Love Inspired March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Wife for Jacob\The Forest Ranger's Rescue\Alaskan Homecoming (29 page)

“You bet I will.” Ida nodded, her stern expression indicating she understood the problem only too well and didn't like it either.

Jill hated checking up on Frank and having Ida tattle on the man, but their precarious financial position was too important to ignore.

“Shall we go?” Jill faced the two forestry men.

Brent opened the door and stood back. “Ladies first.”

She caught the smile in his tone, but still felt as though she were walking out to the executioner's block. She only hoped that the LEO found everything in order. Right now, she didn't know what to expect.

The first place they went was to look at the log decks. The enormous claws of the heavy-lift logstacker unloaded trees from a truck that had come in an hour earlier. Smaller forklifts picked up logs and jetted them over to the barkers and trim saws, to remove the bark and cut the logs.

John snapped a series of pictures. As a certified cruiser, he measured the volume of various tree trunks. Jill knew if he found anything out of order, he'd be the one to testify against them in a court of law.

“How often do you have trucks coming in?” he asked.

“Right now, we're averaging five or six loads per day. But that should more than double now that summer is here and the mud is clearing off the mountains.”

He inclined his head and rested his palm against the rough bark of a ponderosa pine. They called it a pumpkin, an enormous, valuable tree with few flaws in the trunk. He scraped his fingernail against a round splotch of paint at the base of the saw cut. It was the mark put there by the Forest Service to say it was okay to harvest this tree. When he reached inside his pants pocket and pulled out a small dropper vial, Jill widened her eyes in fascinated horror.

Oh, no. He was going to check the tracer paint.

Tracer paint was used to indicate boundary lines and which trees were approved by the Forest Service to be harvested. Embedded with a special element, the paint was proof that this tree was cut legally. But thieves often falsified the paint. The liquid in the glass vial would tell the truth.

Jill held her breath as John removed the dropper from the bottle. He squirted a small amount of reagent on the orange paint of the log. She was vaguely conscious of Brent standing nearby, as though offering his silent support. For some crazy reason, she took comfort from his presence. But then she reconsidered, thinking she was imagining things. He wasn't here to help her. He was Forest Service, after all.

While John took some more measurements, Jill stared at the chemical he'd left to soak into the tree bark for about thirty seconds. Then he blotted the area with a white tissue. The smudge of residue came away bright pink in color.

“Looks good.” John smiled for the first time since he'd arrived.

Jill exhaled and blinked, beyond relieved. One tree had passed the test, but what about the thousands of logs waiting to be processed through the mill? Dad had prided himself on his integrity and Alan had assured her they still ran an honest operation. She hoped that was true.

“I'm going to check a few more trees,” John said.

Brent assisted, jotting measurements in a small notebook he carried in his shirt pocket. Jill followed behind, watching helplessly as they did their work.

“Relax. This is just a preliminary investigation,” Brent whispered near her ear.

She jerked her head up, the warmth of his breath tickling her cheek and making her shiver.

“It's gonna be okay,” Brent added, squeezing her arm to show his support.

He flashed a generous smile and stepped away. Her gaze followed him, no matter how hard she tried to look away. She felt frozen in place. Mesmerized by his charm. She wanted to trust him. She really did. But what if he found something out of order? What if he found evidence of tree theft?

She knew the answer. He'd be compelled to take action against the mill. Alan could be held accountable. Even she could be named as a defendant. They could lose their family reputation and business. And it wouldn't matter one little bit that she liked this man and had willingly helped his sweet daughter.

* * *

Brent moved past Jill and hoped he was right. Everything would be fine. But inside, his bones were quaking. Someone had stolen that timber. It hadn't disappeared into thin air. He hoped Alan had told him the truth. That Frank was cutting the trees late at night and driving them down off the mountain to process here at the mill.

A loud buzzing sound filled the air. Brent whirled around to look at Jill. She reached into her pocket and answered her cell phone.

“Hi, Ida.” A brief pause followed as she tucked a wispy tendril of hair behind her ear. “Good. I'm so relieved. Thanks for letting me know.”

She hung up and glanced at Brent.

“Frank's gotten the saws working again,” she said.

Good. That news made Brent happy, too. A sudden surge of compassion flooded his chest. Jill must be so worried right now. And that made him worry, too. Because he cared about this woman. Because he liked her. A lot. Okay, maybe more than a lot. Maybe too much. He wished he dared ask her out. To be alone with her for a while. To hold her hand and talk about something besides Evie and the mill's problems.

He didn't want this business to go under. He wanted nothing but good for Jill and her family. But he couldn't analyze his feelings too closely right now. Her mom could barely stand the sight of him. He could have no future with Jill.

Forcing himself to concentrate on work, he helped John take several more samples. Each one checked out okay and he couldn't help returning Jill's pleased smile. He knew the stakes were high. Across the nation, sawmills were struggling financially. One huge ponderosa pine tree could be worth more than five thousand dollars. That money would go a long way toward paying a house mortgage or college tuition for a mill employee's kids. It was so tempting to steal trees. Brent just hoped they could find proof to convict Frank and exonerate Alan.

At the live deck, the loud whine of the head rig band saw proved that Frank had gotten production rolling again. As the sharp blades cut full logs into flitches, the air smelled of sour sawdust and burnt wood. At the planer, several men wearing hard hats, leather gloves, heavy boots and a variety of blue coveralls stood beneath an open-air canopy along the conveyer belt. The trim saws droned on in an endless cacophony of noise. Working fast, the men pulled the freshly cut lumber, sorting and stacking it onto carts according to the dimensions of the green boards.

Jill studied the workers with eagle eyes. Brent knew she must be hoping they'd make their quota today, in spite of the saws being out of commission for several hours. Between answering John's questions and Frank's belligerence, Jill had her hands full. And once again, Brent found himself wishing he could take this burden from her. That he could protect her somehow.

A tense hour later, John slid the reagent vial back into his pocket and tilted his head. “I think I've got what I need for today. Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Russell.”

Jill nodded, her face pale. The engine of a forklift almost hid her shuddering sigh. She folded her arms, trying to appear passive. John didn't seem to notice, but Brent knew her too well. The way she ducked her head, then shot John a quick glance to see his expression. Her calm voice with just a bit of tremor as she took a breath. She was scared, and Brent couldn't blame her. But she was doing an admirable job of hiding her nervousness.

She accompanied him and John back to the graveled parking lot. John said goodbye and climbed into Brent's Forest Service truck. Brent held back, showing a friendly smile.

“I'm sorry we had to put you through this, Jill,” he said.

“Yeah, I know.” She folded her arms and shrugged, looking tense and upset.

Brent knew Jill cared about Evie. A lot. And because of her good work with his daughter, he'd lowered his guard. He'd come to admire and respect this woman. Being near her helped him forget the pain of Lina's death. But he mustn't forget what was at stake. Jill's brother's life. Her family's business. Evie's well-being.

His own heart.

Brent mustn't forget again. It'd be best to keep Jill at a distance. To keep her work with Evie impersonal. To forget about dating the pretty special-education teacher and concentrate on his ranger job and his daughter's needs.

Maybe it was already too late. Maybe...

No! He couldn't afford to think that way.

“See you later.”

“Yeah, later.”

Brent climbed into the driver's seat of his truck. His forehead drew together in a troubled frown. He didn't like this any more than Jill did. He had no hidden agenda and took no special delight in hurting Alan or the sawmill. The last thing he wanted was to cut off the mill's timber harvest contracts. That would shut down the mill and put a lot of good people out of work. But if he and John McLaughlin found evidence to convict Jill's brother of timber theft, that's what he'd be forced to do. He was the forest ranger and had a job to do. He just didn't want to hurt Jill in the process.

He started the ignition and put the truck in Reverse. Lifting a hand, he waved at Jill. She stood where he'd left her, standing in front of the door to her office. She nodded in acknowledgment, looking lost and forlorn. Worried. And he didn't like that. No, not at all.

He fought off the impulse to turn around and comfort her. To tell her everything would be okay. To keep her safe.

“I don't like this.” Brent glanced at John.

Gravel crackled beneath the tires of his truck as he pulled out of the mill yard.

“I know. I can tell you like that lady. She's nice enough. Do you think she suspects what we were really doing here today?” John clicked on his seat belt and rested his right arm along the edge of the window seal.

Looking in the rearview mirror, Brent saw Jill go inside, disappearing from view. And he realized he missed her already.

“I doubt it. I think she's pretty trusting of people. I doubt she knows our investigation today was mostly for show. To make Frank think we suspect Alan instead of him,” Brent said.

“Do you think Alan has told Jill about Frank's midnight logging and processing stolen timber at the mill?”

“No. I think she would have said something if she knew. Alan's doing exactly what he's been instructed to do by keeping his mouth shut and waiting on us.” Brent shook his head and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

Jill had such an authentic openness to her. If she knew about Frank's thievery, she would have indicated it somehow. A look, a glance. The truth would be written on her face. Her personal integrity was too straightforward to keep something that important a secret. Brent didn't know how he knew that about Jill, but he did.

“She has a right to know the truth. I think we can trust her,” Brent said.

“You know we can't tell her. Not yet, anyway. Not until we have proof. It'd jeopardize our case against Frank. It's the deal the US Attorney's office made with Alan.”

“Yeah, I know. But I don't like it,” Brent admitted.

He'd been as honest as possible with Jill and told her the LEO would be coming in this week for a preliminary investigation. And yet, he felt as if he'd betrayed her somehow. As if this was his fault. After she'd agreed to help with Evie and even defended him to her mom, he thought the least he owed her was the truth. That Alan was helping them with their investigation.

John pointed across the road. “That would be a great place to set up a surveillance camera.”

Brent glanced that way and nodded. “Yeah, that would work. We can come over later tonight, after the mill's shut down.”

Directly across from the sawmill, the river skirted the road, edged by thick stands of cottonwoods and willows. It also happened to be city property. An ideal location with lots of cover to hide a camera while they filmed logging trucks coming in and out of the mill late at night.

“Why don't you take me up on the mountain and show me the theft site now? I'd also like to see the cutblock where the mill's currently harvesting timber.”

Nodding his acquiescence, Brent headed out of town. They had just enough time to view the cutblock before he had to return home and pick up Evie. He thought about taking her to her lessons with Jill tomorrow. And thinking about seeing the woman again filled him with both anticipation and dread. Because he wanted to see Jill, almost as much as he needed air to breathe.

Chapter Eight

T
he next day, Jill tossed her purse on the kitchen counter in Mom's house and kicked off her high heels. As she padded across the blue linoleum in her bare feet, she peeled off her jacket and placed it across the back of a chair. She circled around to the living room.

“Alan! Where are you?” she called to the house.

She longed to exchange her business suit for a pair of comfy blue jeans and sweatshirt, but that would have to wait. Her visit to the bank manager that afternoon had chilled her to the core.

In spite of being cold, she swiped at beads of perspiration at the back of her neck. Shock, fear and dread waged a battle inside her mind. She hoped Alan was here and not up on the mountain working. Mom had told her she'd be going over to the church to help gather gently used clothing to donate to the homeless shelter in Boise. Glad to have her mother busy in some project besides sitting around the house moping all day, Jill had contributed a couple of blouses for the worthwhile cause. Maybe she'd be able to talk to Alan in private before Mom came home and found out how upset she was.

“Hey, what's up?” He emerged from the bathroom, combing his damp hair. An eruption of steam burst from the open doorway, telling her he'd just taken a shower.

She met his uncertain smile. “Did you just get off work?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I'm home early tonight. Going out with some friends. What did you need?”

She glanced at his clean blue jeans and red polo shirt. Because of his grimy work at the mill, he showered every night. But she caught the whiff of spicy cologne and wondered vaguely if he was meeting a girl instead of his buddies from the mill.

“We need to talk, before Mom gets home.” She did an about-face and gestured for him to follow her to the living room.

“Okay.” He sounded easygoing, his tenor voice so much like Dad's.

Sitting on the sofa, she curled her bare legs beneath her and tugged the hem of her skirt down over her knees. Reaching for a tasseled pillow she hugged it close against her chest. Anchoring her arms around something solid helped settle her nerves while she waited for him to join her.

He sat opposite her, adding a few final strokes to tidy his hair. “So, what's up?”

“I just paid a visit to Clarence Baker.”

He shot her a quick glance. “You mean the bank manager?”

“Of course, the bank manager. Do you know any other Clarence Baker in town?”

She didn't mean to sound so sharp, but after what she'd been told, she was feeling rather grumpy right now.

Alan licked his lips and tossed the comb onto the coffee table. “I wish you'd told me beforehand that you were going to visit Clarence.”

She tossed him an accusing glare. “Oh, I'll bet you do. Imagine my surprise when he informed me that it was Dad that took out the two-million-dollar loan. Not you. Why did you let me believe it was you that had buried the sawmill in debt?”

He sat back and stretched his long legs out straight in front of him before crossing his ankles. “I love Dad. He worked hard all his life and had a good reputation in this town. He would have given anyone the shirt off his back. Including the forest ranger. If the mill goes under, I'd rather have people think it was me that caused its downfall, not Dad.”

His words softened her like nothing else could. She relaxed her stern expression just a bit. “But this is me you're talking to, Allie. I can't help you if I don't know the truth. I deserve that much up front. I shouldn't have to find out from the bank manager.”

He sat forward and met her eyes. “I know, Jill. But maybe you can see it from my perspective. I'm your kid brother. I've always looked up to you. Admired you. Tried to make you proud. And now, the mill is failing. Because of me.”

“No! I don't believe that at all.” She thrust the pillow aside, wishing she could show the same calm reasoning with her brother that she exhibited with Evie. But somehow, the situations felt different. She was good at dealing with children. But issues involving the sawmill made her overly emotional.

Alan lifted a hand to quiet her. “I didn't mean to keep anything from you. I just didn't tell you that Dad had taken out the loan instead of me. Regardless, it doesn't change anything. We've got to keep the mill going. The last thing I want to do is cast blame on someone.”

She sat back and clamped her mouth shut, thinking over his words. “Yes, you're right. But no more keeping things from me, okay? If you know something, you need to tell me. If we can't trust each other, I don't know who we can trust.”

He frowned and twin furrows marred his forehead. He looked away, no longer meeting her eyes. As though he were troubled by something. And once more, she got the impression he was still keeping something from her.

“Alan, is there something else I need to know?”

He shook his head, his jaw tight. “No, sis. Stop worrying. I'm doing what I'm supposed to do. Everything's gonna be fine. I know it will.”

“Okay, but we're still missing five hundred thousand dollars. You're sure you don't know what Dad might have done with the money?”

He made a googly expression with his eyes. “I have no idea. Are you sure Ida's math is correct? It's possible she simply forgot to make a journal entry.”

Not likely, but it was possible. “That's too much money to miss in a journal entry. There should be receipts to track back to the source. I've gone over the books numerous times. I can see where the money was received from the bank, but then it was withdrawn from the account by Dad. No receipts or ledgers show what happened to the funds. It's as though it just disappeared.”

A laugh slipped from his throat. “I didn't take it, I can assure you of that. If I had, I'd be driving a whole lot better vehicle than my beat-up old truck.”

She chuckled at his humor. “I'm sure it'll come to light sooner or later. I'll check again. And there's one more issue.”

“What's that?”

“Frank Casewell.” She released an exasperated breath and shook her head. “Remind me again why you hired that guy. He's lazy and disrespectful. Not at all good for our mill.” She couldn't prevent a note of disgust from entering her voice as she quickly told him what had happened when Brent and the LEO had arrived at the mill, demanding a tour.

“I'm sorry you had to take care of that without me, but I agree,” he said. “Frank won't be with us much longer, but I don't want you to say or do anything about him, understand? You stick to the office and let me take care of Frank in my own time. Trust me on this. I've got the situation under control.” He met her eyes in a solemn stare and she heard the firmness in his tone. Surprising, considering he usually deferred to her judgment in such matters. But not this time.

“It's kind of hard to stick to the office when Frank won't help out and you're not around. I had no choice but to accompany Brent and the LEO.”

“I'm sorry, sis. I wish I'd been there to give them the tour, but you handled it fine. Just give me a little more time to resolve the issue. Don't say or do anything about this problem. Leave Frank to me.” Again, his gaze locked with hers in a persistent look filled with iron will.

Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones. A feeling of trepidation swept over her, a nervous tickle at the nape of her neck. But she couldn't ask for Alan's trust and not return the same consideration to him.

“Okay. I'll leave Frank to you,” she promised.

He flashed a wide smile, slapped his hands down on the armrests of his chair, and pushed himself into a standing position. “Hey, you going to church with us on Sunday?”

She jerked her head up in surprise. “I hadn't really thought about it. Why?”

He lifted one shoulder. “You haven't gone with us since you've been home these past two weeks and everyone's been asking about you and how you're doing.”

“Tell them I'm fine.”

“They'd like to see you. Why don't you come with Mom and me?”

She snorted. “The last thing I want is to stand in a circle surrounded by old friends as they quiz me about my cheating husband.”

He made a tsking sound of empathy. “I think they care about you more than that, sweetheart.”

Jill wasn't so certain. And yet, maybe church wouldn't be a bad idea. She'd been thinking more about God lately, and didn't feel as angry at Him anymore. Brent and her work with Evie had softened her heart more than she realized. She'd hoped she could cure Evie, but she hadn't counted on the girl and her father helping
her
heal, too.

“I'll think about it,” Jill said.

“Great. I'm going out now. I'll see you later.”

She swung her legs over the side of the couch and placed her bare feet on the floor. “What about dinner?”

He reached for the doorknob, giving it a quick twist before opening the portal wide. “I won't be joining you tonight. Tell Mom not to wait up.”

And he was gone.

* * *

On Friday evening, Brent was running late to drop Evie off at Jill's place. As usual, he parked down the street, away from Arline's house. He suspected she preferred it that way. So the neighbors wouldn't see his truck in front of her house.

Opening Evie's door, he helped her click off the seat belt and hop down onto the sidewalk. After reaching for her dry-erase board, she held his hand as they walked to the house. In the front yard, Brent caught sight of Jill kneeling in the front flower bed. Dressed in knee-length capris and tennis shoes, and a pair of leather gloves. With her head down, she didn't see them past the wide brim of her floppy straw hat.

Snip. Snip.

Using a pair of clippers, she pruned dead branches off the rosebush.

“Ouch!” She jerked her hand back and tugged off the glove. She pressed her finger to her mouth, easing the bite from a thorn.

Her gaze lifted and she blinked in surprise. And then she gave them a dazzling smile. “Brent! Evie! I didn't know you were here.”

She crawled out from beneath the bush and stood before removing the hat and sailing it onto the grass. She glanced at her wristwatch. “Is it time for our lesson already? I must have lost track of time.”

Evie gazed back with serene curiosity, her eyes filled with the light of wonderment. Brent felt her fingers tighten around his own and knew she liked being here.

In a rush of energy, Jill gathered up her bucket and clippers. “Don't worry. I'll be ready for our lesson in just a few moments.”

“It's okay. No hurry,” Brent reassured her.

“Evie!”

They simultaneously turned toward the house. Arline stood on the doorstep, waving to the girl.

Evie hesitated and that was when Brent realized she was never fully at ease. Not even here.

“It's okay, Evie. You can go with Mom. She has a special treat for you. I'll come inside in just a few minutes.” Jill spoke in a gentle voice.

The girl gave a slight lift of her chin, almost as if Jill's approval was all she needed to know she was safe. That she could do this and it would be okay.

Evie ran to the house. Brent wasn't certain, but he got the impression she was trying to be brave. To overcome her fears of the unknown. And that brought a hard lump to his throat. Because he knew this wasn't easy for her. And next to Jill, he thought she was one of the most courageous people he knew.

Watching her go, Jill spoke low for Brent's ears alone. “Oh, yes. She's doing lots better.”

He faced her, noticing an endearing smudge of dirt along her chin. “Yes, she is.”

“Have you noticed more improvements at home?”

“Yes, she's now communicating with Mrs. Crawford with the dry-erase board and even helping fold the laundry.”

“That's great.”

He glanced at the flower bed. “My wife loved roses. Our house in Oregon was edged by dozens of red rosebushes.”

Jill smiled. “Roses are beautiful and fragrant. They're easy to love. But they also have thorns. I don't know what I'd do if I had to prune dozens of them. No matter how careful I am, I always get scratched.” She held up her arms to show him several thin abrasions marring her smooth flesh.

He cringed. “Ouch. You need to put a salve on those. It's too bad something so lovely can also cause so much pain.”

“Yes, it is, but I don't really mind. I love working in the yard. Mom's always glad when I'm home to do the work outside. Dad always did it before. She doesn't like it much.”

“I always enjoyed it, too,” he confided. “Though my wife loved roses, I was the one that did the upkeep, just like your dad. About the only thing she did was cut the flowers to put in a vase on our kitchen table.”

“Jill!”

They both whirled toward the corner at the back of the house where Alan stood waving at her.

“David's on the phone,” he called.

Jill frowned, then murmured an apology. “Excuse me for a few minutes, please. I'll be right back.”

She walked toward the door in a slow trudge, her shoulders hunched in dejection. A subtle indication she didn't want to take the call. Whoever David was, Brent had no doubt she didn't want to speak with him.

While he waited, Brent studied her work on the rosebush. Hmm. Might as well make himself useful. He picked up the clippers and continued pruning the plant. Minutes passed as he trimmed off dead stems, finding enjoyment in the task. He'd be able to finish the chore and save Jill from being injured again.

Memories rushed through his mind as he recalled doing this task for Lina. That seemed a lifetime ago. Like Arline, Brent's wife had hated working outdoors. But he'd loved it. One more thing he had in common with Jill.

“You don't need to do that.”

He flinched, scraping his hand against an angry thorn. He stood and gave a nervous chuckle. “I didn't know you were back.”