Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 1) (7 page)

Chapter Eleven

    
 
T
imothy
Elgerson awoke with a stiff neck and an aching back, his pistol still beside him and his head pounding like thundering horses.

      He cursed himself and staggered downstairs to the study where he pulled a bottle of brandy from the immense desk. He sloshed a generous amount into the snifter and took a hard pull at the rich liquor.

      “To another blasted day!” he toasted to himself and dropped into the chair behind the desk.

      After several hours of sleeping off his stunning hangover, he took to roaming the house moodily. Every board, each piece of furniture and ornament bore the thumbprint of the man. He loved the house immensely and with every project to refine the home he’d stood beside Corissa enthusiastically displaying his latest creation.

      “Do you like it?” he’d ask his wife, wanting nothing more than her approval. “I want it to be built perfectly, and I hope the woodwork is to your liking.” Her smile faded in his memory.

      The huge Victorian style home boasted the finest design from the deeply polished floors to the delicate crystal chandeliers. Its grand expanse opened at the entry with a wide central staircase and solid oak doors that fit perfectly into pocket enclosures leading into the grand parlor to the left, a cozy study situated to the right.

      Timothy had once thrived within the walls of the vast home and the spectacular landscape surrounded by stands of strapping white pines. He had loved the excitement of friends at gatherings and often filled the home with bustling visitors, the sounds of a lively band filling the evening air.

      He cringed at the thought of allowing Octavia the opportunity of bringing guests into the house once again. A party was one of the things he had avoided with determination since his wife’s death and he planned to make himself as scarce as possible.

      His musings were interrupted by the sound of a commotion in the back kitchen and he passed the staircase towards the rear of the house to investigate the disturbance. A limited staff did oversee the residence but the uproar sounded like a larger group than the few lingering employees.

      “Ah, sir!” Simmons, the butler ushered Timothy into the kitchen as soon as Elgerson had stepped towards the door. “It’s good you’re here sir, we didn’t hear you come up the drive,” the butler carried on in a rushed tone. “There’s been some trouble with the train, sir, most unfortunate!”

     Several of his neighbors occupied the space, jumbling about with a number of the staff as well as the newly appointed deputy sheriff from Billington.

      “Seems there’s been some sort of robbery,” Deputy Albertson interjected. “Looks like a pair of men hid out on the express with some dynamite and it’s pandemonium up at the bend there just past the bridge. We’re riding out now to make sure everyone’s alright. I’d sure like to see you join us, Tim. We could certainly use your help.”

      Timothy Elgerson took the stairs two at a time, donned a clean change of clothes and gathered a few provisions before meeting the deputy and four other men in the stable. The group set out at a gallop through the pines towards the bridge that bordered the south end of Elgerson’s property.

      It was the second time a robbery had been attempted in the region, but the close proximity to his home made Elgerson nervous.

      When the team of men reached the river they could hear the voices of frantic passengers and railroad employees raised in panic. Several of the travelers stood in groups at either end of the short bridge, and the engineer and conductors were frantically describing the raid to the Billington sheriff. Elgerson slid down from his horse and surveyed the damage.

      “Well, the only thing I can figure is that they must have boarded at Hawk Bend on the early train,” fretted the engineer, pacing and wringing his rough hands. “They had to have hidden out in the blind baggage because I never saw them on board and neither did any of the conductors.” Three uniformed conductors nodded their heads vigorously in agreement.

      “Then, right before we hit the bridge the express car just blew up! Damndest thing, she opened up just like a tin can!” The engineer threw apart his hands. “Didn’t do enough damage to stop the train and it didn’t appear that anyone was hurt badly. They didn’t get much, but the car’s awfully damaged. Those fellas got right at the safe they’d blown up and headed off into the woods that way.” He gestured towards a narrow break in a thick stand of pine.

      “I’ve got men up there now,” the sheriff began. “Appears they had horses hidden back up there waiting. They must have left them there earlier, got on the train somehow and figured they’d blow it here on the bridge, maybe take the bridge out and get away clean. We’re putting together a group of riders to see if we can track them. Sure could use your skill with that rifle, Tim,” the sheriff went on.

      “I’m none too pleased with how close this is getting to home these days, Ben,” Elgerson replied. “Where are the men?”

      “Up past the old mill road, Tim. I’m sure you can find them. I’m obliged to you.”

      Elgerson caught up with the small posse after taking stock of the clearing where the robbers had obviously been hiding their horses. The old maple stained with tobacco spittle and a small covered heap of ashes gave evidence that the men had most likely spent the night before riding down to board the train at the station in the early morning hours.

      The posse was made up of a group of men Elgerson knew well, an honest capable bunch made up of neighbors as well as his former foreman, Roland Vancouver. The men greeted him as he approached and he fell into their ranks easily.  They rode the woods in the most direct path, all noting evidence of previous riders towards the Hawk Bend station.

      “They either know the area well, or at least took time to go through here a couple of times,” James Evens commented.

      “It does appear that they knew how to get right to where they wanted,” Roland remarked.

      Elgerson had the same thought himself. Although the path through the backwoods was something he’d walked or ridden many times the trail wasn’t obvious to anyone unfamiliar with the woodland. Where it led into the area ravaged by the previous year’s fire the men searched the black mud for prints. Whoever had put together this plan knew this property well. Elgerson felt uneasy.

      The men scouted the area around the station and cut through the forest attempting to pick up the trail of the robbers. At a small clearing they dismounted and uncovered a small camp area, but after careful inspection they decided that the thieves had not lingered there, at least on this occasion and the men continued on their way.

      They spent time discussing evidence and they all agreed that there were only two riders, and somewhere at this point they must have separated. One heavy horse bearing a large rider appeared to head toward Billington. The other, a finer and probably swifter animal had cut out across a narrow plain and likely through the gulch along the river. The men had met here often themselves for mornings of fishing with their youngsters and knew the passage well.

      Elgerson was not far from the cabin where Mark was waiting and considered a detour to check the lad. He decided against it for now, opting instead to remain on the trail of the bandits. Feeling confident that the boy was capable, he turned to a discussion with his associates.

      “Emmett and I will head back towards Billington and see if any strangers passed through town, Tim,” Roland decided. “Why don’t you and Nils see what’s going on up the gulch?”

      Having agreed on a plan of action, they parted ways. Nils Evens and Timothy Elgerson were well known to be two of the best marksmen in the territory. Not far from Billington the men who headed back were not likely to encounter any problems. The gulch that these men headed into however, afforded several good locations with cover and, if one of the thieves were waiting, the more accomplished Elgerson and Evens were the better choice in a possible exchange of gunfire.

      Timothy was the more accomplished of the two at tracking and took the lead as they followed along the trail. At nightfall they set up camp, confident they were close on the trail of their man.

      “How’s your boy these days?” Nils asked, watching Elgerson peer indolently into the small fire.

      “Fine,” Timothy replied. “Still down in the mouth, but I’m hoping it’ll work itself out alright.”

      Nils Evens had known Tim Elgerson since they were children together. With so many acres lost in the previous year’s devastating fire, so soon after the loss of his wife, Nils wondered how Tim and the boy had ever made it through.

      Evens had been witness to Elgerson’s struggles getting to know his stepson on countless camping trips they had taken with Nils’ boy along. Tim possessed a warm heart and good common sense, but his mannerisms could be easily misunderstood and Nils had watched the boy struggle to reach an understanding with the man. Elgerson could seem curt and impatient in his forthright ways and Nils felt that it wasn’t until they had shared the loss of Corissa that Tim and the boy began to appreciate one another. Evens lamented that it was unfortunate she never saw them growing close while she was alive.

      The men had a long built and easy understanding between them and Evens knew better than to question Elgerson further. He unpacked his bedroll and called it a night.

      The sharp crack of gunshots shattered the morning mist sending both men into the woods scrambling for cover.

      “Are you alright, Nils?” Tim called out through the forest.

      “Yeah,” Nils called back. “I’ve been hit, but I’m alright!”

      Elgerson called to Nils to stay where he was and wove his way swiftly through the thick trees. When he reached Evens his concern mounted. Nils sat, his back against a pine, bleeding profusely from the thigh.

      “Damn it, Tim, did you see him?” Nils attempted to keep his composure.

      “No, but he can’t be far. How are you feeling?” Elgerson pulled off his belt and began to wrap it tightly around the injured man’s groin. It became quickly apparent that the wound was serious and Elgerson pulled the belt tighter.

      “I got on my feet alright, but he hit me while I was running. I think he set himself in the thicket towards the east there. Whoever’s shooting might be afraid to cut through that old Indian cemetery. He fired three times before he hit me. I think he just got lucky. If you could help me up I think I might be able to get at him from the other side.” Evens looked pale.

      “No, you just relax. I heard him take off into the woods,” Elgerson lied. “We’ll be fine, let’s just see what we can do about that leg.”

      Timothy circled around behind the man and headed for the horses. He slipped stealthily through the trees hoping not to be spotted by the sniper and that Evens wouldn’t notice his caution. He knew the wounded man should not be moved. Evens was not one to sit there if there was a threat and Elgerson had to keep him quiet.

      He retrieved his horse and led it back as silently as he could to Nils. The bleeding had slowed with the pressure from the tourniquet and Elgerson loosened the belt and packed the wound with a poultice from his pack. The herbal concoction might keep the injury from festering until he found a way to get the man down the mountain.

      Tim did his best to make the wounded man comfortable, while keeping his eyes closely fixed into the half-lit woodland and listening intently for any signs of movement. Just before sunrise he had heard the shooter’s horse snort softly and move off in the distance. Without fear of another attack he began to devise a plan to take Evens to safety. He scouted the woods for a distance, but could not find Nils’ stallion and considered now that both men would have to ride back on Timothy’s own mount.

      Any movement of the man opened the wound and Elgerson decided that the only hope would be to leave Evens and go for help. Nils remained coherent, despite a great loss of blood and Elgerson reminded him that the belt had to be loosened at regular intervals. He made sure his friend was wrapped warmly and fed him well before preparing for his journey.

      “I’ll be fine Tim, really,” Nils reassured him. “If it weren’t for this damned leg I’d hop right beside you there and we’d go for a nice ride together. All those years I’ve known you I always wanted to share a horse like that night when we were kids and we raided that melon patch.”

      Timothy chuckled at the memory and appreciated the humorous remark.

     “I never had a sweeter melon than that night, or a sweeter ride,” he laughed. He knew it would be a full day before he could return and feared for his companion’s life. Even pulling the wounded man behind him on a makeshift travois would be an undertaking through dense wood he could not accomplish alone.

      “I’m going to need help getting you down the mountain, Nils. You hang in there and I’ll be back with help as soon as I can.” Elgerson mounted his horse.

      He rode hard all day, and into the next, crisscrossing through the trees and stopped only once for water and to relieve himself.