Faith nodded and settled in to explain everything. She spoke for over ten minutes, then eased back in her chair. “I don’t know what to do.”
Andrew took a minute to ponder the tricky situation. “You mentioned them being under investigation. Can you explain that part?”
“I’m not supposed to, but I don’t see that it’s any real harm, since you’ve pledged to keep my secrets.” She started into the story of her cousin’s deceased husband and his gun sales to the Indians.
“Whiskey is forbidden because of the Indian’s low tolerance, and of course guns are very limited—hunting only, and the government keeps a strict accounting. Berkshire and these men see no reason to adhere to the law, however. They want to get the Native people riled up, and the whiskey helps—especially when you have men sitting around with nothing to do.”
“I heard the Indians were helping with the tree removal.”
Faith nodded. “Some are. They’re paid pennies compared to what the whites receive though. And many have no desire to help the white man and refuse to lend a hand, even for pay. I honestly can’t say that I blame them.”
“No, nor can I.” He looked away and thought of his past business transactions. “I have a confession to make.”
Faith smiled. “I’ve shared all of my secrets, so you might as well reciprocate.”
He didn’t so much as move. “I’ve done business with Lakewood and Berkshire. I did a great deal of business with Albert Pritchard.”
“You did?” She leaned forward, clearly excited at the possibility of gaining knowledge that could reveal Lakewood’s wrongdoing.
“Yes. I delivered a great deal of freight to various locations up and down the Willamette for Pritchard. I remember it well, because while I always have the occasional farmer who wants his supplies offloaded on the riverbank near his farm, they aren’t storing their goods in hidden shacks along the way.”
“Do you remember all of the places you delivered to?”
“I do. And if there were any problem with my memory, I have everything recorded in my logs.”
“You should speak to Seth. He’s helping in this—at least he was. It’s all quite complicated, and as I said, I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”
“And as I promised, your secrets are safe with me.”
“Miss Faith!”
It was Remli, carrying a tray of food, and Andrew was glad for the interruption. The things Faith had told him were worrisome. If Berkshire and his cronies were trying to stir up an Indian war, then Andrew had delivered more than enough weapons and ammunition to see the matter through to completion. It had never dawned on him that these men might be arming the Indians on the reservations.
“I’ve made you some of my specialties,” Remli declared. “I got beef pasties and gravy, greens and bacon, and for dessert, a berry cobbler good enough to turn your grandma’s head.”
“I never knew either of my grandmothers, but I’m certain your food would impress anyone who tried it. Andrew thinks I came here to enjoy his conversation and company, but in fact I came for your food.”
Remli laughed heartily, and Andrew grinned. He couldn’thelp it. Since he’d met Faith Kenner, he’d smiled more than he had in his entire lifetime before meeting her.
“I’ve put the table just over here. We can move it to be by the stove, if you like.”
Faith nodded. “I would like that. I spend so much time out walking in the cold and damp that I never feel quite warm enough.”
“Well then, let us do the lady’s bidding.” Andrew got to his feet and stretched out his arm to assist Faith from her seat. “First, we must make way.”
Once she was standing to the side, he and Remli made short work of moving the table and chairs. Remli had thought of everything, even bringing fine linen napkins for them to use. Once Remli had the table set and the hot food uncovered, Andrew was more than ready to eat.
“Allow me to help you to your seat,” he said in a formal manner. Taking Faith’s elbow, he led her to her chair and seated her before taking his own seat. The setting was intimate—perhaps too intimate—but Andrew couldn’t bring himself to change the situation. He offered a blessing for the food and then asked Remli to serve them.
They ate in silence for several minutes, sampling each of the things Remli had brought. Faith seemed more than pleased, and when Remli returned to see how they were doing, she lost little time in praising his efforts.
“This is wonderful, Remli. I want the recipe for the pasties. I am not much of a cook, but my cousin who runs a boardinghouse is, and I am going to suggest she make these at least once a week.”
He laughed. “Ain’t nothin’ needin’ a recipe, Miss Faith. Just cut up some cabbage and onion and cook it together with leftoverroast beef. I use rosemary to season it, and salt and pepper too. Then I chop it all up real fine. Roll out some pie crust. I make mine with buttermilk, and I think that makes all the difference. Make yourself some small circles of dough. Put in a generous scoop of the meat mixture and fold over the crust and pinch it closed. Then you bake ’em till they’re golden brown. Ain’t nothin’ to it.”
“Sounds delightful. I might even be able to manage it on my own.” Faith beamed at him.
Andrew marveled at how open she was with the black man. Most women wouldn’t even speak to his crew, but Faith made a point of it. He could well imagine her calling Remli one of her friends. And yet she sat there very prim and proper, looking every bit the lady of society.
