South of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 2)

by Kinslow, Nanette

  “We can go get Pa,” The boy thought aloud. “But, he’d be way upstream by now. Let me think. Is he a big man? And it’s just him right, no one else?”

  “No, he’s not big. Average, I guess. I didn’t see if he had a gun or anything.” She exhaled heavily.

  “Maybe I could take him if we could surprise him.”

  “How would we do that?”

  “Well, I could hide next to the door and maybe you could distract him and get him to come outside.”

  They scrambled back to the cabin again and Emma surveyed the room from just above the sill, watching long enough to make sure Roland was breathing.

  “He’s kneeling in front of the hearth right now. I think he’s trying to start a fire.”

  Mark looked up to see a wisp of sparks ascending from the tiny chimney.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  Emma took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

  Mark crept up beside the door and took his position. He nodded to Emma and she began whooping and hollering at the top of her lungs.

  The cabin door flung open and the man charged through it just in time for Mark’s rifle butt to meet the side of his head.

  He fell to the ground hard.

  “We got him!” she exclaimed excitedly. She ran into the cabin with Mark close behind.

  The attacker was moaning softly and Mark pulled a knife and quickly cut Roland’s bonds. He was completely unconscious and Emma struggled to help the boy get him to his feet.

  “Get under his arm,” Mark instructed. Emma stood up to help support the man and was surprised by how heavy he was. They stumbled out into the darkness, dragging the man between them towards the tethered horse.

  “We’ve got to get him on the horse’s back Emma. I’ll lift him and you pull his arms.” The two struggled to get the unresponsive man onto the mare frantically when the tree beside them splintered from a gunshot blast. The horse reared in terror and all three fell to the ground hard. Another shot shattered a nearby branch as Emma dragged Roland into the trees. Mark gave the horse a sharp slap on the rump, sending her into the cover of the forest.

  “I know you’re out there, Vancouver. You’re as good as dead,” a deep voice shouted through the trees.

  Mark looked at Emma and shook his head, puzzled. Whoever this was obviously knew Roland, but Mark could not place his voice.

  Timothy heard the crack of gunfire far in the distance and listened. He turned the Arabian in a tight semi-circle and set out along the river bank, listening for the sounds of further shots above the stomping of the horse. Timothy urged his stallion, Cannonball, on at the sound of the shots and dismounted mid-stride as he neared the area. He heard the voice echoing through the woodland and knew immediately it was Jude Thomas. He pulled his rifle free and stepped through the forest cautiously. He could make out the silhouettes of two people hiding in the woods and quickly recognized his son. He hissed quietly and heard Mark’s hissing response. Timothy stole up silently and placed his fingers against Roland’s neck and nodded to Emma, gesturing for her to back away.

  She moved away slightly, and laid flat beside the unconscious man and held her breath.

  “Thomas!” Timothy bellowed, causing to Emma to cower closer to the ground.

  “This doesn’t concern you, Elgerson!” Jude shouted back. “This is between me and Vancouver.”

  “Your beef isn’t with Roland, Thomas. He fired you under my instruction. I’ve got my own dispute with you and I’m here to settle that straight away. Drop the gun.”

  “And let you beat me senseless again? I don’t think so, Elgerson. I say we finish this here tonight.” Jude thought he saw a sliver of light reflect off Elgerson’s gun and lifted his pistol to fire.”

  Mark’s bullet met its target, piercing the man’s thigh at high velocity and Jude Thomas fell, writhing in the mud.

  Timothy Elgerson ran, squatted beside the fallen man and kicked the pistol away.

  “Rot in hell,” Thomas spat.

  “That seems to be a common wish of your family. That leg ought to keep you out of trouble for a while. Nice shot, boy,” Timothy called back to his son as Mark approached. “I might have enjoyed beating him senseless once again though.”

  Mark chuckled and shook his head.

  Emma began patting Roland’s face frantically, but got no response. She ripped the hem from her dress and tied it firmly around the wound on his arm.

  Timothy whistled sharply and the stallion emerged from the woodland.

  “Get Roland back to your place, Tim.” Sheriff Ben Carson pulled Thomas up by his shoulder as two deputies emerged from the forest. “We’ll take this one in.”

  Tim looked up and smiled. “I’m glad to see you, Ben.”

  “We saw the fire and then we heard the shots and figured somebody needed help.”

  “I’m grateful. Thanks, Ben.”

  Timothy Elgerson lifted Roland Vancouver over his shoulder and slid the limp man over Cannonball’s saddle. Returning with the mare, Mark pulled Emma up behind him, her face pale and streaked with mud. Tim mounted his horse behind the sagging man and urged the stallion to a steady trot.

  The Arabian’s stomping on the pathway alerted Rebecca and she ran out to meet the riders. The hours had been torture and she had hoped all of the tragedy at Stavewood had ended. Memories of the day in the woods with Dianna Weintraub flooded back to her. Recollections of the mill accident flashed into her mind, no matter how hard she fought to put them away. Louisa had asked for her father and brother all evening, until late, when she had finally fallen asleep, exhausted.

  She gathered clean cloths and fresh linens as Timothy slid Roland from the horse’s back and carried him into the house.

  “Put him in my room, Tim.” Emma climbed the stairs behind the big man as he hauled his foreman up the stairway. She watched the way his muscles moved on his back, astounded by his strength. Roland seemed immensely weighty to her, yet this man carried him carefully and with ease. If he had beat Jude Thomas senseless once before, she thought, it must have been a very impressive scene to witness.

  Timothy lowered the man onto the bed as Emma pulled back the blankets.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she sighed as she stroked his pale cheek.

  “Mark’s gone for the doctor.” Rebecca stood in the doorway.

  “Let’s get him out of these wet clothes and warm him up,” Tim suggested.

  Rebecca went to gather wool blankets and Emma and Timothy began to strip the man completely.

  “I can finish this,” Timothy volunteered, after Emma had removed his boots and Timothy his shirt.

  “No need,” Emma blushed. “I’ll finish. You’re probably wet through yourself.”

  The big man nodded, understanding, and went for a change of clothing for himself.

  Emma finished undressing the man, covered him and began rubbing his icy limbs. He stirred slightly and Rebecca returned, leaving her with soft wool blankets which Emma packed around him closely and she began to rub his feet.

  “He’s very pale.” Rebecca helped Timothy pull off his clammy shirt and took a dry one from the wardrobe.

  “He’s got a good bump on his head. He moved on the horse a couple of times on the ride in.”

  Rebecca touched her forehead. She recalled her own head injury and sighed. Timothy pulled her to him and held her closely.

  “Mark shot Jude Thomas in the woods,” he spoke softly.”

  “What?” Rebecca looked up in shock.

  “Got him in the leg. He’s alive.”

  Rebecca sighed.

  “Looks like he tried to burn down the mill, then knocked out Roland somehow. They were in some cabin a good ways downriver.”

  “What’s the damage like at the mill?” She watched his face with worry.

  “Not too bad. I’ll have to replace that cooling hose first thing in the morning, and appoint a temporary foreman. The watchman is dead.” He looked towards the hall.

  “He’s
got a head injury,” the doctor informed the family. “I’m not too concerned over his arm. Only time will tell. He’s breathing easy enough. Gather up any hot water bottles you have and try to bring up his body temperature. I’ll come by in the morning.” The doctor shook his head slowly.

  “You get some rest, Ma’am,” he looked over his glasses at Rebecca.

  “I’m putting her to bed right now,” Timothy assured the physician and showed him to the door.

  “How’s that old shoulder wound, Tim?” The doctor walked out to his carriage.

  “Better some days than others,” the big man replied. He found himself trying not to dwell on the past as his wife had done earlier.

  Emma filled the water bottles with warmed water in the big kitchen.

  “You sure you don’t need me to sit with him or anything?” Mark asked as he sipped a cup of hot milk at the counter.

  “I’m going to try to warm him up. I’ll wake you if I need you. Thank you. You’re pretty amazing.” Emma kissed the young man on the cheek affectionately and he smiled shyly.

  “We got him out of there. Come get me when he’s awake.”

  Emma climbed the back stairs to her room and placed the bottles around the man’s torso. She stripped off her dress and ran a warm bath as quickly as she could and stepped into the deep tub. Rubbing her arms vigorously she soon felt the chill leave her body. She dried herself quickly and then stood beside the bed. Lifting the blankets carefully, she climbed in close to the man. She rubbed his face softly and then his limbs, pulling herself as close to him as she could, the chill of his body soaking into her.

  “I love you, Roland,” she whispered as she ran her fingers through his damp hair and kissed his icy cheek. “Don’t you dare drift away this way,” she began to sob quietly. “As soon as you wake up I’m going to marry you. I’ll go for the magistrate myself if I have to. I was a fool to hesitate. I won’t again.” She watched his motionless face closely and as dawn began to break she drifted off to sleep.

  Timothy lifted Rebecca’s slender thigh from across his waist and slid from the bed. She stirred softly and curled into a tiny ball on the massive bed. He covered her gently, slipped into his pants and then tiptoed from the room.

  He tapped on the guestroom door lightly, but there was no response. Tim walked into the room quietly.

  He found them both sleeping and noticed the girl’s tattered dress lying across the back of a nearby chair and smiled to himself. “Best thing,” he muttered quietly. He noticed that Roland’s color had improved and he left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

  “How’s he doing?” Mark emerged from his room buttoning his shirt.

  “They’re both asleep. I don’t think we need to bother them. Roland’s color looks better.”

  “Did Emma fall asleep in the chair?” Mark tucked in his shirt.

  “Not exactly,” Timothy cleared his throat.

  “Oh,” Mark looked surprised. “I guess she’s trying to warm him up,” he commented thoughtfully.

  “That’s it,” Timothy smiled and rubbed the young man’s head.

  “I remember Rebecca kept doing that before you two got married,” he smiled up to his father.

  “Worked every time,” Timothy smirked at the boy and the two descended the stairs to the kitchen.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Emma slipped out of the bed and dressed silently. She pushed Roland’s hair from his face and studied him warily. The color had come back to his cheeks, but he did not stir. She checked the bandage on his arm and pulled the blanket back to look at his thigh. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she felt helpless and wanted to check him thoroughly.

  Tucking the blankets around him, she kissed his forehead softly, and went to the kitchen to refill the bottles.

  “Any change?” Mark looked up from his breakfast.

  “He’s not so cold, and he has some color, but that’s it,” she reported.

  Birget offered the girl coffee, returned to the stove and then placed a plate of sizzling ham and fresh farm eggs in front of her.

  “Oh, thank you!” Emma looked at the food and realized that she was famished.

  “When that man wakes up I’ll have a good meal to put into him,” the portly cook assured.

  “You’ve put a lot of good food into us in this kitchen, Birget,” Timothy remarked as he pushed a thick slice of bread around his plate.

  “How many cups of coffee did you pour in this kitchen the night we thought we had lost this guy?” Tim asked, pointing to the boy.

  “Not enough to heal all the broken hearts.” Birget patted Mark’s shoulder affectionately.

  Emma thought about what Rebecca had told her about Stavewood, and hoped there was something in all the love she saw in the home that would help Roland recover.

  She finished her breakfast quickly as Sara came down with Louisa, and Tim and Mark left for the mill. She played with the child briefly and headed back upstairs.

  Emma sat in the chair beside the bed and held Roland’s still cool hand for nearly an hour. She began to feel drowsy again, removed her gown and climbed in beside him.

  At lunchtime she heard the men talking in the yard, and lay quietly, listening.

  She felt Roland move slightly beside her and she opened her eyes to find him watching her.

  “Roland,” she leaned towards him. “You’re awake! Oh, I was so worried.” She kissed him eagerly all over his face and stroked his hair.

  “Where are we?” he looked around the room with a confused look on his face.

  “Stavewood,” she slipped out of the bed.

  “Wait.” He tried to sit up.

  “No, no, lay back down.” Emma leaned over him and pushed his shoulders back gently.

  “I must be hurt,” he frowned.

  “Why do you say that?” She eyed him with concern.

  “To have slept through this.” He pulled his arm from under the blanket and indicated her state of undress.

  “Oh,” Emma blushed. “I was trying to warm you up.” She explained as she donned her robe.

  “I’m not warm enough yet,” he smiled weakly.

  “Oh, Roland,” she smiled. “I love you.”

  “Will you marry me now?” he asked, examining his bandaged arm and rubbing his fingers over his face, a pained look in his eyes.

  “As soon as we can,” she assured him.

  “What happened? I remember being in the water. There was someone else there,” he furrowed his brow. “Someone jumped me. The mill!” He tried to sit up.

  “The mill is fine,” she assured him and arranged the pillows behind his head. The man who attacked you, his name was Jude Thomas. I guess you know him,”

  “Thomas? I didn’t realize he was out. That bastard. Where is he now?”

  “Mark shot him in the leg and the sheriff has him.” She arranged the blankets across his chest.

  “So he’s alive?”

  “I would expect.”

  “As long as that man has breath in his body he’ll cause trouble.”

  “Well,” she said. “Not today. You can forget about him for now. I’m going down to get you something to eat and let everyone know you’re okay. The doctor will be back soon.”

  “Back?”

  “You have been out all night. You must have had quite a fight with that man.”

  “I wish I could remember, but I just can’t,” he rubbed his eyes,

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Emma hurried down the stairs to find Rebecca in the kitchen, drawing pictures with Louisa.

  “He’s awake,” Emma announced, bursting into tears suddenly.

  “Oh, thank heavens!” Rebecca wrapped her arms around her cousin and smoothed her hair.

  “I’m sorry,” Emma apologized and tried to dry her eyes.

  “Don’t cry ‘tousin Em,” Louisa hugged Emma around her legs.

  The woman lifted her up and kissed her warmly.

  “Mister ‘Couver wil
l be all better soon,” Louisa nodded seriously.

  “Yes he will, baby. He certainly will.” Emma kissed the child’s cheek and fought back tears.

  “This will set him right,” Birget placed a generously loaded tray onto the table.

  “Goodness!” Emma exclaimed. “I’m sure that will do it.” She smiled at the cook affectionately and carried the tray carefully upstairs.

  Bumping the door open with her hip she looked around the room.

  “Roland?” She set the tray down quickly on the bed and found him staggering out of the bathroom.

  “What on earth are you doing up?” she admonished.

  “I wanted to inspect the indoor plumbing,” he groaned.

  Emma helped him back into bed and plumped the pillows behind him.

  “Next time, wait for me.” She set the tray on the bed beside him,

  “It was an inspection I wanted to do on my own.” He looked at her sternly.

  “At least wait until I’m in the room. What if you had fallen?”

  “Then I would have gotten an even better look at the plumbing.” He eyed the food cautiously.

  “Not up to eating?” She watched his pained expression.

  “The coffee looks good. I’ll start there.”

  She pulled the chair close to the bed and rubbed his leg absentmindedly as she gave him the details of the previous night. He finished the coffee and leaned his head back on the pillow. She took his hand and kissed it softly and he drifted off again. She pulled the blankets up over his arms and tucked him in gently, then gathered her clothing and dressed in the bath.

  “He’s sleeping,” she told the women in the kitchen.

  The doctor came and went, pleased to hear that Roland had been awake, leaving them with symptoms to watch for and medication to ease his headache.