Free Brighter Tomorrows by Beverly Wells Page A

it have been a glint of apprehension he’d just caught?
    Puzzled, he glanced at Hans. “Well, tell me. It must be something important.” Another accident? It couldn’t be. He’d just left the logging site. Yet sheer dread gripped his chest.
    Hans obviously read his gut reaction, shook his head. “No one’s hurt. Nothing like that.”
    “Thank God.” He felt a flood of relief. “So? Shoot.”
    Hans squared his shoulders, shoved his hands into his pockets. Luke knew the usually confident man fretted over something. Hands in the pockets always told the story.
    “We...we was matchin’ the list when I spotted the apple of my eye.” Hans glanced at Missy, cleared his throat. “I chose that apple for my wife, Luke. No matter she be paired with someone else. Couldn’t help myself.”
    Luke nodded. He might be foreman, but it didn’t mean he had a say in the love life of the men, or in the matching of pairs, if all agreed. Ah, the problem. “And was that apple equally interested in you?”
    He caught Missy’s broad smile, a smile so infectious he found himself grinning. He knew the answer before Hans replied. But had Hans picked this woman? She didn’t appear his type.
    “Ja. Just about attacked me.” Hans grinned, his chest inflating like a contented rooster’s.
    Well , the almost-attacking woman couldn’t be Missy. She seemed way too reserved for any attack. That left one problem. “That leaves a man to claim the woman you didn’t.”
    “Ja.”
    Since knowing Hans for four months, Luke had never seen him act so uneasy. Hans’s hands flinched in his pockets. Damn, trouble seemed to erupt when women were around a camp.
    It came to him in a flash. Missy remained. Yet, that couldn’t be. She didn’t fit the description of the woman Hans had chosen on paper two months ago. Hell, he lacked too much sleep to play guessing games. “So, spit it out. What happened?”
    Luke watched Missy lean against the wagon. Lean? It looked as if she wanted to burrow into the wood.
    Hans pulled his hands out of his pockets, gestured with them in front of him. “I chose my bride, and Albert claimed Lila.” Lila. Ah, yes, Hans had raved about her. “Tom chose Sarah instead of Roberta, and Peter wanted Roberta.”
    Was anything ever simple? After an exhausting day of catastrophes, and this hopscotch of brides, a headache threatened. “And now, the last two don’t match, is that it?” Hans studied his boots, drove his hands back into his pockets then glanced at Missy. “We don’t know if they’ll match. They’ve... just met.”
    It took a split second for Hans’s words to register, to become crystal clear. No, Hans knew why Luke had picked Rosie. Hans wouldn’t intentionally turn the tables on him. But lust and love would, by damn. It made men commit worse crimes.
    He swallowed the lump in his throat. “You chose Rosie.” His words almost gagged him. He dreaded to hear Han’s confirmation. Hans nodded.
    Acid churned in Luke’s stomach, a sour taste spiraled past his throat to his mouth.
    He’d purposely picked a voluptuous dance hall woman. One who’d have no problem finding another man after he’d finished here. One who most likely would go along with his scheme and the proposition he offered.
    Jesus! He was in a world of shit.
     
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