his armful of branches on top of the growing pile in the corner. That would be the last load until they were used up. Any more and he and Willa would be crowded right out of the small room.
He brushed his jacket free of bits of bark and pine needles while he took inventory. His small hand ax lay on the upended piece of log he would use for lopping the offshoots from the branches, the coil of twine Willa had requested was on the table, the woodbox was full and the stove was going. It was time to let Willa know he was here and they could start working. He slapped his gloves together over the pile to rid them of snow and tugged them back on. The latch clicked. He jerked his head around as the door swung open, hit the heel of his boot and stopped.
“Daniel, the door is stuck!” The door was drawn back, shoved forward again with more force.
“Whoa! Hold on, Pest.” He turned and pulled the door open. “That’s my foot you’re—” The words froze on his tongue. He stared at the blue wool visible between Willa and the doorframe, scowled and shifted his gaze to Willa’s face. She gave him a sweet smile. Asked and answered. His scowl deepened. Willa stepped into the room and his vision filled with blue wool and rabbit fur.
Ellen looked up and stopped dead in her tracks. Her blue eyes widened.
“Don’t look so surprised, Musquash. Your rich beaux aren’t the only ones who enjoy a shave and a haircut. Even we lowly loggers like to get one now and then—when we come to town and all.”
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