Darling Jenny Read Online Free PDF Page A

the cabin as Mr. Carmichael bustled around setting the table by the light of a hurricane lamp.
    'Haven't you ever considered hooking up to electricity?' Logan asked. 'It runs right outside your cabin by the road.'
    'Too expensive,' the old man snorted ruefully. 'Besides, what do I need it for?'
    'You certainly have a wide variety of books,' Jennifer interrupted, picking up a worn copy of Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer nestled snugly between Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet and Dickens' Oliver Twist.
    'Didn't ya think I could read?' he grumbled, shuffling over to the fireplace to fish out the potatoes from the coals.
    'Oh, that's not it at all' Jennifer apologized quickly. 'I just thought…'
    'I know, that a crotchety old buzzard like me wouldn't be readin' that kind of stuff,' he growled. 'Well, sometimes I even read the labels off my tin cans. Come on over and sit down. Supper's on the table.'
    The meal, for all its simplicity, was delicious. The steaks were tender and juicy, and Mr. Carmichael informed Jennifer that it was elk and not deer venison. There were thick slices of sourdough bread toasted so the good nutty flavour came through, baked potatoes, stewed tomatoes that had a very savoury blend of seasonings, and to finish the meal a steaming cup of the blackest coffee Jennifer had ever seen. She sipped the bitter brew hesitantly and watched in astonishment as Logan and Mr. Carmichael drank it calmly.
    'Coffee's kinda weak,' the old man grumbled. 'It's really good when you can slice it with a knife.' Then he guffawed loudly at the startled expression on Jennifer's face as he winked gleefully at Logan. 'This here's "man's coffee". It'll put hair on your chest. None of that tea-lookin' stuff you women fix.' Turning to Logan, the old man's eyes burned fiery bright as he added in a more serious tone, 'That's a right purty woman. I knowed many a woman in my younger days. She's gonna be one of those that always look like a child. Her skin ain't gonna be crinklin' up into a prune face.' He glanced back at Jennifer as if to reassure himself of his opinion, then returned his gaze to Logan. 'Noticed earlier, too, she's got a fine pair of hips, wide and strong. Oughta have some healthy babies.'
    Jennifer's mouth opened in astonishment at his presumptuous statement, only to close it quickly as she met the mocking gleam in Logan's eyes.
    'Let me do the washing up, Mr. Carmichael,' she offered, hoping to get off this embarrassing turn of conversation and hide the growing colour in her face.
    'Nope, I'll do 'em,' he denied quickly, as he pushed his chair away from the table. 'Course, if you want to make yourself useful, you can get them old quilts out of the trunk and make up a bed on the floor beside the fireplace.'
    Anything just to get away from those teasing brown eyes, Jennifer thought, sending Logan a withering glance. The trunk was sitting at the foot of the bed, which was really little more than a cot. A wave of fatigue swept over her as she looked longingly at the quilted bedcover. It was—what—eight o'clock? she wondered. But she was certainly tired. She lifted the heavy wooden lid of the trunk and tilted it back until it rested against the bed.
    There was one extra thick quilt that Jennifer decided she could use to cushion the wood floor. The other two lighter weight quilts could be used for covers. A little smile flitted across her face as she pictured with amusement Logan crawling under the covers with their grizzled host. Minutes later she had the blankets spread on the floor, the top two covers turned back invitingly.
    'I couldn't find any pillows, Mr. Carmichael,' she said, turning towards the counter where he was putting the last of the dishes in the cupboard.
    Grunting with seeming displeasure, he shuffled over to the highboy dresser, pulled open one of the lower drawers, and removed two square satin pillows. He walked over and handed them to Jennifer with a gruff, 'Use these.'
    Needlepointed on the front of one was a