Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)(19)
When she’d ridden into his camp that morning, bringing the sunshine with her, he’d told himself even if she wasn’t any of his business, he could do nothing less than make sure she was safe.
So he’d spent the better part of the morning keeping her in his line of vision, all the while trying to work.
“Besides,” she said, shaking her head as if to toss off any gloomy thoughts, “I always take a few minutes by myself to admire the majesty of some of God’s finest creations.”
She turned her attention back to the white pine next to her, and as her gaze traveled up the length of the trunk, her eyes widened with awe.
He had to admit, she was one of God’s finest creations. After watching her all morning—and all week, for that matter—he couldn’t keep from admiring the quickness of her smile, the sparkle in her eyes, and the pertness of her steps.
His focus lingered on the loose curls dangling against her ear. With her head tilted back, the long expanse of her neck taunted him. The rich shade of her complexion and the smoothness of her skin reminded him he’d gone too long without the affection of a woman.
But wasn’t that what he’d wanted? To get away from women—and the pain and heartache they brought? At least that was one of the reasons he’d agreed to take the supervisor position for the Harrison camps when his father had suggested it. He’d needed to get away from Rosemarie and his brother and their treachery.
He shook his head at his own weakness, and before Lily could catch him staring, he shifted his attention to the tree. His trained eye quickly measured the hundred-fifty-foot length, approximately three-and-a-half feet in diameter. No hint of ring rot. No insect damage. No punk knots. It was one of the smaller pines, but still a perfect specimen.
“It’s a beauty,” he admitted.
“It’s a natural temple,” she whispered reverently.
He watched the way the slight breeze swayed the top and knew it would fall to the south if his boys were to chop it. He eyed the path of its descent. First they’d have to cut down a number of saplings that were in the way, and then make sure they left nothing else that could inhibit its thundering tumble to the ground. He’d witnessed too many accidents when a falling tree glanced off another object and threw it off course onto an unsuspecting man. The towering giants weren’t called widow-makers for no reason.
“I’m guessing this one is about a hundred years old,” he said.
“Then it’s ancient.”
He nodded. “If I’m lucky, I’ll get twenty thousand feet of board out of it. Twelve feet long by an inch thick. Good solid board.”
She took a step away from him, her face a mask of shock.
“What’s the matter?”
“How could you even think about destroying this glorious, magnificent, beautiful tree?”
For a long moment he could only stare at her, baffled. “It’s my job. What did you think we’re doing out here? Digging for gold?”
“Oh, I know perfectly well what you’re doing. You’ll take all you can get from this land, and then you’ll leave behind a chaotic mess.”
“We parcel off the land and sell it to farmers.”
“You know that’s not happening.”
“Maybe not everywhere.”
She planted her fists on her hips. “I’ve traveled around enough of Michigan this winter to see what the land looks like after lumber companies pull out and head somewhere else.”
“Oh, come on, Lily.” Exasperation tugged at him. “What would our country do without the supply of lumber we’re providing? If we stop our operations, we’ll deprive the average family of affordable means for building homes.”
She arched her brow. “Affordable?”
“Compared to brick homes? Yes.” She obviously didn’t know anything about the industry. “As a matter of fact, hundreds of thousands of people in growing midwestern towns rely upon our boards and shingles for their homes. And on the other products that come from these trees.” He patted the pine.
“I don’t care.” She reached for the tree, caressing it almost as if it were a living being, trailing her fingers in the deep grooves of the bark. “These trees, this land—they don’t deserve to be ravaged.”
He sighed at her irrational thought process. He was tempted to keep arguing with her. Logically, if McCormick Lumber ever pulled out of the lumber business, there were a hundred other lumber barons who would continue to cut the trees until every last one was harvested.
The lumber companies were in Michigan to stay. And there was nothing he or anyone else could do about it, even if they wanted to—which he didn’t.
But he bit back his response.
“Listen.” The last thing he wanted to do was stand out in the forest and argue with her. Besides, he needed to get her back to the camp before his men started spreading rumors about them. “How about if we go get some coffee? Old Duff, the dough pounder here, makes the best coffee.”
Her eyes lit up.
“I’m well aware it can in no way compare to the coffee our dear Vera makes.”
Lily’s lips curved into a ready smile. “Yes, I really don’t know how anyone else can make anything quite like it.”
He grinned. “I thought you’d agree.”