South of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 2)

by Kinslow, Nanette

  “Will you go back to Stavewood tonight?”

  She looked down at the table. Having avoided the question herself, she now struggled with the answer.

  He continued. “I know it wouldn’t be proper and all of that, but maybe you could stay. If you wanted to, you could stay.”

  “I’d like to stay, Roland,” she sighed. “No, it would be most improper, I’m sure not everyone would approve. I don’t know how to answer.”

  “Without anyone else’s opinion then, answer with only your own,” he frowned.

  “I will go back to Stavewood tonight. I need to speak to Rebecca and Timothy, and this is so quick, Roland. You don’t know me all that well. To move in here would be significant. Is that what you want?”

  He scowled, obviously disappointed by her answer. “It is,” he replied. “But I can wait.”

  “I’m trying to fool myself,” she admitted. “I would love nothing more than to stay. I will go back tonight and talk to Rebecca, but I would love to stay.”

  “You don’t care what anyone would say?” He leaned toward her, looking into her eyes seriously.

  “I do,” she admitted. “I don’t know anyone here, I’m sure I would have the most terrible reputation, but I’ve lived with that before for much less. I guess what I’m afraid of is that this is so sudden.” She swallowed hard, and sat up straight.

  “I know how I feel about you. I have for days, but I’m afraid, I’m afraid to rush to love you and find that it has all happened too soon,” she continued. She let out a breath. She’d said it straight out and if he ran now she would know.

  “Do you?” He stood up beside her and looked down to her.

  “What?” she whispered, a bit intimidated.

  “Love me?” His voice was deep and throaty.

  Emma stood up and faced him, looking into his eyes. “I do,” she admitted.

  “Then this is what I propose we do.” His face was dark and stern and Emma held her breath. “Go back to Stavewood. Tell them all. Explain to them that you fell in love and you won’t be staying long. I will court you properly, with some exception, and as soon as can be arranged you will marry me and then you’ll stay.” He nodded to her seriously, pleased with his resolution.

  “Marry you?” Emma nearly fell back in her chair.

  “No?” he scowled.

  “Oh, no. Not no. Yes!” She threw her hands around his neck and kissed him fiercely.

  “Married?” Rebecca’s hand flew to her face. “You are getting married?” She looked from Emma’s glowing face to Roland, handsome and proud, and she nearly cried.

  “Congratulations!” Timothy slapped the man on the shoulder and shook his hand vigorously. “That is great news. I’m very happy for both of you.” He took Emma’s hand and held it warmly.

  Rebecca looked at Roland Vancouver’s face in shock. He smiled at her broadly and the change in his demeanor was plainly visible. Emma had changed him. Rebecca wasn’t sure how, but the man was clearly different.

  She pulled her cousin to her and felt tears of joy and relief. “I knew you two were up to no good,” she scolded, overcome with emotion.

  Mark leaned against the banister in the open foyer and bit into his apple. “Took long enough,” he chuckled and shook his head, walking away down the hall and laughing to himself.

  Rebecca scowled at him as he walked off and then beckoned everyone into the parlor for a toast.

  “What happened?” She brushed out Emma’s hair before bed and watched her face in the mirror.

  “I fell in love with him,” Emma smiled contentedly.

  “Oh, no, no. You did much more than that.” Rebecca put her chin on Emma’s head and peered at her in the looking glass.

  “There was a bit more than that,” Emma admitted and turned on the stool to face Rebecca.

  “How much do you know about his injury?” Emma asked frankly.

  “It was bad, it nearly killed him. There was a long period of time that they were sure he would lose his leg. There was also concern that there was so much nerve damage that…” Rebecca stopped midsentence and gasped. “No!” she exclaimed.

  “Apparently they were wrong,” Emma smiled and blushed brightly.

  “No wonder the man is smiling. Emma you are so incorrigible!” Rebecca pushed her cousin’s shoulder playfully.

  “I’m a bit scared.” Emma looked down at her hands.

  “Did he hurt you?” Rebecca grew concerned.

  “Oh, no. Not at all. I’m worried that he’s grown attached to me somehow over it. Now he knows he’s, um, better. Maybe he’s just thankful. Marriage is a big step. I’m just a little concerned.”

  “Then take your time,” Rebecca advised, placing her hand on Emma’s shoulder. “If it’s just that he’s discovered he has mended then you will know soon enough. He needs to adjust to healing, and then you’ll know if it’s right.”

  “Thank you,” Emma placed her hand over her cousin’s and smiled.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The crisp morning air smelled of fresh jasmine and honeysuckle as Rebecca and Emma walked up the back path towards the mill. A drenching rain had fallen in the night and left the leaves shimmering green and the birds chirping cheerfully.

  Rebecca pointed out the stream as they walked along and explained where it fed into the river. “The logs come down river to the mill. They drag them out and stack them to dry before cutting. Once the lumber is milled it gets stacked and dried again before being hauled off.”

  In the distance they could hear the growing sound of men’s voices raised in excitement, and Rebecca took her cousin’s hand.

  Timothy had left before daybreak, having his customary coffee in the kitchen, shaved and dressed as Rebecca joined him and tried to disguise her concern. She gathered the ruffled peignoir in her tiny hands in an attempt to hide her trembling fingers. When he had left she woke Emma early and the two women dressed and set out on their journey.

  “It will be perfectly fine,” Rebecca’s cousin assured her. “Roland told me that they had never had an accident before and now with the new equipment it would be even safer than before.”

  The raucous sound of the men’s voices grew louder and the two women stepped into the vast clearing.

  “They took out all of the nearby trees after the accident.” Rebecca surveyed the area apprehensively. “And there’s a lightning rod now,” she gestured towards the sky.

  The mill was immense, massive doors rolled open exposing long tables feeding the saws, a huge water wheel powering the mechanisms.

  “I had no idea that it was so big,” Emma gasped. “I would never have imagined that all of this was back here. This is a huge operation, Becky.” Emma watched the massive logging wagons and teams of oxen being maneuvered into position. “Why do we never see them go by at Stavewood?” she wondered aloud.

  “There’s the mill road, there,” Rebecca indicated. “The mill was here before Stavewood. When Tim built the house he wanted it close, but never so close that you could hear the saws. Once they begin you will understand why.”

  The women approached the enormous building along a well-traveled path and Emma caught sight of Roland. He stood unassisted, his leg at a bit of an awkward angle, but he used no cane and did not lean upon anything. His trousers were well fitted beneath a chamois colored shirt. The collar was open, the sleeves rolled to the elbow, and his hair fell dark in contrast to the light shirt. He confidently pointed to the wagons, instructing several men who stood in a semi-circle facing him, each one very attentive to his instructions.

  Timothy walked out of the mill and caught sight of the two women. The pair looked as if they felt very diminutive in the middle of the noise and activity.

  He strode toward them eagerly, greeting them excitedly and nodding to Emma in appreciation.

  “I would never have come alone,” Rebecca lowered her eyes. “Emma insisted.”

  “Face it head on, I always say.” Emma caught Roland’s eye and waited for him as
Timothy led Rebecca towards the building.

  “Good morning.” He kissed her hand thoughtfully. “I missed you last night.”

  “Oh?” Emma smiled.

  “Had I seen you looking like this I may have missed you even more. Turn around.”

  Emma turned self-consciously. Rebecca had insisted she wore a petal blue gown, soft and flowing with slender sleeves and a fitted waistline. She had gathered her hair into a soft cascade, tied with a wide ribbon that matched the gown perfectly.

  Emma noticed several of the men working around the mill had stopped to watch her exchange with the foreman.

  “Am I okay?” she asked Roland apprehensively. His provocative smile was her answer.

  “I’m glad you came, and brought Rebecca. If you are at Stavewood near lunchtime I would like to see you.”

  Emma blushed, a wicked image springing to her mind.

  “Or we could have lunch,” he suggested. Emma giggled, a bit embarrassed that he had read her mind.

  “Roland!” One of the men called out from the crowd gathered outside of the building. “Things are looking up I see!” The men broke into friendly laughter and Roland scowled, and then smiled in spite of the men’s teasing.

  “Back to work!” he shouted to the men, feigning anger.

  Emma smiled at the exchange, and then furrowed her brow. “I suppose my reputation has been ruined already,” she muttered to herself as she watched him return to his responsibilities.

  A crowd began to gather as the sun rose higher behind the trees. Some of the men who had been seriously injured maneuvered their wheel chairs to a comfortable vantage point.

  “I didn’t realize that there would be a gathering,” Emma whispered to her cousin.

  “When Timothy reopened the mill a few months after I arrived, it was quite an event. This time it’s different. I think there are people here that need to put the accident behind them.”

  Emma noticed a tall, dark woman approach Roland boldly and put her arm through his as he leaned over a long table studying papers that had been rolled out in stacks.

  She watched his surprised expression and his body stiffen as he stepped back from her.

  “Who is that woman?” Emma touched her cousin’s arm and pointed in the direction where she was watching the two.

  “Mina Caudell,” Rebecca muttered. “She’s been after Roland as long as I’ve been here.”

  “She’s very exotic looking,” Emma observed. It was clear to her that Roland was not very comfortable with the woman.

  “I believe her mother is a Dakota Indian.” Rebecca frowned.

  Emma watched the woman closely. She was nearly as tall as Emma herself, but her coloring was dark and her black hair was as straight as a rod. Her dress was red, fashionable but fussy, and the bodice was cut too deep for a morning outing Emma thought. Mina was quite beautiful. Emma shook her head imperceptibly as she did not want to feel any jealousy against someone she did not even know.

  “I heard they were engaged once, before the accident,” Rebecca continued.

  Emma sighed. Perhaps the answer to her dilemma over whether Roland loved her or merely loved being intimate again was standing right in front of her on this day.

  She watched him rebuff the girl gently and then point in her direction. Mina’s palm met Roland’s cheek with a sharp slap that both Emma and Rebecca heard in spite of the day’s noise.

  “Oh!” Emma jumped.

  Rebecca gasped softly.

  Emma watched Roland scowl at the woman darkly and turn and walk away fighting to keep his balance and composure.

  In an instant Mina Caudell stood in front of the two women, her face knowing and friendly.

  “Good morning, Rebecca.” Mina’s voice was honey sweet. She did not wait for Rebecca’s response and turned quickly to Emma. “Who are you?” she asked sharply.

  “Rebecca’s cousin, Emma Harris.” She offered her hand, which Mina eyed suspiciously.

  “Roland said you are seeing him?” Mina surveyed Emma openly.

  “I am,” Emma responded.

  “He was to marry me,” the brunette informed her.

  “Oh?” Emma thought it better to allow Mina to give her information.

  “As soon as he was well,” Mina continued.

  Emma said nothing.

  “The man should keep his promises,” she hissed and turned away.

  “What do you think of Mina?” Rebecca asked smiling.

  “Not very much,” Emma replied.

  Roland watched Mina carefully as she approached the two women on the edge of the crowd. He had seen the girl’s temper on several occasions and she had made it very apparent that she did not take it well when he had informed her he was moving on. For months after the accident the girl had hounded him to see specialists. She insisted that doctors were finding new ways to fix his “problem”. One night she had climbed into his lap while he was still convalescing at Elgerson’s and informed him that she couldn’t very well go without a whole man on her honeymoon. He had had enough. When he pushed her from his lap she created a scene, announcing to everyone in earshot that he was impotent. If he never laid eyes on Mina Caudell again, it would be too soon.

  He now sighed with relief when she left without creating yet another scene and when he caught Emma’s eye she did not seem upset. He nodded to her seriously and continued his work.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A few minutes before nine in the morning Timothy Elgerson walked out onto the platform on the front side of the mill and faced the crowd.

  “We will be reopening today, thank you all for coming out,” he began. “You all know what happened here, I cannot change that. I have however changed all I could to keep that same thing from ever happening again. I have done everything in my power to make up to all of you for your losses. I know I can’t replace everything you have lost.”

  Rebecca watched Isabel walk from the pathway to the front of the crowd. Timothy nodded solemnly to his mother.

  “We are lumbermen. It’s not an easy job, and the good Lord knows it’s not always a safe job, but it is what we all do best. We’re a part of this land, a part of this country, and for myself I am proud of that.” He cleared his throat.

  “My grandfather built all this from a shack on this land, and it’s likely that every home in this territory has been built with split logs or lumber from our mill. For that I am also very proud. Proud for me, for my family, and for all of your families. As long as one piece of our lumber stands in one home, all of those who have poured out their blood and sweat here, all of those who have given their lives here, will be remembered proudly.” The big man bowed his head quietly for a moment and whispered to himself as the crowd stood silent.

  “Let’s get this blade spinning, boys,” he shouted.

  The crowd was moved and applauded with appreciation. Mark stood on the edge of the group and watched Timothy with pride. He felt lucky to have the man as his father and he followed the men into the mill as the steam whistle blew shrill in the morning air.

  After several seconds the saw rang out, rising in pitch, as it picked up speed, and the crowd gasped as the blade screamed, biting into the first log.

  “Good heavens,” Emma gasped aloud.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Rebecca led her cousin towards the crowd.

  The sound of the blades running made conversation nearly impossible and the crowd dispersed quickly. Isabel kissed Rebecca warmly on the cheek. “Phillip would be a proud man today,” she said in her ear and walked up the path to her waiting carriage.

  Rebecca and Emma followed the path returning to Stavewood silently, the sounds of the blades fading behind them, until, as they cleared the wooded area, it could be heard no more.

  “Timothy is a very smart man,” Emma remarked as she turned and looked back up the path. “I can’t hear it at all.”

  “Yes, he is,” Rebecca agreed. “I don’t think that I could bear to listen to it, not anymore.” The tiny woman sighed
deeply. She stopped for a moment and admired Stavewood. Nearly every piece of the beautiful home had run through the blades of that mill, she thought. Maybe it was why she almost felt as if Stavewood were alive, a personality all in itself.

  Emma observed her cousin’s pensive expression and looked up at the house herself, thinking about the wood, and the men who milled it.

  “I could use a good strong cup of tea,” Emma took her cousin’s elbow and led her towards the beautiful house.

  “Good morning!” Isabel came from the kitchen, Louisa clinging to her hand, her dark curls bouncing around her angelic face.

  “I’m going to the fairy cottage with Grandma ‘Bell,” the child announced excitedly.

  “Would you mind?” Isabel rubbed the child’s tiny fist with her thumb. “I could use a good dose of fairy tales today.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Rebecca acknowledged. “You behave like the best girl in the world and no jumping in the carriage.” She kissed her daughter lovingly and watched the matriarch and child walk hand in hand out to the waiting coach.

  The wheels rolled to a gentle stop in front of the cottage and Isabel stood outside of the home, observing the structure. The clapboard and fish scale finishes still looked fresh in a soft butter and white, the steep roofs enchanting. Now that she spent all of her time there she had added more flower beds and a gurgling pond. She sighed and took the child’s hand.

  “I love the fairy cottage,” Louisa whispered. To the two of them it was a special secret place they shared.

  Isabel looked down at the girl and smiled wistfully.

  When they had settled on the wicker davenport in the parlor, Louisa climbed into her grandmother’s lap and urged her to begin the fairy tale.