South of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 2)

by Kinslow, Nanette

  The woman closed the bathroom door behind her from the big bedroom. She had left the child upon a soft blanket inside of the big copper tub. Beside the bathtub the collie sat, on his guard. She knew if anyone got through the door the animal would do everything in his power to protect the baby. The armoire was tall, and she balanced carefully on the chair, reaching up to retrieve the revolver from the top. As she reached, a stitch formed in her side and she held her waist for a moment until the pain passed. She climbed again for the box of bullets, stepped down and dropped it on the bed.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The door slammed against the wall as it flew open, startling Emma and she dropped the gun beside the bed. The man stood in the doorway and she faced him from the other side of the room.

  His grin was threatening and she felt a chill along the back of her neck. She stared him straight in the eyes, attempting to assess her choices. She could submit to him and possibly he would leave the babe alone, or she could fight. Instinct told her that surrendering might mean her death and she decided to face him head on.

  “You’re even prettier up close,” the stranger hissed. “I know all about you. You like it rough. I guarantee I won’t disappoint.”

  “You most definitely have the wrong woman.” She spoke to him clearly, although her knees were shaking and her hands trembled.

  Though she was unsure if the gun was completely loaded, she lunged for the weapon, and the man leapt towards her from across the room, pinning her to the floor. He raised his hand to her and slapped her violently, drawing blood from her lip. Emma kicked him hard in the knee and pulled from underneath him as he grabbed her arm. She fought to twist away as he tore her bodice, the loud rip of the summer dress setting the dog to barking from inside the bath.

  The man breathed hard against her neck, his breath foul and reeking of liquor. Emma raised her knee up hard and he rolled to one side in pain, but was quickly on his feet again. She grabbed the gun and fired. But her aim was hurried and uncertain and the bullet merely grazed his upper arm. He threw her again to the floor and attempted to mount her crudely.

  Roland Vancouver heard the report of the revolver and knew immediately that the sound came from his home. He ran frantically and could hear the barking of the collie as he entered his yard. He called out his wife’s name at the bottom of the stairs but the only response he heard was the vicious yelping of the dog and Emma’s screams.

  When he reached the doorway of his bedroom he saw the man on top of his wife as he forced himself on her. Roland grabbed the man by the shirt and pulled him violently from the girl, standing him upright in front of him and landing a hard fist against the man’s jaw.

  Emma scrambled to the bathroom door and pulled it open quickly, letting out the big dog who quickly joined the fray with Roland and the stranger.

  Émigré bit hard into the stranger’s forearm and the man struggled to disengage the animal while the dog growled and clamped down. Roland landed another hard fist and the man staggered back into the hall where Emma’s next bullet met his chest.

  The young woman collapsed to the floor as the dog stood in the doorway, continuing to bark loudly. Roland ran to his wife and helped her to her feet. He held her to him as Ottland cried hard, terrified in the big copper tub, his pitiful wails echoing in the metal vessel.

  Roland sat his wife on the bed gently and knelt in front of her.

  “I’m alright,” she assured.

  He went and lifted the child from the tub, the baby red-faced, and covered in tears and perspiration.

  “Good boy,” Emma sat on the floor beside Émigré rubbing his fur appreciatively and kissing his face. The dog returned her affection and wagged his big tail, then licked away her salty tears.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Roland Vancouver knelt down on one knee beside the body of the stranger who was now lying in the upper hall of his home. The man was thin, could have been in his mid-thirties, or could have been much older. His clothing was filthy and his trousers unfastened.

  “Who is he?” Emma held her sobbing child close to her chest, the big dog panting at her side.

  “I don’t know,” Roland checked the man’s pockets. He had died carrying a pouch of chewing tobacco and no coin. Roland shook his head.

  “Émigré heard him outside while I was bathing the baby.” Emma looked into her husband’s eyes as he stood and turned to her. His face was red and his shirt soaked through. She touched his cheek affectionately with appreciation and love in her eyes.

  “I missed you today,” she whispered, as Ottland quieted in her arms. “Poor baby,” she kissed the infant’s head lovingly. “He was so happy and cooled off in the bath. Now he’s soaked through from crying.” She set the babe into his little cradle and he puckered his tiny lips and sighed.

  “He said he knew all about me,” she told her husband as he helped her out of her torn day dress. “He said he knew I ‘liked it rough’.” She choked hard on the words, angry at having to repeat them to the man she loved.

  Roland looked up at her as he sat on the bed. She could see the veins in his neck throbbing and his jaw twitching with rage.

  “I have never laid eyes on that man before,” she assured him.

  “I’m not concerned about that.” He stood up and took her gently by the arms. “I wonder what would make him say that to you. You haven’t even left the house in months.”

  Roland loaded the gun and handed it to his wife. “I need to get Timothy and send for the sheriff. I will be back as quickly as possible. Are you alright to use this if you need to?”

  Emma nodded.

  Twenty minutes later Roland was back with Timothy and Rebecca. Shortly afterward Mark arrived with Sherriff Carson.

  “Is this someone you may have seen in town?” the sheriff asked, watching his deputies carry the body to the wagon from the front porch.

  “I’ve never seen him before.” Emma was certain she had never had contact with the man. “But, he talked to me as if he knew something about me.” She recalled his words, but decided that to repeat them word for word again would upset Roland further. Now, several hours later, it was clear that he was still angry and worried.

  “This isn’t the same guy you talked to at the Weintraub house, is it, Pa?” Mark rubbed his handkerchief along the back of his neck.

  Timothy shook his head and frowned, his face dark with worry.

  In the kitchen Emma and Rebecca began squeezing lemons to stay occupied and out of the way of the men’s conversation. Both women knew their men would be frantic over the attack.

  Rebecca pushed the lemon down hard onto the glass juicer, and twisted the citrus fruit vigorously, her fair face taut with frustration and anger. Emma would have a swollen lip and dark bruise for days from this man. Rebecca had watched her cousin nearly die recently from bearing her son, and her child had struggled to survive a hard birth. What gave a man the right to do this to a woman? What made some men feel they were justified forcing themselves onto any woman? She knew that all of the men would now be consumed with worry over them. She dipped a clean cloth into cool water from the sink and indicated to Emma that she should sit down.

  “I’m so worried about Roland,” Emma sighed as Rebecca pressed the cloth to her lip. “He was so angry. He still is. I’ve never seen him like that. When he pulled that man from me his face was so frightening. If I had not had the gun I think he would have killed him with his bare hands.”

  “If you had not, the man would likely have killed you, and Ottland and Roland and Émigré as well. It’s what you had to do.” Rebecca stroked her cousin’s shoulder affectionately.

  “Roland loves and trusts you and he would die protecting you. You and I have seen so many things, Emmy. We all nearly lost you. We all watched that man mad with worry over you. Trust him to protect you, like today. What if it were Roland that was in danger? Would you have done less? Who felt they had to go so far as to pull a trigger today?”

  “You’re right. I’m
just worried about him. He’s been through so much lately.”

  “And so have you,” Rebecca sighed.

  “Where would someone get the idea that they should come after my wife?” Roland paced the porch in agitation.

  Timothy rubbed his chin with a big hand, something teasing at his memory. “The day we went up to the Weintraub place,” he recalled, “those men knew right where they were going. I think a couple of us should take a ride out there first thing in the morning.”

  “I’ll put out the word in town,” Ben climbed into the wagon. “We’ll ride to Weintraub’s and take a look around the place. Tim, maybe it’s time to put some pressure on the bank to knock the place down. It’s not livable anymore anyway.”

  “I’ll talk to Jim at the bank and see what I can do,” Timothy remarked.

  “Before you head out, Tim, I’d like to take a quick look around the place,” Roland said as he stood on the steps to the house looking out across the property.

  A large maple bore witness to the fact that the stranger had spent a good amount of time watching the house, its south face covered in tobacco spittle.

  “This guy had to be hiding here all damned day,” Roland cursed. “Emma was right here hanging sheets, doing the wash. She had the baby in the basket just over there. Who the hell was this guy?”

  Timothy resisted the urge to try to calm Roland’s anger. He knew how he would feel himself had he faced the same situation.

  A narrow trail led back into the woods directly west from the meadow, and Mark followed it for several feet. It was clear that the man had used the path recently. “He came through here,” he indicated. “It’s a good bit of distance from here to Weintraub’s, but maybe that’s how he got here.”

  Timothy and Roland walked along the path, but quickly decided that it was too dark and they would be better off to let the sheriff handle it anyway.

  Arm in arm, on the back porch, the Vancouvers watched the Elgersons pull away, and then returned inside their home where Roland began to turn every lock.

  Chapter Fifty

  The morning sun began to rise slowly against a red sky, already warming the late summer landscape. Timothy Elgerson stood on the porch of Stavewood and watched the few clouds on the horizon. Remembering the fire that had devastated the area only a few years back, he considered how much his life had changed since flames had torn through so many acres of beautiful Minnesota.

  Timothy had risen even prior to his customarily early hour, made himself a cup of coffee, and packed up the paperwork he would need for his trip.

  He would be gone for nearly a week, along with his son and foreman. The timing for the trip certainly was inconvenient, in spite of his careful planning. He had pushed the logging meeting back as it was, waiting until his son was born, and Roland’s baby as well. Now it was imperative that he traveled. Even with both women staying at Stavewood, and the men he would have posted around the house, his mind would not rest.

  “I don’t know what’s going on out there, but I’m telling you, Jim, something no good is happening at that house!” Timothy was agitated and could not accept the banker’s reasoning.

  “We were out there only a couple of weeks earlier and two men had just squatted on the property and now this attack on Vancouver’s wife. It was right there, Jim. The man spit his damned tobacco all the way from the house there, then hid at Roland’s place and watched his wife and child there all day.” He paced the tiny office in his stacked leather boots, rattling the pictures and framed documents hanging on the walls.

  “Roland pulled the man off his wife for god’s sake. What would have happened if he hadn’t have been there, at that moment? I have Rebecca and the children to think about. You have to tear the place down now!”

  “Tim, you have to understand.” The portly man wrung his hands in apprehension. “My hands are tied. Jude is heir to the place, the house included. We can’t just go in there and tear the place down. You own a lot of land around here, Tim, but you don’t own the Weintraub place. I know what kind of man Jude Thomas is, the same as you, but we just can’t do it.” The squat banker looked up at the big man respectfully, and a little fearful.

  “Damn it all!” Timothy Elgerson slapped his thigh with his hat and ran his hands through his hair. He was ready to ride out to the place and tear the entire building down himself, but he knew that, although in his mind it was the right thing to do, it was not the legal thing.

  “Have a good trip, Tim.” The banker stood in the office doorway as Timothy Elgerson stalked out into the street.

  “We’ll be fine,” Rebecca assured as she smoothed her husband’s jacket collar. “You have enough to think about without worrying about Stavewood. Emma and Ottland will be here the whole time. You have posted enough men around the property that a chipmunk couldn’t get through without being seen. Please stop worrying.”

  Rebecca stepped back and admired her husband. He wore a chamois colored jacket and a crisp white shirt, with black slacks. He was tall and strong and she had to reach up to brush a crumb from his shoulder.

  Timothy pulled her to him briskly and kissed her passionately. Her hair smelled of honeysuckle and lily and he breathed in the aroma. He wanted to take her with him, her scent, her feel, and the loving look in her eyes.

  “Stay around Stavewood,” he warned her again.

  “Yes, we will,” she assured yet again.

  “If you go out at all take one of the men.”

  “I will,” she responded, nodding.

  “And Loo is not to be outside alone either.”

  “No one will be out alone, I promise.”

  “After I drop you at Stavewood stay close to the house. Tim has men posted all day and night.” Roland secured the packages to the wagon. Clothing and books and baby items wrapped in bundles and bags filled the back of the contrivance. He would be leaving Emma at Stavewood during their trip, but it only calmed his fears marginally.

  “I will,” she promised as she finished dressing her son.

  “Damn,” he cursed and pulled her close to him.

  “Roland,” she murmured his name close to his ear. “I will be waiting for you.”

  “I will live for that moment,” he whispered and kissed her fiercely.

  Emma pushed a tendril of hair from his face and looked into his eyes. He looked haggard and tired and she wished there was something she could say to alleviate his fears.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  In the yard at Stavewood, Mark watched Roland unload the wagon quickly. He saw his father and Roland kissing the women and children goodbye. He understood how hard it must be for them to leave them all behind. He was feeling pretty apprehensive himself. He’d hunted or fished or traveled with his father on several occasions, but this time was different. Now Timothy had two children and Rebecca, and Roland had Emma and Ottland. It was different now.

  The attack of the stranger at Vancouver’s hung with him. That man had nearly done something unspeakable to Emma. She was kind and decent and he shuddered to imagine what it would have been like for her, or for Roland. He felt a rage he never imagined he’d feel against any man.

  Then there was the trip, the worry over families and women was plenty to have on one’s mind, but this was an important journey. His father would be discussing a huge lumber contract, one that would mean tripling the size of the mills. It could also mean that one day he would be running the business and he wasn’t even sure where to begin. Timothy had told him to pay attention and learn. He wondered if that would be enough.

  The three men climbed into the coach that would take them to the train station. From there they would travel three days south to Missouri. Mark had not been that far from home since he was an infant with his mother, long before she had met Tim. He wished he could feel more excitement and less apprehension over the trip.

  The journey to the station was quiet, all three men morose and lost in worry. The train ride was not much better, but as they rode Timothy be
gan to discuss his strategies for the mill and his plans for the business. All three soon found some relief in the distraction of their business.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Rebecca sat in the sweeping ball room and felt the morning breeze as it drifted cool through the open windows. A hard, drenching rain had fallen during the night, alleviating the heat and giving everyone in the household a well needed night’s sleep. The sound of the rain had soothed the babes and women alike. After two days of the men being gone they all needed a reprieve from worrying.

  “Poof!” Louisa blew out through her puffed cheeks, sending the babies into infectious giggles. She put the thin blanket over her face again, waited until both babies were holding their tiny breaths in anticipation and puffed her cheeks and blew out another gust. Their chuckles echoed in the big room.

  Emma returned from the kitchen with porringers filled with fine cereals and laughed along with the children. The babies were growing quickly, both laughing and finding great joy in chewing on hands and fists, their own, or anyone’s they could maneuver into their tiny mouths.

  “Loo Elgerson, I think I might have to take you home with me just to keep Ottland so happy!” Emma lifted Phillip, handed him to Rebecca and gathered up her own baby for feeding.

  It was more apparent as time went by that Ottland suffered no ill effects from his difficult birth. Whenever the babies were together it was apparent that their development was very close, though not their personalities.

  Phillip was outgoing and sometimes even silly. He was a child that found it easy to laugh and now was beginning to babble constantly in first early repetitive sounds. He grunted a loud happy snort for Louisa, a sound that he reserved for her, and she adored him. His hair grew in golden tufts, like thatches of wheat and his eyes were an intelligent, gentle brown. He was several inches taller than Ottland, a feature that surprised no one.