Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 1) (2 page)

   A clamor rose up around her tearing her from her blissful musings as passengers bumped and bustled about in the crowded car.

      “Haaaawk Bennnnnd Staaaaaatiooooonn,” the dreadful porter intoned loudly.

      Rebecca gathered her things close to her. She hated these endless interruptions. Hundreds of them it seemed. These pointless delays, although sometimes called “rest stops” by other passengers, gave her no rest. She watched the pitiful girl across the aisle bundle up an infant in one arm and then pull a toddler by the hand through the commotion towards the end of the car. No one anywhere on this awful machine, that she could see, had anything in common with her. Each of them seemed more horrid than the last. All were sad, dirty and exhausted common folk. Their attire was unflattering and mundane. Even those not wearing homemade clothes seemed to have chosen only the most ill-fitting and poorly made garments.

      At least these people were a step up from the wretched lot on the ship. Rebecca tried to be thankful that she did not suffer her sea voyage in steerage, although her passage had been far worse than she ever imagined possible. Rebecca’s stomach churned at the memory, reminding her that she had not eaten since morning.

      Electing not to abandon her torturous bench to fight the crowd toward fresher air, she peeled open her oil stained paper parcel and extracted a small slice of bread and a sliver of dried meat. The beef was as tough as shoe leather and she bit off the smallest taste disdainfully and chewed it slowly. The small chunk of bread went down more easily although she knew that, by the following day, what remained in the package would not be edible. The tiny apple she tried next was much more satisfying and still held a hint of its sweet original flavor.

      “There surely will be an orchard,” she whispered to herself. Rebecca could almost hear the warble of birds happily flitting through her future orchards and feel the sun streaming through the trees. She’d go there, she vowed, and gather the magic of it into her lungs.

      The woman across the aisle climbed back to her seat and the filthy toddler peered sadly towards Rebecca while she delicately sampled her apple.

   “Why doesn’t she feed that child?” she thought. “Over two days I have not seen her put a single bit of food before him. What kind of people are these?” She pulled the remainder of the bread from her meager collection and offered it to the waif. The child waddled across the aisle precariously and put out his tiny hand.

      “Thank ya, Ma’am. That’s right kindly o’ya. Where ya travl’n to?” the emaciated mother asked.

      “St. Peter,” Rebecca replied under her breath, uncomfortable with conversing with the female. “Then to Billington.” Rebecca turned away towards the window hoping her reply would sufficiently satisfy the woman’s curiosity.

      “Fine country there ya s’pose?” The young mother asked. “Home to ya, is it?”

      “No. Well, yes.” Rebecca looked straight ahead.

      “’Scuse  me?”

      “I’m going there to marry.” Rebecca bit her lip. “Why on earth did I even reply?” she asked herself. “It’s not her business where I live or don’t.”

      “Pit’ure bride are ya?” The woman pried on.

      “Pardon me?” Rebecca gasped

      “Y’re one of them pit’ure brides! They’s men there lookin’. That’s why I’m headed out this way m’self!”

      Rebecca’s face turned ashen and she steadied herself on the wooden bench. She felt her chest tighten and a cold chill of perspiration began running between her breasts and into her corset. She pushed her bundle frantically into her satchel and rose to exit the car.

      “This waif,” she thought to herself. “Why this girl couldn’t be more than fifteen, and two children in tow as well?” Rebecca scrambled to leave the car, her heart pounding loudly in her head.

      “Excuse me, Ma’am.” The porter planted himself in Rebecca’s path and took her arm. Rebecca felt the world around her reel and her legs go limp beneath her.

      “Are you alright, Ma’am?” The porter steadied her and eased her back into her seat.

      “I need to get off this train,” Rebecca whispered. Her mouth had turned dry and she felt her lips tingling. How could this be? A picture bride? “Oh, God, please,” she whispered.

      “You want off the train? The train’s about to leave the station,” the  porter urged.

      “No!” Rebecca gasped. “Please let me off now!”

      Rebecca felt herself being lifted down the aisle by two of the male passengers, one under each arm, her skirts dragging on the splinters of the rough floorboards. The dread was consuming her too rapidly for her to feel the embarrassment she would ordinarily have experienced at any other time from such rough handling.

Chapter Two

          
 
T
he men deposited her onto a log bench beside a small, closed station and she heard the call of “Alllll abooooooard!” The engine hissed and creaked as the train tugged away.

      Rebecca buried her face in her hands and sobbed violently.

      “What have I done?” she cried. “I don’t know where I am and my trunk is on the train.” Rebecca’s body rocked with agony.

      “If that girl is going where I’m going and she answered an ad and she’s one of the girls who…” She couldn’t bear to think about it.

      Rebecca pulled her satchel against her chest and rocked like a child. What did it matter that her skirts pulled rain from the puddles beneath her like a lantern wick? Nothing mattered to her now. Her life at home was over even before she had left, but now there was no future, no promise for tomorrow, nothing. Rebecca angrily kicked her foot sending a spray from her skirts and cloak into the doorway of the little station.

      “Whoa there, Missy!” a voice bellowed from inside. “If you want to set out there and get yourself soaked to the skin go right ahead, but keep it outside with ya!”

      The pitiful young woman sobbed uncontrollably, gasping deeply as the voice revealed itself to be a stocky man wearing a fur cap and oiled apron as he stood in the open doorway. The timber frame outlined his solid structure and made him look like a natural addition to the coarse log building.

      “Now, now, Miss, it can’t possibly be all that bad. Come on in out of the rain there and we’ll set ya right.”

      Rebecca looked up at the man through soaked lashes and sniffed softly.

      “I’m off the train,” she sighed. “I can’t go on and I can’t go home. Leave me be.”

    “Why, ya can always go on, Miss,” the attendant replied. “No matter what, ya can always go on. No problem that ya’re off the train. Folks leave the train all the time and wander off, but ya can get right back on the next one and show ya’re ticket and you’re  back on ya’re way. No problem.” He smiled at Rebecca with such simple promise and warmth in his round face that she was only more convinced that he had no idea of her misery and she began to cry uncontrollably again.

      Unsure of exactly how to deal with the pitiful girl suffering on the bench, he approached her and stood wringing his hands before her.

      “Well, at least come inside, Ma’am. I can’t leave ya out here gettin’ soaked and I don’t fancy being soaked much myself.”

      Rebecca surrendered to his pleas, certain he’d give her no peace until she entered his desolate station. What if the man had intentions? She didn’t want to think about it. What did it matter anyway? She decided he was a bit simpleminded, but likely harmless.

      “Now Miss, where ya bound for then?” The man stood, obviously proud to have lured Rebecca inside as she shuffled into the station building and plunked down onto a hard wooden seat.

      “St. Peter,” she replied dejectedly.

      “Why ya’re not far from there at all!” he beamed triumphantly. “Too bad ya got off the train. Ya’d about be there by now!”

      Rebecca shot the man a glaring look. Why did he insist on deepening her misery? Be there by now? Then what? Rebecca shuddered, soaked through and chilled to the bone

      “I suppose ya left your luggage on the train. I’ll telegraph  ahead and they can leave it at the station there.”

      Rebecca again burst into tears, unable to imagine what it would be like to finally arrive in St. Peter. She knew that there would be a carriage there to take her to Billington, but until now it had never occurred to her that no arrangement had been made in the event that she did not arrive promptly in St. Peter. The only things she now owned were her boat and train tickets. No money, no hotel fare. “What a fool I’ve been,” Rebecca thought. “That poor girl on the train was no better off than me, but she had the sense to stay on the train and arrive at her destination on time.” Rebecca groaned miserably.

   “Another train’ll be along soon, Miss.” The man began wringing his fur hat in his hands while trying desperately to sooth the sobbing girl. He unscrewed a battered flask and poured a dark liquid into a misshapen tin cup. He slunk his bulk down onto a bench facing her and offered up the cup.

      The warmth of the hot metal mug and the curiously pungent liquid calmed Rebecca and, although the beverage was unfamiliar to her, it was strangely cordial to her broken spirit. After a time she felt some of the chill pass and she found herself feeling unexpectedly comfortable, alone in the isolated station with only the simple man.

      “Finn’s the name, Ma’am.” He tipped his fur cap to Rebecca as gallantly as if it were a silk top hat. It painted an odd picture to Rebecca who studied the man’s huge calloused hands and soiled garb.

      “Rebecca Fagan,” she replied. “I’m off to St. Peter and then to Billington to be married!” Rebecca giggled at her bold announcement. “Yes married,” she hiccupped, “To a man I know nothing about.”

      “Why ya’re one of the brides!” Finn looked at her excitedly. “Ya’re such a pretty thing I ought to get me a bride from the papers too!” Finn blushed deeply and Rebecca radiated.

      “Thank you, sir!” Rebecca replied.

      Rebecca couldn’t make sense of her feelings. She was terrified of her situation, yet strangely she didn’t care so much now. She felt warm and somehow cozy and Finn’s kindness made everything seem different somehow.

      “Could I have more?” she asked, offering the cup to the man.

      Rebecca gazed around the solid structure and found she had to struggle to focus in an attempt make out her surroundings more clearly. The rough walls were hewn from solid, straight logs, giving the building a weighty feeling, the solidness of it making her feel safe and protected. A small iron stove sat centered in the room and she held her feet close enough to bring a light steam from her soaked skirts. There were several solid benches and a small partial wall on one side that she supposed was some kind of ticket booth. A huge moose head adorned one wall and upon peering around the corner she spied a sagging cot against the wall in a small adjoining room.

      “Do you live here?” Rebecca queried, rising on her feet and tipping back a bit on the bench. Her tongue felt thick and heavy as she spoke and she caught the edge of the bench in a slight wobble.

      “Suppose that’d be enough,” Finn replied. “Who’s the man to be?”

      “Oh my,” Rebecca gasped at a hiccup. “What man?”

      “Yar groom Miss, who ya marrying?”

      “Mr. T. Elgerson,” Rebecca smiled boldly. “He’s my man!” She lifted her arm as though to cheer.

      Rebecca was aware of the room slipping quickly to one side, although she could not imagine how that would be possible.

Chapter Three

    
 
R
ebecca
woke to the sound of a harsh woman’s voice in the other room.

      “You gave her brandy, Finn? Before or after she told you she was the one ordered for Elgerson? You’re a damned fool, Finn. Nuthin’ but a damned fool!”

      “She was soaked to the skin and they put her off the train. I couldn’t jus’ leave her out there to freeze to death.” Rebecca recognized Finn’s deep coarse voice. “I didn’t know nuthin’ about her comin’ for Elgerson until after.”

      “Well, we can’t just put her back on the train. I suppose we need to find some other way to send her on her way,” the woman huffed.

    Rebecca had prayed for sun throughout most of her trip, but the blasted, bright beams assaulting her as she looked around the unfamiliar room brought her no pleasure.

      She was suddenly awake on a narrow cot and unable to fathom how she came to be there. Her head felt twice its normal size and her eyes ached painfully as she attempted to assess her situation. Where were her clothes? She wrapped the rough flannel sheets around herself in embarrassment and tried to free herself of the sagging cot to make her way towards the doorway. Rebecca knew she was in a bad situation, but she felt compelled to find out where she was. The girl was frantic with confusion. Her head pounded as she rose and a disturbing uneasiness roiled in her stomach.

    Stumbling across the room, she caught the sheet in a large splinter protruding from a small table and a lantern hit the wooden planked floor with a loud crash.

      “Well, well, her highness lives!” Feet firmly in the doorway there stood a huge mass of a woman. “So, you’ve decided to get up I see!” The female was dressed in men’s dungarees and appeared to be papered in a mammoth plaid shirt. Her hair was piled on the back of her head in a careless fashion, the red tones of it ranging from carrot to the bright color of barley straw framing a ruddy, round, weathered face.

      Rebecca heard heavy footsteps as the woman advanced threateningly towards her. She grabbed Rebecca’s arm roughly and sat her squarely on the cot where she had been sleeping.

      “Who are you?” the woman demanded.

      “Rebecca Fagan,” the girl replied softly. “What happened to my clothing?” Rebecca tried to sound bold through her fear and misery.

      “Worthless,” the woman declared. “Can’t wear them anymore. I’ll get you others. Finn said you’re a picture bride for Elgerson. That true girl?”

      “Yes,” Rebecca replied timidly, unable to find any resolve in her quivering voice.

      “When was the last time you heard from him?”

      “When he wired me my travel arrangements.”  Rebecca shuddered and pulled the flannel closer to her petite frame. “You know him?” Rebecca ventured.

      “Everyone knows Elgerson ‘round here I suppose.”

    Rebecca was suddenly encouraged. Someone who knew him could help! She could find out so many things she wanted to know about the man even before she saw him!

      “Oh, please,” she tried sounding friendly and kind to the gruff woman. “Please tell me what kind of man he is!”

      The woman rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

    “Oh, a fine elderly man,” she responded.

   “Elderly?” Rebecca gasped to herself. She shook off her disappointment, certain the woman must be wrong, but tried inserting an older, but distinguished gentleman into her vision.

      “I see,” Rebecca responded with distress.

      The woman smiled down to Rebecca in a crooked fashion and left the room, promising to return with suitable clothing.

      She returned with a stack of items in her arms and Rebecca ventured another question.

      “Are you the one who undressed me?” Rebecca blushed in shame.

      “Who else?” the woman coarsely replied.

      Rebecca stuttered, “W-well I remember Finn and then…” Her voice trailed off.

      “Finn? Finn can’t hardly dress himself. Get those clothes on and I’ll take you to Billington myself.”

      Rebecca apprehensively took the clothing and turned her back to the woman.

      “Call when you’re finished… Bedra!” the big woman exclaimed and left the room.

      “Bedra?” Rebecca whispered to herself, assuming it had to be the woman’s name. She tried to convince herself that the woman’s rough mannerisms were non-threatening and began to look through the clothing. Her disappointment forced her to plunk down on the cot. Men’s clothing, how unheard of! It hadn’t occurred to her that this outfit seemed suitable clothing to the huge woman.

      Rebecca pulled the first item of clothing from the stack and found it to be a course and thinly worn pair of men’s britches. She slipped her slender foot into the garment and realized that she could fit completely into one leg of the baggy pants. The textile was so threadbare that she was certain the awful article of clothing, if it could be considered that, offered no decency whatever to her trim backside. She relaxed, somewhat, upon donning the roomy shirt, since it fell to her ankles, but, without her camisole beneath it, the fabric felt rough against her delicate breasts. The oversized jacket offered a bit more decency, but the cap she found as the last item in the stack made the entire ensemble all the more ridiculous.

      Rebecca sat on the bed with the tattered cap in her pale hands and considered her predicament. It was impossible for her to consider going anywhere in this outlandish garb. The thought of meeting anyone, especially Mr. Elgerson, clad in such an outrageous costume was unthinkable to her. The fog in her head began to clear a bit and she tried to remember where exactly she was.

      What was the last train stop? She rubbed her aching head and tried to remember what the porter had called out before stopping here. Rebecca groaned. She knew it would do her no good whatsoever since she had never bothered to look at the schedule of stops and even a recollection of the porter’s calls would give her no clue as to her location.

      “My trunk!” Rebecca gasped.

      Finn had said he would be able to wire ahead to the train and recover the trunk. “That would solve so many problems!” she whispered to herself.  If she could simply recover her belongings she could rid herself of this peculiar outfit and resume her travels on the next train as Finn had assured her. Once in St. Peter, dressed decently, she could decide a course of action. Perhaps she could ask around about Mr. Elgerson and he would fetch her as she had planned. Or perhaps she could wire Emmy.

      Rebecca shook her head. “No,” she told herself. Asking Emmy to bail her out was impossible. She decided that getting her trunk and going on and meeting Mr. Elgerson was her only alternative.

      She gathered her lengthy hair, twisted it into a coil, stuffed it under the cap and then shoved it firmly onto her head. She took a deep breath and stepped towards the doorway.

      Peeking into the room, she recognized with relief that she was still at the same train station she had arrived at the previous evening. She discovered that she was situated in a room behind the ticketing desk. Behind the counter the huge female was precariously perched upon a small stool, the main bulk of her broad backside spilling generously to either side of the straining seat.

      Rebecca stepped boldly into the room, determined to recoup her belongings and be on her way as quickly as possible.

      “I’m ready,” Rebecca spoke up.

      Bedra leapt from the stool, unbalancing the piece of furniture and ignoring it as it fell and toppled to the floor. She hurriedly stuffed several slips of paper into a small pile while glaring at Rebecca sternly.

      “I told you to call me from there when you had dressed!” the woman bellowed, her ruddy face flushed and agitated.

      “Where’s Finn?” Rebecca stepped forward swallowing hard.

      “What’s your concern with Finn?” the woman snarled.

      Rebecca cleared her throat delicately in an attempt to keep her voice from cracking.

      “Finn assured me I could catch the next train without complication and that he would be able to retrieve my trunk by wiring ahead to the next station. I would like to know if he has done so.” Rebecca folded her arms in an attempt to appear determined, despite her apprehension. She began tapping her tiny foot, regarding the woman openly, while trying to look unwavering in her request.

      The massive woman looked over Rebecca from head to toe and gave the girl a disapproving glare.

      “That’s impossible now,” the woman informed Rebecca while stuffing papers into her back pocket. “The train is not running so your desires must go unfulfilled,” she chuckled gruffly. “I’ll take you to town myself,” she announced, waving her hand toward Rebecca and straightening the stool.

      Rebecca’s face fell and her chest tightened in dread and disappointment.

      “B-but I can’t possibly go like this…” Rebecca stammered.

      “It’s no bother,” the woman grunted back oblivious to Rebecca’s predicament.

      “No, I mean…” Rebecca’s voice trailed off.

      “Go bring the buggy ‘round from the back and I’ll get you to town.”

      Rebecca stood hesitating and uncertain as the woman turned impatiently towards her.

      “What are you waiting for?” the giant woman queried gruffly.

      “Well,” Rebecca began, “I just…” Her voice trailed off once again.

      Rebecca peered cautiously through the doorway toward the tracks. No one was about to witness her outfit. Once she was sure there would be no onlookers, she tiptoed outside.

      The day was awash in brilliant sunlight and the dazzling brightness assaulted Rebecca’s vision, intensifying the ever-present pounding of her head. Beyond the tracks she saw a seared hillside, blackened and ghostly, with tall tree trunks bare and scorched. The image was foreboding and disturbing, showing no signs of life anywhere. A damp mist hung along the ground, dissipating into the sunlight. The eerie picture seemed fitting somehow, as though the sun had deceived her, hiding for days behind the rain to reveal the land’s true nature only now. Rebecca saw it all as the perfect cruel joke. This was the reality of her vision, all a nightmare she would never wake from. Rebecca blinked back a single tear and rubbed her nose with a rough sleeve.

      Around the corner she found a weathered gray buggy hitched to a pitiful old mare, covered in scars and bearing a look of defeat. Rebecca approached the emaciated beast cautiously and when the animal gave a soft snort Rebecca nearly jumped out of her skin. This was too much she thought. I cannot bear this dreadful hallucination any longer. She closed her eyes tightly and wished the world away. As she opened them cautiously, the beaten old beast eyed her suspiciously.

      She certainly had been close to horses before. They were always beautifully groomed and hitched to fine carriages, always available for a ride about town. However, Rebecca had never touched one, never ridden one and certainly never tried to lead one anywhere.

      She swallowed hard and approached carefully, this time reaching out slowly towards the animal. The creature’s relaxed snort was less of a surprise this time and after a second attempt she took up a timid hold on the reins. The poor beast was pitiful and Rebecca found herself stroking its nose gently and cooing softly.

      “You poor old thing,” she murmured. Rebecca was shocked and pleased that the animal nickered at her affectionately.

      “What are you doing there, child?” Bedra bellowed from behind her, startling both Rebecca and the ragged creature.

      “Bring it around!” she commanded and stomped back towards the building.

      Rebecca caught her breath and led the horse and buggy around the building rather easily she thought. She looked up once again at the burned hillside and fought back a shiver in the morning mist as she rounded the corner of the building. Rebecca left the horse and wagon in front of the building, a bit concerned with how close they were to the tracks, but felt she had done the best she could. As she stepped into the doorway she wished for a moment she knew enough about horses to use this one to escape. She paused, steadying herself to yet again cope with the unpleasant female.

      Bedra grunted impatiently, beckoning Rebecca towards her. She shoved a battered pair of men’s boots in the girl’s direction and instructed her to put them on.

      Rebecca peered at the footwear in disbelief, uncomfortable with holding the shoes, let alone placing them on her feet.

      “Are you addlebrained, child?” the woman snapped.

      “What’s wrong with my own shoes?”

      “Addlebrained,” the woman huffed. “No girl, they won’t do for this trip. Put those on now.”

      Rebecca scurried off to the back room where she could at least change into the boots with some privacy.

    The sound of hooves interrupted her and she heard a horse pull up in front of the building’s entrance. Rebecca strained with the laces, wanting to hurry and run out to see if Finn was returning, hopefully with her trunk. She could hear footsteps on the wooden platform outside.