mary and Louisa had joined them once or twice, and it was always a pleasant evening when the children were present.

Then there was Mr. Yesler, who had taken up lodging in one of the camp tents and spent his days either in conversation with Noah and Arthur or scouting the land near the shoreline for a likely place to build his mill. Initially Lucy had made a point of serving him
personally, ensuring that his coffee mug was never empty or his plate never in need of an extra helping. That stopped when he mentioned his wife, who planned to join him when he decided where to settle.

Evie bent over one of the crates and retrieved another tablecloth, which she tossed to Noah. “Would you put this on, please, and smooth out the wrinkles as best you can? I'll ask Lucy to heat the iron later.”

“Mmm.” Big Dog extended his neck over the bubbling pot, inhaling with obvious pleasure. “What's for supper tonight?”

“Pheasant stew with dumplings.” She gave the pot a stir and then turned to the big bowl on her worktable where a soft, flavorful dough waited to be turned into dumplings. “Would you please ask Ethel when the rest of the birds will be ready? She and Cookee are out back tending the spit.”

Left without any work to occupy his time until the return of the lumberjacks, Cookee had taken to hanging around the restaurant all day, mostly making a nuisance of himself to Ethel. The stalwart woman had given up any pretense at cooperation the moment the ladies were no longer in his employ, as promised, and seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in giving back as much torment as she got.

“Yes, ma'am.”

The room felt almost cavernous when the big man ducked out the back door, leaving Evie alone with Noah. A pleasant silence settled between them while he spread the linen over the new table—a silence broken only by the soft bubbling of the stew and occasional crackle of burning wood from inside the firebox.

When he finished, Noah sat on the stump nearest the stove, the seat that she had come to think of as his since he occupied it so often. She added a pinch of salt to the stew from her dwindling supply and slid the pot half-off the cooking plate to reduce the boiling liquid to a simmer.

Noah broke the silence. “I was hoping you and I could talk tonight.”

She glanced at him while placing a pot of marmalade—orange, thanks to Cookee's grudging gift of the remainder of the oranges—on the table nearest the stove. “About what?”

“About us.”

The words struck her like a muffled blow. How could her heart stop and her pulse race at the same time? That was what it felt like. Her fingers lingered on the marmalade pot while her mind grasped for a response.

He cleared his throat. “About our partnership, I mean.”

Ah. A professional conversation concerning the lease of his land. Relieved, though also oddly disappointed, Evie straightened and turned a pleasant expression his way. “We can talk now, if you like.”

He shook his head. “I don't want to be interrupted. I thought maybe after supper I could help you carry the dishes to the stream, and that would give us an opportunity to speak privately. Would that be all right?”

Gathering her composure, she nodded.

Throughout the meal, Evie could not concentrate. Was it her imagination, or did tonight's supper last longer than normal? The conversation around the table was lengthier than her patience, with talk of politics and the possibility of a war in the east. Though she typically enjoyed the nightly exchange of opinions, tonight she barely spoke more than one-word answers. What did Noah want to speak to her about? Did he regret his hasty decision to let her build the restaurant here? Or perhaps he was unhappy with something she had done, something involving the business operation which was unfair?

Finally, the moment arrived when the last bite was taken and the plates had been stacked. Lucy and Ethel made as though to pick them up, but Noah stopped them.

“Tonight Evie and I will do the washing up.” He flashed a smile full of charm on each of them. “You ladies relax. Have another cup of tea.”

When Ethel handed the wash bucket to Evie, she waggled her eyebrows. Ignoring her, Evie took the pail and marched out of the restaurant, aware that several speculative stares followed her.

The sun was no longer visible, though the western sky was still aglow with evidence of its passage. A bright moon shone in the east and a single star twinkled brightly. Evie led the way, following what had become a well-defined path to the shallow stream they frequented.

“Someday soon we should dig a well,” commented Noah from behind. “Just think. We could have Seattle's first well. Only we should hurry before someone else thinks of it and claims the honor.”

Was that a note of nervousness in his voice? Evie glanced behind and caught him chewing on his lower lip. She looked quickly away. Somehow seeing evidence of his nerves calmed her.

“I've intended to ask about Chief Seattle.” The bucket swung from her hands and bumped against her knees. “Have you spoken to him? What did he think about having the city named after him?”

“Believe it or not, he wasn't happy.”

She looked back at him, surprised. “Why not? I would have thought he would be honored.”

“Seems there's a legend among his people that the dead awaken from their slumber whenever their names are spoken by the living. He said since the city will be discussed many times every day, he fears he will turn over restlessly in his grave for all eternity.”

Evie turned on the path. “Oh, no! Has he forbidden it, then?”

Noah shook his head. “I thought he might for a while, which would have been bad since David has no doubt already filed the papers with the land management office. The chief finally relented, though reluctantly.” Noah smiled. “Turns out he converted to Christianity a few years ago.”

Her jaw dropped. “Chief Seattle is a Christian?”

“Hard to believe, huh? Anyway, he still isn't happy about it, but he decided he wasn't going to make a fuss about an old superstition.”

They reached the stream and Evie knelt down on the wide, level bank and indicated that Noah should set the stack of dirty dishes beside her. Plunging the bucket into the stream, she scooped up fresh, cold water and then rubbed the cloth over the sliver of lye soap inside before reaching for a plate.

When it seemed as though he was content with silence, she spoke.

“You said you had something to discuss? Something about the restaurant?”

He took the clean plate from her and leaned over to rinse it in the stream. “Not about the restaurant. About our partnership.”

So he wasn't planning to complain about something she'd done. She let out a deep breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding. “We've never defined the exact terms. I suppose we need to do that before we officially open.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

He took an inordinately long time rinsing the plate. Evie nudged his sleeve with another soapy one. He flashed an apologetic smile as he took it.

“You're right, but it isn't the terms of our partnership I want to discuss. It's our relationship.”

Though the word rang in her ears, Evie forced her hands to keep moving, to keep scrubbing the plate with her cloth. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

He didn't respond at first, and for a moment she thought she might have to ask him outright to explain himself. When he did speak, his words surprised her.

“I had a woman partner once before.”

What was it Louisa had told her shortly after they arrived in Seattle? Noah had been hurt by a lady in California. Could this be the
woman? Careful to keep her expression impassive, she waited for him to continue.

“Her name was Sallie Harper. I met her the first day I arrived at Coloma.”

Coloma, California, the location of the now-famous Sutter's Mill. Though she had determined to remain silent, surprise got the best of her. “You went to California looking for gold?”

“Sure did.” A silent laugh shook his shoulders. “What a fool. When my mother died there was nothing to keep me in Tennessee except Uncle Miles and Aunt Letitia.” He gave her a knowing look. “My aunt is a hard woman to feel close to.”

Yes, Evie was well aware of that. “So you decided to go west.”

“I had a little money left from my father's inheritance, and I decided, why not? I could try my hand at gold mining, and if that didn't work out I'd still have something to fall back on. Surely there were opportunities in California for a young man with some money in his pocket and a willingness to work.”

That sounded very much like Evie's own thoughts when she made the decision to come to Oregon Territory, only the money in her pocket had belonged mostly to Miles. Or so she thought.

His head dropped forward, and he continued while watching spring water run over the plate in his hands. “Sallie worked in a saloon in Coloma.” Before Evie had a chance to react, he looked up. “She was a nice girl, not one of those fancy women you usually find in saloons. Or”—his shoulders slumped—“so I thought. She'd come west with her family, but they died of the ague shortly after they arrived. Her papa planned to stake a claim, buy a herd of cattle, and settle down with his family. That's what Sallie wanted to do, find a place to settle down. Build a home. Have a family. It sounded so good.”

The last was whispered as Noah stared across the stream, into the rapidly deepening darkness that blanketed the forest. The note of
longing in his eyes plucked a string in Evie's heart, and the telltale sting of tears burned her eyes. A home and family were what she had wanted too, long ago in Tennessee.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

He gave his head a quick shake, as though banishing thoughts that had drawn him back in time. “She was lying. I fell for her, started making plans, looking around for a likely place to settle. I even asked about buying cattle because I thought it would make her happy. I told her we'd go into the cattle business together, and she could teach me everything she learned from her father. What a fool I was.”

Pain and derision showed so clearly on his face that Evie's heart ached for him. She wiped her soapy hand on her apron and laid it on his arm. “She left you for someone else, didn't she?”

“I'll say. I was living in a tent on the outskirts of town, like a lot of would-be prospectors from back East. I got there one day to find Sallie and another man there going through my stuff. Turns out she already had a business. It wasn't in cattle, and I wasn't the first dupe to come along. She'd find a chump flashing money around, somebody young and stupid like me, and charm him with a sad story. Then she and her husband would clean him out and move on to the next guy.”