Home to Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 3)

by Nanette Kinslow

  Rebecca scowled and put her fingers to her face.

  Timothy looked at her questioningly. “What are you thinking?”

  “I was remembering the day he climbed into the trunk,” she admitted and looked into his eyes, tears welling in her own.

  Timothy’s mind rushed back to the hours of torture when the boy had found the big chest in the attic and climbed inside, wanting to be with his dead mother. The whole town had searched everywhere for him before Rebecca finally found him there. It was more horrible than Timothy Elgerson wanted to imagine. “I don’t see how or why that changed anything,” he grumbled.

  “You’re right,” she sighed. “Let me finish rubbing this into that shoulder.” She stood up behind the chair.

  “I’m alright,” he sighed. “Just a few more months. I’ll get him to come back in the spring either way. Once he’s home then we’ll figure it out. We’ll just have to wait until then.”

  Rebecca coaxed him out of his shirt again and reapplied the ointment.

  “Cousin Emma,” Louisa rolled a tiny ball under her hand along the kitchen table at the Vancouver house where she was helping with the younger boys. “Do you think that Mark went away because of me?”

  “Because of you?” Emma turned from doing her dishes and looked at the girl in surprise. “Of course not! Why on earth would you think that?” She dried her hands on the nearby towel and sat at the table facing the child.

  “He said he wanted to get away. What did he want to get away from?” Louisa scowled.

  “It was nothing you did, Loo. Mark loves you with his whole heart.”

  “I know that Bernadette told bad lies about him and he was very, very angry with her, but I don’t understand why that would make him want to get away from me.” She sighed and sniffled.

  “Oh honey!” Emma pulled the child to her and hugged her close.

  “Christmas is going to come and he won’t even come home,” Louisa sobbed. “I asked Grandmother ‘Bel and she told me.”

  “Then we are just going to have to save all his presents until he comes home and have a very special celebration then, that’s all.”

  Roland stood in the doorway and Emma noticed him over the child’s shoulder.

  He nodded to her and frowned.

  “That stuff outside is making some of the best snowballs I have ever seen.” He spoke up. “I just can’t seem to make them fast enough for those boys all by myself.”

  Louisa looked up and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’ll help you,” she volunteered.

  Emma sighed as she watched Roland walk with the child towards the back door.

  “A girl might be nice,” she thought, placing her hand on her belly. She knew that it didn’t matter as long as the childbirth went well this time.

  Chapter Seven

  Mark eyed Buck suspiciously as he stood along the tracks outside of the office.

  “When I couldn’t find you boys I was just full of worry. I had to return your money and your gun too.” He kicked the dirt with the curled toe of his boot.

  “I know it was that girl that probably took it all. As soon as Sam told me you were missing things I went right to her. She doesn’t mean anything by it. I’ll keep an eye on her this time and it won’t happen again,” he assured.

  Mark watched him suspiciously. His memory of the evening at the still was foggy, but he was sure he could not recall a girl at all.

  “She says she wants to make it up to you. You boys come up for a while. You don’t even have to have a drink if you don’t want.” His comment was clearly directed to Mark.

  Mark had thought about that night a hundred times over the last week. He remembered how relaxed he had been, how he felt as if he could just forget everything and his mind would rest easy. He had decided that if he had not drunk down the moonshine so quickly he might be able to handle it better. He thought he’d try again, but not bring any money with him this time, and suggest to Sam that he did the same.

  “Alright,” he agreed. “We’ll come up tomorrow after work.”

  Buck nodded and grinned.

  “I saw you talking to that McHerlong boy.” The woman at the boarding house was sitting on the crumbling porch, haphazardly rolling a cigarette.

  Mark was waiting for Samuel to finish dressing and he nodded to the woman. “I don’t know him very well,” he admitted.

  “You’d do well to keep it that way,” the woman cleared her throat. “That McHerlong family has been feuding with those Catslips as long as I can recall.” She began to cough and surrendered to a long fit.

  “When I was a girl,” she recalled. “Old Man McHerlong was young then, like you boys. He was seeing that Catslip girl, I don’t recall her name. Someone shot her out in those woods and her family just couldn’t accept that it might have been an accident. They were certain that McHerlong had killed her. There was talk that she was expecting his child, but no one knows for sure. That whole bunch is trouble.” She shook her head and walked into the house.

  Mark scowled, stepped off the porch and paced in the dirt. He’d left home over just this kind of thing, he thought. He hadn’t come here to have any of this follow him. “Old Man” she had said. It was ancient history, he thought. It didn’t concern him. One day he’d be able to forget about Bernadette, and he hoped everyone in all of Billington City would forget as well. No one needed some old woman remembering something that had happened long ago and then telling everyone about it. Maybe if Old Man McHerlong had left for a while no one would be talking about it now.

  “Are you ready?” Mark asked Sam as he emerged from the house.

  “Plenty ready!” Sam jumped down the battered stairs and the two headed for the stables.

  The boys paid for the horses up front and the stableman watched then rambling out of town on the horses. He shook his head.

  “Fool kids,” he muttered under his breath.

  Mark laughed hard as Buck tried to balance on the log they had propped up between the stumps.

  “Let me try,” Samuel jumped up. “You can’t balance. You probably need another drink,” he laughed.

  “That must be it!” Buck swayed slowly. “Just to get my balance back.”

  Mark shook his head as Buck offered him a refill.

  “What are you boys doing out here?” a voice bellowed from the woodland.

  “Ah, Lem,” Buck called out. “Get out here and see if you can walk on this!”

  A lanky, young man emerged from the woods. His hair was thin and tangled. Mark took notice that it was the first man he had seen in the area who had not cut his hair very short.

  “Lem McHerlong,” he said, offering his hand to Mark and then to Samuel. Sam tried to focus on Lem’s face. “Buck’s brother.”

  Mark scooted to one side and Lem sat down next to him, picked up the jug and took a long pull.

  A skinny girl appeared from the edge of the forest and stood wringing her dress in her hands. She was pitifully thin, her eyes deep set and she wore an anxious look on her face. Her clothing was oversized and tattered and her thin legs stood in a pair of battered shoes that were clearly much too large for her feet. Mark decided that she had to be much younger than any of them.

  “You told me that I could have a drink when we were done,” she mumbled quietly.

  “Come here,” Lem poured a generous amount of the liquor into a cup and held it out towards the girl.

  She shuffled towards him and eyed Mark suspiciously before taking the cup and sitting on the ground beside Lem.

  “You can sit here,” Mark stood up and offered his seat on the log.

  “This is Swallow,” Lem volunteered. “She lives on the other side of the creek.”

  The girl shook her head to Mark slowly and remained in the dirt. She tilted her head to one side and studied him openly and he gave up and sat back down on the log carefully, taking a deep breath and trying to clear his head a bit. He stole a look at her and began to wonder if perhaps there was something wrong wi
th her. He had never seen a girl so dirty and pathetic looking and he watched her hold out her cup and beg Lem for another drink.

  “Swallow will do just about anything for a bit of shine. Won’t you, honey?” He smiled at her knowingly.

  She nodded vigorously as he filled her cup.

  Mark looked down at the ground and scowled.

  “Maybe she can walk on the log,” Sam laughed. “I sure can’t.” He flopped down onto the ground laughing.

  The moonlight streamed through the trees and Mark sat up and shook his head. He looked around and saw that everyone in the group was sprawled in one way or another around the clearing, with the exception of Swallow who sat cross legged, watching him closely.

  He sat up slowly and rubbed his temple to try to ease the throbbing.

  “What’s your name?” Her voice was low and soft.

  “Mark,” he replied and looked at her sidelong.

  “Do you like me?” she asked.

  He looked at her curiously. “I guess,” he responded.

  “Can I touch your hair?”

  “My hair?” He frowned.

  “It’s so shiny and all. Is it soft?”

  “I suppose.” He sat still and she reached up timidly and touched his hair lightly.

  “It is,” she smiled and sighed. “Where are you from?”

  “Minnesota,” he responded, curious about the girl.

  “Is that far?” She studied his face.

  “Pretty far I guess.”

  “I never traveled far. I was born right here, right on the other side of the creek. I have to get back pretty soon before my Pa knows I’m gone. When he wakes up I have to be there, but he won’t be up for a little while. He got a big jug of that yesterday,” she giggled.

  Mark realized that although she was very poorly dressed she might not be as simple as he had thought earlier. He had seen her drink a good amount of the moonshine and perhaps that had affected her. He had never seen a female drink that much before.

  She stood up and moved to sit beside him on the log and she smiled sweetly. “So you like me alright?”

  He looked at her oddly. “Why do you keep asking me that?”

  “I want you to like me.” She leaned over and kissed him full on the lips.

  Mark stood up suddenly and backed away from the girl.

  “What’s wrong?” She stood up and faced him.

  “Why did you do that?” He looked around the clearing at the others sleeping soundly.

  “I like you,” she explained, “and I thought you liked me.” She put her hands on his chest and smiled up to him.

  “I-I don’t know you very well,” he stammered.

  “I could make you really happy,” she smiled provocatively. “I know exactly how.” She reached down and placed her hand boldly against his trousers.

  “No,” he blurted out. “Don’t.”

  “Ah, come on,” she tried again.

  “Sam.” Mark kicked his companion with his boot. “Let’s go.”

  Sam sat up suddenly and blinked his eyes.

  “What?” he choked.

  “We’re leaving.” Mark turned from the girl and headed for his horse.

  “Alright.” Sam stood up and brushed himself off.

  Lem turned over and cursed under his breath as he watched the two head into the woodland.

  “She was worse than Bernadette, Sam,” Mark spoke to his friend angrily.

  “Maybe she was just trying to be friendly.” Samuel tried to shake the cobwebs from his head and cleared his throat.

  “She was far beyond friendly,” Mark scowled.

  “Well, maybe it’s time we started finding out more about girls,” Sam suggested.

  “Not with that kind of girl, thanks anyway,” Mark shook his head.

  Chapter Eight

  Timothy Elgerson walked along the road to the Vancouver house in the brisk afternoon sunlight. Snow covered the road and hung in heavy wet clumps on the branches of the pines silhouetted against a vibrant blue sky. He recognized the prints of a fox that had crossed the road earlier that morning and he stopped and walked into the woods several feet to examine a moose antler dropped in the underbrush. The antler would have been shed right after the mating season and he noticed that it appeared to have come from a large healthy buck.

  His mind drifted to a time he had spent hunting with his son. He recalled having taken him out after months of target practice and a hundred shattered bottles and apples nailed to stakes. He was proud and pleased how quickly and accurately the boy had learned to fire the weapon. That season Mark had brought down a large mallard. It was the first time he had seen the boy smile since he had lost his mother. Timothy could envision his son clearly in his mind. He was lanky, his hands and feet awkwardly large on his lean body. His hair had fallen down into his face as he knelt into the swampy mud to retrieve his target. When he looked up he tossed his hair back with a shake of his head revealing a brilliant smile, his face the picture of pride.

  Timothy had stopped in the center of the road, caught in his reminiscences. In his mind there were flashes of all kinds of memories from happy moments to those when he had felt exasperated. When his son returned, he vowed, he’d find a way to understand him a little better.

  Timothy’s thoughts began to yield to the present as he turned onto the path to the house. As he emerged from the trees a solid, wet snowball hit him square in the thigh with a loud splat.

  The woodpile beside the shed erupted with the giggles of children and Timothy caught a glimpse of his young son Philip peeking from behind the stacks of firewood.

  “Where did that snowball come from?” he bellowed loudly. He turned his back to the woodpile and held his hands up as if confused.

  A flurry of snowballs flew in his direction, most falling short of their target and he turned slowly and looked around dramatically.

  The woodpile erupted into giggles once again.

  He turned his back to the pile again, but this time a large ball hit him hard in the back of the head and he knew that not only children were lurking behind the stacks.

  He spotted a neat drift of snow behind a stand of pine and ran towards it. There he assembled a small arsenal of snowballs and then waited.

  As he expected, the children began to emerge from their place of cover cautiously, hiding behind one another. Louisa, being the eldest, soon became cover for the two younger boys and the three snuck out into the clearing next to the house.

  Roland circled around to the west and situated himself behind a tangle of wild berry bushes where he had piled snowballs earlier. He could see Tim clearly, packing snowballs, and he waited.

  As the children neared him, Timothy began tossing balls at them and they squealed and scattered in all directions, slipping on the snow and giggling in playful terror.

  Roland waited. Timothy threw snowballs in rapid fire and as soon as Roland could see that his stash was depleted he stood up and pelted his friend aggressively.

  The children burst into cheers, yelling loudly and egging him on.

  “Get him!” Louisa screeched, laughing loudly.

  “What the…” Timothy Elgerson roared.

  “Daddy, daddy!” Phillip yelled, hopping and flapping his arms. Ottland was so excited he ran in circles and then flopped down into the snow.

  Timothy began packing more balls and retaliating as quickly as he could, but Roland’s brusque attack was covering him in wet snow.

  The hollering in the yard alarmed Emma and she walked out onto the porch through the back door to find the grown men embattled in their snowball fight and she shook her head.

  “Look out, Cousin Emma!” Louisa screamed as a large snowball exploded against the wall beside her. She ducked back inside and hurried to the window to watch the skirmish.

  Timothy was completely covered in the shattered snowballs and he stood up, bellowed and pounded his chest and the children screamed and scattered. He ran full force through the woodland and lunged towards Rol
and who stepped aside quickly and Timothy plopped into the snow.

  “Argh!” Timothy thundered. “You have all turned on me!”

  Roland stood with his hands on his hips and bent forward from the waist trying to catch his breath.

  The children ran across the yard, jumping on Timothy and covering him with more snow, all laughing hard as he roared and began tickling them. When he stood up they fell into the snow pile and he shook his head, scattering snow onto all of them and they screamed and covered their faces.

  “Everyone inside!” Emma called from the porch. “You are all soaking wet! You two as well,” she scolded the men.

  The mudroom was soon piled deep in wet boots and the big stove covered in soaked mittens and wool hats. The group gathered in the warmth of the big kitchen sipping steaming mugs of hot chocolate, teasing one another lovingly and discussing future battles.

  Chapter Nine

  Mark threw up his hands in frustration. The figures in the book seemed to mock him and he slammed the ledger closed.

  Samuel looked up and frowned.

  “Come on, Mark. We’ll just ride up and have a little drink. If you don’t like that girl then just tell her. She’s not their sister or anything. She shouldn’t stop us from having fun. We’ve been working for days and we deserve a little time to relax.”

  Mark sighed and wished there was something else more enjoyable to do in Barite, Missouri.

  Mark left his gun in the room at the boarding house and they walked to the stables and rented two horses.

  When they reached the clearing Sam called out for Buck and the two young men waited. Mark sniffed the air and noticed that he did not catch the scent of the fire in the air.

  “Maybe they’re not up here,” he conjectured.