Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 1) (3 page)

      “Mother!” a female voice exclaimed loudly. Rebecca paused, listening. It wasn’t Finn at all.

      “Mother, that fool horse has pulled the buggy right onto the tracks. He’s going to kill himself and take the buggy with him!”

      Rebecca winced and returned to the tangle of laces.

      “Hush!” Bedra touched her lips with her index finger and her tone was suddenly low and guarded. She gestured to the door and the two women stepped outside onto the platform, leaving Rebecca inside to put on the boots.

Chapter Four

    
I
n the light of the morning sun, Bedra looked fondly at her daughter, Octavia. The younger woman stood over six feet tall, a strapping, solid young female with wild red hair and a completely freckled complexion. It was readily apparent to others that Octavia would someday become her mother’s image. Someone else would also see that, although younger by nearly twenty-five years and not yet possessing Bedra’s full girth, Octavia could not be considered attractive.

      Not so in Bedra’s eyes. Bedra’s vision of her daughter was that of a healthy, strong girl from hearty stock. Bedra was rarely stern with her, but this situation called for it.

      “Where is she, mother? Uncle Finn told me Elgerson has ordered a picture bride and she got off the train here last night.” Octavia’s voice was just above a whisper, yet she still stomped her foot in agitation.

      “She’s inside and you want nothing to do with her,” her mother replied.

      “I want to see her! How dare he think of doing such a thing after all these months! Why, I never!” Octavia folded her arms across her ample bust and stomped her foot again.

      “Now calm down child.” Bedra tried soothing the big girl in a sweet tone.

      “There’s nothing to look at,” she went on. “The girl is no more than a child, perhaps sixteen at most and skinny as a bean pole at that! If Elgerson were to lay eyes on her he’d see in a heartbeat that she’d never survive. She’ll be just another to go the way of all those other homesteader’s wives. And simple? Why the girl can’t even speak properly and has the backbone of a worm. Now quit your fussin’ and let me handle this. You have no more concern over her. You go on as you have been with Elgerson and he’ll see what talents you have soon enough! Like I said, if he can pick out fine work animals like he always does, he’ll see that anyone like that nit of a girl in there is a waste of his time and that
you
are what the man really needs.”

      “But Mother, I want to see her! And what if…”

      “There’ll be no ‘what if’,” Bedra assured her. “He’ll never lay eyes on her anyway. Now head off and wait for me at home.”

      Octavia turned, rebuffed and disappointed, and mounted her carriage reluctantly. Her dress was a dreary gray, although fashioned from a top quality silk. The bodice was cut so deeply that it barely contained her massive bust and she pulled herself upright sturdily in the seat. She tugged at her skirts, pulling them coarsely into the vehicle and turned the carriage around.

      “You’ll take care of it then?” Octavia asked reassurance from her mother.

      “You go on now,” her tone was comforting. The mother waved after her fondly as the younger woman bounced away. There was nothing in the world she wouldn’t do to keep her only child happy. Nothing. Cursing herself for failing to have dealt with Rebecca in a swifter manner she returned to the inside of the station determined.

   Bedra filled the doorway. “We’ll be going now,” she announced to Rebecca.

      Rebecca hobbled out to the buggy in the awkwardly knotted boots and climbed self-consciously into the seat. She hung on tightly, trying not to lose her balance while Bedra climbed aboard and the contraption swayed violently.

      “Are we going to St. Peter or Billington?” Rebecca ventured as the woman snapped the whip sharply and the buggy lurched forward.

      “No,” she grunted back. “I’ll be taking you straight away to Elgerson’s. Road’s washed out. It’s better this way.”

      Rebecca clung terrified to the bouncing vehicle. The rough jostling of the ride was miserable and unnerving. She dreaded the thought of meeting her intended husband in these conditions and the painful pounding of the ride brought Rebecca to tears. She sat as balanced as possible on the rickety old transport and tried to look straight ahead, clamping her jaws together in agonizing resolve and an attempt to save her teeth. Rebecca had been raised to behave like a lady, always taught that, no matter her situation, if she maintained her dignity she would uphold her self-respect. The girl never imagined that her pride and self-preservation would be put to such a test.

      After a few torturous miles Rebecca could not help but take in the passing countryside. In the brilliant sunshine her new world was glaringly illustrated as it spread out around her. The rutted, muddy road was hardly more than a cart path and on either side the hillside appeared scorched and fire ravaged. After a time she questioned the woman beside her cautiously.

      “Everything is black. Was there a fire?”

      The woman glared towards her and her only reply was a gruff, “What do you think?”

      Rebecca kept to herself for what seemed like an eternity.

      “Yep, big one last year,” the woman replied eventually. She had taken so long to reply to Rebecca’s question that for a moment the girl had no idea as to what the woman was referring. She was so relieved by the woman’s response she began to bubble with questions, still hoping the woman’s gruff manner was nothing personal towards her.

      “How sad and awful!’ Rebecca observed. “Everything looks so distressing and dismal. Did the fire burn a lot of land? There must have been so many homes destroyed, what did people do?”

      Again she received no answer to her queries and kept the remaining hundreds of questions that sprung into her mind to herself. The seared timberland gave way to a considerable tangle of forest that began to close in around them thickly.

      In the late afternoon the woman announced that they had nearly reached their destination and Rebecca was sadly disappointed and thoroughly confused. There were no homes that she could see and although they had ridden out of the desiccation they had passed through earlier, the land was rough and foreign to her. Tall, straight pines lined the passage, enclosed on either side by impenetrable forest. Rebecca tried peering into the depths of forest intently, but could see only a few feet. The path that they traveled had become overgrown and appeared to be rarely used by any travelers on carriages or horseback. Rebecca clung to the buggy staring ahead expectantly in fervent hope that the forest would spread open and reveal a settlement, or perhaps a small village. The looming darkness of the thick woodland felt threatening and sinister making her more and more uneasy. Rebecca could not recall when she had eaten last and, had her stomach held any contents, she was certain they would not have remained inside her.

      The huge woman pulled the cart sharply into a stand of birches along a muddy path that seemed no more than a section of forest that had washed out, leaving exposed roots and rocky gulches.

      When the powerful woman pulled her contrivance up before a crumbling shack, Rebecca could take no more. She sat shaking violently in the rickety buggy unable to compose herself.

      Lumbering down from the buggy the woman quickly circled to Rebecca’s side.

      “Get out!” she bellowed.

      Rebecca quaked in fear and misery.

      “Is this Mr. Elgerson’s?” her voice trailed off trembling.

      “Yep,” Bedra declared, taking Rebecca violently by both arms and plunking her to the ground.

      Rebecca felt her knees buckle beneath her and violent shivering overtook her.

      “Elgerson’s out I suspect. I’ll get you inside and you can wait there for him until he returns.”

      The woman led the suffering girl to the shack doorway and pushed in the patched door with her massive foot. The hovel was dim and dusty and held a musty smell. Cobwebs consumed the rough walls of the hut and it was apparent that there had been no one living inside in the extended past. The big woman pulled Rebecca into the cabin and tossed her roughly onto the dirt floor. Rebecca felt her stomach retch and she curled into a tight ball, gagging and shaking. Quickly binding Rebecca’s wrists and ankles with a rough cord, she lifted the girl and easily deposited her onto a makeshift cot against one wall.

      Rebecca began to wrestle in her captivity, sick with fear and confusion.

      “You can wait here for your Mr. Elgerson!” The woman barked and laughed loudly before kicking Rebecca hard in the stomach and hitting her hard with a piece of broken board.

   Rebecca’s dark world faded to black, closing in around her from all sides. She tried to cry out, but no sound emerged and she fell limp on the dusty cot.

Chapter Five

   
 
T
he
seam of the feedbag gave way, caught against the loose nail on the buckboard bed. Elgerson cursed under his breath, deftly catching the opening and standing the bag on its end beside the vehicle. His patience was worn thin by the sulking of the boy and, with the meeting time fast approaching, he had no time to devote to gathering up the feed.

      “This bag’s unraveled,” he rumbled to the youth. “I haven’t time to repair it. Now you go on and stack these bags in the shed. I’ll be back, it can’t be helped.”

      The boy hung his head dejectedly, nodding.

      “Yes, sir,” he responded dully.

      “Enough!” Elgerson sighed. “You’ll be fine! We’ll get up to the house when I return. Keep to your chores and mind those chickens. I’ll be back before you know it.”

      The youth nodded again, unconvinced at the reassurance. Every trip it was the same. Every time would be the last he’d be here alone. He set to hauling the bags towards the shed never turning to watch the impatient man pull the buckboard away.

      Timothy Elgerson stood a strapping six feet four in stocking feet, though he himself could not recall the last time he’d been out of his boots. He was obviously a capable man, tanned and rugged from a lifetime of logging and hard labor. Beneath the thick mane of golden hair and substantial beard, his bronzed face was serious and his eyes a warm soft brown with sharp intelligence. His frame was solid and broad shouldered with a trim waist and powerful thighs, undeniably displaying his Scandinavian heritage. His healthy outdoorsman stance gave him a commanding presence in any situation, often making men step back and women take notice. Yet, something of Timothy Elgerson gave evidence that he was set apart from the common logger. There was the manner of a gentleman to him that often made many, who upon first meeting him, wonder about his background. His reputation was that of a fair-minded man, if somewhat blunt in manner. In recent years, however, there were those who questioned his reasoning.

      Elgerson drove his horse hard in an attempt to make up for lost time and reach his meeting in a timely manner. He had single-mindedly spent the last months of his life negotiating land deals for substantial purchases. He found he was good at it and the trades kept his mind occupied most of the time. There were periods when the bargaining didn’t distract him and late nights alone and long rides to meetings were two examples.

      The man’s mind drifted to the boy and the lad’s dejected ride to the logging cabin. Since the death of the boy’s mother, Timothy Elgerson found the main house depressing and haunted with memories. Once he had decided to spend more time at the isolated logging cabin it had evolved into something of a small farm. The boy had spent so much time alone there that Timothy had brought up the dog as company for him. Then, when the chickens went uncared for at the main house, a makeshift coop was built at the cabin as well. Eventually there was so much to keep up that the boy was needed more at the cabin than at the main house.

      At twelve, Mark was capable and hardworking, but his depression was more than Elgerson could bear. Caught in what should have been a magical age for the lad, somewhere between childhood and the responsibilities of manhood, he was awkward and shy. The boy held the promise of stalwart good looks, his dark hair disheveled and his eyes unusually dark and intent. He hovered in anticipation of adulthood with an obvious self-conscious manner that frustrated Elgerson and tested the man’s patience relentlessly.

      In the two years since the death of his mother, Mark, instead of enjoying the freedom of adolescence, had seemed to become more withdrawn. The lack of a mother’s support and encouragement had overshadowed his enthusiasm and left him moody and sullen. Timothy was certain that the boy felt somehow responsible for the death of his mother.

      Despite fervently trying to contemplate his upcoming land deal, Elgerson couldn’t shake his worry about the lad. The boy’s misery seemed to be spiraling and Elgerson was at a loss as to how to bring him around. Where constant occupation and distraction helped the man himself adjust to the loss of his wife, Mark seemed to only slip further and further away.  It wasn’t just that the boy was not Elgerson’s blood child. He had been young when he came to live with the man. Timothy loved him as his own and their relationship could not have been closer had they been natural father and son. The man was capable in his business dealings and progressed though his life fearlessly and without hesitation, but the moods of the boy and the loss of his wife left him emotional and distracted, feelings he feared he himself would never get a handle on.

      Elgerson hoped his plan to put a woman into the boy’s life would ease his melancholy. Once he signed his land deal he’d meet the woman he’d arranged for in Billington and move her and the youngster up to the big house. He’d keep himself at the cabin and go about his business from there.

      The female who responded to his ad seemed capable and had replied in a clear, businesslike way to his carefully worded ad. The photo included was serious, dignified and ordinary which suited Elgerson’s needs sufficiently. He had arranged for her journey as quickly as possible through the train companies and expected her to arrive as agreed.

      He’d consent to marriage since he believed that most women who responded to such ads were simply in search of support and housing and Elgerson knew he was capable of doing that much. He also felt that many of these women did not seek romantic involvement or such entanglements. Who would expect that from such an arrangement? He had no intention of falling in love. Love was something Mr. Elgerson would not succumb to again.

      The main house would suit any capable woman well, he was certain. Finely built and skillfully crafted it would house her and the boy easily. When Timothy Elgerson had built his home he had poured himself into it like a man possessed, planning a large family and a grand life for himself and a wife. Though it stood now barely functioning as a home, it was still a fine house and perhaps a woman about the place could bring some functionality back into it for the boy.

      Timothy Elgerson checked the location of the sun and turned his buckboard down the steep decline toward Billington and his arranged meeting.