The Brixon Agreement (An Indelicate Proposal) by JoAnna Marie

Author:JoAnna Marie
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2018-04-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

The remainder of the trek was uneventful. The threatening clouds continued to tease but never did let loose with any rain to speak of and they pulled into the logging camp just before noon. They dropped the wagon at the storehouse to be unloaded and at the office Brick let Hamrick know about the road wash-out, so he could send a crew to repair it. And to fetch the piano for the camp’s cook. The camp manager set them up with two good horses, plus a pack mule. Within the hour Brick had the pack mule loaded with the supplies he had picked up in Clear Lake and they were again on their way.

The going was easier this time with no wagon to worry about. Bailey followed along behind him as he led the plodding mule up the narrow trail and ever deeper into the thick woods. Several hours later they came to a clearing with a rough-hewn log cabin at its center.

“Well, here it is,” said Brick as he reined in.

She pulled up next to him. “I thought we were going to be camping out.”

“I’ll take you out and show you a few places I found. But I’ve been here for a week and I’ve already ridden the land Hamrick was interested in. I found this cabin on my way back to the logging camp and I thought we might be more comfortable here. Let’s go check it out.”

He led the way to the cabin’s front porch, dismounted and tied off his horse and the mule. When he turned to help her down from her horse, she was already on the ground and busy loosening the saddle cinch. Certainly not something he was used to seeing a young lady do. At least not the young ladies of his acquaintance.

He pulled the packs off the mule and headed to the cabin door. Inside, the camp whores had done a decent job of cleaning it up. A fresh straw mattress with blue-and-white striped ticking was on the bed and clean bedding was stacked neatly at the foot of it. The place had been swept and scrubbed spotless, with firewood piled high in the wood box by the stove and a bushel basket of kindling next to it. A couple of open shelves held an ample supply of canned goods. A few beat up pots and pans sat on the sink drain board. Gingham curtains had even been hung in the cabin’s two windows.

It was sparse but livable. The only furnishings were a small table with a red and white checkered oilcloth covering it and two rickety chairs, a pot-bellied stove that served for both cooking and heating purposes, the bed, and a beat-up steamer trunk in the corner. The old man Bodine hadn’t spent a lot of time fretting over creature comforts.

She gave the single room a cursory once-over. “It’s certainly nowhere near as grand as your big city house, but it’s cozy enough. At least it’s better than a line shack.

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