Read Online The Lumberjack's Bride by Jean Kincaid - Free Book Online

The mental abuse had been worse than the physical. The most hurtful thing of all had been her aunt’s willing consent to this treatment, always quoting Bible passages about discipline. Was this the way Caleb believed? If so, she was in a heap of trouble and the woodshed could be the least of it. Julianne scrubbed the clothes, unaware of the passage of time.
    Jonathan’s whimpering pulled her from her reflections. She straightened. Arching her back, she looked up into the afternoon sky. Had she really been washing clothes that long? Drying clothes rested over rocks and branches all around her. Her back and neck ached from leaning over the water.
    Since Jonathan didn’t appear in too much distress, she decided to finish the last two shirts. She knew he had to be hungry and wet. She’d forgotten clean diapers, and not realizing the laundry would take so long, she’d counted on the bottle she’d fed him earlier to be sufficient until she returned to the cabin.
    The whimpering turned into angry screeches, and she hurried from the water with the two now-clean shirts. As she passed the basket, she looked at the baby, torn between caring for him and finishing her job. His little face had turned bright red and he waved his fist about.
    â€œI’m sorry, Jonathan,” she called, hoping her voice would calm him. She hung the garments and began to gather the dry ones, folding them and laying them on a fairly clean rock on the river bank.
    She raised her voice to cover the wails now interspersed with gasps for breath, he was crying so hard. “I’m hurrying, sweetheart. We’ll be home in a few minutes.”
    She turned her back on him and continued to fold the clothes. A sense of inadequacy swept over her. Maybe this job was too much for her.
    But you’ve done this since you were twelve , her mind argued. Everything was so new to her. Baby Jonathan, Caleb. This vast Washington territory. She should take it easy and get used to things before taking on such a venture. Her husband had paid her debt. She was free. If she didn’t want to, she didn’t have to do laundry.
    But you owe him, her conscience nagged.
    Jonathan’s cries stopped. She heard him sucking and sighed. “Poor baby.” He had a habit of sucking his fist when the bottle didn’t get there fast enough. Julianne knew it would be a short reprieve, so she hurriedly folded the last shirt and turned toward the baby.
    â€œNo!” The guttural cry tore from her throat.

Chapter 7
    T he Indian woman looked up from the baby at her breast. White teeth flashed as a smile trembled through the tears running down her face. Two braves stood guard behind her, their arms crossed over their chests. Julianne stumbled toward them, sheer black fright building fearful images in her mind. She fell on her knees in front of the woman.
    She pointed at Jonathan whose small fist clasped the woman’s hand, which lay protectively on the side of his head. The sound of slurping blended in with the gentle lapping of water.
    â€œMine,” Julianne stammered. “He’s mine.” Blood rushed to her head causing the breath to squeeze from her lungs. She placed a finger against the pulse in her neck to stem the rapid flow. She would not pass out now.
    Julianne reached for Jonathan, and one of the men stepped forward in silent threat. She sat back on her heels waiting for a blow that didn’t come. She looked up into the face of the warrior closest to her and wondered what tragedy could bring such sorrow to a person’s eyes. Neither man made another move; they just stood silently, watching the young woman feed Jonathan.
    Fresh tears joined the tracks already on the woman’s face. She nodded once and brushed the hair off Jonathan’s forehead. Long after Jonathan fell asleep, she gent­ly removed the baby from her breast and held him out for Julianne to take.
    Afraid she might change her mind Julianne snatched him