Chapter Three

Snake River Sawmill

Thursday Afternoon

Jake raised his head at the sound of shuffling footsteps outside his office, his attention drawn from the list of pending jobs and toward the half-open door.

"I got the last of the Prescott order ready to go," Del announced as he breached the threshold and came to a stop in front of Jake's desk.

"I thought we delivered that yesterday," Jake mumbled, his gaze drawn back to his schedule.

"The first half," Del clarified. "The stuff Perkins ordered for the barn repairs, and some rails for the little lady's chicken coop. Today, we're shipping out the bigger part of the order… shelves and whatnot for her bakery."

"I thought she was doing the baking for the café."

"She was… is… but she's also opening up her own spot where the dressmaker used to be."

"She sounds ambitious. Good for her. Who's taking the order into town?" Jake wondered.

"I intended to send Tim and Stump, but they're not back from dragging this morning's cut field. I suppose I'll take it in myself."

"I'll do it," Jake said suddenly. "I owe at least one member of the family an apology for missing their welcome reception last night."

"What time did you finally get home from Vickers?"

"Well past nine, I suppose. Given the promised help baled on me when I got there, I had to unload everything myself. I was tuckered by the time I got to my place. Not to mention I smelled like an over-ripe pile of dung."

"Hardly party worthy," Del agreed. "When you didn't make the church hall, I offered up a work excuse. Prescott said he looked forward to meeting you tomorrow when you pick up the payroll. He's got some new-fangled idea about how they can put the money directly into the men's bank accounts, rather than issuing pay packets each week."

"Something tells me that idea wouldn't go over with the fellows. They like the sound of money jangling in their pockets."

"I suppose you're right about that. Nothing excites these younguns like having some money to waste away on foolishness. I guess we should be grateful most of them are good Christian boys and not prone to blowing their earnings at the saloon, or on loose women."

"Not that we know of anyway," Jake teased, a chuckle escaping with his words.

"With all the gossips in this town, we'd hear about it soon enough. That's the bad part about a small town. Everyone knows everyone else's business." Del paused, then added, "Which is why you got so many mamas pushing their daughters in your direction at every social event."

"I made myself a promise when I took over my grandpa's business. No distractions until after I'd built it back up to the best sawmill this side of Phoenix. Those young women are a major distraction."

"You're going to have to settle down sooner or later, Jake."

"It's not like I'm living a wild life, as it is. I work, I go home, I come back to work. Church is about the only break in my routine."

"Don't you want a wife and children?"

Jake shrugged. "Of course I do. Eventually. I'm only twenty-nine, nowhere near over the hill."

"Take my word for it, boss. That hill gets steep awfully fast. Best to not try to climb it alone."

Later that afternoon, Jake drew the wagon to a halt in front of the storefront once belonging to AvaMae Willows, the town's retired dressmaker. The dingy gray exterior had been whitewashed, then the trim painted bright blue. The windows, once masked by stacks of cloth bolts and samples of dresses, were now glistening in the afternoon sun. Neatly painted on the larger of the two windows were the words, ‘ Sis's Fine Baked Goods .'

Hopping down from the bench seat, he tethered his team to the closest hitching post. A moment later, he was stepping into the pristine clean shop, the walls the color of sunshine. "Anyone here?" he called out.

"In the back," a decidedly feminine voice responded. "I'll be right there."

Jake waited patiently, his gaze glued to the doorway, and the white shutters that swung open to separate the two rooms. "I'm here with the wood for your shelves," he announced. "I'm supposed to ask for Susana Prescott."

A moment later, a young woman came through the opening. "I'm Susana Prescott."

Words failed him, stuck in his throat like a hot pepper that refused to go down. Susana Prescott was beautiful… slim, with long blonde hair that she'd pulled back with a ribbon. Her blue dress was covered by a white apron, but the sleeves that peeked out from the bib had little white flowers stitched across them.

Little white flowers ? When have you ever noticed such minute details ? Jake's conscience poked at him unmercifully.

Clearing his throat, he reiterated, "I'm Jake. Jake Harkness. I'm here with your shelving. Shall I go ahead and bring it in?"

"Yes, please. You can place it along the far wall. Mister Perkins has left for the day, but he'll be back tomorrow to put them up."

"I could… I mean… if you're in a hurry. I could put them up for you. I see Perkins has already put the pegs in place."

"That's all right," she said softly. "I don't want to put you out. I'm sure your boss wants you back as soon as possible."

The honey-whiskey tone of her voice wrapped snugly around her words, ratcheting up Jake's heart rate.

"I'm confident the boss won't mind. After all, Snake River Sawmill likes to keep our customers happy."

"One or two shelves would be good," she admitted. "I've got pies in the oven. It would be nice to have somewhere away from the hot kitchen for them to cool."

"It does smell great in here," he told her. "Give me a minute to bring everything in. Then, you can decide where you want the first few to go."

While he worked to install the three shelves she'd chosen, Susana Prescott returned to her kitchen. The aroma filling the air reminded Jake of his late grandmother's cooking, a blend of spices and the smell of baking bread.

When Susana Prescott returned, she was carrying a small plate wrapped neatly in a napkin. "I've made you a sampler of three of my tarts to thank you for the shelves."

"One for each shelf," he mumbled inanely, drawing her muted laugh.

"There's cherry, lemon, and sweet potato," she told him, handing him the plate.

"The fellows out at the mill said your sweet potato pie was the best they'd ever tasted."

"That's good to hear. Word of mouth recommendations are always the best." Nodding toward his outstretched hand, she told him, "You can return the plate whenever you're in town. I have plenty."

"I will." Nodding, he backed toward the door, reluctant to take his eyes off her gentle smile. "I should be going. Like you said, they'll be wondering where I've gotten to."

"Good day, Mister Harkness."

"Jake," he corrected. "Just Jake."

"Well, Just Jake , I suppose you can call me Susana then."

"I'd like that." Slipping through the door, he thought to himself, ‘ I'd like that very much .'

With everything safely in place and covered for the night, Susana locked the front door of her bakery and made her way along the wooden sidewalk that led to the far end of town. Her family home was less than ten minutes outside of town and the cooler evening air was like a balm to her oven-warmed skin.

Despite their brief meeting, her thoughts had returned to Jake… Just Jake… more than a few times while she'd finished her orders for Miss Betty's café. He certainly was handsome, with dark chestnut hair, warm brown eyes, and the nicest smile she'd seen in ages. He was tall, but not too tall. Some men, she reasoned, were so tall you had to stand on your tiptoes to look them in the eye. Not Jake Harkness. She could easily meet his gaze… something she'd done more than once while they'd talked.

If she'd stepped closer, she probably could have laid her head against his broad shoulder with no problem at all. Just the thought made her cheeks warm even more than the heat from her ovens. Picking up her pace, she scurried along the road leading to her home and up the narrow walkway.

"How was your day?" her father asked the moment she entered the parlor. "Did your delivery arrive from the sawmill?"

"Yes, Papa, it did. The man who made the trip from the sawmill also installed a few of the shelves so I'd have a place to cool my pies outside of the hot kitchen."

"That was very nice of him. Windemere is a very friendly town from all I've seen so far."

"What about you two?" Susana asked, tapping the desktop where her brothers were studying. "How was school?"

"Seth's got a new girl," Will teased. "She's taller than him."

"Give him a couple of years and he'll sprout up just fine," Papa assured them. "When I was Seth's age, everyone was taller than me."

"Even mama?" Seth asked.

"I'm not sure. We didn't meet until we were older," Papa explained.

"I'll get started on supper," Susana said, turning toward the door.

"Not necessary," her father responded, halting her progress. "The ladies of the church brought over a platter of leftovers from last night's party. There's sliced ham, some cold salads, and a few helpings of Missus Sikes' Blueberry Buckle."

"Wonderful," Susana gushed. "I'll just set the dining room table."

Again, her father waved her off. "Let's just eat at the kitchen table. No sense making a fuss. You've worked hard today getting your shop ready. There's no need to add more to your duties."

"I appreciate that, Papa, I really do, but I don't mind."

"The kitchen table will be fine," he responded, his voice stern but not angry.

While they ate, the boys regaled them with the games they'd played at recess. Seth offered up a few tidbits about this mysterious girl his brother mentioned earlier, and father told them about the stray cat that made itself at home in the bank.

"Missus Weebly is thinking of keeping it in the bank. Kind of a live-in pet, I suppose," Wallace said. "She offered to take care of the scrawny scrap of a thing."

"Can we get a cat? Or, better yet, a dog?" Will asked.

"Maybe someday," Papa told them. "When we've been settled for a while longer."

"I'll be coming to the bank tomorrow, Papa," Susana said. "Miss Betty will be paying me for this week's baking. Once I pay Mister Perkins, I'll want to deposit the rest into my account."

"I've only got one meeting tomorrow with the mill owner. I'm hoping to discuss an alternative to issuing pay packets to his men."

"An alternative?" Susana wondered.

"Yes, once he's done his calculations, we'd put the money directly into the employee's bank accounts. If they need money, they can come in to withdraw. I'm hoping they leave more than they take."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," she admitted. "It's always nice to have some savings in case it's needed for an emergency."

"Always my practical daughter," Wallace said, chuckling. Turning to Will and Seth, he added, "I hope you two get your sister's good sense once you start earning money."

"First thing I'm going to buy is my own horse," Will proclaimed loudly. "Not some old nag, either. A big, handsome gelding."

"Horses are expensive," father pointed out. "You'll have to work long and hard to afford one."

"Ricky, one of the older boys at school, spent the summer working at the mill, cleaning up around the office and grounds," Seth explained. "I'm hoping when I'm a year older, I can work there too."

"That sounds like a great first job," Susana told her brother. "It might not make you enough to buy a horse, but it's a start."

"I don't know how much money he got paid, but he said he's planning to make lots of money this winter chopping firewood, thanks to his time at the mill."

"He's got the right idea," Papa said. "Good, honest, work will always pay off in the long run. You fellows would do well to remember that."

"We will, Papa," both boys said in unison.

Susana sat back in the chair and reviewed all she had to do the next day. Yet, no matter where she tried to focus her thoughts, Jake Harkness' handsome face intruded.