A Bride for Noah (5 page)

Was he saying she was untrustworthy? Evie stiffened her spine but remained silent when he raised his finger.

“The journey to Oregon Territory is arduous, and doubly so to a woman traveling alone. You must first arrive in California and book passage from there. If you travel overland, you risk starvation, thirst, and attack by savages. The journey by sea is hardly better, with the threat of cholera, malaria, and pirates in the waters to the south.”

The breath deflated from her lungs through a suddenly constricted throat. It appeared that Mr. Coffinger had spent at least some time investigating the possible routes. How would she, who had never ventured beyond the borders of the Chattanooga valley, hope to undertake such a journey? She swallowed. “I assume there are wagon trains that one may join?”

“A young woman alone, carrying a large enough sum of money to start a business?” A scowl scrunched his features. “In the past I've been known to hand over money for likely ventures only to have it disappear with the borrower. It is a foolish man indeed who repeats his past mistakes.”

And a foolish woman who would ask him to.

Her shoulders slumped. The idea had held such promise in the dark of night, without the light of logic to point out the shadows of uncertainty. But he was right. This was a fool's errand. She rose to leave, an apology for wasting his time on her lips.

“Wait.”

She stopped in the act of standing.

“On the other hand, I do not intend to repeat the same mistake.” The ends of his mustache rose with a smile. “This time I shall keep watch over my investment and oversee the spending personally.”

For a moment his words made no sense. Then their meaning became clear. Hope flickered to life again. “Do you mean to accompany me?”

His smile widened. “Of late I've had a desire—a deep longing to see the land my nephew describes in his letters. What better opportunity?”

The memory of his wife's disdain for Noah Hughes's undertaking in Oregon Territory returned. Evie had a hard time imagining her standing idly by while her husband sank money in the venture. “Will Mrs. Coffinger agree?”

“Leave Mrs. Coffinger in my hands.” He rose and crossed the room to open the library door, a clear gesture of dismissal. “But
perhaps it would be best if you did not mention our plans until after I speak with my wife.”

Releasing an audible sigh, Evie nodded. With Mrs. Coffinger's disdainful sniffle and arrogant countenance in mind, that was a request she had no trouble granting.

Three

Chattanooga, Tennessee

E
vie folded the final skirt and laid it in the steamer trunk atop the rest of her belongings. It had hurt to sell the beautiful wooden chest that had once been her hope chest and replace it with this ugly trunk, but that had been the only logical step to take. The chest's polished wood would no doubt have been scarred and scratched during the journey across the country and the sea voyage upon which she was about to embark. Besides, the chest had brought a higher price than she expected, and this trunk cost far less than she had planned for. She had been delighted to add the balance to her restaurant fund.

She ran a hand across the fabric. The past two weeks had held far less pleasant tasks than selling her hope chest. Informing James of her decision to end their relationship was much harder than she expected. She closed her eyes against the image of his stunned expression.

“But…but what of our plans?” he had stammered, looking as though he'd suffered a physical blow.

“Your plans,” she'd corrected. “I had no say in them.”

“We can discuss them. I am open to considering your opinions, Evie.”

It was only in retrospect that she realized he had not offered to
change his course of action, only consider her opinion. And that he had not once during the difficult conversation professed his love, or acted in the least hurt. Merely surprised, and perhaps even a bit angry at the disruption in his plans. At the time she'd steeled herself against an unexpected wave of guilt and repeated as gently as she could that she had changed her mind and would not marry him.

She did not tell him of
her
plans, and had battled more guilt in the ensuing two weeks. In the back of her mind she'd feared James would decide to join her in her restaurant venture, something she most definitely did not want. Better to let him learn of her departure after she was gone.

She closed the trunk lid, clicked the clasp into place, and then turned to survey the room that had been her home since she'd lost Grandfather's house. The narrow bed looked stark without linens, the small night table bare after having been stripped of its adornments. Her dressing table and chest of drawers crowded this tiny space more than she'd realized. Those too had been sold, leaving the room empty and looking a bit forlorn.

A rap at the door interrupted her thoughts.

“The carriage has arrived.” Mrs. Browning's whisper was barely audible from the hallway, in deference to the sleeping guests who did not wish to rise before the sun.

Evie opened the door and watched as a burly man hefted her trunk onto his broad heavyset shoulders. She picked up her travel bag and followed him through the house and out into the predawn mist. While he secured the trunk on the back, Mr. Coffinger exited the enclosed carriage.

“Good morning, my dear.” His voice boomed through air heavy with moisture.

“Good morning, Mr. Coffinger.”

“Since we are to be business partners, I think we can dispense with the formalities. You may call me Miles. And may I call you Evangeline?”

His request pleased Evie. She had intended to have a discussion with him to clarify that their arrangement was to be a true partnership and she no longer wished to be thought of as his employee. It appeared there was no need. She inclined her head in agreement.

“Have you had word from Mrs. Coffinger?” The one detail that left her feeling uneasy was her departure from Mrs. Coffinger's service. Miles had insisted that she not discuss their venture with his wife, and in fact not mention a word of her impending departure. Instead, he preferred to handle what was sure to be a volatile discussion himself. Last week Mrs. Coffinger had gone to Knoxville to visit her sister, presumably due to her extreme irritation with her husband's decision to invest in Evie's business venture. Evie would have preferred the opportunity to discuss her plans, or at least to say a proper goodbye.

Miles grimaced, and then quickly replaced the expression with a smile. “Only the letter telling me she arrived safely and would return in two weeks' time, after we are well on our way.” He patted her coat sleeve. “Not to worry. She will get over her prickliness. She always does.”

He offered his arm, and Evie turned to wave goodbye to Mrs. Browning before allowing him to help her climb into the carriage.

When she entered, she was surprised to see there were already three occupants inside. She slid into an empty place on the rear-facing bench beside two of them, and nodded a greeting as Miles entered and took the seat across from her. Apparently they were to share the carriage for at least part of the trip.

Miles settled himself and then cast a smile around the inside of the carriage. “Allow me to conduct the introductions. Miss Evangeline Lawrence, may I present Miss Lucy Burrows, her sister, Miss Sarah Burrows, and Miss Ethel Strapp.”

The sisters, who occupied the bench with Evie, shared several family traits including exceedingly high foreheads, equine-like noses, and hair the color of wet straw. They were very close in age, which Evie
guessed to be around eighteen or nineteen. The third lady appeared to be several years older and far more sturdily built. Her strong features bordered on masculine, and though it was hard to see much beneath her travel cloak, her figure left a great deal to be desired.

“Pleased, I'm sure.” Evie nodded a greeting to each lady. “How pleasant to have company on the first part of our journey. Will you travel with us all the way to Charleston?”

The women turned startled expressions on Miles, whose hearty laugh filled the carriage. “Most assuredly,” he replied. “They will accompany us all the way to Oregon Territory.”

“Oh?” Evie frowned. Was Miles doing as his nephew asked and delivering a wagonload of women? A warm flush crept from her collarbone toward her cheeks as she glanced again at her traveling companions. They didn't
look
like fancy women of loose morals.

“They are to be your employees, my dear.”

Evie's glance returned sharply to Miles. “My employees?”

“We will need staff to help us,” he explained. “There will be a lot of work to get things going in our restaurant, and we cannot count on help from anyone else. The men have work to do in cutting down trees and splitting logs, or”—he waved a hand vaguely in the air—“whatever lumberjacks do.”

A wave of irritation washed over her. The story was a thinly veiled excuse to answer his nephew's jesting request to bring women to the isolated lumber camp. Perhaps these three were not fancy women—she didn't think so—but they were women. What had Noah Hughes's letter said? If Miles brought women, he would have the admiration of the camp. Evie's teeth clamped firmly together.

If she were to have employees, she preferred to select them herself. Beyond that, she could not afford the expense. She clutched the handle of her travel bag, which contained her carefully detailed lists. Tasks to be accomplished, supplies to be purchased, projected initial costs and ongoing operating expenses. There was no room on her lists or in her budget for employees.

She cleared her throat. “The cost of wages—”

Another wave of Miles's hand cut her off. “We will go over that. After all, we have a long journey ahead of us. Plenty of time to discuss the details.”

Evie bit back a heated reply. He was, after all, responsible for the major part of funding this venture. If he thought they needed employees, then he would simply have to pay for them. But at the first opportunity she intended to inform him that running the restaurant, including directing the work of any employees, would be her domain. On that she would insist.

With an effort, she relaxed her grip on the bag. When they stopped for the night, she would update her lists.

May 12, 1852

Elliott Bay, Oregon Territory

Noah was running a tally when Arthur approached from the direction of camp.

“How does it look?” Arthur dipped his head toward the ledger in Noah's hands.

Noah finished his second count of the felled and cleared trees along the shoreline and recorded the results before answering. “It will be close. We have one week before this shipment is due to leave, so there's still time. We'd better pray the weather cooperates, though.”

Both men's glances traveled upward to the cloud-filled sky. They were high clouds, thank the Lord, and white enough not to be a threat. At least not today.

Behind them, the
rip, rip, rip
of a saw played a rhythmic background to the chopping sound of multiple axes chewing into wood. The break in the rain had improved morale somewhat, and the men were finally working with something that approached their former
enthusiasm. Or it could be the approaching deadline that boosted their flagging efforts. Once the timber was delivered to San Francisco and the initial payment had been made, they would all receive their promised pay. Though what they intended to do with it, Noah couldn't imagine. There was nothing to spend it on out here, and the second installment of lumber was due to ship a mere six weeks later. That left no time for traveling to any of the nearby cities to release pent-up energy. At least, Noah hoped no one intended to leave. If they lost even two men now, meeting their next deadline would become impossible.

“David and I have been talking about the delivery.” Arthur lifted one booted foot and planted it on the nearest log. “We'd like you to handle things down in San Francisco.”

“Me?” Noah frowned. “Don't you think you should be the one to deliver the first shipment? After all, you worked out the contract.”

Arthur's face contorted, his lips cocked sideways and his eyebrows drawing together to form a single ridge. Finally he gave a sheepish grin. “Mary prefers that I stay here.”