South of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 2)

by Kinslow, Nanette

  “We found one on the road with a broken leg last night.” Roland jumped down and began to unhitch his horse from the wagon.

  “Last night?”

  “We found her staggering on the road in pain with a broken leg. I had to put her down.” Roland sighed and Emma put her arm around the boy’s shoulder.

  “She was that bad?” the young man asked miserably.

  “Yes,” Roland replied despondently.

  Roland kissed Emma and finished saddling up his horse and he and the boy rode off towards the mill as she watched with a worried look on her face.

  “I’ve looked all over Weintraub’s property. There are no horses out there!” Ben Carson insisted.

  “They have to be coming from somewhere, Ben.” Timothy paced the yard at the mill agitated and out of patience. “I’ve got this mare with no brand. Her filly is up at the house. Roland had to put one down on the side of the road last night and now this one in heat. That’s a lot of animals to be running wild. They had to have come from somewhere!”

  “What about the cabin, Pa?” Mark interjected.

  Roland looked at the boy curiously and scowled, “The cabin where you shot Jude?”

  “Yes! Maybe there are horses out there.”

  “I didn’t see any horse out there,” Ben insisted. “Did you?”

  Deputy Albertson shook his head.

  “Then how did Jude get there?” Timothy reasoned. “That place is way out. I don’t know of many roads that go out there. That filly is prime stock, the mare here is not so unusual, but I guarantee that if we find the sire he’s a quality breeder.”

  Roland nodded his head in agreement. “I was there when she foaled, Ben. That filly is no plow horse.”

  “Alright,” Ben shook his head. “Then let’s head out to that cabin.”

  They rode briskly, but the ride was hard through the brush along the river, and Roland tried to imagine what it must have been like in the pitch black the night they had searched for him. He knew Emma had ridden out that night as well. She never spoke of it, but he knew it must have been grueling.

  They arrived at the cabin and searched it, but found nothing. They decided to continue downstream when Mark slowed his horse and began to turn her in a tight circle. He jumped down and inspected several prints in the damp soil.

  “Pa!” he called out. “Look at this.”

  Timothy rode back, jumped down and examined the ground. “This animal has thrown a shoe, and look, there’s a crack in his hoof.”

  Roland put his nose to the air as he caught the scent of something foul. “You smell that?”

  “I smell it,” Ben affirmed. “Wind is coming from the south. What is that?”

  Mark’s mare began to pace in panic and the boy jumped from her back as she reared up in distress. He calmed her enough to return to the saddle, but she remained skittish and he needed to fall in behind the others.

  The five men stopped suddenly at the edge of the bluff and looked down into the canyon in shock. The ravine was closed off by what appeared to have been a small landslide, creating a surround that had trapped numerous horses. Some of the horses were tethered, some dead, all in deplorable condition. The stench of death and filthy conditions rose up in the warmth of the day and Ben pulled out his kerchief and held it over his nose.

  Mark dismounted immediately. Timothy and Roland checked their pistols and tucked them into their belts. They tied off their horses and the three of them began to descend the precipice on foot.

  “Stay up there, Ben,” Tim yelled back. “I’m going to need you to go back and bring some men if we can get any of these animals out of here.”

  The three men walked among the remains of young horses, many of them dehydrated and starved. A few had foaled and several emaciated mares lay beside stillborn colts. The animals that still lived were gaunt, and several had hoof rot. Deep piles of rotting feces and carcasses had drawn masses of flies and many of the animals had festering wounds. Mark choked back tears as they walked amid the horror. He lifted a rusty horseshoe from the ground and stared at it dully.

  “There,” Tim pointed to a large corpse. On the rump of the animal the wide W of the Weintraub brand was obvious in the dried hide.

  “Jude must have taken them from the farm and hid them here and they got closed in. These animals had to have been breeding and were trapped in here for some time,” Roland coughed. “I don’t see how he could have even watered them.” He shook his head in disbelief.

  “We’re going to need to decide if there’s any worth saving.” Timothy Elgerson gritted his teeth. “I can’t…” his voice trailed off and he turned momentarily away from the others.

  “Mark,” Timothy cleared his throat and spoke clearly to get the young man’s attention.

  “Yes, Pa?” He looked up, his eyes red rimmed, a look of shock on his face.

  “I want you to get any horse you think can walk and lead them over toward that tree there. If you can’t get them up, let them be and Roland, you take care of them.”

  Roland nodded solemnly.

  “Ben!” Timothy yelled up the bluff. “I need you to go to the cabin and find any kind of containers that will hold water. Fill them and lower them down to us.”

  Sheriff Carson and the deputy waved in acknowledgment and headed back toward the cabin. They hadn’t gotten far when they heard the echo of the first shot from the ravine.

  The sun rose high over the sweltering site as the three men plodded through the manure and the flies, struggling to get whatever animals they could on their feet. Once Ben had returned, the water brought a few around, the men sloshing it into the animal’s faces or rubbing it over their noses. Four of the horses looked as if they might survive, though their hooves were curled and they had trouble standing. Every other beast had to be destroyed. Timothy and Roland figured that between them they had shot eighteen horses.

  “They can make it up, over there.” Timothy indicated a zigzag of brush along the cliff side. “That’s probably where the other animals got out.”

  The men herded and pleaded and talked and pushed the horses up the side of the ravine, one by one. Just before nightfall they had all four onto the trail. The animals were starving and struggling to eat anything they could find, tripping along like nightmarish rocking horses on deformed hooves.

  They took turns walking with the injured animals, then switching off and riding their mounts, except Mark who insisted he stay with the damaged horses the entire trip. Timothy guessed it was about a twenty mile walk back, and after a time exercised his authority over the boy and insisted that he ride. It was plain as Mark slid into his saddle that he was completely exhausted.

  When it got too dark to continue the grueling ride they stopped and rested, allowing the horses, healthy and injured, a break. Ben took the first watch so the men could get some sleep.

  As the dawn began to brighten the mist of the deep forest Timothy sat up suddenly. He shook his head, stood up and stretched. The other men were fast asleep and all but one of the horses snorted softly in the morning fog. One animal had succumbed during the night and Timothy Elgerson cursed under his breath and spit on the ground.

  “I was afraid that one wouldn’t make it,” Roland remarked as he walked up beside the big man and frowned.

  “I tell you, Roland,” Timothy’s voice was low and deep. “I’ve seen plenty of horror in my life, but that death trap back there was one of the worst.”

  Roland nodded in agreement.

  “What the hell was he thinking? What was he going to do with all of the animals, sell them? Breed them himself?”

  “Jude didn’t know anything about breeding horses. He couldn’t even keep that dog he had alive.” Roland kicked the dirt in anger.

  “I feel bad that we had Mark with us yesterday,” Timothy thought aloud.

  “He did real well, Tim. He’s a natural with horses. We might not have gotten these out without him luring them up with his gentle way and his patience.”

&nb
sp; Timothy nodded his head. “I’ve been watching him with that filly. I’d like to see him break her in, but I was waiting to see if anyone claimed her.”

  “I’d say he’s earned her now,” Roland sighed.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Timothy watched Mark work with the neglected horses the last few miles before reaching home, the exhaustion plain on his face. All of the men were filthy, hungry and fatigued when they finally reached the stables at Stavewood.

  Rebecca ran out into the yard and stopped in shock at the look of the men and animals. She ran back into the house, telling Louisa she must finish her breakfast with the nanny. She returned to the yard with clean towels and began vigorously cranking the handle of the pump and filling cups with cool water. Timothy left the Arabian in the back stables and Mark led the neglected animals into the cool shade of the closer stalls. He supplied them with small portions of forage feed, and fresh water. He knew the vet and farrier would have to be out soon to check them and trim their hooves.

  Rebecca asked no questions, returning to the house to fill steaming cups of coffee and set out rolls.

  Timothy splashed water on his face and sent Mark up to get a bath and some rest, while Ben and the deputy headed to alert the vet, and then go home.

  “Emma went home to check the chickens,” Rebecca volunteered. “She just left. I bet she ran all the way. She’ll probably be back very quickly.”

  “I’ll catch her on my way there,” Roland mumbled and rode away from the house slowly.

  Timothy Elgerson silently took his wife’s hand and led her into the house and up the back stairs. She ran a bath for him and then helped him undress and slip into the hot water. He sat staring off silently and she poured him a large glass of brandy and then washed him slowly. As he relaxed in the tub she ran his foul-smelling clothing downstairs and put his boots on the back porch. Then she dried him lovingly and put him to bed.

  Rebecca tapped on Mark’s door, waiting briefly, and then opened the door slowly. The boy had bathed and was curled up in his bed like a child. She tiptoed out and closed the door silently.

  Emma fed the chickens quickly and headed back up the road to Stavewood as hastily as she could, sick with worry and hoping to get back before the men returned. She saw a rider in the road, recognized that it was Roland and hurried to him. He saw her running towards him, slid from his mount and caught her in his arms as his feet hit the ground. She smelled sweet and fresh to him. As she welcomed him into her arms his legs crumpled beneath him. She held him tightly to her breast in fear and confusion and the man began sobbing violently in her arms as they sat huddled together in the road.

  “I’m sorry,” he choked an apology hoarsely as he stood up and took the horse’s reins.

  “Hush,” she whispered softly and kissed his head. “Don’t you ever apologize to me.”

  The days that followed the discovery of the horses in the ravine did not go easier for the men involved.

  When Timothy got up from a short nap he found that another of the horses had died. The vet arrived and did not hold out much hope for the third horse, but felt the last had a good chance. The farrier spent hours trimming the hooves of the one, but felt that the sicker of the two remaining would be too exhausted to withstand the handling and promised to return in a day or two. Timothy Elgerson kicked the wall of the stable hard in frustration as Rebecca stood in the doorway of the building silently.

  “I never saw anything like it in all my life,” he spat. “Those poor animals out in the weather, for who knows how long, no food, no water. What the hell type of person does that kind of thing?”

  Rebecca did not answer his question.

  “I need to go back in the morning and clean up the mess. Roland will go with me, I know he will, but I want the boy to stay here.”

  “I’ll help you, Pa.” Mark stepped up from behind Rebecca. “You and me and Mr. Vancouver have already been down there. I can’t see any reason for anyone else to have to go down there. What do you need me to do?”

  The big man walked up to the boy and put his hand on his shoulder, then pulled him and his tiny wife close to him in the doorway of the stables of Stavewood.

  “I need to ride up to Stavewood and get the wagon.” Roland sat on the side of the bed.

  “Now?” Emma asked softly. “You should probably eat something.”

  “When I get back.” He held his head in his hands, his fingers threaded through his hair.

  She lay in the bed beside him and touched his shoulder.

  “Can I ride over with you?” Emma could see he was pale, and, although he had napped briefly, he still looked exhausted.

  “I doubt I’ll be very good company, but if you want to come that’d be nice.” He looked at her and tried to smile, but Emma saw that his heart was broken and she nodded slowly.

  The three men rode out before daybreak and reached the ravine on the second day as the sun began to rise over the trees surrounding the enclosure. They arrived with ropes and pulleys and bottles of kerosene. In turn they each coaxed their horses down into the death pit. They would need the strong backs of the beasts to accomplish their horrible mission. They fashioned a pulley system using their horses, a travois they built from hides and saplings and the one tree in the canyon. Working from the closest point and dragging the carcasses into a pile, they moved each animal’s body slowly. It was backbreaking work and, as the heat of the day was upon them, Timothy beckoned them up the cliff wall to shade.

  They ate silently and consumed two gallons of lemonade the woman had squeezed for them and then again descended into the ravine.

  At sunset they had piled the bodies of all of the horses and shoveled much of the filth into a mountain of horror. Timothy poured the kerosene over the stack of bodies and the men stood back. He lit a dry branch and tossed it flaming onto the pile.

  In the turret at Stavewood Rebecca and Emma stood waiting for the men to return and Emma pointed northeast to the horizon. Far in the distance the women watched a whisper of smoke turn into billows of black against the rose colored sky. Rebecca took Emma’s hand and held it firmly. A single ring-necked dove landed on the framing of the ledge and cooed mournfully.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Roland stood on the edge of the meadow watching something move quietly through the wood. He considered slipping back to the house for his rifle, but waited. After several minutes a young moose emerged from the tree line and looked up cautiously, then wandered back towards the undergrowth.

  Sinking to sit on a stump in the evening mist, he let his shoulders relax. Roland realized that he had been on edge for several days, nightmares of the ravine sneaking into his nights and flashes of horrible memories into his days. He walked back to the house and stopped in the path, looking up at the building.

  The windows were bright with light and he could see Emma washing dishes at the sink alone. The walkway was bordered in tumbling marigolds finishing their season, still bright in the setting sunlight. He turned and looked at the sunset on the meadow and along the creek and scowled. There was beauty still. In the same world where there could be animals suffering a horrific death there was still a sky streaked in vibrant colors, a vivid cardinal pecking in the bush. There was a woman who waited patiently inside a beautiful home, his beautiful home, who had not asked for any explanation or pushed to make him talk. He touched his thigh and recalled the fear that he would never walk, never run, never dance and never become a father. He swallowed hard and blew out a breath of air. He would put the experience of the ravine aside now. It was done and could not be changed. He walked into his house, straight to the kitchen. He took Emma by the shoulders and turned her to face him, looking deep into her eyes.

  “I love you,” he whispered, watching tears well up in her eyes.

  He lifted her easily and carried her up the stairs where he laid her gently on the bed and kissed her ardently.

  “Oh, Roland,” she murmured.

  He made love to her with passion,
kissing her hungrily and tasting her tears on his lips. He stroked her hair from her forehead and studied her face before he entered her hungrily and she rose to meet him, starved for his love. He felt her fingers curl against his back, felt the way he always seemed to fit against her when he held her. Roland kissed her soft skin and felt her warm breasts against his chest, eager and yielding to his desire and hunger for her. He ached to free himself of the anger, the hate, and needed her to fill him with her love and desire for him. All of it exploded and released and he kissed her in gratitude and appreciation for her patience, for being a part of him.

  “Let’s go into town tomorrow,” his voice was deep and thoughtful. “Let’s have lunch and ice cream and a nice dinner at the hotel. We’ll get Tim and Rebecca and Mark and maybe he can gather up that girl he was dancing with last week. Let’s go out tomorrow and live.”

  “Let’s,” she smiled, choking back tears.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Timothy sat with Mark in the kitchen at Stavewood, dressed for work, and finished a plate of marinated steak and fried eggs. The two ate well, but sat quietly, as they had all week. They could hear the sounds of the farmhands in the distance putting the cows out after milking and the big white Chanticleer rooster letting the world know it was morning, as he had several times over the last hour.

  Mark set his plate in the big porcelain sink and looked out the window as the Vancouver’s wagon pulled up the side of the house and parked by the back door.

  “Anything wrong?” Tim walked out onto the back porch.

  “Nope.” Roland stepped from the wagon and lifted Emma down into the yard.

  “It’s going to be a beautiful Sunday and we’re going to town to enjoy it!” he said seriously.