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“EVEN A FOOL, WHEN HE HOLDETH HIS PEACE, IS COUNTED WISE…” —PROVERBS 17:28

T he warm morning air rushing in through the open windows felt good. Sydney drove to the sawmill, her hair whipping wildly. Her date with Kendall had been just the tonic she’d needed. It was the start of a brand new week, and this time she wasn’t going to be intimidated by Sean or his devil secretary. She had just as much right to be there as they did.

“I have a job to do, and by golly I’m gonna do it,” she said. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Those were her father’s words. She’d heard him use them many times.

She parked her jeep and got out, barely noticing the group of men standing nearby. She liked the sound her steel-toed shoes made when they crunched the gravel. She felt confident and knew it showed in her every step. This time she’d come dressed for business.

The wolf calls and leering remarks stopped her dead in her tracks. It was amazing how fast that one incident could strip away her courage, leaving her feeling like a helpless mouse being taunted by huge ugly cats. Her first impulse was to flip them off, but she refrained. She’d put aside such vulgar behavior long ago. Instead, she lifted her head and pretended they didn’t exist.

She turned her head in the opposite direction when she passed Barb’s desk.

“You might want to check your in-box.”

Sydney stopped. “My in-box?”

“It’s the last cubicle on the right.”

Sydney studied Barb, who was looking very chipper in her tight pink blouse. Could it be that the woman had decided to be civil? “Thanks.”

One look at the contents in the box doused any remaining spark of her good mood.

Sydney’s voice trembled. “What is the meaning of this?” She shoved the papers in front of Sean’s face.

“It’s the minutes from the last safety meeting. I thought you needed to get a copy since you were not there.”

She wanted to claw the smug expression off his handsome face. “Need to get a copy! This meeting took place last Friday after I left the mill. I just got the announcement for the meeting this morning in my in-box! I was here all last week. Why wasn’t I informed?”

“You were.”

“What?”

Sean spoke deliberately. “I told Barb to be sure you knew about the meeting. I’m sure all of this is just a misunderstanding.” He picked up a paper from his desk and studied it as if Sydney weren’t there.

Refusing to be dismissed, Sydney stood her ground. “How can I ever gain these men’s respect if they think I’m not interested enough in them to come to their safety meetings?”

“Look, I said I’m sorry. I’ll talk to Barb and find out what happened.” His dark eyes glittered in an open challenge, daring her to argue.

Rage boiled up in Sydney’s throat. “Don’t count on Barb to tell me anything. She just now told me that I have an in-box. You’d better let me know from now on, Sean O’Conner.” Sydney slammed the minutes on his desk and stormed out of his office.

Sydney looked at her watch. After the blow-up with Sean, she’d decided to by-pass him by calling and scheduling an appointment with the sawmill foreman. She would take each key player and get to know him on a personal basis. Mr. Gibson was ten minutes late for their appointment, but that didn’t surprise her. It seemed to be the norm in this place.

The foreman knocked once and then entered her office. Could it be? Yes, this was one of the men that had made wolf calls at her.

“How do you do, ma’am?”

“I’m fine.” Sydney’s lips formed a tight line. She stood and shook his hand. “Thanks for coming in. Have a seat, Mr. Gibson.”

Buck Gibson was a small-boned man who carried himself rather confidently for a man who stood a mere half a head taller than she. A short, stubbly mustache covered his upper lip, and his dark hair was sprinkled with salt. His forehead was a shade lighter than the rest of his face, probably due to wearing a cap all of the time. He was trim except for a small, tight belly that barely extended over his belt-line.

His smile was cold, never reaching those dark fathomless eyes. She’d heard that Mr. Gibson had quite a reputation with the women. Sydney found that hard to believe. He might’ve been an athlete in his younger years, she conceded. Perhaps then he’d been passably attractive. Stoney Creek, it seemed, was a very small pond with lots of big fish.

He seemed to be sizing her up. “So you think you can stop these here accidents we’ve been having?”

“No, Mr. Gibson. I can’t do it alone, but I think that together we can. But first we have to do an analysis to determine any possible hazards. We need to go over every nook and cranny of the mill. We want to catch the problems before they turn into accidents. Then we’ll set up safety procedures and implement them.” She thumbed through her file. “I’ve been going through the reports. In addition to the accident on May 15 th , resulting in Timothy MacGregor’s death, there have been several other accidents. Do you have any idea what’s going on or what may have changed over the last few months?”

“Ma’am, if I knew what was hap’nin, I would’ve stopped it a long time ago.” He looked her in the eye. “I do have a question, though.”

“What’s that?”

“How did a pretty young thang like you git a job like this?”

“Mr. Gibson!” Sydney could have screamed. “Have you not heard a word I’ve said?”

“Jest call me Buck, ma’am.”

“Buck, this is very serious business. We have to work together to find out what’s going on here. Are you with me on this?”

“Yes ma’am, I’m with ye. I’ll do whatever you want me to. I’ll even shave the beard off Lincoln if you want me to. You jest tell me, and I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Sydney said, trying to ignore the man’s uncomfortable stare. “The first thing we need to do is a thorough inspection of the mill.” Sydney looked at her calendar. “Is tomorrow a good time for you?”

“You jest name the time and place, and I’ll be there.” He smiled again.

“I’ll meet you here at 8:00 AM.”

Sean looked toward the office and caught glimpse of Buck coming down the front steps. He waved then walked across the parking lot. “Buck!”

“Yeah boss. Whadda you need?” Buck tucked his flannel shirt deeper in his pants and sucked in his round gut.

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you. We have some business to take care of tonight, and we need to talk.”

“I was settin’ up a time to take an inspection with Miss Lassiter.” He let out a low whistle. “She’s a nice little piece of pie if you get my drift. She needs my help.” He winked. “I’ll help her and maybe she can help me.”

Sean’s face darkened. “She’s off limits. Do you understand?”

“Now boss. Don’t tell me you’ve already staked a claim on ‘er.”

“She’s not your type Buck. Stay away from her or you’re asking for trouble for all of us. The sooner she does her inspection or whatever it is she does, the sooner we can get her out of here. Do you understand?”

Buck spit on the ground. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Sweat dripped down Sydney’s forehead and pooled inside her safety goggles. Sawdust covered her clothes, and she could taste the grittiness. Buck kept their appointment and met her at 8:00 AM to do the sawmill inspection. He charged full speed through the sawmill, leaving her to follow behind, taking notes on her clipboard. They waded through the thick air, musty with cinnamon-smelling sawdust.

She stopped in her tracks and looked up. Buck didn’t realize she wasn’t behind him until he got to the exit door. He turned and came back and stood beside her.

“Why is that man not wearing fall protection?”

He looked up. “Which man?”

Sydney pointed in the air. She couldn’t believe her eyes. “That man on the lumber sorter. That’s exactly how Timothy MacGregor was killed. And where are the guardrails?” She shook her head. “These are willful violations to the requirements of the Occupational Safety and Health Act and Regulations.”

Buck looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. She threw her hands up and headed to the exit door. “Didn’t you guys learn anything from the last OSHA inspection?”

Buck followed her. “We’ll fix all this, Miss Lassiter.”

“You’re darn right you will. I want to go to the wood yard now.”

On the way, she noticed the hostile stares of the workers she passed and remembered Jake’s prediction about how these men wouldn’t appreciate a woman telling them how to fix their problems.

Sydney was sweating buckets by the time they reached the wood yard. It would take her a while to get used to the sultry humid heat. She pushed a loose strand of hair under her hardhat, trying to ignore Buck’s persistent ogling. She looked around at the huge stacks of lumber, some dried and some still green. After the logs were cut into lumber, they had to be dried. Some pieces could be dried in the sun but most were placed in a kiln where they were baked by electric heat.

The lumber was stacked on each side of the kiln, allowing for a narrow passageway down the middle. Buck stood with his arms folded above his belly and watched without speaking while she made several notations on her clipboard. “When was this built? The foundation isn’t solid.” She pointed. “See, the tracks are sagging.”

“There ain’t no telling,” Buck said. “It was here when I got here.”

She walked inside and inspected the inside walls of the kiln and then moved to the escape door in the back. The escape door was a necessary precaution in the kiln because once the main door was closed, it couldn’t be opened from the inside. She tugged at the handle and tried to push open the door. It didn’t budge. “What’s wrong with this handle?”

Buck came up behind her, and she stepped out of the way to let him try. He grasped the handle and pushed against the door but to no avail. “I reckon it’s stuck, Miss Lassiter.”

Sydney turned and walked out of the kiln. “I’m going around the back to see if anything is obstructing it from the outside.” Buck followed close behind.

Once around the back, she could hardly believe her eyes. “Well, no wonder the door won’t open. You have all this lumber stacked up behind it.” She shook her head. “The handle’s broken, and this lumber shouldn’t be here.”

Buck watched Sydney make another notation on her clipboard. His face darkened, and he cleared his throat. “Miss Lassiter, I know you mean well, taking all them notes and all, but Mr. O’Conner’ll be fit to be tied when he sees ’em.”

“It won’t matter what Mr. O’Conner thinks if we don’t pass that OSHA inspection. None of us will have a job.”

“Yes ma’am, I see what you mean.” Buck took off his hardhat and wiped his damp forehead. “I think there’s another solution.”

Sydney raised an eyebrow.

“Them guardrails, this escape door. I can git all this fixed, and you don’t even have to write it down. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

Sydney’s eyes widened. “Buck, Mr. O’Conner will have this report by Friday. I plan on talking to him about the guardrails and lack of fall protection today. That can’t wait until Friday.” She looked at his troubled expression. It wouldn’t do to make an enemy out of him. She motioned to the kiln. “This can wait, however. If you get this fixed, it will not be in the report. Otherwise, I’ll have to write it down. Fair enough?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Every time the man spoke those words, they sounded patronizing.