Would-Be Wilderness Wife (19 page)

So did she. She glanced around the forest. The mist obscured the trees, touching her skin with soft fingers, but she could see a brighter patch to the east where the sun was trying to burn through.

At length they reached an area where the trees had been cut away, stumps like teeth jutting up through the wild grape and blackberry vines. A single tree remained in the center. Catherine gasped at the sight of it.

James grinned. “Why, Catherine, don't you like our little sapling?”

“Sapling?” she sputtered. “It's huge!”

John went over and patted the rough bark. “And several hundred years old, a mammoth of the forest.” He sighed. “A shame it's come to this.”

Catherine felt a similar sorrow. The tree soared into the air, so high she had to hold the bonnet to her head from craning her neck. Birds darted among the upper branches, and lichen clustered around the base.

“Must you cut it down?” she asked Drew.

“That's our job,” Simon said as he passed, long-toothed saw bouncing over one shoulder.

Drew pointed up the bark. “See the holes? They were made by woodpeckers seeking bugs. The tree's sick, Catherine. If we don't fell it, it could infest all the trees around it.”

“Not to mention knock half of them to the ground when it falls in the next windstorm,” James said cheerfully, going to help Simon.

John held out the rifle to Catherine. “If you wouldn't mind? With Levi at home, we're a man down.”

She took the gun gingerly from him. Though she felt confident she could shoot it now, she still didn't like the idea.

“That's something for Levi,” Drew said. “He could keep watch for danger. Most animals shy away from the noise of the axes, but a few get curious enough to come too close for comfort. Holler if you see any that concern you.”

She nodded, and he went to join his brothers at the tree.

Now that she looked closer, she could see where they'd notched it earlier, the cuts of the ax pale against the weathered bark. John and James hacked away on the opposite side, then Simon and Drew drove in wedges with a sledgehammer to hold the back cut open.

James brought over the big saw and positioned it along front cuts. Simon joined him on one side, while Drew and John took up the other. Slowly, then gathering speed, they rocked the metal through the wood, the blade humming.

Catherine could see their muscles strain under the cotton. Soon sweat darkened their necks, and the shirts clung to their backs. They were a testament to strength and power, their bodies moving as one with the song of the blade.

And Drew was their leader, the commander of this little army, directing his brothers, encouraging them. His was the voice that rose above the noise, the head that never bowed with the effort. The sun broke through the mist and turned his hair to gold. She could not look away.

Beside her, something rustled in the brush. She tore her gaze from Drew and aimed the rifle at the spot, but whatever it was must have had its curiosity satisfied, for she saw no movement and heard nothing more.

“Scatter!” John's voice echoed through the clearing. “Widow-maker!”

All four brothers dropped the saw and dashed away from the tree.

“What is it?” Catherine cried, clutching the gun.

Drew was frowning up the tree as if trying to spy the danger himself.

“There,” John said, pointing. “I thought I saw it shift.”

Now Catherine saw it, as well. Halfway up the tree, a massive branch had broken off. Right now, it lay wedged between two other branches, its tip pointing down, but the vibration of the saw could easily have sent it plummeting.

Right onto Drew and John. She shivered at the thought.

“I'll go,” Drew said. “Brace the cut and rig the rope.” His brothers moved to comply.

“What are you doing?” Catherine asked with a frown.

He offered her a grim smile as he walked away from the tree to give his brothers room to work. “Removing a danger before it removes one of us.”

John and James put more wedges around the big saw to keep the tree from shifting while Simon began swinging a weighted rope. Up it went, over one of the larger branches not far from the broken one. He tugged down on the weight and went to wrap the rope around a stump. Once he was certain it was secured, he brought the other end to Drew.

Catherine stared at Drew as he looped the rope around his waist. “You aren't going up there.”

“One of us has to,” Simon said, coming to tug on the rope as if to make sure it would hold his brother. “He volunteered.”

James and John came to join him, spitting on their hands before taking hold of the rope. They were going to haul Drew into the tree!

“Are you sure this is safe?” she asked, feeling a tug of panic as strong as their hold on the rope.

“Safer than leaving that up there,” Drew answered.

“Never fear, Catherine, dear,” James said. “We hardly ever drop anyone.”

Catherine choked. “Hardly ever?”

“He's teasing,” Drew assured her. “We've done this many times, and we've never been hurt.”

“Ever since Pa was killed by a falling branch,” John explained, “we tend to take such matters seriously.”

Catherine took the matter just as seriously. She wanted to order them all back to the house and lock them inside. As if Drew understood, he took a step closer.

“Trust me, Catherine,” he said. “We know what we're doing.”

She felt as if the mist had returned to clog her senses. “Promise me you'll be careful.”

He smiled. “I promise. I'll be back by your side before you know it.” He touched her cheek. The warmth only pushed her panic higher.

She shoved the fear down. He needed to focus, not worry about her. “Good luck,” she made herself say.

With a nod, he turned to the tree.

Drew positioned his spiked boots against the trunk and nodded to his brothers, who began pulling back on the rope. One hand braced on the rope, the other on his ax, Drew leaned back and took a step higher. In a moment, he was nearly perpendicular to the tree, moving slowly upward, one step at a time.

Simon, James and John kept hauling, their own feet braced on the damp ground, hands tight on the rope. Catherine tilted back her head and watched as Drew reached the branch and swung his ax. Each time the blade fell, his body jerked against the tree, and she was certain she felt the tree tremble. She trembled along with it. Then one more cut, and the branch broke free. Drew pulled back one boot and kicked the branch away. It twisted in the air to fall.

Right on the rope.

Simon, James and John stumbled forward with the weight as Drew was jerked higher.

“Get it off!” Simon shouted, and John released the rope to scramble forward, yanking at the massive limb.

“It's no good! We need at least two of us to cut it.” He stared at Simon, and Catherine felt his fear.

Simon looped the rope around his waist, then pulled a knife from his belt and drove it hard into the ground as if to help anchor himself. “Go,” he told James, who released the rope.

James had taken two steps toward their axes when there was a snap as loud as a gunshot, and the rope whipped upward.

Catherine cried out, then threw up a hand even though she knew she couldn't reach him, as Drew tumbled down the tree.

Chapter Twenty

T
he world reeling around him, Drew clutched the rope and tried to dig his heels into the bark. The spikes on the bottoms of his boots refused to find purchase. He felt every bump on the way down. He was going to die.

Lord, protect Catherine and my family!

He was a few feet from hitting the ground when he jerked to a stop, the rope burning against his chest. Blinking, he looked up to see the line tangled among the branches.

John reached him first, knife out and sawing at the cord. “Are you all right?” he begged.

He was alive and in one piece, something he hadn't believed possible a few moments ago.
Thank You, Lord!
The rope snapped, and he dropped lightly onto the ground to suck in a breath.

“I'm all right,” he started to say, but Catherine had beaten his other brothers to his side and was thrusting the rifle at John. She put her hands on Drew's shoulders and peered up into his eyes, her own smoky with fear.

“Where does it hurt?” she demanded. “Can you breathe? Speak, man!”

Drew tried to smile at her. “Only a nurse would ask a man to breathe and speak at the same time.”

Simon and James, who had also come running, pulled up beside her. He could see them frowning at her, but he could feel her body shaking.

“You hit eleven branches on your way down,” she informed him, as if she'd counted each one. “And you struck your back at least twice. You could be bleeding internally, have fractured a dozen bones...”

He caught her close and held her in his arms, thankful he still could. “I'm all right,” he repeated against her hair. “You have no reason to fear.”

She clung to him a moment before pushing away. “I'm not afraid!” she cried. “I am furious! What sort of antic was that? How could you risk your life? Don't you know your family depends on you? Do you want to leave them orphaned?”

Her words hit harder than the tree, and his breath rasped out of him.

“He isn't our father,” Simon said quietly. “We can take care of ourselves.”

“Can you?” Catherine whirled on him. “I didn't see you volunteering to climb that tree. And you,” she turned to James as Simon reddened. “You take nothing seriously. How can your brother rely on you? And you,” she turned to John, who dropped the gun and held up his hands as if surrendering. She threw up her own hands. “I have no opinion about you.”

James grimaced, but John looked stricken at being an afterthought.

“You asked me out here to determine whether it's safe for Levi to return to work,” she continued, undaunted, gaze stabbing each in turn like the flash of a knife. “Of course it isn't safe. It isn't safe for any of you. If you want my advice, you will find another line of work, immediately!” She turned and stalked out of the clearing.

“Go with her,” Drew told John. “She finds you the least offensive.”

“Small comfort,” John muttered, retrieving the gun. “Apparently I have so little personality I failed to make any impression.” He jogged after Catherine.

Simon blew out a breath. “Forgive me for demanding that you court her, Drew. She is obviously not the bride for a lumberjack.”

“Oh, I don't know,” James said, scratching his chin. “She could probably fell a tree by pointing out its shortcomings. It would certainly make this job easier.”

“Enough,” Drew said. He threw off the last of the rope, wincing as his sore muscles protested. Catherine had been right about one thing—he had bruises on bruises. “She's trained to heal. You can't blame her for objecting to someone getting hurt. To her, it must look as if we take chances intentionally.”

“Wild men that we are,” James agreed, bending to loop up what was left of the rope. “Still, Simon is right. This is how we make a living. People need this wood for houses, for ships, for furniture. We can't just stop working because it looks dangerous.”

“It doesn't just
look
dangerous,” Simon said. “It
is
dangerous. Any woman who can't live with that fact has no place in the wilderness.”

“Clear off the branch,” Drew said. “I'm going after Catherine.”

Neither of his brothers protested as he limped away.

Catherine must have kept going at a goodly clip, because Drew didn't catch up to her and John. And it took him a little longer than usual to reach the Landing, given his injuries.

On the way, he kept thinking about what he would say to her. She was right on all counts—Simon didn't like to take chances, James treated the world as if it were designed for his entertainment and John would crawl inside a book and stay there if Drew allowed it. But they were all good men and would make fine husbands one day—for the right woman.

And she was right about their work, as well. When the saw had whipped past him years ago, he'd been fortunate to walk away with a lacerated hand. His father hadn't been so fortunate. Every year loggers were crushed by falling logs or trampled by oxen. What they did was dangerous.

The past few days had been particularly challenging with the cougar and Levi's injury, but even on the best of days accidents could happen, people could get sick. He did everything he could to keep his family safe and healthy. What more did she want from him?

He had nothing left to give.

At last he reached the Landing and hobbled out onto the grass. He didn't see Catherine right away, but John met him at the edge of the clearing.

“She's in your cabin,” his brother reported, face pinched as if he'd been the one to fall down a tree, “and she asked Beth to help her change into one of her gowns. She wanted to know whether I'd drive her back to town or whether she had to walk.”

“Go help James and Simon,” Drew said. “I'll talk to her.”

He started across the clearing, but his mother came out of the main house to wave at him from the porch.

“Everyone all right?” she called.

“Fine, Ma,” he said, gritting his teeth to saunter up to the cabin as if he hadn't a care in the world. No need to worry his mother when Catherine was worried enough for all of them.

* * *

“But why must you go?” Beth protested as she watched Catherine finish buttoning up her dusty blue gown. Mrs. Wallin's pretty dress lay draped over a chair, along with the sunbonnet. Nothing looked out of place in the cabin. It was as if she'd never been there.

She drew in a shaky breath. It was for the best. Her work here was done. Mrs. Wallin was well; Levi was healing. Drew said he was fine, although she'd seen the pallor on his face and watched the skin darken on his hands where he'd hit them against the tree. She feared the number of ways he could be hurt, but felt equally certain he'd never allow her to treat him. If he and his brothers were determined to risk their lives, she didn't have to stay and watch them die.

But she couldn't say that to Beth. The girl had to live out here with her brothers; it was probably a kindness that she didn't realize how close to death they walked.

“Doctor Maynard needs me in Seattle,” she told Beth, knowing the statement for the truth, as well.

“We need you here, too,” Beth argued, hands worrying in front of the apron on her pink gown. “What if Ma gets sick again or Simon pushes James out of a tree?”

Catherine's stomach flip-flopped. What if one of them got hurt? Who'd tend their wounds? Who'd nurse them to health?

Lord, You can't ask me to stay. You know the need is greater elsewhere.

“You all survived before I arrived, Beth,” Catherine said, moving toward the door. “And if Simon pushes James out of a tree, maybe it will knock some sense into him.”

“You don't mean that!” Beth followed her to the door. “Please, Catherine, don't go! It was so nice having another girl to talk to. I never got to show you how to make flapjacks or milk the goats. We could have had fun!”

Living here was hardly fun. Being around the Wallins hurt deeply. And the thought of losing Drew made her physically ill.

“You can come visit me in town anytime you like,” Catherine offered, pausing at the door. “You'll most likely find me at the hospital.” Where she could deal with patients on a purely clinical level.

She opened the door to find Drew on the porch. His hair had fallen into his face, and a bruise darkened one cheek. She had to fist her hands to keep from reaching out to him.

“You don't have to go,” he said. “I'm fine.”

But he wasn't. She didn't have to lay her hand on his forehead to see that he was sweating. She could hear his breath coming fast, as if it hurt to draw anything deeper. He should be lying down, putting a cold cloth on his bruises, being examined for broken ribs.

But not by her. She knew if she put her hands on him now, she'd be holding him close and never letting go.

“All the more reason for me to leave,” she said, picking up her bandbox and stepping around him. “There is nothing more for me here.”

As if the very earth disagreed, Wallin Landing seemed to leap toward her, surrounding her. Everywhere she looked, she saw memories: sending Levi into the pool, firing the gun to bring Drew and his brothers a-running, sitting by the fire and listening to his dreams, being so sweetly held and kissed.

She straightened her spine and cast him a glance.

“No John, I see. Very well. I'll start walking.”

Drew's arms came around her. For a moment, she closed her eyes and gave in to the feeling of warmth, of safety. But it was all an illusion. He could be taken from her at any time.

“You don't have to walk,” he murmured. “I'll drive you. Are you certain this is what you want?”

He leaned back and gazed down at her. She could feel herself slipping into the blue-green of his eyes.
Stay
, some part of her urged.
Take whatever life gives you and enjoy it while it lasts.

But she couldn't. Her heart wasn't strong enough. Already she felt as if she were shattering into a thousand pieces.

“This is for the best,” she made herself say. “I'll wait while you harness the horses.”

He let her go and headed for the barn.

Beth touched her arm, blue eyes swimming. “Please, Catherine, I know Drew cares about you. I thought you cared about him.”

Catherine watched him cross the clearing. His shirt was torn where a branch must have caught it. Though he tried to hide it, she could tell he was limping. He was a battered, tattered fellow, yet he had never looked more honorable or more dear.

“I do care about your brother,” she murmured. “That's why I have to leave.”

* * *

Maddie at least was glad to see Catherine when she walked into the boardinghouse late that afternoon. She took one look at Catherine's face and hugged her close.

“Is there a fellow I should be scolding?” she murmured, “for putting such a look on your face?”

“No,” Catherine said, drawing back. “I'm the one who should be scolded, for putting myself in such a position.”

She could not forget the silence between her and Drew as he'd driven the wagon back to Seattle. She'd heard every creak of the wheels, each thud of the horses' hooves. He'd kept his gaze ahead, as if she weren't sitting beside him, wishing him to speak, praying he'd stay silent.

“Ma and Beth will miss you,” he'd said at one point, and she nearly asked whether he'd miss her, too. But she didn't want to know. Oh! She didn't want to know.

Now Maddie followed her upstairs to the room they shared. All she wanted to do was change out of this dress into something fresh, something that might not remind her of how she'd spent the past few days. But the room with its twin beds covered in bright wool blankets and its window overlooking Puget Sound felt tighter than she remembered. It was as if even the air in town wasn't as clear, as deep.

“What happened?” Maddie asked as Catherine pulled out her trunk from under the bed and drew out her favorite brown dress. “I left you with a handsome man. Could you not be bringing him back with you?”

At least Maddie hadn't changed. “I sent you a handsome man,” Catherine countered, rising to begin unbuttoning her gown. “Did a Mr. Ward call on you?”

Pink crept into Maddie's cheeks. “Mr. Ward, the thespian? Oh, he's as charming as the day is long, so he is. But I'm not sure I'm the lass for him.”

“Oh?” Catherine glanced up with a frown. “Why?”

Maddie twisted her fingers around each other, avoiding Catherine's gaze. “Well, two Irish people? You know what everyone will say—there they go a-breeding! And a man with ideas about acting and such. No, no. If I marry, sure'n it will be to a man with gold in his pockets and the respect of the community behind him, someone I can be proud to stand beside.”

Money and position. Catherine knew many women back East who had married for those reasons. “I always thought a marriage required more than that,” she told Maddie as she pulled off the blue gown. “Love, for one thing.”

“Oh, now don't you be getting on your high ropes the moment you get back, Catie, me love,” Maddie warned her, flopping down on her bed. “Isn't position why you refused that lumberjack out in the wild?”

Catherine tossed the gown on her bed. “Mr. Wallin never asked me to marry him. And it's not his position that troubled me.”

Maddie cocked her head. “Was he such a gadabout, then, courting any woman who took his fancy?”

She couldn't leave her friend with that impression. “Not at all,” she said as she drew the dress over her head. The fine brown wool was fitted, the skirts narrow and it said the wearer would brook no nonsense.

“A more faithful fellow you'll never find, I'm convinced,” she told Maddie. “But what he does for a living, where he lives, there are so many dangers, Maddie. I don't think I can bear it.”

“Ah,” Maddie said, straightening. “You want a husband who will treat you like a fine porcelain doll, keep you safely wrapped in pretty blankets.”