White Water Passion. Dawn Luedecke
door slid open, and her brother Simon peeked in.
“Hey, Lizbe. It’s all set through the big bugs at the mill. I thought maybe we could go out and practice tonight. My secret’s safe, right? You aren’t going to tell the mayor?”
With a sigh of relief, Beth pulled her hat from her head. “It’s safe for now. Practice what? And you know I hate that nickname. It makes me sound like I’m twelve.”
Simon grimaced as his gaze skimmed her head. “Practice being a man. Meet me by the front door after Nana goes to bed.” He studied her a moment longer, and then frowned. “Did you steal those trousers from the twelve-year-old neighbor? You look like a blacksmith’s errand boy.”
Beth stuck out her tongue as Simon twisted on his heels. She could hear the angry click of his boots as he disappeared down the hallway. She had no idea what he’d planned, but she wasn’t about to let his reluctance or insults get in the way. Simon had no clue about the saboteur and catastrophe in the making. Eventually he’d appreciate what she’d sacrificed, after she saved his job, the lumber camp, and the entire town.
Chapter 2
The eerie shadows of Nana’s front passageway screamed into the silence of the night. The silvery moonlight illuminated the small windows near the door and gave Beth enough light to know her brother was not where he said he’d be. She hated tardiness. Which unfortunately exemplified the very essence of her carefree brother. Deliberately late to everything, and commanding the attention of whatever room he entered.
It wasn’t until ten minutes past nine that Simon sauntered down the stairs as if he had not a care in the world.
“Nana went to bed at eight-thirty.”
“First off, little sister, men never act like spoiled young women. They aren’t young ladies of the first water.” Simon gestured to Beth’s hands, faintly illuminated by the small sliver of light. “Behavior like that is not manly. If you want people to believe you, you’ve got to forget all your feminine habits. Or we can simply go upstairs and forget you ever blackmailed me.”
Beth dropped her arms and glared at her brother. “If you would do things on time, I wouldn’t be forced to act this way.”
“Is that my new vest?” He reached out and plucked a kerchief from the inside pocket. “You may want to avoid any hankies you find.”
“Uck!” She adjusted the oversized shirt beneath the vest, and smoothed the material where the inner pocket sat. She didn’t even want to think of what had been on that cloth.
Simon brushed past her and opened the door. “Perhaps you should stay home. In bed. Like the decent young woman Nana raised you to be.”
“Stop beatin’ the devil around the stump,” she said in a masculine drawl. “I am going, and you will take me or I’ll spill all that I know.”
“Your attempt at manly repartee is worse than your new wardrobe. I’m taking you out tonight as a good-faith gesture, and nothing more. If the mayor found out about my affair, there’s no telling what he’d do to me. Why can’t you be more like Carrie? More amiable and less trouble?”
“You’re one to talk. Half the women at Carrie’s tea a week ago spent the entire afternoon avoiding eye contact with me. I can only assume it’s because of one of your exploits. You’re lucky I don’t care what they think.” She followed him outside and stood on the stoop. Although the clothes gave her the cover she needed, they now failed to provide comfort enough to boost her confidence. What if someone recognized her? Her heart beat faster the more she thought about what was to come. Could she pull off the ruse? She’d never so much as spit on the sidewalk, let alone tromped around in britches.
“You look much more believable in my clothes. Less like a little boy. Not that I’m encouraging this escapade in the slightest, but for us both not to be caught, I need to call you by a man’s name.”
“Brent,” she declared. “I already thought it out.” With a turn of the tarnished skeleton key she’d swiped from Nana’s armoire drawer, the lock on the front snapped into place with only a whisper of sound. Simon had already taken the stairs and was halfway down the walk by the time she’d turned around. Fort Missoula’s Fifth Infantry Regiment marched on the battlefield like boys over a schoolyard compared to the way she charged after her brother. The United States Army held nothing compared to a woman on a mission.
“Where are we going?” she hissed when she caught up to him.
“The Angry Grizzly Saloon, where we will test your manly skills.”
To say Simon sauntered through the streets would be akin to calling a hard-case man a donkey instead of an ass. An arrogant strut was a more appropriate term to describe the way her brother traversed the roads. There was no way she could strut like him, but she’d try if it meant perfecting the ruse.
She practiced Simon’s walk, which did nothing more than throw him into a fit of laughter whenever she tripped over the rutted street. Blasted man! He had something up his sleeve. The sudden compliance and the ease of his rigid shoulders after they left Nana’s house proved it. She’d seen him act this way on many occasions, and it almost always ended with him getting his way. He had formed a plan, but she suspected the result wouldn’t be in her favor. She couldn’t let him win. Not this time.
“Men really should learn to pick up their feet.” Beth followed Simon through the glass doors of the Angry Grizzly. She adjusted the restrictive chest bandage. What am I doing? No one is going to believe I’m a man.
Along the front wall, the wooden slab of the bar sat proud—the focus of at least half the patrons, most of whom already appeared to be pissed off their rockers. Card games and drinking tables dotted the room with chairs arranged haphazardly around each one. Following Simon’s nod toward a seat in the corner, Beth settled into her chair as he made his way to the bar.
A tall, dark-haired man walked up from behind and leaned on the bar next to Simon. Beth couldn’t quite see the man’s face, but her heart beat hard at the familiar form. She would know his wide shoulders and confident stance anywhere.
Garrett.
Simon glanced to his right, smiled, and shook his friend’s hand. Garrett motioned for the bar boy and called out, “Two straight Jacks.”
Garrett sent a piercing stare her way. She slid down in her chair to pull her head into the collar of her jacket like a turtle in a shell. While he’d appeared dapper this morning in his stiff jacket and crisp shirt, tonight he looked like he belonged in the woods. Downright handsome. The same as he did when she’d admired him at the end of each season. Please God don’t let him come over here. The puffy part of her lip pinched between her teeth. Would he recognize her in britches?
She willed herself to disappear while she strained to listen as her brother and Garrett talked. Alas, all she could hear was the increasingly rowdy drunk at the card table, and the gentle tinker of the off-key piano. The bartender set two beers and three shots in front of Simon, and he and Garrett downed two. Simon picked up the beer and remaining shot, and motioned toward Beth.
She tried to shrink even lower.
Garrett turned to cast a cold stare in her direction. High cheekbones set firm above his rigid jaw gave him the look of a man too refined for Montana, but the stubble on his chin and sideburns on his face proved he fit into humble society well. He looked exquisite in anything he wore.
She couldn’t help but burrow deeper into the chair while her heart beat like an ax against a tree trunk. What am I going to do if he recognizes me? She chewed her lower lip again, but stopped when she realized her mistake.
His gaze lingered longer than any man’s ever had before, and her stomach churned. Did he recognize her? Part of her wanted him to, but the other part begged the Lord above to keep her safe in her disguise.
After a brief conversation with his friend, her brother returned and set a mug of beer in front of her.
With one last