Daughter of the Raven

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Daughter of the Raven Page 8

by Cherime MacFarlane


  Some of the furniture had proven to be quite lovely, if old. The Bressoff cousins took everything they suspected might be of value upon leaving the estate. But it bothered him that the home was deserted. Why should such a beautiful place be left empty? So he had moved in, he had taken possession.

  Now he intended to demand the deed to the house and remaining grounds as part of the price for the girl. Bressoff had made his choice to give away the farmland, why not the balance?

  The girl had never seen her ancestral estate. It was high time another Bressoff walked the halls. It was too bad she was already married to the American, or he might have made that a condition as well. They would wed and he would not kill her. Why should he not be made a Count? The Tsar gave out titles all the time to the deserving.

  "No, no dreaming now." Jurekovitch muttered.

  He had something of value the Count would surely trade for. Nor did he really want her now that she was married. Tired of taking leftovers, now he would have the main course.

  Anya was sure they were on the sea. The rolling motion was familiar, it reminded her of the Trans-Atlantic crossing on the steamship she and Charles had recently made. Eventually, her kidnapper removed the blindfold, allowing her to move around the cabin and use the facilities.

  A glimpse out a porthole did not help. There was little to see other than the gray sea. Where they were bound was a mystery. Any attempts to ask questions of the man were rebuffed. He brought her water, cheese and bread. She was not allowed out of the cabin. As the days wore on, Anya wondered when they would reach land.

  The famine in Russia was the main topic of conversation in the various churches. Camille heard of the problem when going to mass with Leontine. Prayers were offered up to God for relief of those who were starving. She hurried home to see if Dmitri had heard anything regarding the disaster.

  He was sitting in the garden watching the children play.

  "Dmitri, what is this about the famine in Russia?"

  "Come, sit with me." He stood, pulled out a chair and waited for Camille to seat herself, before he settled into his chair once more.

  "There have been rumors .The area around the Volga River being particularly hard hit, as I understand it."

  "There is a great relief effort being raised. Does this effect those you deeded land to?" Camille placed a hand on his arm.

  "Likely not." Dmitri shifted in the chair. The old Yenisei estate was located in central Siberia, not in the European area of Russia. I have asked Stanislaus to look into what is being done and what we, as a company can do to help."

  Camille sighed. "The world is growing so much smaller it seems, now that communications have so vastly improved."

  Dmitri caught the ball his younger daughter threw to him. "Sometimes I am not sure if it is a blessing, or a curse." Rolling the ball across the grass toward the child, he called out. "Catch it, Lexie!"

  With a squeal, his blond little girl chased after the ball trying to out run her older brother.

  "As to communications, there have been none recently from Anya?" He turned his face so he might watch Camille from his good eye.

  "Dmi! Do not push your sister down!" Camille shouted to the boy, as he reached for the ball.

  "None that we have received. I do know she also writes to Leontine. Actually, with a bit more frequency." Camille replied as she watched the children.

  "Hummph! That is not good. Has Leontine shown you any of this correspondence?"

  Camille shrugged. "No, nor have I asked. I have no wish to intrude. If Leontine felt it it was important, I am sure she would share."

  "Perhaps. But I am of the same mind. Peace is a bit hard won these days. I find I do not wish to disturb it." With a sigh, Dmitri turned to look at his small children.

  This time Dmi threw the ball to Camille. She dutifully caught it and tossed it out to the waiting children. "We can at least do something worthwhile by supporting the relief effort."

  He needed a change of subject. "How is Leontine? Getting ready to isolate herself from society?"

  "Definitely! She is really starting to show. We talked about it. I will continue to go to early morning mass with her, as it is the only place she plans on going until the birth."

  "Then I shall take the children with me to Orthodox mass. That will give the both of you a little respite."

  Camille nodded her thanks. "That it will, cher'. And perhaps Leontine will decide to confide some of what she has been receiving from Anya."

  "We shall see. A month or so after the baby is born will be sufficient time spent here. I need to go home. I would like to do so before too much snow accumulates."

  "I agree Dmitri. If not for Leontine and Samuel, we could have left much sooner."

  The Count did not respond. Camille continued to play ball with the children, as her husband was lost in thought.

  Charles found the note under a rock on his front stoop. He could not believe what he was reading. "Oh God!"

  The kidnapper was not ready to make demands. It was only a restatement of the first message with a small addition. Charles was to wait and watch the back garden. What was going on here? When was the man going to make a demand? It was beyond belief!

  Pacing the sitting room, he thought about Anya's family. Should he send a telegram to his father-in-law? He dreaded having to make that move. It might be too soon in any event, as there was no ransom requested at this time. It might only complicate things further if others were brought into the matter. If the kidnapping could be resolved quickly enough, his in laws would be more likely to bluster a bit, but not take any untoward actions.

  He supposed he might be rationalizing his reasons for not informing Anya's family. If he were to be honest with himself, he did not wish to see her father face to face at the moment. Not that the man was likely to travel to Russia given his status here.

  Charles now understood Russia was not safe for any Bressoff. Belatedly, the young man admitted to himself, he might have felt a bit superior to a man who had been raised in the backwoods regardless of the man's title.

  There was also the matter of money. Assuming the Count was as wealthy as his father thought, was Bressoff in a position to help with money if the ransom asked was more than he himself could raise?

  Perhaps, what he should do was contact his father to ascertain what could be raised between Anya's settlement and his family's resources. Charles decided that was the best course of action for the moment.

  Leaving the apartment, the young man went to the telegraph office where he dispatched a message to his father. Feeling hungry, Charles entered a restaurant frequented by other foreigners. Since he no longer had Anya available to see to his needs and he did not wish to deal with household staff, there was little else for him to do. Feeling somewhat down, he sat in the restaurant for quite sometime. Tomorrow might at least bring some news, either from his father or the kidnapper. Waiting was difficult.

  Tomorrow he would visit the Major. The head of the legation guard should probably see the latest from the kidnapper, as little as it was.

  Forced to return to his empty apartment and empty bed, Charles realized he truly missed his wife. Also, difficult to admit as it was, she had brightened his world.

  Tossing his hat on the dining room table, he walked into the empty bedroom. Moving to the clothes closet, he opened it and looked through her clothing. It did not appear much was gone. He wondered if the intruder had actually forced his way into the house. It was an arresting thought and Charles went back into the hall to check the front door.

  A thorough inspection of the door did not reveal any tampering. The wooden door frame was intact. As he turned to go back down the hall, the young man happened to glance down at the hall tree that stood near the front door.

  On the shelf below the mirror, tucked in the corner was Anya's door key. Taking the key between his fingers, he realized the door had been unlocked when he entered the house that day.

  Finding the note had upset him, causing h
im to forget that detail. What did it mean? Perhaps the kidnapper had grabbed her while she was on her way out, then forced her back into the house to leave the note.

  That sounded reasonable to him. He wondered where she had been going. What errand had she been running when she left the house? Charles went back into the bedroom and carefully looked through Anya's portion of the closet. He did not detect anything missing, but then again he had not paid particular attention to her clothing other than to notice if it were suitable, or not.

  A short search of the floor of the closet did reveal the small overnight bag he thought he recalled seeing in one corner, was gone. That struck him as odd. Why would a kidnapper take it?

  He inspected their dresser, but did not detect anything out of the ordinary there. In the bathroom, Charles noticed some of Anya's toiletries were gone. The only other item he found to be missing was their marriage certificate.

  It was all a puzzle. In the morning, he would take the pieces he had to the major.

  Charles went in early in order to speak with Tanner. The major listened to Charles with his chin in one hand. Perhaps Keetering was learning to use his brain.

  "Your marriage certificate is missing. The house key was left on the hall tree. There are a few items of clothing missing along with a few toiletries. Tell me, your marriage certificate did show her maiden name was Bressoff, did it not?"

  Charles nodded in agreement. "Of course."

  "Your wife's kidnapper went to a great deal of trouble it seems. And it appears your wife wanted you to know she did not leave willingly." Major Tanner wondered if Keetering finally realized how much danger he had put his bride in.

  The younger man looked at the major questioningly. "How do you know that?"

  "No woman leaves her house unlocked with her possessions inside."

  "I see." Charles again nodded. "What am I to do here?"

  "Wait. You might wish to contact her family and let them know what has taken place."

  Major Tanner did have just a tad bit of sympathy for the man. He had more sympathy for the young woman, presently in the hands of a kidnapper who might be doing unspeakable things to her and, for her family. He had seen enough in the war of women being abused, children too if the truth be told. People often did things to one another, which defied reason.

  Keetering shook his head. "Oh no! I certainly do not want to worry them. And since her father is not able to be here, it might only be more disturbing for them."

  "Your father in law is a very wealthy man. You do realize that?" The major stood.

  Charles felt he was being shown the door. "I know he has quite a bit of money in various businesses along the West Coast. Seattle, San Francisco and in Alaska Territory." He rose from the chair.

  "Keetering, I think you do not know your in laws well enough." With a hand on his back, the major directed Keetering to the door. "I did a bit of checking on Bressoff. He has more than a few business interests on the West Coast. He is spread out, quite literally, around the world. He just likes to keep his involvement in various enterprises quiet. As to coming here, if he felt like it, I doubt anything would stop him."

  The major opened the door. "Let me know if there are any further developments."

  The door shut behind Charles. For a moment the young man stood in the hall thinking about what he had just heard. Somehow, somewhere he had made the mistake of underestimating Bressoff.

  Hopefully, it would not prove to be a major obstacle to his career. He needed Anya back. Charles went out the door. As he did so, he decided it was time to check the telegraph office for an answer to the cable he sent to his father

  They were changing to another ship. Jurekovitch brought her up on deck. Unconcerned about the possibility of her attempting an escape, the man understood how difficult that would be for her at the moment. They were in a broad estuary and Anya was on a steamship with no notion of where she might be, or her physical destination.

  Everyone around them spoke Russian. Anya had not given any indication of her knowledge of the language to anyone. She listened to Jurekovitch tell one seaman she was slightly off in the head. Not enough to be put away, but enough to need to be watched closely.

  It would do her no good to try to convince anyone Jurekovitch meant her harm. Looking away, she wondered what reason Jurekovitch gave for continuing to address her in English. Certainly he had thought of something.

  One or two faces of the seamen in the rowboat did not resemble European Russians. Anya suspected they could be of native stock or half breeds as her mother had been. That interested her. Were all the natives subjugated as the Tlingit had been?

  This was a very large land unlike the small landmass in Southeast Alaska where land was at a premium. Perhaps others still lived as their forebears had, far from contact with the Russians. Anya resolved to see what she could find out about the native people still living here, if she had an opportunity.

  They were rowed in the dinghy to another vessel, which looked to be a shallow bottomed river steamer. She asked Jurekovitch about it. Anya was surprised to find this time, he was willing to answer questions.

  "It is a river steamer which will take us the balance of the way up river to the estate."

  The vessel tooted its whistle and the paddles churned. With a slight jerk, they began the journey up the wide river.

  "We are going to the Bressoff estate. Why?" She clutched the rail as the ship moved forward.

  "Because shortly it will be mine. And I like thinking about you seeing what your family is going to lose. That is a part of your ransom. Your father is going to deed over the house and grounds which remain, to me."

  He was smiling broadly at the effect this piece of information had on her. Anya shook her head in disbelief.

  "So we are going into the interior of Russia. Certainly it would have been easier to turn me over and get the deed in St. Petersburg?"

  "Easier perhaps. This however, is much more satisfying. There is something quite elegant about your husband, or his representative coming to my home, with my money and my deed, in exchange for you."

  He took her by the arm, turning her away from the rail. "You need to go below now. I will bring you something to eat later. By the way you will have to bundle your goods now. Your little bag is going on a mission. I am sending it back to your husband with my ransom demands. In that way, he will know I do have you and he needs to cooperate."

  Jurekovitch turned away from her and walked toward a man in uniform further down the deck. Anya watched closely. She noted a bit of money changed hands when Jurekovitch was talking with the other man. Anya guessed he might be the steward.

  It was likely Jurekovitch did not even bother to explain her presence. It appeared he was well known on the ship by the manner in which the man smiled at her captor.

  Anya turned to make her way below decks to the cabin she had been assigned. Charles would need to contact her Poppa in order to get the property deeded over. She doubted her father would even care about the house and its grounds. The lands had been deeded over to those who had worked the fields all their lives. What did the rest matter? As for money, the amount of time necessary to gather the funds, would depend on how much Jurekovitch was demanding.

  This had all come about due to her foolishness and Charles' arrogance. Anya prayed her father would not be tempted to return to Russia.

  No, Camille would certainly not allow it. Anya thought. She would continue to pray that her Poppa would not return here to try to rescue her.

  Her clothing was becoming quite dirty. Anya decided since she was now free to move around the cabin, a wash day was in order. Sorry, she had not brought along at least one more dress with a third change of undergarments, Anya washed out what she had. She did one change of clothing only. One to wash it seemed and one to wear. At least she had a good coat.

  A short time later Jurekovitch brought her some soup, a chunk of bread and a small dish of berries. After eating, she lay on the bed listening to the engi
ne of the riverboat propel them further into the Siberian interior.

  On the following day, Anya rose early. On deck, she stood at the rail of the ship. Anya listened to the sailors and the passengers as they went about their business. The river was called the Yenisei. It was a broad river, quite unlike those of her home.

  The Inside Passage was carved more sharply, with deep fjords. Some rivers were so wild and narrow, they were only accessible to the animals living there. When sailing on her father's small schooner, the Arctic Tern, Anya always marveled at the steep tree covered cliffs and rushing streams which tumbled into the sea.

  The closer they got to their destination, the lighter Jurekovitch's mood became. He began to tell her about Yeniseysk, the closest town to the estate. The town had been a fort in its early years. It had played an instrumental part in opening up the Siberian districts.

  When speaking of the estate and the part it had played historically, it was as if they were discussing his family history, not hers. As she was interested in his information, Anya listened closely. One never knew when or how some seemingly obscure piece of information, might prove useful. For the time being, they got along on the journey up river.

  Seeing the land her Grandfather had left to become a settler in Alaska was interesting. They were travelling through a vast forest. There was a sea of green on either side of the wide river. What her Grandfather had left was not so different from where he had chosen to live. Siberia was barely settled. Its resources and land remained largely untouched.

  The river itself flowed across the great expanse of Siberia then emptied into the Arctic Ocean. She and Jurekovitch spoke of the search for the Northwest Passage. Many an explorer's hopes of finding the passage had been dashed on the ice of the Arctic Ocean.

 

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