Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)(93)
The men murmured among themselves, nodding at the news.
“And the other good news is—” Stuart paused and glanced around as if making sure he had everyone’s attention—“I think I’ve discovered who the log thief is.”
Connell’s gaze snapped to Stuart and riveted there. From the absolute silence that descended, he was sure the other boss men had done the same.
“After doing some investigation, I learned that Carr has registered a log mark.”
“What does he need a log mark for?” called one of the bosses.
But even before Stuart spoke again, Connell knew what the scoundrel had done.
“Turns out,” Stuart continued over the murmuring, “after I did some poking around down at the banking grounds in Averill, I discovered that Carr has a substantial number of logs bearing his mark.”
“I ain’t seen him cutting any logs,” started the boss. But then he stopped, understanding dawning on his scruffy face. “He’s been sawing the ends off our logs and stamping them with his mark.”
Stuart nodded. “I don’t have solid proof yet. I haven’t actually caught any of his men in the act of stealing—”
“I’m sure they’ve been sneaking around at night,” called Herb Nolan. “No doubt they’ve been sawing off the end of a log here and there, nothing noticeable, nothing to alert any of us. But enough for Carr to build up a steady supply of logs so that at spring river drive he’ll turn a nice profit.”
For several minutes the room was filled with the speculations and plans of the men. Connell sat back and nodded at Stuart, whose eyes shone with the self-satisfaction of a job well done. If they could implicate Carr in the thievery of the logs, they’d be one step closer to driving him out of Harrison.
If nothing else, they’d at least turned the other lumber-camp bosses against Carr. There was no way they’d support a man who was stealing from them and undermining their efforts.
Stuart finally cleared his throat to get the attention of the crowd. “Hopefully, when the rest of Clare County hears the truth about Carr, they’ll decide they’ve had enough.”
“It’s past time for reform,” called Herb.
“Here, here,” said another man.
“Time to make a decent place of Harrison,” said Mr. Sturgis, the grocer. “A place where we feel safe bringing our wives and children.”
“We need a church and a school.”
Once again, the men began calling out their suggestions—this time with excitement in their voices.
Many of the business owners had left their families behind in the bigger cities, not wanting to bring their children and wives into the lumber town’s dangerous and unwholesome environment. Apparently, the idea of cleaning up the town and establishing law was something most of the men wanted but had been too afraid to voice.
Connell didn’t know what to jot down in his meeting notes. His mind whirled with the possibilities. If he could help facilitate the reforms in town, he could certainly bring about a few reforms within the lumber industry too, couldn’t he?
What would Dad think if he started demanding changes?
The muscles in his stomach hardened. He could almost feel Dad’s fist pounding into his gut, telling him all too clearly not to do anything that might jeopardize his business.
But what about what he wanted to do?
Lily’s words came back to him. “Maybe it’s time for you to start making your own plans and having your own dreams.”
A sudden bang of the front door jolted him off his bench. A shanty boy barged inside and then doubled over at the waist, gasping for breath.
The room grew silent again.
“Boss McCormick,” the young man managed between heaves. Connell recognized him as one of the road monkeys from Camp 1.
Connell stepped forward and only then realized he’d pulled his knife and had it ready to throw. He quickly sheathed it, berating himself for being so jumpy.
If Carr’s men were going to come after him, they wouldn’t pick the Northern during a meeting full of angry men.
“Boss,” the man said, straightening and giving him a look that sent chills over his skin. “Just ran into some friends leaving the Stockade.”
The young man glanced around the room at the other men. He took another deep breath before turning to face Connell again. “Thought you might want to know Carr’s saying he’s got your woman.”
“My woman?” Connell’s pulse sputtered to a stop.
“You know.” The man glanced at his boots, making a muddy puddle on the dining room floor. His voice grew softer as if he were afraid to say the word again. “Your woman.”
Oren was on his feet with a speed that belied his age. His chair fell backward with a clatter. “What in the hairy hound are you talking about?” His voice boomed with the ferocity of a roaring bear. “You better be drunk, or I’ll be tying you up and roasting you like a Christmas goose.”
Connell couldn’t move. He didn’t want to ask any more questions. He just wanted the young man to disappear, to head back out into the darkness of the evening, and to take his terrible rumor with him.
“I ain’t lying.” The man backed toward the open door. “Just thought you’d want to know.”
“But she’s in a safe location,” Connell said, starting toward the man. Fear gusted through him, freezing his steps into slow motion. “There’s no way Carr could get her.”