Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)(83)

Jimmy didn’t move. His eyes narrowed on Connell.

“You heard him,” Herb bellowed. “Get out of my camp and don’t come back.”

Jimmy looked at the foreman and then the blacksmith. He lowered the pistol. “Carr doesn’t like you, McCormick.”

“You can tell him I don’t like him either.” Connell’s dad had told him to clean up the mess he’d made and to make sure he didn’t anger Carr again. But how could he sit back and let the man bully him—and anyone else who opposed him?

Why did they need to cave in to Carr’s wishes and demands? Maybe they’d somehow inadvertently given him control over their county. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t take it back from him, did it?

“And you can tell him we’re tired of him intimidating and bossing everyone around.”

Jimmy tucked his pistol into his holster. “I’ll be sure to relay your messages. They’ll make him real happy.” Something dark lurked in the man’s eyes—something that sent a shiver of trepidation through Connell.

“Then let Carr know I’ll make it my duty from here on out to make him as happy as I possibly can.”

Jimmy flashed a gap-toothed grin—one as cold and sharp as the angles of broken glass remaining in the windowpane. “You’re a fool, McCormick. A big fool.”

Maybe he was a fool. Maybe he was going to end up getting hurt or even killed in the process. But deep inside he could feel God shifting him away from apathy to a solid foundation where he could plant his feet and start acting like a real man.

After Jimmy and the two men were gone, Connell stepped outside and leaned against the log building. Through the layer of his cotton shirt the chinking of moss and clay was cold against the sticky sweat on his back. His legs felt weak and his fingers trembled as he sheathed his knife.

The blacksmith finally lowered his hammer and turned to Connell, his eyes alight with admiration. “You’re a good man, Boss.”

Herb’s cussing from within the van penetrated the silent gray air of the morning.

“It ain’t easy to take a stand against Carr,” the blacksmith continued. “But I’m glad to see you putting that man in his place.”

Connell wasn’t sure that he’d put Carr in his place. In fact, he probably hadn’t accomplished much of anything, except to anger Carr all the more.

One thing was certain, however. Lily would have been proud of him for not caving in to Carr’s demands, for being willing to fight against the man. He could picture her wide smile. She would have been jumping up and down with excitement at the sight of him tossing knives at Carr’s men. Her brown eyes would have lit up with passion, and she wouldn’t have been afraid to give Jimmy Neil a piece of her mind.

His gaze strayed over the stumps scattered around the camp, the tobacco-stained snow, and the frozen slop puddles. For an instant he saw the camp the way she did—the barrenness, the ugliness of the landscape, the destruction. He and his workers were like the blades of the saw, ripping through the land, cutting down everything in their path, leaving behind slashings and stumps and waste.

The devastation they were wreaking wasn’t a pretty picture. In some ways it reminded him of the way the van now looked after Carr’s men had rampaged through it.

Lily had wanted him to walk away from the business.

Everything within him had resisted.

And still did.

He couldn’t agree with her that the lumber industry was evil and worthless. It was a business like any other, and along with the many good things it was also bound to have problems. But could he do more to not only stand up and fight against Carr, but to also stand up and fight against some of the problems within the business?

Maybe there was more he and the other companies could do to help take care of the land so it didn’t look like a burned-out war zone by the time they moved on.

One pure white snowflake floated softly in front of him, followed by another and another.

He’d never been a fighter. He’d always been content to float through life.

But since the moment Lily had walked into his life, something about her had kicked him off his behind and propelled him into action.

And now that he’d started fighting, he had the feeling he wouldn’t be able to stop.





Chapter

25



Lily swatted the edge of the basket against the spindly insect that seemed to appear out of nowhere and skitter across the surface of the table.

She pressed down until she heard the telltale crunch letting her know she’d rid the widow’s one-room apartment of another cockroach.

Holding back a cringe, she hefted the baby in one arm and used the basket to sweep the ugly rust-colored bug onto the littered floor.

“I will be praying for you, my dear.” Mrs. McCormick rose from the only chair in the room and reached for the widow.

Tears trickled down the young woman’s cheeks, and she embraced Mrs. McCormick with a fierceness that spoke of her gratefulness more than words ever could. The contents of the now empty basket were strewn across the sagging bed: packages of fresh food wrapped in brown paper, diaper cloths, and other necessary items.

After losing her husband to a sawmill accident, the widow had no money and no easy way of earning a living—especially with the responsibility of a young child. Mrs. McCormick’s gifts wouldn’t last long, but they would provide the woman with some stability until she could find a means of caring for herself and her infant.