But the unease she felt in her stomach had nothing to do with spirits, and everything to do with the man who at one point in time had stolen a glance and polite greeting on a rainy, dreary day, but not so much as a word did he speak to her since. Until he’d whispered her name that morning. Or had he? His eyes locked with hers every time the end of season train would come, but he would hurry away as soon as she would turn her eyes down in the customary coy manner.
She felt slighted. How could this harlot on his arm catch his eye while he refused to even give a polite greeting to her? Not that she wished to be a lady of the night, but one real word to her was all she wished for. Was it too much to ask?
Beth slouched in her seat. Forget about him, Elizabeth Sanders. What you need to concentrate on is the saboteur.
Simon set down the shot in front of her and quirked half his mouth up in a sly smile. “Drink up. I paid the barkeep enough money to keep us well supplied tonight.”
She took a small sip of the shot, and tried desperately not to lose her supper all over the table. The liquid burned down her throat, and she coughed. Did men really drink this stuff?
The smug smile stretched even farther across her brother’s face, and he took a long drag of his foamy amber drink, and then lowered the glass. “That was Garrett. Do you remember him? He’s a timber beast too. Actually, he’s a riverman. There are only a few men in camp crazy enough to go down the river; those of us who are sane are timber beasts.”
“Do you two stay in touch when you’re in town?” Beth tested the beer. Foam tickled her nose, but the bitter, foul-smelling drink didn’t make her want to vomit.
Simon nodded while taking another large swig until half the contents of the glass were drained. Did he plan on drinking his troubles away? Good God.
“What else can you tell me about Garrett?” She peeked over the rim of her glass and drank.
Simon waved off her question. “You’ll find out for yourself tomorrow. Tonight we’re going to work on turning you into a man.”
She squinted at her brother, and then spent the next couple of hours sitting in the hard chair, pouring an oncoming slew of shots into a nearby spittoon whenever the bartender walked away and her brother got distracted. All the while trying not to stare at the curtained door where Garrett had left. While she was happy he failed to realize her true identity, somehow the room now felt empty. Tucked into the corner, and secluded from the rest of the bar, her brother began to outline the details of how to be a man. The hours grew long, and she couldn’t help but fidget as the evening ticked by with nothing but a few drunken cowhands and one rowdy game of Texas Hold ’em at the green poker table in the corner.
Late that night, Simon motioned to the door, and Beth sighed with relief. If she had to take any more of his meaningless prattling, she’d jump across the table and throttle him just for something to do.
She and Simon had always been close. After their parents had died in a carriage accident, they’d been left alone with their aging grandmother. They had learned to take care of each other. That was until he went and joined the logging company. No matter how hard he fought to make her stay, she wasn’t going to sit back and let his life be ruined by the loss of the only thing that truly made him happy: the lumber camp.
* * * *
The moonlight filtered through the clouds and illuminated the streets outside the saloon as Beth and Simon started down the dusty road. They had only gone a block before echoing laughter reached Beth’s ears. Simon clutched her arm to stop her and motioned to a couple stumbling down the street in front of them.
“Garrett,” her brother said when they drew near.
Beth tensed.
Garrett stood tall and perused her figure with disdain. Why? Just this morning he’d sported a silent yet almost welcome aura. Now, she saw nothing but contempt. Of course, she was dressed as a man. Perhaps her disguise worked better than she’d planned. Beth’s defenses slammed into place. The overly friendly harlot sidled closer to him, and he visibly relaxed. The tramp. Perhaps she was the reason his mood changed so drastically from earlier in the day.
“This is my cousin, the one I told you about.” Simon gestured toward Beth, and she snapped her thoughts back to the moment, and smiled.
Garrett studied her until her heart started to beat hard. After a tense moment, he raised his head in greeting, but kept his neck stiff with the movement. The harlot moved next to him, and he tugged her closer.
“Simon says you might be working with us this spring.” Garrett stood taller, and puffed out his chest. “It’s hard work. I suppose you might be able to man the boat. That shouldn’t be too much of an issue for you, should it? A weakling like you will only hinder the team and put himself in danger. Best to start where you won’t get injured.”
“I can handle as much as any man,” she said, barely remembering to utter the words in her deepest voice. The haze from the beer made her head buzz, and she shook it off, and deepened her voice even more. “Unlike some, I don’t need to buy women to make me feel like a man.”
The harlot huffed as if offended by Beth’s words. But why would she be? By all appearances, the woman made a living by trading favors for money. She should really learn to accept the truth of her existence.
Garrett glared, and his lips thinned.
Simon gripped her arm in a painful hold and propelled her past Garrett.
“Ouch,” she hissed.
Her brother turned back toward his friend. “Sorry, Garrett, he’s drunk.”
“Never a fool man spoke without gaining censure from the audience,” Garrett responded.
“How profound,” Beth countered, not bothering to act like the man she was supposed to mimic. She shifted her feet, and stumbled, but slid a condemning glare to the harlot pressing her breasts against his arm. “Do the ladies of the night enjoy a clever tongue, or do they prefer more sensible talk?”
Garrett furrowed his brows and stared, as if he saw through her disguise and judged her accordingly. Beth took a step back.
“If you’ll excuse us.” He turned his attention to Simon. “We need to be getting on before I knock your cousin for a loop.” He nodded a good-bye and ushered the half-dressed woman down the street.
“Sorry, Gar. Really,” Simon yelled and pushed Beth to make her walk.
She chewed on her lower lip as they hurried home. She knew better than to speak when her brother was in such a state. Simon, however, was never one to stay silent.
“What the hell was that, Elizabeth?” He growled as they marched up the steps to their home. “Garrett Jones is my friend, and the only other person in the camp who will protect you. Do not mess things up with your snippy tongue. In the future, if you’re going to get a lickin’, you’d better make it worthwhile. Half-cocked insults are not worth it, trust me.”
“I don’t like to think of any part of my anatomy as snippy. Wicked maybe, but not snippy.” She scrunched her nose, but her body swayed with the thrum of a buggy rolling past. Garrett was harder to read than a dime novel in a buggy on Mullan Road. “Garrett seems quite complicated.”
“You were a damned fool out there. And no one knows what goes on in Garrett’s head. He spent most of his time in England with a cousin who is a baronet or some such thing. You can no better read what he’s thinking than a book written with water.” He opened the front door and ushered Beth through. “Honestly, I’m surprised Garrett held back and didn’t knock