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Jason Kruger pulled his boots from the corner of his desk and rocked forward in his chair. He’d just finished his supper and didn’t like the intrusion of one of his men into his office at the end of the day.
The Spartan room wasn’t much to look at with its rough-hewn walls, a couple of desks and cupboards, and a potbellied stove in the corner, but Jason liked the solitude after a hard day’s work. He wanted to look over his new journals, not deal with this man again.
“What is it, Duncan?” Jason asked. “Spit it out.”
The thin, wiry man lingering at the door pulled off his hat and twisted it in his hands.
“Well, boss, I’m sorry to be a bother to you, but….” Duncan shifted from one foot to the other. “Well, my Gladys is having problems with that Polly Minton, and well, this time I—”
Jason cursed and came to his feet. “I told you not to bring your wife here in the first place.”
“Well, yeah, I know, but—”
“No women in camp. That’s my rule. I told you.”
“Yes, sir, and I appreciate you making an exception ’cause she’s my wife, and all, but—”
“Trouble.” Jason cursed again. “Women are nothing but trouble. They don’t belong here. I’ve got no use for women in a logging camp.”
Duncan twisted his hat tighter in his hands. “Yes, boss, I know that, and I’m beholden to you, but—”
“I told you when you brought her here that you were responsible for her,” Jason said. “I want no part of it. You got problems, you handle them.”
“Yes, sir, I know you said that, but, well…” Duncan ventured closer to the desk. “My Gladys and Polly Minton are fighting something fierce. I tried to settle it, I swear I did, but Polly’s took it into her head that Gladys stole from her and they’ve been going at it all day now. You got to help me, Mr. Kruger, you got to.”
Jason fumed silently, staring at the little man. Duncan was a good worker, nimble and surefooted in his job herding the great logs down the river to the millpond. He’d been loyal too. Turnover in the logging camps was high, but Duncan had stuck around. The only trouble he’d ever caused was bringing his wife here with him.
And now she’d been accused of stealing. Jason wouldn’t tolerate theft in the camp. He needed order and discipline among his crew to bring down the giant redwoods and Douglas firs, get them out of the rugged mountains, run them through the sawmill and send them off to market.
He couldn’t let a theft go unpunished. Female or not, he needed to put a stop to this.
Jason blew out his breath, tapping off some of his anger.
“All right, Duncan, I’ll take care of it,” he said.
“I’m beholden to you, boss, I am.” Duncan eased out the door. “I’ll go get my Gladys. That Miz Minton is here, too. I’ll fetch them both. They’re right outside.”
“Women.” Jason pulled on the back of his neck and dropped into his chair again. Bad enough dealing with the problems his crew created. Fights, mostly. A shooting every once in a while. Disagreements between his men could be settled quickly. But women…
Jason mumbled another curse.
The office door opened and Polly Minton and Gladys Duncan walked inside. Jason knew them both. He knew everybody in his logging camp and in the tiny town that had sprung up on its outskirts.
They were both big women. Jason was over six feet tall and Gladys could just about look him square in the eye. Polly ran the laundry and had scrubbed up some mighty impressive arm muscles.
Duncan eased between the women, still twisting his hat.
“Now, Mr. Kruger here, he’s agreed to hear you both out,” Duncan said, “and he’s going to settle this thing once and for all.”
Gladys and Polly glared at each other, then turned to Jason.
“All right,” Jason said. “Tell me what happened. You go first, Mrs. Minton.”
Polly Minton squared her shoulders, enjoying her moment.
“I was just doing the neighborly thing, the Christian thing,” Polly said. “I invited Gladys over to my house a few days ago and we sat a spell before I had to get supper going. Then today I dropped by her place—just to be neighborly—and sitting right there on her windowsill, pretty as you please, there it was.”
Jason frowned. “What?”
“She stole it!” Polly said.
“I did no such thing!” Gladys shouted.
“Stole what?” Jason asked.
“Look here. See for yourself. I brought it along for evidence.” Polly pulled back the cloth cover on the small hamper she’d carried into the office with her. She lifted out a half-eaten apple pie.
“I sneaked me a bite of this pie when Gladys wasn’t looking,” Polly said. “It’s my recipe. No two ways about it, Gladys Duncan stole me apple pie recipe!”
“I did no such thing!” Gladys declared.
“A pie recipe?” Jason got to his feet and turned to Duncan. “You’ve got me involved in this over some damn pie recipe?”
Polly gasped. “That recipe has been in my family for generations. It’s a treasure.”
“Some treasure!” Gladys tossed her head.
Jason pointed at Duncan. “I ought to fire you right now.”
He twisted his hat. “But Mr. Kruger—”
“She stole it while my back was turned,” Polly said. “Stole it because she’s jealous of my cooking.”
Gladys planted her hands on her ample hips. “You’re the jealous one. Jealous because everybody loves my roast chicken.” Gladys turned to Jason. “She’s been after my secret ingredients ever since I came here.”
Polly gasped. “That’s a lie!”
“It is not! You’re the jealous one!”
Jason waved his arms. “All right, now, hold it down.”
“It’s my recipe! I tasted my special ingredients the minute it touched my lips! And Gladys stole it from me! Taste it for yourself, Mr. Kruger. You’ll see.” Polly shoved the pie toward him.
“Mr. Kruger doesn’t want to taste your ol’ pie!” Gladys reached for the pie, bumped the plate and jarred it from Polly’s hand. It landed with a thud on Jason’s desk. Apples splattered across his papers, over his shirt and down his trousers.
There was a collective gasp, then a tense silence filled the office. Jason looked down at the gooey pie clinging to his clothing.
“Where’s my gun?” he asked softly.
Polly whimpered. Gladys groaned.
Duncan pushed his way between the two women. “Now, Mr. Kruger, think about what you’re saying. You can’t really shoot these women.”
“I’m not going to shoot them.” Jason lifted his head slowly. “I’m going to shoot you!”
Gladys burst into tears.
“Now, Mr. Kruger, you don’t want to go and do that.” Duncan wrung his hat fitfully.
“Get these women out of here!” Jason pointed toward the door. “I don’t want to see another woman in my camp!”
“But Mr. Kruger—”
“No more women! Ever!”
The office door opened and Shady Harper ambled inside.
“What do you want, Shady?” Jason snarled.
Shady took in the office with squinted eyes. “I brung you back something from town, boss.”
His face brightened. “My package?”
“Naw. Weren’t no mail today.”
Jason’s frown returned. “Leave it outside, Shady.”
“Don’t think I’d better do that.” Shady wiggled his fingers toward the door. “Come on in here.”
A delicate fragrance drifted into the office seconds before a woman stepped inside, bringing a hush to the room and freezing Jason in place.
She blinked up at him with big blue eyes. “Mr. Kruger? I’m Miss Amanda Pierce from San Francisco.”
He scowled at her. “Yeah?”
“I’m here at your request,” she said.
“My request?”
“Yes, Mr. Kruger. Your request for a wife.”
Chapter Two
“A wife!” Jason shouted.
Amanda glanced around the room at the faces staring at her. “Really, Mr. Kruger, there’s no need to raise your voice.”
“A wife?”
She was tired from her long journey and a headache threatened from the bone-rattling trip up the mountain. This Mr. Kruger was testing the limits of her good manners.
“Yes, Mr. Kruger, a—”
“What about my pie recipe?” Polly demanded.
“And what about her accusing me of stealing?” Gladys asked.
Duncan wrung his hat. “Mr. Kruger, you got to settle this once and for all.”
“Now look, all of you,” Jason said, “I don’t—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Kruger.” Amanda leaned closer and lowered her voice. “You’ve spilled a little pie on your shirt.”
The words just hung there for a moment between the two of them.
“Thank you,” he finally said, grinding out the words between clenched teeth as if he hadn’t the least bit of appreciation for her helpful comment.
He turned to the other women. “Now look, I don’t give a damn about whose pie recipe is whose, or who puts what into their roast chicken, or who stole what recipe. None of it amounts to a hill of ants and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
Polly bristled. “Well!”
“I never….” Gladys put her nose in the air.
“Get out of my office,” Jason said, “all of you. Come back when you’ve got a serious problem.”
Duncan moaned. “But Mr. Kruger…”
“Excuse me, Mr. Kruger?” Amanda said. “If I may say so, what you have here is, indeed, a serious problem.”
For a moment Jason Kruger looked as if he intended to toss her out of his office along with the others, but Amanda stood firm. He couldn’t give her his full attention until the stolen pie recipe was dealt with, and since Jason wasn’t taking it seriously, she would.
“If I may?” Amanda asked Jason.
He threw both hands up. “Have at it, lady.”
Amanda turned to the women. “As I understand it, one of you thinks the other stole your recipe.”
Polly jerked her head toward Gladys. “She stole my apple pie recipe.”
“And she’s after my roast chicken ingredients,” Gladys said.
“A woman works for years perfecting a recipe. She certainly doesn’t want another woman taking it, then passing it along for everyone to use.” Amanda turned to Jason. “Are you following this, Mr. Kruger?”
He threw her a sour look. “Hanging on every word.”
“Good,” Amanda said. “As I see it, there’s but one way to settle this issue. You ladies will exchange your pie and chicken recipes with each other. Only the two of you will have them. That way you can be assured neither recipe will be passed along to anyone else without fearing that your own recipe will then be passed on in retaliation. How does that sound?”
Gladys and Polly looked at each other, then finally nodded their agreement.
