7. Holden
Holden
My phone rang while I was fixing some equipment after work.
I’d just finished wiping down the grease fittings on the skidder, looking forward to washing the day’s grime off my hands. I pulled the phone from my work jeans, squinting against the late afternoon sun to read the screen.
It was a Montana area code.
But I didn’t recognize the number.
My thumb hovered over the phone for a long second before I finally swiped to answer.
“Holden,” a familiar voice barked gruffly through the speaker before I could even say hello. “Tell me you aren’t still working for peanuts down in the Ozarks.”
I leaned my hip against the massive tire of the skidder. Seriously?
“Dutch. It’s been a while.” I couldn’t fake any enthusiasm.
Dutch had been my foreman back in Kalispell. He was a hard man to work for, but he ran a tight crew and he knew timber better than anyone I’d ever met.
“It’s been too long,” Dutch rumbled, his voice crackling slightly over a bad connection.
“Listen, I’ll get right to the point. I need a good man.
The company secured a massive new lease up near Libby.
New forest. No pine borers. The timber is clean, the weather is holding, and we are heavily understaffed for the quota they want us to hit by winter. ”
I shifted my weight, staring out at the Harrison Logging Camp. Carl and Duke were walking back toward the cookhouse, laughing about something I couldn’t hear. John was sharpening his knife blade, and Shane was strumming on his guitar.
“I appreciate the thought, Dutch,” I said evenly. “But I’m settling in well here. It’s a good crew and I’m going to give it a go down here.”
“Holden, don’t give me that bullshit. You’re a hired gun down there just like you were up here. What are they paying you?”
I tightened my jaw. “Enough to get by.”
“That means not enough,” Dutch countered immediately. “Corporate realized they screwed up when they panicked and laid off the experienced guys. They gave me the budget to fix it. I want you back on my roster. How soon can you get back to Montana?”
“I said no, Dutch. I’m happy here.”
“I’ll give you ten dollars an hour over what you were making before.”
That stopped me in my tracks. I gripped the skidder tire.
Ten dollars an hour. How much more would that be in a year? Twenty thousand?
A man could do a lot with twenty thousand dollars. Like pay off my truck loan.
“You’re quiet,” Dutch noted.
“That’s a lot of money.”
“You’re worth it,” he said, his tone softening just a fraction. “I knew you were gold, Holden. Laying you off last season sucked. It wasn’t my call, and I fought corporate on it, but the numbers were the numbers. Now… the numbers are different. We can make a pile of cash together.”
I stared at the cookhouse door. Mina was there calling everyone to dinner, but I stayed rooted in place.
With that kind of money, I wouldn’t just be surviving. I could actually start putting cash away. Serious cash.
I already had enough for a down payment on some land. But what if I could get enough to buy the materials for a cabin, too?
“It isn’t just the hourly rate,” Dutch pushed, sensing my hesitation.
“I’m offering you a lead salary position.
You wouldn’t be the new guy sweating out his shifts anymore.
And corporate authorized a two-year employment guarantee.
In writing. You sign the paper, and you are locked in for twenty-four months, rain or shine. ”
Two years.
I hadn’t lived anywhere for two years in a row since I was a kid bouncing from rental to rental with my old man. I didn’t even know what two years of guaranteed stability felt like.
But Olive’s face flashed into my mind.
I saw her dark eyes looking up at me in the moonlight. I remembered the fierce, protective way she had patched up my hand, and the undeniable heat of her body tangled with mine.
Olive wasn’t in Montana. Her clinic was here. Her sister was here. Her whole life was deeply embedded in the red dirt of this mountain town. And nothing would make me leave her side.
“I’m not taking the job, Dutch,” I said, my voice coming out rough.
“Holden, you’re not thinking straight. Did you hear the numbers I just threw at you?”
“I heard them. It’s a hell of an offer. But I’m staying in Arkansas.”
Dutch let out a heavy sigh that hissed through the phone. “Look. Don’t give me a hard no right now. Just think about it for a few days. Talk to your current foreman. See if he can even come close to matching it. Call me by Friday.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, exhausted. “I’ll think about it.”
“Friday, Holden. Don’t make me give this slot to someone else.”
He hung up.
Fuck.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket, wishing Dutch hadn’t called.
The only clear thought in my head was that nothing would make me leave Olive. But the security Dutch was offering? If he’d called before I met Olive, I might have been tempted.
There wasn’t a guarantee of anything here at the logging camp. I was still in my six-month new-hire period, and Dylan hadn’t said one way or the other how it was going.
I pulled my phone back out before I could talk myself out of it.
Olive’s name sat there on the screen.
I typed out a text.
My old boss called. Got a big offer from Montana. I’m not taking it.
No. Damn it. No.
I deleted the words.
We’d only had a few dates. A text like that made it sound like I was gunning for more than Olive had offered me yet. A conversation like that should happen in person.
I tried again.
There’s something I need to talk to you about tonight.
No, I didn’t like that one either.
It sounded like I was about to break her heart, and the thought of Olive sitting alone in that little house of hers, staring at those words and wondering what I meant, made my stomach flip over queasily.
I shoved the phone back into my pocket as I made a decision.
Before I asked Olive what we meant, I needed to know whether I actually had a job here at the camp long term.
And that meant I needed to talk to Dylan.
I thought about Brent again, and my stomach tightened into a knot.
If he’d dumped a seasoned pro like Brent, what made me think my job was safe?
Two hours later Shane handed me a mug of cheap camp coffee, but I couldn’t drink it. There was a tight knot sitting heavy in my gut.
I was sitting on an old stump, staring out into the dark woods beyond the lights of the camp.
Dinner had ended an hour ago, but the conversation with Dutch had been rolling through my mind ever since.
Shane hunkered down next to me, resting his forearms on his knees. Brent sauntered over and leaned against the wooden porch rail a few feet away, nursing a cold beer and staring out at the camp with his usual, unreadable expression.
His limp was still there, but at least the crutches were gone.
“Did you come to hang out with the real men?” Shane joked.
Brent shook his head. “Naw. They’re back at the sawmill. Claire was coming out to see Mina, and I figured I’d tag along.”
Shane laughed. “The real men are right here, Brent. What you boys do is turn our big wood into little boards.”
“You know I’d be back here with you guys if I could,” Brent grumbled.
I took a sip of the black coffee and it burned the whole way down. If I knew the guy better, I’d just ask what happened. But we’d never been close.
“Shane,” I asked quietly, keeping my eyes on the trees. “What’s Dylan’s track record with the six-month reviews?”
Shane glanced over at me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, does he actually keep guys on permanently after their probationary period? Or does he find a reason to cut them loose and rotate fresh guys in to keep the payroll down?”
A lot of logging camps did that.
And here, there was an automatic raise that came at the six-month mark. That’s what I’d been told when they hired me. So a new guy would always be cheaper.
Shane frowned. “Dylan doesn’t play games with payroll. He keeps the guys who do the work. You do the work. Simple as that.”
“He doesn’t go out of his way to tell people where they stand,” I rumbled. “I just want to know what the chances are that he’ll let me go at my review.”
Brent snorted from the porch rail. “You’re sweating over the six-month review? You’ve been running a skidder for a week with a glued-together hand, dude. You work harder than half the guys here.”
“I just want to know where I stand,” I muttered, staring down at my coffee.
“You need to talk to Dylan if you’re that worked up about it,” Shane said reasonably. “But I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t want to keep you on. You fit in with the crew. You don’t cause trouble. You’re a cool guy.”
Then he stood up and stretched, heading to the cookhouse for a refill.
Brent took a slow drink of his beer. His dark eyes locked onto mine, sharp and calculating. “This isn’t about the timber, is it?”
I didn’t answer.
“You got an offer,” Brent stated flatly. It wasn’t a question.
I looked up at him, mildly surprised. “How’d you know?”
“You’ve got that restless dog look,” Brent rumbled. “The one a guy gets when he’s trying to figure out which direction to run. My guess? It’s somewhere paying a lot more than we make here on Red Oak Mountain.”
I sighed, setting my coffee mug down on the ground. “My old foreman up in Montana called today. He offered me a lead spot. Big pay bump. Two-year guaranteed contract.”
“You going to take it?”
I shook my head. But Brent didn’t look impressed.
“Don’t be an idiot, Holden,” Brent said bluntly. “You want the woman or the job? It’s a simple decision.”
Of course he’d know about me and Olive. Claire was her sister after all.
“It’s not that simple, Brent,” I shot back. “I don’t want the job. I want Olive. But I need to know this job is going to stick around before I bet my entire life on it.”
Brent went quiet.
I ran my good hand roughly through my hair. I wasn’t a man who talked about his feelings. I kept things light. But the weight of the day was pressing down hard, cracking the protective shell I usually wore around these guys.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” I admitted. “I could see her being the one. But I can’t ask Olive to invest in me if I’m just going to get cut from the roster in a few months and have to pack my truck again.”
Brent clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder, leaving it there for a solid second. “Talk to Dylan. He’s in his cabin. Get your answer tonight.”
But would Dylan tell me the truth?
The guy with all the answers was right here, glaring at me. All I had to do was ask him.
But another question was burning strong. So I asked, “You think she likes me?”
He snorted again. “If you leave her, Claire will personally hunt you down, and I won’t stop her. I might even help.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Good to know. Does that mean Olive’s into me?”
Brent grunted. “The last guy who fucked with her got chased right out of town. You should expect the same treatment if you’re just playing games.”
“I’m not,” I growled back.
It was time to level with the man. “Look, the reason I’m so worried about my job is because of what happened to you.”
He frowned at me. “What do you mean?”
“You know.” I waved at his knee.
“You’ve got a bad knee too?”
“No, man. I don’t.”
“Well, I don’t know what you’re worried about then.”
Damn it. Talking to Brent was like talking to a rock.
“You gave these people years of your life. And then they just kicked you to the curb after you hurt your knee on the job like you didn’t mean shit to them.”
He furrowed his brow as he processed what I’d said.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”
“Fill me in then. If it’s not true, what happened? All I know is you busted up your knee a little and a week later you were out of a job.”
Brent sighed and creaked down onto a stump near me.
“That’s not how it went down. Doc Hansen, the evil bastard that he is, told me I was going to blow out my knee if I kept working so hard.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “He started saying if I went any longer I was going to end up crippled. I had to quit.”
Huh. Brent had quit.
Olive had been right. I didn’t know half the story.
And damn, now I really felt bad for him.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t know. I thought… well, I thought Dylan was pretty heartless for getting rid of you like he did.”
“Trust me, I’d give anything to be back out here razzing you guys and giving y’all shit every day. But the sawmill’s where I’m at now. And it’s not too bad.”
He took a swig of beer, and we both sat there in silence for a while.
When he finally talked again, he said, “If you’re worried about Dylan and the review, you should just go talk to the man. He’s actually pretty cool… for a boss.”
I stood up and dusted off my pants.
Then he added, “But I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d kill you if you hurt Olive.”
A smile landed on my lips. “You actually hadn’t said that, man.”
“Well… maybe I thought it real hard.”
I laughed. “See you later, Brent.”
He was right about one thing. I needed to talk to Dylan.
I walked straight through camp to the foreman’s cabin, ignoring the guys sitting by the fire.
When I got there, I didn’t hesitate. I raised my fist and knocked hard on the wood.
“Yeah,” Dylan’s rough voice called out from inside. “Come in.”
I pushed the door open.
I wasn’t going to beat around the bush. Especially since Mina was inside the cabin, putting their baby to sleep.
“Do I have a future here or not?”
Dylan wiped his hands together and rumbled, “Let’s talk outside.”
Standing on the porch, he asked, “What’s this all about?”
It was time to put all my cards on the table.
“I got another job offer. So I want to know if you plan to keep me once I hit my six months.”
Dylan frowned. “I didn’t know you were looking.”
“I’m not. My old foreman called. Offered me a big-ass raise and a two-year contract for coming back.”
“Damn. You’re one of the best new hires we’ve got. The Harrisons are going to cry when they find out. Can you give me time to talk to them before you decide? Maybe we can entice you to stay.”
My heart was pounding as we sat down in the old chairs on his front porch to talk about brass tacks. I hadn’t meant to open a negotiation about my wage. But… if he was going there, I might as well hear him out.