“Could we go out there?” she asked the maid curiously. The third floor was stuffy and unused and Rebecca wondered why this section of the house seemed so abandoned.
The two tiny women pulled at the great oak doors and it felt as if the house sighed when the doors gave way and fresh, warm air filled the hall.
The women stood inside the open turret and Rebecca was astounded at the spectacle.
Perched on the hill, the soaring Queen Anne afforded a breathtaking view of the beautiful landscape. The trees were ablaze in autumn splendor, while the deep green of the Norway pines reached, towering towards the vivid blue sky. Rebecca could clearly see the lake they had passed on their journey to the home, and the maid pointed out that on a day as clear as this you could see the tall tower of the big clock in Billington, far in the distance.
“It looks as though no one ever comes up here. Why is that?” Rebecca asked as she and the maid closed the massive doors behind them.
“It’s never been open since I’ve been here. I think it was closed down not long after it was built. The attic is this way,” the maid replied.
Rebecca wondered why the place had been designed so large if it went vastly unused. What had been Timothy’s vision when he had built it?
The maid opened the heavy door at the end of a long hall and Rebecca ascended the dusty stairs. She left Rebecca to explore the attic, explaining to her that most of the old woman’s belongings were stacked in the north corner.
Alone in the upper reaches of the enormous residence, Rebecca thought even the attic was beautiful, the massive beams rising above her head. The heat was not nearly as oppressive as she feared, though the area was close and warm.
In one corner stood an abandoned dress form, several trunks and a stack of wooden crates. Rebecca decided she would start with the boxes, curious as to what she might find. As promised, she did discover needlework and was astonished by the volume of lovely wool yarns in a vast collection of colors and stunning natural shades. There was a fine sewing machine marked Remington in a custom cabinet and Rebecca wondered if it were made by the same company who had manufactured David’s rifle. There were dress patterns and notions galore and Rebecca was saddened that all of the beautiful and incredibly useful items were hidden away where they could not be appreciated and enjoyed. Oddly, she found stacks of pattern books filled with baby clothing, designs for lacy sweaters and tiny booties. She looked at the dates on the books and saw that many were just a few years old. Rebecca speculated that perhaps Timothy and Corissa had planned a family. Maybe that would explain why the house had been built with so many rooms.
The girl was finding that her excursion to the attic was not the exciting venture she had imagined when Timothy had first suggested it. Instead she felt emotionally overwhelmed by the history in the family’s items. The sewing machine appeared to never have been used, the attachments still sealed inside of a box in the cabinet drawer. Had it been a misguided gift as the house had?
Feeling uncomfortable exploring items that were not her business, she selected a bundle of soft yarn and a few more knitting needles. She found a small oval basket, filled it with the yarn and prepared to go downstairs.
Rebecca struggled to shake off her feeling of uneasiness as she set the basket on the floor and closed the attic door.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Elgerson instructed Mark and the older Evens boy to gather as many of the chickens as possible and not to venture into the woods. He assured them that he and the other men would return as quickly as possible and checked both of the boys’ rifles before unhitching the horse from the wagon.
A collection of riders, including the sheriff, rode directly up the hillside towards the abandoned shack.
When they emerged from the dense forest onto hard packed dirt Timothy circled with his horse in confusion. There was no structure of any kind. Elgerson slid from the Arabian’s back and paced around the clearing uncertainly.
“This is the place, I’m sure.” His voice was irate and agitated. “Damn it!” Elgerson slapped his thigh with his hat.
“You sure this was the place, Tim? There’s nothing here, not even the remains of a shack.”
Timothy looked up and glared at the man.
“Son of a bitch,” Elgerson swore under his breath.
The riders dismounted and paced the area in disappointment.
“Look at this, Tim.” The sheriff pointed to a large hole, smooth and round on the forest floor. “Looks to be some kind of a burrow. I’ve never seen an animal build this kind of a thing right out in the open like this. No grass or nothing.”
The men gathered about, standing in a circle around the lair while Elgerson pushed a stick inside and then held it to his nose.
“Possum hole would be my guess.”
“Doesn’t seem right, Tim.” The sheriff squatted down beside the big man. “There had to be something over this spot. The sky opens up to here, no possum would do this out in the open like this.”
“We’ll take a look around and see what else we can find,” one of the men stated, and walked slowly into the woods.
All but Elgerson and the sheriff scouted out the surrounding area while the two of them checked out the clearing closely. Within several minutes one of the men called out.
When they reached the man the others joined as well. Lying against the knotted root of a tree were a bloodstained man’s boot and a leather sole nailed to a broken piece of wood. Elgerson and the sheriff examined the evidence closely while attempting to understand how it fit into the information they already had.
“We know the girl was bleeding when Mark found her and he said she was dressed in men’s clothing. This piece here isn’t from the same type of boot. Can’t say why it’s nailed to the wood like this but it could be any number of reasons. I think we ought to take these back and see what the woman and your boy have to say about them.”
The group met back at Elgerson’s cabin and found that the two boys had collected and caged most of the chickens, but had given up their efforts in order to stay close to the building as they had been told. It had apparently been an accomplishment to gather what fowl they had, since both boys were angry and out of breath.
“Stupid chickens!” Mark was muttering under his breath.
“That’s good enough, Mark,” Elgerson decided. “Take a look at these things we found. What can you tell us about them?”
“Did you go to the shack?” the Evens boy asked excitedly.
“There’s no shack there now,” Elgerson scowled.
“What?” Mark wheezed. “What happened to it? I know there was a shack there! Pa, you saw it!”
“Don’t know, boy, but it’s not there now. Take a look at these things. Show him, Ben.”
The boy examined the articles and was sure that the boot matched the one that Rebecca was wearing and thought that maybe the leather sole was nailed to the door.
“They took it down? Why did they take it down?” the boy asked, puzzled.
“I’ve got a few ideas about that,” the sheriff remarked.
“I’ve got a few myself,” Elgerson grunted. “It doesn’t look good. Well, there’s nothing left there now except the burrow in the clearing.”
“Burrow?” Mark looked up excitedly. “Rebecca said that there was a rat in the shack with her. She tried to tell me that it was bigger than a cat. Did you see a giant rat, Pa?” The boy was sure Rebecca must have imagined the rodent, but if not, a giant rat would be something to trap up there.
“Looks like a possum hole, not a rat.” Elgerson needed to talk to the girl.
“Maybe she never saw a possum before,” the Evens boy interjected. “Girls think they are giant rats.”
“She was sure of it.” Mark was disappointed.
“Mark,” Elgerson addressed his son. “Exactly how bad was Rebecca’s bleeding when you found her? The boot’s soaked in dried blood and I thought she just had a bump on her forehead. Was she thinking clearly?”
&
nbsp; “She was bleeding pretty badly when I found her,” the boy replied. “Her shirt was covered in it and most of her pants. She looked really pale and shaky. She seemed alright while we were coming back here, except that her side was hurting, but she was kinda funny. I was afraid to let her sleep a long time like Mister Klehm. I remembered that you said if he slept too long after he got hit in the head he might never wake up. I kept waking her up for a while, she was pretty sleepy, but I think she was alright.”
“I think that girl’s lucky to be alive, Tim,” Ben remarked. “Sounds like you did exactly the right thing, Mark.”
The boy smiled at the sheriff, relieved that Rebecca hadn’t died.
Elgerson hitched up the wagon filled with the caged chickens, and he and the sheriff rode back together while the boys rode the horses. Timothy wanted to discuss his thoughts with the man before returning home and talking to the girl.
“Why take down the shack, Tim? Whoever brought the girl up here had to know she got away somehow. Just doesn’t make sense. Did they take it down because they knew we were riding up to have a look? I’m not fond of that idea. There’s no one in town or at the train station or ticket office that has seen Finn Morgan in days. This just isn’t right,” the sheriff said.
“I’d had the same thoughts myself, Ben. If they were using the shack as a hideout for the robberies and the girl got free, of course sooner or later someone would want to find the place. I’ve got a bad feeling. Something just doesn’t add up. I’ve got to say I’m concerned about Finn myself. He’s not a bright man. I’d hate to think anything had happened to him as well.”
“Tim,” the man spoke cautiously. “I’ve been thinking. Since I know the girl’s up at your place and all…” the sheriff paused.
“You think she had something to do with all this?” Elgerson stated flatly.
“I have to consider everything, Tim.”
“It’s alright, Ben. I had already thought of that. That’s why I asked the boy to tell me more about her condition. I can’t figure that they’d beat her up that way if she was in with them unless there was a problem.” Elgerson shook his head unable to make sense of the girl’s possible involvement.
“I just can’t see it, Ben. She’s puzzling, that’s certainly true, but I think she’s a victim. I did have another thought.”
“What’s that?”
“Maybe she saw something, possibly someone on the train? She might not have known who it was, but they could have gotten it in their minds she could identify them. I think we have to find out who this woman is who took her from the station.”
“Never thought of someone being on the train,” the sheriff replied.
Elgerson could not shake the image of the blood covered boot and Mark’s description of Rebecca’s condition. He hadn’t been aware of how severe her injuries must have been. Then he’d wrestled with her himself, thinking the girl was a thief. He supposed she could have stayed with Mark, recuperating, and then tricked him into giving her money before leaving him at the cabin. He just didn’t see it in her. The train robbers had kept horses tucked away for an escape. He knew Rebecca did not ride well. He just couldn’t fit her in anywhere into the situation.
If she was a victim it made much more sense. The girl was terrified and her actions were what the man would expect. He imagined her lying in the dirt by the possum hole, bleeding for an unknown length of time. She had to be a victim.
He spent the remainder of the ride certain that he needed to find out more from the girl. He wondered if she really remembered anything all that well, but he would get what information he could from her.
The sheriff sat beside the big man and tried to fit Rebecca into the group of train robbers. He was not convinced that Rebecca was also just a random victim.
When the men parted at the lake the sheriff informed Elgerson that he’d be stopping by after supper to speak to the girl further.
Mark climbed into the wagon with his father and Timothy questioned him again about the girl’s condition and how she came to have the money. Further convinced that she was an unfortunate victim and trying to understand why they had taken her to the shack and left her for dead, he began to worry about the girl. What if someone did believe she was a witness? Elgerson urged the horses to a quicker pace.
Rebecca returned to her room with the basket and considered starting a pair of woolen socks. If snow fell in this area maybe she’d make a pair for Mark and another for Timothy to thank them before she left. She hoped it would be something to keep them warm after she’d gone. The thought of leaving Stavewood depressed her deeply and her room was so warm she decided instead to take a walk outside and compose her letter to Emmy in her mind first before putting it to paper.
Chapter Twenty-Six
As Rebecca reached the bottom of the stairs she heard horses at the front of the house and, thinking perhaps Timothy and the boy were returning, opened the front door.
An excessively embellished carriage opened to reveal Octavia, entirely clad in a dreary shade of gray, all pieces of her ensemble a perfectly matching shade. Even the feather on her fitted bonnet was dyed the same monotone shade.
Rebecca sighed deeply. Without Timothy at home she would be forced to entertain Octavia herself. Rebecca hoped that, with the man out, perhaps Octavia would not stay.
The big girl unashamedly displayed her ample bosom as she leaned to step out of the coach, leaving Rebecca to question if American women found it acceptable to go calling in such flaunting attire during the day. She had not recalled any of the women at the party being so openly displayed, and decided that this was something Octavia chose as her own style.
“Good morning, Octavia,” Rebecca greeted her politely. “Please come in.”
“Where’s Timothy?” the woman asked and brushed past her into the foyer.
“I’m afraid he went up to the cabin with his son. Would you care for tea?” Rebecca felt as if it were her responsibility in Timothy’s absence to entertain his friend as cordially as she could.
“What?” Octavia snapped, turning to Rebecca, peering at her as if having just noticed her beside the closed door.
“Timothy is out. Would you care for tea?”
“I need to speak to him now,” Octavia stated, peering up the staircase and trying to see into the upper hall.
“I could give him a message if you like.” Rebecca stepped up to the sizable woman. “I don’t expect him to return until this evening.”
Octavia faced Rebecca in obvious disappointment and scrutinized her carefully.
“Yes,” she stated as she studied the petite girl. “Tea would be fine.”
Rebecca escorted Octavia to the parlor and went to the kitchen. Finding no one around she set out biscuits on a tray and filled a china teapot she found in a low cupboard behind several pots.
When she returned with the tray Octavia was arranging the candlesticks on the mantle.
“I’ve always hated these things here,” she continued to inspect the candlesticks.
“Please, have some tea.” Rebecca poured the tea gracefully and the two women sat facing one another. “Is there something you would like me to relay to Timothy?”
“Relay? Oh, yes. I wondered if my mother had been out this way. I haven’t seen her for several days, and, although Mother comes and goes as she pleases, I did expect she might come home earlier.”
“I don’t know about Timothy, but I have not seen her myself. Are you worried?” Rebecca sipped her tea.
“Not really, just curious. She can’t be far I suppose. The bank said she made a deposit just yesterday.” Octavia looked restlessly around the room and picked up a small silver box from the side table.
“I apologize that I never met your mother the night of the party. Perhaps another time,” Rebecca remarked, watching the woman inspect the trinkets carefully beside her chair. “I’m sure Timothy will be sorry to have missed you.” Rebecca hoped that Octavia would prepare to leave, not entirely sure how to address t
he woman’s handling of the property in the house. She knew Timothy and the woman were close, but was unsure of their exact relationship.
“So, tell me, Rebecca, whatever color would you call that dress? It’s a very vivid shade after all.” Octavia asked distractedly.
“Are you and Timothy very close?” Rebecca asked, deciding she ought to find out more about the woman and changed the subject to avoid becoming rude.
“Terribly!” Octavia responded, suddenly interested in Rebecca and the conversation. “I’ve known Timothy since we were children. We’ve always been so close. I was away, you know, when he married Corissa. I’ve always blamed myself for that, leaving the poor man alone to make such an awful mistake.” Octavia punctuated her conversation by fanning herself with her handkerchief. “How long are you planning on being here? I thought you said you were leaving soon.” She leaned slightly towards the smaller girl.
“I have some arrangements yet to make, but I don’t expect it will be very much longer.”
“A shame,” Octavia rose from her chair and flipped her handkerchief. “Then you won’t be able to attend the wedding.”
“You’re planning on being married?” Rebecca fidgeted slightly in her chair, not sure she wanted to hear the answer to her question.
“Of course. Tim and I will be married in the spring I expect.” Octavia strolled away casually.
Rebecca caught her breath. She told herself she should not be surprised, she had suspected they might be close. Still the announcement startled her, hearing the words aloud.
“I’m sorry.” Rebecca tried to appear composed. “I did not realize that you and Tim were engaged. I suppose I should congratulate you.” Rebecca rose from her chair, not entirely comfortable with the woman towering over her. She found the sound of the woman’s voice made her feel as on edge as the topic of conversation.
“Well, it’s not common knowledge yet, but I’m sure everyone will know soon. I was hoping dear Tim would bring it up the night of the party, but as it was, we never got a moment alone.”
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