Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 1)

by Kinslow, Nanette

  The men gathered the broken man, pulling him roughly up from the ground and carrying him around the house to the sheriff’s buggy.

  Elgerson leaned, his arms out straight in front of him, stretched and taut against the stable wall, cursing under his breath.

  “It’s true, Rebecca,” his voice graveled and strained.

  “Timothy,” she whispered quietly. “It doesn’t matter. Remember? None of anything that happened before matters now. I love you and it’s the only thing that matters to me. I don’t care about him, I love you.”

  He turned to her and searched her delicate features, his face twisted in pain.

  Rebecca threw her arms around his sturdy chest, burying her face against his shoulder and he gathered her into his arms. They stood together silently beside the rough building. Ben Carson pulled his buggy around with Jude Thomas unconscious inside, and disappeared into the trees along the lane.

  A snowflake swayed gently on the wind and settled at their feet, melting into the firm ground.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Timothy whispered to her as the massive black horse snorted loudly and walked hurriedly towards his stall in the open stable. “Rebecca, you are going to freeze out here.”

  “Is he alright?” She cautiously followed the huge stallion, trying to inspect him, but afraid to get too close.

  “You’re afraid of that horse? Funny you weren’t afraid of me a little while ago.” Timothy shook his head and followed her into the stable.

  “I never slept with the horse.” She peered around the stall at the huge dark animal.

  “I don’t believe I want to imagine what you mean by that, Rebecca.”

  “The horse is just an animal, you have different feelings.”

  “You think his feelings are different?” Elgerson passed his hands over the horse’s flanks and along his towering neck.

  “The only horses I’ve ever seen were carriage horses in the park, and Mark’s, of course, but she was quiet, not like this one. I’ve never seen one like him, with a temper and such, I mean.” Rebecca stood in the stall adjoining the huge beast and peered at him curiously.

  The monstrous Arabian nodded his head and snorted loudly. Rebecca stepped back.

  “He feels a lot of the same things you do, Rebecca.” Elgerson gently examined the horse and spoke to him softly. “Haven’t you ever had a pet?”

  “No,” she whispered. “My family said they were too dirty. I never thought about it much I guess.”

  “Come around here.”

  “Oh Timothy, I couldn’t. He’s so huge. I’m really afraid.”

  “I’m huge. You’re not in the least afraid of me.”

  “Not as huge as he is!” Rebecca blushed, realizing her remark about not having slept with the horse could mean something she never intended.

  Timothy noticed her expression and chuckled softly.

  “Never mind,” she scowled.

  “Come around. He won’t hurt you and I think he should get to know you.”

  “You’re going to introduce me to your horse? You really do want everyone to know,” she giggled.

  Rebecca ventured into the stall and stepped up beside Timothy, terrified of the animal. Elgerson took her by the shoulders, led her beside the horse, and, standing close behind her, lifted her hand slowly and spread open her palm.

  The big Arabian rubbed his wide muzzle into Rebecca’s hand, lifting its broad head, flattening its ears and nickering softly.

  Rebecca gasped and held perfectly still, Timothy’s safe, solid body pressed firmly against her back.

  “He can tell you’re afraid. That’s liable to make him nervous. You have to let him know you’re not going to hurt him,” Timothy bent and spoke close to her ear.

  “Hurt him?” Rebecca spoke barely above a whisper. “How on earth could such a huge beast ever think I could hurt him?” She looked up at the man, her eyes wide.

  “You’d be surprised at how many thoughts he has. Try petting him, like this.” He took her delicate hand in his own and ran it along the horse’s back and neck.

  Rebecca could feel the powerful shoulders moving, strong and alive as Timothy pressed her open hand slowly along the stallion’s powerful body. The man pulled his own hand away gently assuring her that she needed to pet the animal so he could learn her touch.

  “Horses communicate very strongly through touch. He can feel if your hand is steady, or if you fear him. He’ll learn to trust you by the way you speak to him and the way you touch him. He’ll learn to recognize and respect you and he’ll learn what you expect from him and he’ll let you know how he feels.”

  “I expect he might eat me,” Rebecca laughed. The warm strength of the animal was exhilarating beneath her hand. “Respect me?” She ran her hand up to the horse’s ear and along his nose. “Is that why you could yell like you did when those men were fighting him and he stopped jumping in the air?”

  “He was afraid and confused. When he recognized my voice he felt safe. That’s what calmed him down.”

  “I still don’t understand how anything so big could be afraid of anything.”

  “I do,” the big man remarked distractedly. “Rebecca, tell me about the giant rat.”

  “In the shack?”

  “Yes.” His deep timbre was soothing and affectionate in her ear.

  “It was huge!” She shuddered slightly and Timothy placed his hands protectively on her slender shoulders as she continued stroking and exploring the horse. “In England there is a rat. Sometimes you see it late at night beside the sewers, but it’s not as big, perhaps the size of my foot.

  “The rat in the shack was quite different. It had red eyes and sharp teeth like needles, and it was the biggest rat ever!”

  “That’s because it wasn’t a rat.” Timothy chuckled slightly to himself and she felt his amusement against her back.

  “It certainly looked like a rat.” She looked around and met his smiling eyes.

  “It was a possum.”

  “What’s that?” She watched his face curiously.

  “It’s an animal that mostly comes out at night. They eat bugs. They might even eat a small rat. Have you ever heard of someone ‘playing possum’?”

  “Yes, I believe so.” Rebecca listened to Timothy’s firm voice and found herself scratching the Arabian without realizing it.

  “That’s because when you scare one badly enough he’ll lie right down and pretend he’s dead. Doesn’t sound like a very threatening animal, though they can certainly give you a nasty bite.”

  “Play dead? This one most definitely did not play dead. I screamed quite loudly, and it simply stole away down the hole.”

  Timothy laughed at her delightful way of describing things and pressed up closer to her.

  “Timothy?”

  “Yes?” he sighed, feeling her safe within his grasp.

  “Does he have a name?”

  “The possum?” Timothy watched Rebecca finding the horse’s favorite places to be scratched as she gently dug her nails into his tough hide.

  “No, the horse. Does he have a name?”

  “Cannonball. He’s enjoying that, Rebecca. It appears you’ve made a friend.”

  The Arabian neighed loudly and Rebecca’s eyes flew open in surprise as she pulled her hand away. The big animal butted her with his muzzle, apparently wanting her to continue.

  “Of course, you will have to keep scratching him until he’s had enough now. You could be out here all day.” Timothy laughed heartily.

  Rebecca looked at him concerned and scratched Cannonball vigorously.

  Mark ventured around the open door of the stable and watched Rebecca scratching the horse and smiled. He knew she had been terrified of the good natured chestnut. He watched Timothy looking down at her affectionately and giggled aloud, both adults turning suddenly to catch him spying.

  “What are you doing there, boy?” Timothy called out.

  “Watching two chickens fall in love.”

&n
bsp; “Chickens?” Timothy led Rebecca from the Arabian’s stall, pulling the gate closed behind them.

  “He says we are chickens, Tim. He called me that this morning as well.” Rebecca crossed her arms and scowled at the boy.

  “Why on earth would you call us chickens?” Timothy looked at the boy disgustedly.

  “Because it took you so long to hug and stuff.” Mark kicked at the stall and smiled impishly.

  “Off with you!” Timothy made a sudden move towards the boy and he scampered across the yard and back into the house.

  “Rebecca, you must be frozen clear through. Let’s get inside.”

  “Tim, look!” A soft flurry of flakes drifted across a graying sky.

  “I was afraid of that,” Timothy frowned.

  “Afraid? Look how beautiful and delicate they are!” Rebecca tried to capture a flake on her hand.

  “Until they begin to pile up around the door and you can’t leave the house.”

  “Oh, my!” Rebecca gasped as Timothy hurried her into the house.

  Rebecca shuddered, suddenly feeling the cold and stepped into the warm kitchen.

  “I can see I will need to dress you properly, and quickly. I don’t expect this snow will amount to much, by the look of the sky. If it’s not too cold tomorrow we’ll see about taking care of that.” Timothy rubbed her arms and led her to the study and the crackling fireplace. Running up to her room he returned with the heavy cape and her knitting balanced in his open hand like a tiny bird.

  “What are you making here?” He peered at the needles poking out of a large ball of yarn, the unfinished ribbing sitting up slightly.

  “It’s a sock.” Rebecca took the items from his hand and shook her head at his odd expression.

  “It looks nothing like a sock, you know.”

  “It will by the time it’s finished,” she huffed. “I thought if it gets cold enough, like now, you and Mark might enjoy warm wool socks.”

  “Like now?” Timothy laughed loudly. “Woman, trust me, this is not cold!” He continued to laugh as he stirred the fire.

  Rebecca was concerned. She didn’t think it could get too much colder. She wrapped the cape around her lap.

  Birget toddled into the room, announcing lunch.

  “Birget, wait.” The cook turned to face her handsome employer. “What’s going on in that kitchen of yours?” he asked with a puzzled look on his face.

  “Nothing, sir. Why do you ask?” Birget took an offended stance.

  “It seems that, since you filled Octavia’s menu for the party, the food emerging from that room has been unusually delicious.”

  Birget stomped her foot and scowled at Rebecca, pursing her lips tightly.

  Rebecca shook her head almost imperceptibly and fussed with her knitting.

  “I’ll not hold my tongue long, Miss,” Birget huffed loudly and stomped out of the room.

  “Rebecca?” Timothy faced her, his voice demanding.

  “Yes?” she gazed up at him innocently.

  “What’s going on?”

  “With what, dear?” she asked sweetly.

  “Octavia had nothing to do with the food at the party, did she? That’s what all the fuss was about when we first arrived! That kitchen was in chaos. You took over that day in the kitchen, didn’t you?”

  “It’s not important really, Tim. She simply had not given them a menu and Birget and I planned it ourselves,” she replied softly, a bit uncomfortable with his demanding tone.

  “You had to have heard everyone complementing the food profusely, and you certainly cannot have missed my recent comments at meals. But you never said anything. Why?”

  “It really didn’t matter that much, Tim. I thought you and Octavia were close and you had a houseful of very upset servants and a large gathering planned.”

  “You walked into Stavewood, took over the staff, the menu and the food and pulled off that huge party in one afternoon?”

  “Certainly not alone.” Rebecca was very irritated at his attitude. “The staff worked feverishly. Even Mark rearranged the tables per my instruction and your party went well enough I thought. I’m fully aware that this is your home. I only did what had to be done.” She peered at him indignantly.

  Timothy laughed loudly, his resounding voice filling the room.

  “Why on earth are you laughing?” Rebecca set her knitting aside and faced him.

  “You are something else, you know that, Rebecca?” He could barely contain himself.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry,” she huffed.

  “Sorry?” He turned to her and her face was flushed.

  “Rebecca, do not be sorry! Don’t you know how amazing you are?”

  Rebecca was entirely confused.

  “You came into this massive house, in that outlandish outfit I might add, and managed to get my entirely stubborn staff to prepare that feast yourself in one afternoon. Rebecca, my dear, I cannot wait until our wedding day!”

  Rebecca’s tightening shoulders dropped and she laughed with relief.

  “For heaven’s sake, Timothy, why must you terrify me like that? I thought you were angry with me!”

  “For filling me with that incredible food and throwing that magnificent party? How could you imagine I would be anything less than completely beguiled by you?” He shook his head at her, studying her fragile face and concluding that the delicate woman sitting in confusion before him most definitely deserved better than she most likely had ever had.

  “Rebecca, I have to ask you something. Believe me, I am not in any way angry with you.”

  “I understand now, Timothy, I just thought…”

  He faced her and held her petite frame, gazing into her bewildered, emerald eyes.

  “Those tickets I showed you, those were the tickets you used to travel here? Not the first class ones I sent. The other set, right?”

  “Yes,” she looked openly into his handsome face.

  “You came here on the ship’s third class? And the train as well?”

  “Yes, uh hum,” she replied, a captive in his gaze.

  “Why? The trip must have been unbearable the entire distance. You could have exchanged the tickets and returned home, anywhere along the way. Why did you continue?”

  Her eyes filled with tears and he watched her intensely.

  “There was nothing to go back for. My husband was murdered, everything I owned and all the money had been gambled away. I had no family, only a cousin. I don’t know, Tim. I had nothing there and your ad…” she choked on her tears and he pulled her to his chest.

  “My ad? Rebecca, the ad said nothing,” he whispered softly, his face close to her ear.

  “Not to me. It said everything to me.” Rebecca sobbed deeply.

  “You are amazing, Rebecca. I sat here doing nothing. I didn’t even care if I lived or died and you came all this way. I can see that it’s time someone learned to appreciate you.”

  He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply and she fell easily into his arms.

  Birget cleared her throat loudly.

  “Yes, Birget, we’re coming now,” Timothy responded, standing upright beside Rebecca.

  “Very well,” Birget replied and turned, rolling her eyes.

  “Birget?” he called to her.

  “Yes, sir?” she turned.

  “The food has been quite delicious. In the future when you and Rebecca do this sort of thing again you must promise me you will not hold your tongue.”

  “Definitely not, sir.” The woman smiled devilishly.

  “Thank you.”

  Rebecca pushed Timothy away. “You, sir, are quite impossible!”

  Timothy followed her into the dining room, entirely enchanted by the soft sway of her hips.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Octavia paced in the confines of the small lodge and watched a snowflake drifting outside of the tiny window. “Mother, I can’t possibly remain here another minute! I’m going back down to the house before we get snowed in here and I lose my m
ind!”

  “I wish you wouldn’t, child.” Dianna tried to reason with the girl.

  “We’ve been here for hours and I still haven’t seen Uncle Finn. I can’t stand it any longer and I’m tired of waiting. I just don’t see how hiding away in this godforsaken cabin is doing anything to stop that girl from stealing my beau from right under my nose!” Octavia whined.

  “I told you, leave the girl up to me. I’ll take care of it, just be patient.”

  “Patient? For heaven’s sake, Mother. First he orders that maid order bride, now she’s living right under his roof with no chaperone and I can’t stand it any longer! I saw them together, him holding her in that way! It’s indecent, Mother, and they were right there in the middle of the house with dozens of people around!”

  “Octavia,” Dianna sighed. “His son was missing. The man was distracted. If you had made yourself known to everyone there he would have turned to you just as easily. He wasn’t thinking clearly and that bitch is taking every opportunity.”

  “That’s exactly what I mean!” Octavia turned to face the older woman and stomped her foot indignantly. “She is right there flaunting herself now, and I am not.” The big girl could see the memory of Timothy clinging to Rebecca and she got a very uneasy feeling. There was more there than just the girl being so beautiful, but she quickly blocked it from her mind.

  “Be patient, Octavia.” Dianna’s tone was kind and pleading. Her eyes darted around the room distractedly, as she tried to devise her new plan, despite the constant complaining.

  With Octavia’s restless impatience, Dianna wasn’t sure she would be able to keep the young woman at the hunting lodge for very long. She considered that it might be best to let her ride out now, before the snow began to lie. It would be difficult to discover where Octavia was coming from. Dianna did not believe the snow would accumulate, but if she should be wrong, her own whereabouts would be easily discovered if she left tracks.

  Again she considered reminding Octavia to take care who she talked to and exactly what she said. She felt sure that her daughter would say too little to be a threat, except, perhaps, for Dianna’s present whereabouts. Even though she felt confident that Octavia knew only about Rebecca, and nothing regarding Jude or the trains, she did not want to risk any confrontations.