Loving Against the Grain (Into the West #2)

Chapter 12

     

“Evenin’, Tex.”

Noah glanced up from the letter he’d been writing by the roaring Cookhouse fire and nodded absently to Coffee Boiler before looking back down at all he’d written so far, hoping to be left alone to finish the task. The driver didn’t take the hint, however, and plopped down across from the horse wrangler, straddling the opposite bench while snagging a clean, empty mug from the center of the long table. He leaned forward with a toothy grin.

“How’s married life treatin’ you, eh?” He leered good-naturedly, waggling his eyebrows suggestively while catching Noah’s bland return stare.

Noah shrugged, folding the unfinished epistle and reaching for his own half-full cup, resigned to entertaining the teamster. Since November had blown in, bringing with it the daily rainclouds that shortened already shorter days, Noah’s work shift finished much earlier than previously. The men couldn’t climb trees in the dark, and it was dangerous to run the Percheron teams at dusk, when even the animals couldn’t see clearly. Therefore, once the livestock and tack had been tended, the wrangler made his way to the Cookhouse with the hungry lumberjacks, content to wait for his wife until Cookie released her.

Looking at the older man across from him, whose eyes seemed to miss nothing, Noah smiled slightly and replied, “Can’t complain, that’s for sure.” At that moment Emmaline swept out of the kitchen with two heavily laden plates of what looked to be a pound of mashed potatoes smothered in stew on each. His eyes followed her as if magnetized, watching her smart mouth one logger, and shake her head at another. He couldn’t hear her words over the din of clanking dishes and loud loggers’ bragging over their individual log counts, but he could tell she’d put them smartly in their places.

Not everyone knew they’d gotten married yet, but by the way she glanced pointedly toward him, Noah figured word of mouth would reconcile that oversight quickly. The two lumberjacks’ heads bobbed in his direction, and he smiled while lifting his cup at them. By the way they then politely nodded their heads at Emmaline, the wrangler figured they now knew she belonged to him. If only…

Returning his gaze to Coffee, Noah reiterated, “Can’t complain at all.”

Coffee guffawed, raising his cup to signal he wanted it filled, while shooting his companion a knowing look. “I wouldn’t think so, Tex. Can she cook as well as she looks?”

Noah shifted on his seat, disliking talking about Emmie with the teamster; or anyone, for that matter. It didn’t seem respectful, somehow. But he answered easily enough. “That she does, my friend.”

Emmie approached then, glancing first at Noah, and then at Coffee, who cagily placed his mug on the far side of the table with a widening grin. Emmaline had to reach across him to pour the coffee, her breasts shoved right in his face as she did so. Noah’s eyes narrowed on the whole silent exchange, positive the Boiler had done the move on purpose, especially as that man maintained an overly innocent expression while commenting, “Thankee kindly, Mrs. Lawson. You’re lookin’ mighty fine these days, I might add.”

Emmaline pulled back quickly, sloshing some coffee on the table in her haste to draw back. She glanced down at Noah’s cup and topped it off without asking before replying tartly, “Go peddle your compliments elsewhere, Boiler. I’m a married woman.” Shooting another look at Noah, she said shortly, “I’m off in five,” and then strode back toward the kitchen, apron tails twitching at the speed of her exit. A burst of amused laughter shot from the older man’s throat as he looked at Noah, whose own mouth tilted with an approving smile for his wife. If nothing else, Emmie knew how to rebuff a man’s unwanted advances. Didn’t he know that firsthand?