Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)(81)

“At least twenty.”

Connell jabbed the end of one of the logs already loaded onto the flat sleigh at the skidway and bit back an oath aimed at Carr.

Twenty was one-fifth of the crew at Camp 1.

“And there’s more talking about leaving.” Herb Nolan spoke quietly, his focus unswerving from the growing pyramid of logs on the sleigh.

The experienced loader at the top of the pile used his cant hook to maneuver another log up a pair of slanting poles. He straddled the logs already in place, the spikes in his caulk boots giving him traction. The snorts of the big workhorses, the grunts of men, and the jangle of chains filled the air around them.

“Not our best workers?” Connell didn’t want to ask, but he had to take stock. He had to see how much damage he’d brought to McCormick Lumber.

“So far it’s been the boys more partial to fat pork and sundown.”

“Good.” He couldn’t afford to lose anyone, but he’d much rather lose his swampers and road monkeys. If he lost his best loaders, sawyers, or teamsters, he’d be ruined for sure. He had to find a way to shut the door on Carr’s scare tactics and stop the exodus from his camps. And he had to do it fast.

Connell cupped his gloved hands around the tin cup of coffee he’d picked up from Duff in the cookshack when he’d arrived. Steam rose from the dark liquid, and the wind twirled it away, giving him only a lingering waft of the freshly ground aroma.

He took a swig and already it was lukewarm.

A winter storm was blowing in and would bring fresh snow.

At least the weather was cooperating—although with spring only five weeks away, there was no guarantee they’d have much time left to get the largest share of the logs out of the forest to the banking grounds.

“The fact is,” Herb said, “that devil Carr is scaring the stink out of everyone.”

“Well, you can let the men know that anyone who stays with me through the river drive will get double the bonus.” He had the sick feeling that not only would McCormick Lumber fail to come out on top in lumber production at the end of the winter, but they might actually go into the red.

“And you can let them know I’ll be sending out Charlie from Camp 2 to do some hunting for all the camps. Hopefully, you’ll have fresh meat more often.”

The foreman pinched at one of the little icicles hanging from his mustache. “The boys have been lookin’ funny at Duff’s porkers. I know they’ve got a hankering for something besides the usual.”

Connell took another slurp of his coffee. He’d slept a grand total of fifty-one minutes the previous night. His body had been too keyed up, anticipating Carr’s men barging into the room he’d taken at the Northern. And his mind had been too full of plans for how to save the business from complete devastation.

He’d been more than a little surprised he’d made it through the night without a confrontation. And he’d been even more surprised that he’d made it out the door and all the way to Camp 1 without an altercation.

He knew it was only a matter of time before Carr came after him, especially since Carr had already battered Stuart. In the dark hours of the morning, Connell had slipped in to visit his friend. The low light couldn’t conceal the deep bruises and lacerations on Stu’s face.

As prominent as Stuart was in the community, they hadn’t dared to kill him. But Stuart wasn’t so sure about Bass, his assistant. They hoped Bass’s disappearance meant he’d fled town. But they both knew if Carr had gotten hold of him, they’d never hear from Bass again.

According to Stuart, Carr had figured out every detail of how they’d helped Lily and Daisy and was now determined to ruin McCormick Lumber, to set an example of what would happen to anyone who defied him.

Connell gulped the rest of the coffee, draining the cup.

“Tell the men I plan to reward everyone who’s loyal to McCormick Lumber.”

He quickly calculated the diameters of each of the logs already in place on the sleigh awaiting transportation to the camp decking ground near the narrow-gauge train. Most were cut in twenty-foot lengths and weighed six tons. He could see that his sawyers were working hard.

And the icers were too. From the deep icy ruts in the road, it was obvious they were still making several tours each night. Their diligence was allowing the horses to transport the heavy sleighs of logs with more ease and speed.

They were moving out prime lumber. But they couldn’t keep it up if they lost any more men. Would the lure of a bonus and fresh meat be enough to keep the rest of the men from leaving? What reason had McCormick Lumber ever given their men to remain loyal to the company?

Shouts and the clomping of horse hooves on the iced roads echoed through the brittleness of the clearing. The frantic pounding was not the usual even pace of the team returning on a go-back road for another load of logs.

Connell’s muscles tensed. He tossed aside his tin cup and grabbed the foreman’s ax from a resting spot against a Norway maple—one of the trees in the stand not worth cutting. At the same time he unsheathed his knife.

An instant later, the cookee came careening around the bend in the road on one of the blacksmith’s horses. Clouds of vapor billowed from the beast’s nostrils.

Cookee’s eyes were wild and his face red. “Carr’s men are here!”

“Where?” Connell asked.