The Alaska Brides Collection Part 5

"I tell you what." Ian grinned. "We'll just leave that as the only swap as long as you agree to cook for Wily and Joe, too."

"Of course I'll cook for them. What kind of hostess do you think I am?"

Ian didn't hesitate for a single second. "The grandest in all of Alaska."

"That's not saying much." She arched a brow. "There are probably all of ten women in the whole region."

"Other women heard of your gracious talent and stayed away because they couldn't bear the thought of falling short of your example."

"That proves it." She turned to Tucker. "You said he's a Scot, but he's not. Only an Irishman would be so full of blarney."

"You thought I'm a Scot?" Ian growled at Tucker. "That's nearly as bad as the insult your sister just gave me."

"Scots are good men." Tucker sounded downright bored. "What insult?"

"Scots might well be good, but Irishmen are grand. 'Tis no more a boast than Joe's telling us he's capable with an ax." Ian turned his attention back to Meredith. "But I'll not stand here and have you consider my praise as bl.u.s.ter or blarney. With your merry heart and willing hands, you're a rare woman. 'Tisn't the fare or china on the table that makes a body feel welcome. Like the proverb in the Bible, I'd far rather have a humble meal of herbs with pleasant company than a feast where there's strife."

"I agree." Wily clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "But we'll see about adding a plank floor to that cabin. Where are the tools?"

Ian grabbed a couple of axes and headed toward the woods with Joe. Joe tested the weight of one ax and mused, "Meredith Smith is a spirited woman."

"Indeed, she is."

"I've only seen her once before. She's certainly worth a second look."

Ian locked eyes with Joe. "She's adventurous and friendly, but Meredith Smith is every inch a lady."

A lazy smile tilted one corner of Joe's mouth. "I wondered if you were taken with her. Can't blame you." His ax bit into a tree trunk.

Ian paced to the other side of the tree and started swinging the other ax. Until now, he'd focused on the tasks at hand. Suddenly, the truth struck him. He'd come on the journey of his life and found a woman whose sense of adventure matched his own. From times of prayer and Bible reading, he knew she loved the Lord. With each blow of his ax, he listed her qualities-her virtuous ways, her kind heart, her warm smile, the sunny outlook she maintained- "Hey!"

Ian gave Joe a startled look.

"Step aside. This one's ready to go."

Ian joined Joe on the other side of the trunk. "Timber!" he bellowed. Then they nudged the trunk above where they'd chopped. Branches rustled, air whistled through the limbs, and the last bit of the trunk cracked as the tree plunged down.

"That one fell hard and fast."

Ian nodded as he continued to think of Meredith. So did I.

Chapter 6.

Meredith waved. "G.o.d go with you!"

Wily and Joe's umiak floated around the river's bend and out of sight.

Behind her, Ian nickered to Bess. He'd already plowed two rows since breakfast-a true feat considering the still-frosty ground and the odd "plow" he'd concocted.

Meredith turned and watched as the fabric of his shirt went taut over muscles in his arms and shoulders. He fought the stubborn soil, and Bess strained, but inch by inch, foot by foot, they made progress.

Carrying a washtub filled with sand, Tucker staggered past Meredith.

"Let me help!"

"Open the door. It blew shut."

Meredith dashed ahead and yanked open the door to their cabin. Each evening the men had dragged stones into the cabin and cobbled a section of the floor. As dawn broke today, they'd dragged out what little furniture she and Tucker owned and carried in logs split in half. Those puncheons now formed a real floor, but instead of staying steady like planks would have, the puncheons rocked and tilted.

Grunting, Tucker dumped the sand onto the floor. He cast a look at the door. "Sis, Rafferty's a fine man."

She blushed. "That's my a.s.sessment, too."

"But I don't care how nice he is. You made a promise to me, and I expect you to keep it."

"I haven't said a word to him."

Tucker hefted the empty bucket. "Don't. Some things stay in the family. It's no one else's business."

She hitched her shoulder. "It doesn't matter to me, Tucker. It's important to you, so I'll stay quiet."

"Good." He stared at her, looking as though he expected her to say more.

"I'll work the sand into the floor." Meredith dragged her instep across a ribbon of sand and watched it filter through the cracks. "I'm starting to notice a difference. The sand's keeping the logs from rolling and tilting so much."

Tucker heaved a sigh. He knew her well enough to see that she'd changed the subject. But she'd told him she'd stay quiet, so he went on to the new topic. "Even when I get the puncheons stabilized, the floor'll be rough, Sis. You're liable to get splinters in your feet."

"Nonsense. You men used files and rasps to smooth the surface, and the sand will take care of most of the tiny stickers. I'll braid a nice, warm rug to go between our beds, and we'll be snug as can be."

"We don't have cloth for that."

She flashed her twin a smile. "Anything worth having is worth waiting for."

Tucker snorted and tromped back outside to fetch more sand.

After building a fire and setting the huge wash kettle over it, Meredith hung the quilts out to air. The laundry she'd planned to do days ago desperately needed to be done. In the past, she'd hung her unmentionables in the cabin by the fire to dry. Fearing Ian would take a notion to help her brother with the floor, Meredith decided she'd better hang her small clothes on a line between the quilts. With Tucker's shirts on one side and britches on the other, no one would be able to spy her garments.

As Meredith rinsed the whites, Tucker began to whistle softly. "Rock of Ages, cleft for me..." The hymn's lyrics ran through her mind.

"Let me hide myself in thee," Ian sang. Or at least, that's what Meredith thought he was trying to do. Not even two of those words were sung in the same key.

"Sis, forget the laundry." Tucker hauled more sand. "Hurry up and make lunch so he'll stop singing."

Ian had his back to them and continued to plow as he caterwauled, "Let the water and the blood, from Thy wounded side which flowed..."

Tucker winced. "Sounds like blood's flowing, all right. Just not the sacred variety."

"Be of sin the double cure..."

"I never would have guessed it, but Abrams is right," Tucker muttered. "Some afflictions deserve a stiff belt of whiskey."

Meredith giggled. "I don't think whiskey can cure that."

"It wouldn't be for him-it would be for everyone who has to listen."

Straightening up, Meredith wrung out a petticoat. "Bess doesn't seem to mind."

"Dumb mule doesn't know any better. I mean it, Sis. Take pity on me and make lunch. It'll stop him from-"

"Singing?" she filled in.

"I refuse to lie and call that singing."

"Are you sick or just dying?" Abrams shouted across the river.

Ian halted midrow. "Someone's sick?"

"You gotta be. Ain't never heard sounds like that come outta someone unless they was sufferin' real bad."

"He's going to say something about spirits," Meredith whispered to her brother.

"Couple of stiff swigs of whiskey would fix your throat. I'm telling you, Wily needs to deliver spirits to us. They're medicinal."

"Nothing's wrong with my throat." Ian stretched his back.

"That's a matter of opinion." Tucker set down the bucket of sand.

"Had a gelding break a leg once." Abrams continued to swish water and silt in his mining pan. "Sounded just like you. I put him outta his misery."

"I guess I should be thankful you're holding a pan instead of your rifle." Ian's voice held an entertained lilt.

Meredith couldn't help wondering, How can he have such a deep, true speaking voice yet sing so dreadfully?

Tucker rested his hands on his hips. "Do you whistle or hum any better than you sing?"

"Nope." Ian grinned like the Cheshire cat from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. "I'm so tone deaf, I got out of having to suffer through music lessons. I take heart in the verse that says, 'Make a joyful noise unto the Lord.'"

"It's noise, all right," Tucker said.

"Sounds like someone's slaughtering you." Abrams dumped out the last of his pan. He'd gotten nothing for his efforts. "Take pity on the rest of us. Call it Christian charity."

Ian's grin widened. "In Luke 19, Christ said if men were silenced, even the rocks would cry out His praise. I take it you'd rather hear the rocks?"

"No one means to insult you," Meredith said.

"Speak for yourself." Abrams scooped up another pan full of silt. "Maybe if the rocks cried, they'd be tears of gold."

"For that, I'd keep my silence." Ian nickered to Bess and flicked the reins. As his plow split the stubborn earth, he disappeared behind the smokehouse.

"Do you still want lunch right away?"

Tucker looked at the little droplets of mud her dripping petticoat created on the ground between them. "Nah. Go on ahead and finish whatever you need to."

After lunch, Meredith shoved her hands in her ap.r.o.n pockets. "Ian, the wash pot is empty now."

"Good. I've gotten to the point that I wouldn't have to put pegs on the walls to hang my clothes. They're all about to stand up on their own. Since we're using your wood and soap this time, next time we'll use mine."

"Meredith!" Abrams bellowed from his side of the river. "I gotta little laundry. Some mending, too. What's your asking price?"

Unladylike as shouting was, she walked toward the riverbank and modulated her voice. "How much mending?"

"Some b.u.t.tons. A few rips, and my socks need darning."

"How many rips and b.u.t.tons, and do you still have the b.u.t.tons?"

Mr. Abrams looked like a sulky toddler who'd been caught tugging on the dog's tail. "You can't expect a man to remember where stupid little b.u.t.tons roll off to."

"I don't have many spare b.u.t.tons."

"I'll pay you a pinch of gold dust for it all."

Meredith laughed. "You'd pay that much for one splash of whiskey in town."

"It's going to take all my gold to buy vittles for next year."

"Provender is expensive." She nodded. "Tucker was saying the very same thing. It's going to take all we have to supply us for the next year, too."

"You're putting in a garden. That'll cut your costs. Two pinches, and that's as much as I'll offer."

"You have months' worth of grime in those clothes, so it's going to take me half of forever to wash and mend them. Four."

"Four!" Abrams roared.

"Or..." She paused.

"Or?"

"You come help put the roof on Ian's cabin and allow us free transit across your claim whenever we go to town."

"Do I look like a carpenter to you?" He spread out his arms, and water sloshed from his gold pan onto his sleeve and back into the river.