Free The Measure of Katie Calloway,: A Novel by Serena B. Miller Page B

pickles. “Here. You’re dead on your feet, Katie. You eat and then I want you and Ned to go to your cabin. You need to get some rest before tomorrow. Ernie and Cletus will clean up. Jigger can supervise.”
    It had been a long, long time since Katie had been treated with such civility. She sank down onto the far end of the bench, away from the knot of men, and gratefully tucked into her meal.
    “Sam already unloaded your things into the cabin,” Robert said when she was finished. “Are you ready to go?”
    “Yes.”
    “I’ll take you over there before I turn in.”
    As they made their way to Robert’s cabin, she wondered if she should apologize. She and Ned were taking the man’s private quarters and there was not a thing she could do about it.
    He opened the heavy door and she stepped into a room filled with the soft glow of a kerosene lamp covered with a golden shade. A fire snapped and crackled inside of a small airtight stove. Short, neat lengths of firewood were piled in one corner.
    A double bed covered with what appeared to be a fresh sheet sat in another corner. A table with two chairs was pushed beneath the single window. A dresser stood against the opposite wall. In the middle of the room, near the stove, was quite a treasure—a large rocking chair. In one corner sat the trunk she had purchased in Bay City, ready to be unpacked. A strong woodsy scent pervaded the cabin.
    “I like this place!” Ned said.
    “It’s very nice,” she said. “But why does it smell like Christmas in here?”
    Robert stuck his hands into his pockets. “It’s the spruce.”
    “Spruce?”
    “It’s a shanty boy trick. Sometimes they cut the tips off of spruce trees and layer them beneath a blanket. It makes it a little easier to sleep. I thought it would make things more comfortable for you if there were fresh boughs beneath that straw-tick mattress.”
    “When did Ernie and Cletus have time to gather spruce boughs?” she asked. “I watched them cleaning the cook shanty the entire time.”
    “They didn’t,” Robert said. “I did.”
    She found it hard to imagine the lumber camp boss going to that much effort just for her comfort. Then the thought struck that Robert might have less chivalrous reasons for making her bed comfortable. They were, after all, going to be isolated together in this camp for an entire winter. A cold chill ran down her spine. What had she let herself in for? She glanced at the door. There was no lock or bolt. Feeling a jolt of panic, she grabbed for Ned’s hand.
    Robert saw her looking for the reassurance of a lock, and realized why. He berated himself for his thoughtlessness. It had been stupid of him to fuss over her sleeping arrangements. Of course she would take it the wrong way.
    While wondering what to do about the situation, he reached up to scratch his head.
    Her reaction to his raised hand was startling. She flinched and ducked. Ned backed away and worriedly glanced back and forth between them.
    Her terrified reaction stunned Robert. This woman and child acted as though he intended on hitting her! He had never struck a woman in his life. Never had. Never would. He despised men who did.
    He had no idea what to say, so he simply stalked out of the cabin, went to the blacksmith’s shop, and came back with a hammer, a large nail, and a short length of oak board.
    Without a word of explanation, he pounded the board into the heavy wooden door and then loosened it just enough that it could be moved in a circular fashion. It would make a sturdy makeshift lock for the night.
    “I’ll have the blacksmith make you a proper sliding bolt when he gets here tomorrow.”
    “Thank you.” Tears trembled on the lashes of her pretty blue eyes.
    He could hardly believe what he was seeing. It was only a piece of wood, for pity’s sake.
    “I hate to bring it up.” She wiped tears away with the back of her hand. “But you said I could have my own private privy?”
    He had already forgotten about