Home to Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 3) (11 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

    
 
T
imothy Elgerson finished his meeting with the sheriff and walked towards the train station. He carried his luggage and that of his missing son and stood on the platform trying to suppress his feelings. The sky was a dull grey and a damp mist hung in the air. He could not think and he could not allow himself to feel all of the emotions that battled inside of him. He fought hard to feel nothing.

      Sheriff Mason had assured him that any news of his son would be wired to him immediately and that, if and when they found the boy, he would not be tried until Timothy returned. Elgerson knew in his heart that Mark was incapable of the accusations. Just the word ‘tried’ stuck in his gullet and sickened him with fear.

      Timothy recalled his conversation with Ben Neilson. It was clear that the man believed he had set the boys up in a good and wholesome situation. Timothy believed differently, but had decided that there were more important things to pursue.

      The big man knew it was time to go home. He knew that if they had sent for him his wife needed him. He knew there was nothing more he could do. He’d done everything he could think of again and again.

      He watched the milk cart rounding the corner onto the main street, the big Irish man and his pretty young daughter beginning their rounds for the day and he watched them disappear around the corner. He heard the whistle of the train as it pulled noisily into the station.

      He set his boot onto the iron step, hesitated, and stepped back down. Maybe he’d go after the milkman and ask once more. Timothy Elgerson reconsidered, sighed and boarded the train for Minnesota.

      He settled into the seat and gazed out the window. He was not giving up, he told himself. The sheriff would keep looking and he would return immediately as soon as they found Mark and bring him home. In the meantime he’d go back to Stavewood and check on Rebecca and the family. He could come back after that and look some more.

      The train pulled out of Barite slowly.

      In the early morning light Rebecca awoke and looked around the room. Emma was sleeping in the chair beside the bed with a woolen blanket over her. Roland must have covered her, she thought. Day and night one or the other of them had been by her side and Isabel came and was checking her often as well. She knew all of them worried about her.

      The worst of the pains in her belly had subsided during the night, but she still felt as if every inch of her ached, and the fever still lingered. She rolled towards the empty side of the bed and reached her hand out across the open space. It always seemed too cold in the bed with Timothy gone. She wanted to curl up beside him and listen to the deep timbre of his heartbeat. She needed to hear his strong voice soothing her breaking heart.

      Rebecca thought about what she would say to him when he returned home. If he brought Mark back with him he might not be as upset about her losing the baby. If he returned alone it would be much harder. She pondered what she may have done, if she had overdone somehow, if there was anything she could recall that she did that made her lose the child. It had started the day he left, she thought. Was she so weak that without him she had gotten so upset she had ended her pregnancy just by being emotional? Rebecca sobbed and swallowed hard.

      Emma opened her eyes and watched Rebecca reach out across the bed and heard her muffled cries. She knew her cousin’s pain and understood how badly she needed Timothy to return home. Roland would meet him at the station soon.

      Emma took her hand and Rebecca turned to look at her, her eyes brimming with pain. Rebecca slipped back into sleep and Emma left the room quietly.

      “The Missus is no better?” Birget, the cook, set out a tray with a large teapot in the center. “Perhaps a cup of tea would set her right?”

      Emma looked into the woman’s sweet face and shook her head slowly. “She’s gone back to sleep.”

      “Then you sit down right here and have a cup for yourself. You have your own babe coming. There might not be much we can do about the little lost one, but after the terrible time you had with little Ottland, you need to be caring for yourself as well.”

      “I couldn’t agree with you more.” Roland’s deep voice filled the warm kitchen. He sat down at the table beside Emma and kissed her hand.

      “When Timothy gets home the Missus will feel better, I’m sure,” Birget assured.

      Emma sighed. She knew the cook was completely attached to Mark and had been at Stavewood since the boy was very young. She may not be a blood relation, but her heart was breaking as well.

      “Daddy is coming home?” Louisa spoke from the back stairs where she stood rubbing her eyes. “I want to tell Momma that Daddy is coming home!”

      “Oh, Loo.” Emma slid the child onto her lap. “It’s a surprise and you mustn’t tell your mother just yet. Would that be okay?”

      Louisa tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. “Won’t Momma feel better then? She’s awfully sad that Mark went away and Grandma ‘Bel said she can’t have her new baby right now. If Daddy comes home he knows how to make Momma smile pretty.” The child peered into the bowl that Birget set down before her.

      “Daddy can pick her up and spin her around and make her dress blow right out around her. That always makes her laugh and laugh.” Louisa plunged her spoon into her oatmeal. “And when Mark comes home,” she continued, “we can have a real Christmas. I wrote a letter to St. Nicholas and asked him not to come until Mark was back. It will be much better to have Christmas when everyone is back.”

      Although the holiday was only a handful of days away, until now no one had brought up Christmas at all.

Chapter Thirty-Six

          
 
M
ark touched Colleen’s arm gently and she blinked open her eyes and lay silently, looking into his face. For a moment she was certain she was dreaming. He looked so handsome and loving in the dim light and he held perfectly still. If it were a dream then there would be no consequences. She would awaken, no matter what happened, and it would all safely slip away. Colleen leaned to him and kissed him slowly.

      He tasted the sweetness of her, felt the warmth of her against him and let himself be swept into her fantasy, but he knew it would not last.

      “Colleen,” he whispered against her throat.

      “I love you,” was her uninhibited reply.

      “We have to wake up. You have to go back to the house. The sun will be up soon.”

      Colleen’s eyes opened and she blushed deeply. “I thought I was dreaming. Forgive me.” She got to her knees and brushed the straw from her hair.

      “Forgive you?” He sat up and faced her.

      “I shouldn’t have said that.”

      “Why not?” He took her hand. “Is that the way you feel?”

      Colleen stood up and smoothed her apron. “I have to get to the milking.” She turned from him and hurried to the door.

      “Wait,” he stood up and walked to her.

      “I need to know.”

      “Why?” She looked up to him, her eyes pleading.

      “Because,” he paused. “I wouldn’t want to feel that way alone.” Mark looked down. He knew that his feelings for her would complicate everything and he did not want to make another mistake, but he wanted her, needed her and had to hear her answer.

      “Alone?”

      “Colleen, some way or another I have to get out of here, but I know now that I can’t leave without you.”

      Colleen frowned. “I’ll get you out, I promised you that. Then you’ll be free to go. I know how badly you want to go home. I said I would help you, I meant it.”

      “No, I mean that I won’t leave without taking you. I want you to come with me.”

      “To Stavewood?” Colleen’s mind raced. She had never allowed her imagination to wander that direction. All of her fantasies that revolved around Mark all lived within the safe confines of the barn. She wanted to be with him, to make love to him, to have him love her, but all right here. Anything that might occur beyond that she had not allowed herself to consider.

      “But your family is rich and there’s my father and I’m just…” her words trailed off.

      “Just?” He studied her face.

      “I’m just a milkmaid. I know that. Please don’t tell me that you would take me home with you. I know that’s impossible,” Colleen insisted.

      “What?” He shook his head. “I don’t care if you’re a milkmaid. That doesn’t matter to me. I am a bit concerned about your father shooting me and certainly about getting hung for murder. But as far as being in love with you and wanting to take you home to Stavewood and my family, I love you and that matters.”

      Colleen’s pulse quickened. Every thought that raced through her mind seemed so complicated. Her father, the murder, Mark’s rich family, all made her feel as if she were going to panic. But if he left, all of her life would return to what it had been before he arrived - endless days of not caring for anyone, only her aging father. She’d return to just having the poetry, and her imagination being the only reason to keep going. Her dreams had begun to grow thin and every one of them had always been about someone like him. About someone who looked at her the way he was looking at her now.

      “I love you, Colleen. Go milk the cows and I’ll figure this out, but I want you to come home with me, whatever it takes.”

      She nodded and took a deep breath and he pushed the door closed behind her.

      Colleen splashed the icy water over her face in the yard. Her fingers were split and cracked from the harsh cold and she tried warming her hands in her apron before milking the cows. Her mind raced with all of the emotions that she was feeling. Last night he had rebuffed her advances, although she was willing to go to him, feeling that there was nothing to lose and only that moment mattered. She was certain then that he did not want her, that he thought she might be trying to trap him somehow. Colleen never imagined he would ever want her enough to stay, and certainly not enough to take home to his fine house in Minnesota. She sighed as she lugged the heavy cans to the wagon and walked towards the house to wake her father.

      Colleen did not hear Lem McHerlong emerge from the shadows and take a pint from the back of the wagon. He watched her enter the house then slipped back into the barn.

      Shane Muldoon set his feet onto the rough floorboards moments before Colleen entered the house.

      “I’ll have your tea in just a moment,” she called to him as she stirred the fire in the stove. The room was bitter cold and Colleen turned to watch her father wrap the old woolen blanket around his shoulders.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

    
 
T
he night had been bitter when Lem McHerlong slipped into the barn, choosing the newer building over the battered, older structure. He had come down from the mountain in the night, starving and angry. Fearing retaliation from the Catslip clan, his family had wanted to hide him and Buck after hearing about Swallow, but they would have none of it. Both of them had insisted that they didn’t kill the girl. It had been those rich boys from town like Catslip had said. If the law had found them before old man Catslip, they would have tried them both and Lem would be able to be back at home. Now he figured those boys were both dead, the second one certainly lying frozen in the hills somewhere.

      Lem knew that Shane Muldoon had once been a man to be avoided, but now the fellow was getting on in years and he had that pretty daughter here. If he planned it right he could get rid of the old man and have her to himself for as long as he liked. With Swallow gone he sure missed having a woman around whenever he got the itch.

      He watched her when she entered the barn. Such a pretty thing she was, all that hair falling down so fresh and clean over her shoulders and that tasty figure of hers. She was just about as delicious as a woman could be and he would not mind having a nice tumble with her. He’d crossed paths with her before and she was such an Irish spitfire. The time he’d jumped from behind the barn trying to scare her when she was about ten or so she had just thrown herself right into him and blackened his eye. He never forgot the thrill he’d felt when she straddled him that day. He’d like to get under her again that way, but this time she’d learn to behave.

      Lem slunk behind the stable boards and watched her lead the old workhorse out and hitch him to the milk cart. He watched the sway of her hips and listened to her sweet voice as she lured the tired gelding from the stall.

      “Come on old fella,” she whispered gently. She stroked the side of the big animal slowly.

      Lem wanted her hands on him that way.

      Colleen helped her father into the cart and handed him the reins. She could see he was having more trouble every day and considered, not for the first time, that it would be very soon that she would be delivering the milk alone. For a moment she imagined Mark sitting beside her in the cart. She imagined him smiling at her through their days of deliveries, laughing and sharing stories together. He’d have the energy to jump down a few times himself while she sat in the cart and that would lighten her load. She’d even enjoy delivering every day if he could be here beside her.

      The young woman shook her head and climbed into the cart beside her father. Mark Elgerson, delivering milk next to her? She scowled. Why on earth would a young man from a rich estate ever want to sit beside her delivering milk all day?

      “Alright, Da.” She nodded to her father and Shane Muldoon shook out the reins.

      Lem McHerlong waited until they had pulled out of view and slipped into the house unnoticed.

      Colleen took her crochet work from her apron pocket and pulled the loops of the fluffy yarn through to form her stitches. With only a few more inches her carefully crafted scarf would be finished. In the morning it would be Christmas and she wanted to give Mark a present before he left. She sighed, knowing that he would be gone soon and that it was an impossible dream that she would ever go with him. She set her project onto her lap and reached across and tucked the old blanket around her father’s lap. After the holiday deliveries she would convince him to retire, she decided, and take over the business alone. If she picked up a few more customers she could set aside a bit more coin. She had asked the newspaper boy to find out how much the train fare was to Minnesota. In a few weeks she would have saved enough for one ticket.

      Colleen resumed her crochet.