On Blackstone Mountain: Chapter 5
If indeed some unsanctioned and illegal activity were going on, it was up to Josie to put a stop to it...
It had been nearly a week since Ben had come to see her about the cabin. Josie hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him, having kept to the mountain and the farm, but she’d had regular updates from Amelie via text on her new cell-phone. According to her friend, their mom was “in an uproar” about Ben having moved into a tent at the cabin while he started the work of bringing it back to life.
This is a type of romance novel which I call “farm-smut” and features sex and love on the homestead, farm, or off-grid Maine location. To follow along with the story, receiving new chapters directly to your inbox, please subscribe.
Previously on Blackstone Mountain…
Josie’s inheritance hinges upon the condition that she find a husband forfeit the farm to her Uncle Gregor. Accepting help from Aunt Rosemary and her BFF, Amelie, the reclusive Josie Greene agrees to give dating a try. Yet, having accepted Ben’s proposition to renovate the old fishing cabin might make it difficult to focus on the task at hand…
Chapter 5: Danger in the Woods
Though the new technology still confounded her, Josie had to admit it was nice to be able to keep in touch with the outside world. Amie now texted her multiple times a day and Josie felt closer to her friend than she had since they’d been in school together. And she’d been able to text Aunt Rosemary with the details of this week’s delivery, making good on her promise to bring back her weekly trip to town.
Now, as she loped along under the towering pines, spruce and cedar trees, skirting the marshes to the north of Blackstone Mountain, she berated herself for not bringing the thing with her. The woods in this part of the forest were not so welcoming as she remembered them and she was glad for Beau, who trotted on just ahead of her. Either he felt her anxiety or he was picking up the same vibe as she, for he’d stuck close during this expedition.
All week Josie had felt a growing sense of unease. Every now and again, she could hear a low rumbling coming across the landscape. Sometimes, too, when the wind would come from the north-east, she would catch the faint scent of diesel and motor oil.
Something wasn’t right…
It was little more than a game trail, but somehow Josie knew this was the direction the disturbance had been coming from. She wasn’t sure what she would find, but she had some guesses and suddenly, more than 4 miles from the farm, it occurred to her that it would have been a good idea to have brought something to defend herself with—just in case. Gramp’s shotgun or the little snub-nose pistol he’d given her. Even bear spray would have offered some protection, should the need arise.
But all she had with her was a pocket-knife and Beau, along with the hope and prayer that it was all in her head.
As steward, it was Josie’s responsibility to protect her grandfather’s legacy—the many thousands of acres he and his fore-fathers had amassed in the name of wildlife conservation. If indeed some unsanctioned and illegal activity were going on, it was up to Josie to put a stop to it. And so she went, onward and deeper into this darker part of the forest.
Here the undergrowth was thick with brush and brambles. Branches and thorns tore at Josie’s clothes and skin as she pushed her way through, and more than once she had to urge Beau on.
After a half mile or so, they stumbled out of the brambles and Josie paused to catch her breath. Surveying the landscape, she stilled to find herself in an area where the lower limbs of the trees had all been lopped and now littered the forest floor. In that instant she knew it was as she’d feared. Someone was cutting trees on her grandfather’s land. Her land.
Anger and fear pumping hotly through her veins as Josie picked her way forward through the downed branches, forcing herself to remain calm. After another half mile, she entered into a swath of land that had been recently cleared. Where stately trees once stood, now only stumps remained. At the far end of the clearing a pile of tree-length logs sat before a camper, with a new road cut between the forest heading east and a skidder parked nearby.
It was exactly as she’d feared.
Clipping the leash onto Beau’s collar to keep him close, Josie waited there several minutes just watching the place. Seeing no vehicles and no sign of activity she judged that whomever was working there had gone home for the day, and set out across the clear-cut toward the camper. If it was unlocked, she might be able to find paperwork or some clue as to who was illegally cutting there.
Forcing herself to breathe in and out as she approached the battered old camper, Josie’s heart hammered inside her chest.
What if there was someone inside?
When she turned the doorknob, however, she found it locked. Walking all the way around the thing offered no further insight, leaving Josie no other option but to make her way back across the cutting in the direction from which they’d come.
It was getting late now, the sun casting long shadows as Josie entered into the woods once more. As she picked her way across the grove of limbed trees, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she had the distinct sensation that something—or someone—was watching her.
At her side, Beau was tense and alert, and her eyes followed his gaze into the woods. Watching and waiting…
Josie’s heart fairly lept out of her chest when a twig snapped, only to be immediately followed by a wave of relief as a sly red fox darted off into the brush.
She laughed as Beau made to start after it, but at the sound of a terrible metal clap followed by horrible screaming her laughter died in her throat. Terrified, she made her way to where the fox now lay mangled in the teeth of a steel trap.
In the prime of his life, likely the fox had never had cause to learn about the man-made contraptions. Certainly her grandfather had never used such inhumane methods when hunting, and Josie knew she never could either.
Having stepped on the trap in such a way that it’s right front leg and part of his shoulder had been swallowed by the thing, crushing the lungs so that his breathing now came rasping and gurgling from his throat.
Kneeling, Josie drew the knife from her pocket and did the only thing she could do for the animal. She ended it’s suffering by slitting his throat.
Stroking the lush red fur, she murmured words of reassurance as he bled out on the forest floor, seeking to ease his passing from this world. When he was gone, Josie wept bitterly for the needless killing of such a beautiful creature.
Anger welled in her then, for the greed of man that drove such acts. The trap had surely been set by the same man or men who were illegally cutting on Blackstone property. It wasn’t enough that they were harvesting timber that wasn’t theirs. They had to terrorize the local wildlife, too.
Extracting the fox from the trap, Josie took both with her as she made her way toward home, vowing to pay the local game warden a visit when she next went to town.
“Hey, Josie! I thought that was you!” came a male voice from behind her.
Josie stood surveying the wall of drawers containing a wide selection of nuts and bolts. Each drawer was labeled with an image and description of it’s contents.
Turning, Josie saw her cousin J-J standing there and she smiled, “J-J! How are you?”
Unlike his father, her Uncle Gregor, cousin J-J had always been the epitome of kindness and compassion. They were roughly the same age and had often spent time together when his father would come to the farm to visit Gramp.
“Oh, I’m fine,” he told her airily. “But the real question is—how are you? You had a pretty long winter up there on the mountain, huh?”
Smiling ruefully, Josie shrugged, “It wasn’t so bad, really. I think the worst part was running out of coffee sometime around February.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d make out okay. You’ve always had a knack for surviving the worst.” J-J chuckled, “Well, listen, I just wanted to say—I know my Dad came to see you recently—but don’t worry about whatever he said to you. It’s just sour grapes is all. The whole family is grateful you were there to look after Gramp, and if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Taken aback for a moment by the sincerity of the offer, Josie nodded, “Okay, J-J—I appreciate that. Thank you.”
“Absolutely!” he said emphatically, clapping her on the back as he turned to go. “That’s what family’s for!”
“Friday night. 6 o’clock.” Aunt Rosemary said matter-of-factly, jarring Josie from her thoughts.
The shop was empty except for the two of them and Josie had lingered to help her aunt put away the produce: eggs, lettuces, snap peas, radishes, carrots, scallions and shallots from Blackstone Farm. All washed and packaged as Gramp had taught her, and labeled with the farm’s logo. But in Josie’s mind she still saw the scene in the woods. Trees massacred and the fox in the teeth of the steel trap. The violence had stirred up memories she’d long suppressed, from a time when her life had been much darker and more dismal.
“Huh?” Josie blinked.
Rolling her eyes, Aunt Rosemary chidded her niece, “The only way out of this is through it.”
Josie sighed, “I know, Auntie.”
Placing a bony hand on her shoulder, Rosemary said gently, “You know he did this because he loved you, right?”
The pain of her grandfather’s betrayal had lessened somewhat, but it still stung when she thought about it. Her stomach twisted then and her voice was bitter when she said, “Yeah, I know.”
Her aunt squeezed Josie’s shoulder before dropping her hand, bangles clanging about her slender wrist. “So, his name is Peter Dawson and you’re to meet him at Longfellow’s Friday night for dinner─at 6.”
“Peter Dawson?” It wasn’t a name Josie recognized. “Who is he?”
“He’s a professor at UMF in Farmington—teaches history, I believe. He does a lot of hiking up in the Valley and often stops here on his way to or from.” Aunt Rosemary told her, taking up the label-gun once more and pricing the items for the shelf. “I took the liberty of setting you up a date.”
“Aunt Rosemary—“ Josie hissed, anxiety flooding her body.
“Girl—you’ve got to start somewhere.” Aunt Rosemary said. “It’ll be okay, I promise. You’ll go, have a nice dinner with a fellow human being, talk a bit, maybe you’ll kiss, maybe you won’t, and then you’ll go home. No big deal.”
But it was a big deal.
All week leading up to Friday, Josie stressed about the upcoming date. Struggling to sleep at night, plagued by nightmares—visions and memories from her past stirred up by the scenes in the woods and the stress of her current situation. Her entire existence was a lie and Josie hated herself for deceiving the people around her.
She’d never told anyone what happened that night—when her mother and step-father died in that car accident.
Somehow she alone had survived the terrible wreck, though she’d often wished she hadn’t. Guilt gnawed at her, why did Gramp have to go and leave the farm to her? All the land and the entirety of the family estate?
If he’d known the truth he would have known she was utterly and wholly unworthy.
Just as, if Amie or Aunt Rosemary—or Ben—ever found out the truth, they would see too, and they would wash their hands of her. And rightfully so, Josie knew.
For whatever reason, though, Gramp had left his legacy to her and not Uncle Gregor. Josie could not disappoint the man, even in death. Josie’s life had been irrevocably changed the day her grandfather brought her home to Blackstone Mountain and she’d spent every day for the last seventeen years living on the farm in blissful happiness. She was utterly and truly grateful for that gift.
And so, she would go out with her aunt’s prospect. Grimly. Resolutely. If only to honor her grandfather in hopes of protecting the blessings he’d been bestowed upon her.
How long had it been since she’d been out with a man? she wondered.
Allowing her mind to travel back into the past as she washed up the dinner dishes that Thursday night, Josie recalled the last instance. His name was Toby Bennett, local Maine Guide and resident carpenter who Gramp had hired to do some work on the farmhouse. He’d been friendly and fun, and she’d taken it at face-value when he’d asked her to “hang out”.
In all her reclusiveness, Josie did not realize what that term had come to mean in modern slang. She’d found herself very much alone with a man she did not really know, who was expecting something she wasn’t ready to give.
It had been a common theme in her limited dating experience.
She’d been a tender twenty-three then. After that, Josie had shied away from dating and the opposite sex altogether. Gramp’s health continued to deteriorate and she was needed more and more to take over farm-chores, and to tend her grandfather. That had satisfied her for a long time. She was young, the farm kept her busy and she had the love of her grandfather, Aunt Rosemary and Amelie to satiate herself.
Doctors gave Gramp six-months to a year, when they’d initially diagnosed him. Everyone had been astounded to see him survive seven long years before finally losing the battle last November. Bed-ridden toward the end, he’d slept often under the effects of drugs provided to make him comfortable. Thus Josie spent long days—months and years—alone. Even as much as she loved the farm, the mountain and her work, there were times when the pang of loneliness consumed her.
In those moments of weakness, she would pull out those secret feelings, allowing herself to wonder where in the world Ben was and what he was doing now. Or who.
It was silly, she knew, but sometimes late at night when she sat on the front porch, she liked knowing that the same moon looking down on her, was the same moon looking down on Ben…wherever he was.
Having him take up residence in the old fishing cabin was both a comfort and a torment. It was a relief to know he was safe, living back in the area rekindling ties with his family. But having him so close at hand and still unable to have him was a slow and painful torture of another kind.
For years she’d told herself it was just an obsessive infatuation. The fantasies of a silly school girl. Yet, seeing him on the pond that morning two weeks ago she’d been blown away by the sheer force of her own wanton longing—lusting—for the man. A man she could never have.
Why did it have to be him that stirred such feelings? No man had ever made her blood run hot like Ben. Why—oh why!?—did he have to be her best friend’s brother?
Josie would not break the trust Amelie had bestowed upon her since their very first meeting. Their friendship was too precious and she would not risk it. Just as she wouldn’t jeopardize her ties with the rest of the Danforth family: her grandfather’s best friend, Pap, along with Lucie and Jeb, Jonah, Jeremiah and Christopher. They’d always treated her as they’d treated Gramp, like family, and as it was the only family Josie had, she wanted to hang onto that.
Surely there had to be more than one man on the planet Josie was attracted to and could stand to eat dinner with every night for the rest of her life? One that wouldn’t try to tame her or force her to shrink herself to make him more comfortable. A man who wouldn’t try to dominate or crush her. Who understood her connection to wild places and nature, and who valued the work of a simple life as much as she.
Josie had to believe it was possible for her to love someone other than Benjamin Danforth. She had to. Otherwise her future looked very bleak indeed. A loveless marriage in the name of the farm, and the hope that she’d be strong enough to protect her grandfather’s legacy against threats from without—as well as within.
But, she supposed, that was still more than she deserved and she should be grateful.
Thus, Josie was grimly resolved to attend her aunt’s date and meet Peter Dawson Friday night at 6 o’clock.
Thank you for reading and following along with my debut novel: On Blackstone Mountain. Please feel free to leave your questions and feedback in the comments. Much love to you and yours, my friends!
Thank you so much, Margo! I am enjoying writing it!🙏
Am enjoying reading this!!!