“To frighten you.”
Jasper choked on coffee.
Even Reed laughed.
Boyd did not.
After breakfast, Audra cleaned.
Not casually.
War.
She boiled water.
Scraped grease.
Threw away spoiled flour.
Sorted beans.
Washed shelves.
Sharpened knives.
Made Reed repair the pot.
He entered at noon and found her pointing at the soldered seam.
“This will split.”
“It hasn't.”
“It will.”
“Eventually everything splits.”
“That philosophy may be why your kitchen looks like this.”
He stared.
She stared back.
An hour later the pot was repaired properly.
Within a week Blackwater Camp had changed.
Not dramatically from the outside.
Men still cut timber.
Snow still came.
Saws still screamed through cedar.
Mules still hauled logs down frozen roads.
But the cook shack became the center of camp.
Audra learned each man’s appetite.
Jasper ate anything sweet.
Saul hated peas.
An older logger named Finn pretended not to like cinnamon and then stole apple turnovers from cooling racks.
Boyd preferred meat almost raw.
Reed drank coffee so black Audra accused him of using it to waterproof boots.
He replied:
“It keeps a man awake.”
“It keeps the dead awake.”
On the eighth day, Audra received fresh pork from a nearby ranch.
She butchered it herself.
Boyd stopped at the kitchen door.
“You know how?”
Audra looked at the carcass.
“My uncle raised hogs.”
Boyd watched her hands.
Strong.
Confident.
Precise.
She broke down meat faster than two camp cooks he had known.
He said nothing.
That almost felt like progress.
On the tenth day, a snow squall trapped everyone near camp by noon.
Audra made stew.
Bread.
Dried apple pastry.
Men crowded close to stove.
For the first time, Reed sat among them instead of eating slightly apart.
Audra noticed.
He noticed her noticing.
“Problem?”
“No.”
“You look surprised.”
“I thought camp owners ate money in private.”
Jasper laughed.
Reed pointed his spoon.
“Careful.”
Audra smiled.
It was the first time she felt almost comfortable.
Then came the eleventh day.
And Boyd ruined it.
Audra had spent the morning trimming fresh beef delivered from a ranch farther south.
The largest cut lay across her butcher table.
She wore the same burgundy dress, sleeves pushed above her elbows, her leather apron darkened from years of work.
The stove burned behind her.
Jasper stacked wood.
Saul peeled potatoes.
Reed stood near the iron stove drinking coffee.
Boyd entered.
He had been strange all morning.
Quieter.
Watching.
Audra assumed he was hungry.
Men at logging camps possessed three emotional states as far as she could tell.
Hungry.
Tired.
Pretending not to be injured.
Boyd poured coffee.
He leaned against the wall.
“Funny thing.”
Audra continued cutting.
“What?”
“Feeding all these men three times a day must keep you busy.”
“It does.”
“On top of everything else you've got to carry around.”
The knife slowed.
Jasper froze beside the wood box.
Saul stopped peeling.