“Start at the part where you built the house for the baby girl, p’ease.”
“Once upon a time,” Isabel began. “There was a lady who wanted a little girl of her own more than anything else in the world. She had little boys, but they wanted toads and crickets. She wanted a little girl who would listen to the fairy tale.”
“Just like me,” the child chimed in.
“Just like you. And so the lady decided to build a fairy cottage and hoped that one day she would have her little girl.”
“So you made Grandpa Phillip build one right up,” Louisa interjected, and Isabel chuckled to herself.
“She painted it a beautiful color that she thought the little girl would love.”
“Yellow, the color of sunshine,” Louisa added.
“But before the little girl could come to the cottage something magic had to happen,” her grandmother continued.
The child smiled brightly. “Daddy had to fall far, far in love.”
“And he did. He fell in love with the most beautiful girl the lady had ever seen. She looked like a perfect china doll and her eyes were as green as the forest in the spring.”
“My mama is the most beautiful, ever.” Louisa nodded her head, her curls bouncing.
“And they got married and found the cottage. And then…” Isabel waited.
“And then the magic of the cottage brought her a little girl. She was born right here. Mommy was here and you were here, and even Daddy was here, and Daddies are never there to see babies born.”
“Almost never, that’s very true.”
“And the magic happened because Daddy loved Mommy more than anything else in the whole world.”
“Exactly,” Isabel confirmed.
“And I am the baby that came from the magic love!” Louisa announced proudly.
“Yes, you are!”
Louisa threw her arms around her grandmother’s neck and Isabel kissed the child fondly.
“Mama says I am going to have a new brother or sister, way littler than Mark.”
“That’s happy news.”
“It is.” The child frowned in deep thought. “Did they come back here to make the magic happen?”
“Not this time,” Isabel smiled and watched the child thinking hard.
“I like this place,” Louisa touched the yellow gingham fabric on the cushions of the settee.
Roland checked the surrounding area furtively, and then kissed Emma ravenously, pushing her up against the tree.
“Oh my!” she gasped as he stepped back and straightened his shirt sleeves. It was clear to Emma when he had pressed up against her, that he was still feeling quite the man. She could not dwell on her concerns as she was so caught up in wanting to be with the man every minute.
He produced a tidy bundle, unwrapping it and spreading the cloth out on the lawns of Stavewood.
“Lunch!” he announced. Emma noticed that he smelled of fresh cut wood and perspired slightly in his shirt. She tried to catch her breath and enjoy their lunch.
“This is delicious,” she smiled, sitting upright on the cloth. “Eating out here is a wonderful idea. It’s so beautiful and the breeze is so refreshing.”
“What did she say to you?” he asked as he lay beside her, propped up on one elbow.
“Rebecca?” Emma asked.
“Mina. I would suspect it was rather venomous.”
“Not terribly.” Emma looked off into the distance. “Something about how you ought to keep your promises.”
“I promised her nothing,” he scowled.
“You weren’t engaged?”
“Never,” he sat upright. “I am now and I think I do have responsibilities to meet now. For instance, when would you like a ring? I have to work this afternoon. Perhaps later today?”
“Oh, Roland,” Emma sighed. “Are you sure this is not happening too fast?”
“Is it too fast for you?” He faced her and she turned to him.
“I have to say something, Roland. You might as well know that I’m not one to keep my thoughts to myself. I will tell you exactly why I am hesitant. You decide how you feel about it.”
“Seems fair,” he pondered, relaxing a bit.
“I’m afraid,” she began.
“Of me?”
“No,” she continued. “I’m afraid that you are rediscovering things about yourself.” She struggled for the right words.
“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’m thinking that you’re better now, that you can…” she blushed. “You can…”
“I see,” he listened.
“Maybe because it’s new, that you think you care for me when it’s really just that things are beginning to…” she couldn’t find the words.
“You think that since I can make love now I should be sure that it’s not just to you?”
“Oh, no. Not exactly.” She fumbled with her skirt. “I’m afraid that since you can make love, as you say, that maybe, since you and I, that maybe, it’s not me, but that you can.” She swallowed hard.
“Wait.” He got up on his knees. “You are afraid that I’m not in love with you and simply in love with making love to you?”
“I think so,” she sat up. “Yes, that’s it. It’s not me, it’s that you can.”
“Do I have to pick one or the other?” He scratched his head behind his ear.
“What?” she was becoming confused.
“Do you think I should choose loving you and making love to you? That’s a very difficult choice.”
“Well,” she sighed, “That’s not exactly what I’m concerned about either.”
“Can’t I love both? I think I can,” he announced. “I can love you, and I can love making love to you. I’d rather not choose.”
Emma frowned, considering his logic.
“Are you in love with me?” He touched her chin lightly.
“I am,” she admitted.
“Then what’s the problem? Of course I’m completely thrilled that I can make love to you, at all in fact, but mostly to you. The day I met you at the wedding, you brought me that beer. You listened to me. I never imagined I would ever be able to be more than a friend, but I really wanted that, I needed that. I wanted you then and I thought there was no hope.
“Ah!” He stood upright onto his feet and took her hands and pulled her to him. “Just marry me and forget all the rest. I told you I’d come courting like I ought to, but I’m simply terrible at it. I’ve not the patience.” He pulled her to him and kissed her.
“I’m supposed to be taking my time,” she whispered into his neck as he caressed her throat.
“Fool idea,” he responded and kissed her full on the lips.
Chapter Sixteen
Emma filled her basket with cleaning supplies in the hardware shop and watched Mark out of the corner of her eye digging in a bin of square nails. A young girl had approached him, her hair very carefully styled, and she fawned for his attention. She was pretty enough, but her most noticeable feature was how flamboyantly she was dressed. It was apparent to Emma that Mark found the nails much more fascinating.
She finished her shopping and let the boy know she would be outside. On the walkway she nearly bumped into Mina Caudell as she exited the shop.
“Emma,” the woman was curt. She was smartly dressed, an expensive broach at her throat.
“Hello, Mina.” Emma nodded her greeting.
“Finished with Mr. Vancouver?” Mina purred.
“Pardon me?”
“I would think that by now you would have given up on Roland Vancouver. You do know about his accident.”
“I do,” Emma replied openly.
“Then you must know he’s worthless in bed. Everyone knows a man that is useless in bed is useless for most anything. Unless of course, it’s his money you’re after. I suppose you might be able to find a man for other things while you spend it.” Mina circled around Emma like a vulture assessing her prey.
Emma felt her temper rising.
“I will be marrying Mr. Vancouver, Mina.” She faced the woman squarely. “I find that he lacks nothing. In fact, I think that, as a man, he’s very capable.”
Mina huffed and scowled at the girl in disgust. “Come talk to me after the honeymoon, dear,” Mina growled. “I’ll show you how to find a real man.”
Emma watched the woman saunter away and stomped her foot. No wonder Roland was so afraid of performing, Emma thought. She thought of several less than ladylike names to call the woman, but decided she wasn’t worth the effort.
“I’m ready,” Mark announced as he stepped out into the street.
The two made their way together towards the dress shop to pick up Rebecca from her fitting.
Emma enjoyed the boy’s company, finding him well-mannered and delightful. They began laughing at the funny way that the big shop windows stretched or shrank their reflections and the window to the jeweler’s was one of the most hysterical. They stood laughing as Rebecca waved from across the street and hurried to join them.
“Look, look!” Mark put his hands on his hips and swayed from side to side. The twisted version of him in the window had all three laughing hard in the street. Rebecca stood up on her tip-toes and held her arms straight up over her head, illustrating a very misshapen stretched-out look. Emma puffed out her cheeks and put her fingers in her ears and, as she checked her reflection, noticed Mina watching her from inside. She scowled and stuck out her tongue. Mark and Rebecca quickly noticed the woman inside the shop and the three giggled and hurried down the street.
They dropped Emma’s purchases at the Vancouver house and returned to Stavewood where they were all to meet for dinner. Timothy and Roland were in the study as the three shoppers burst into the foyer laughing.
“What’s all this?” Timothy asked as they entered the room.
Rebecca’s cousin stuck her tongue out at Miss Caudell,” Mark laughed. “You should have seen her face, Pa. It was hysterical.”
Roland looked at Emma puzzled.
“She deserved it,” Emma wrinkled her brow.
“We were enjoying our reflections in the shops in town,” Rebecca explained, kissing Timothy on the cheek. “We didn’t know that Mina was inside. Well, not at first.” Rebecca tried to suppress a giggle.
“Mina is not one to take a joke well,” Roland remarked.
“I feel the same way about insults,” Emma removed her bonnet and walked out into the foyer as Mark and Rebecca went up to wash for dinner.
“Is there a problem?” Roland touched Emma’s arm lightly.
“I have a mind to marry you just to aggravate Mina Caudell,” she growled.
“Perfect!” He kissed her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ear affectionately.
“You’d take any excuse.” She pushed him playfully.
“I would.” He flashed a handsome smile.
Chapter Seventeen
Mark looked out the window of his room watching an odd glow through the trees. His heart began to race in recognition and he ran towards the stairs.
“There’s a fire at the mill!” he shouted.
“Stay here.” Timothy swept past Rebecca in the foyer and ran from the house. Timothy sprinted up the path in long strides and Mark looked back as Roland quickly fell behind the other two.
“Go on,” he yelled to the boy. “I’ll catch up.”
As Roland reached the clearing surrounding the mill he could hear Timothy shouting for the night watchman. He and Mark were throwing buckets over a fire in the far corner that was just beginning to leap up the back wall.
Roland shouted to Mark and Timothy, “Start the pump!”
Timothy started the pump and cut the hose free with his pocket knife. Roland reached the mill just as Timothy was hosing down the wall and Mark pulled open the heavy doors. Several cinders had fallen onto an adjoining wall and Roland grabbed a bucket and stumbled down the stairs to the river. From there he tossed several buckets of water on the flames while Timothy sprayed from the other side of the wide doorway and Mark raked back piles of sawdust feverishly.
They quickly extinguished the fire and Tim began to scout the area for the night watchman. He found him crumpled and lifeless in a corner of the office.
“Damn,” he cursed. “We need guns and horses.”
He turned to Mark and shouted, “Let’s get back up to the house. We need to find whoever did this.”
Mark responded, but Roland did not.
“Roland! We’re headed back up to the house.” Mark looked up and listened.
“Roland?” Tim yelled.
The two stumbled down the stairs toward the river and found nothing but a long muddy slur into the water and several footprints.
“Roland!” Tim yelled again. They ran along the banks for several minutes calling the man’s name, Timothy cursing loudly under his breath.
“I don’t think he fell in, Pa,” Mark panted. “There are two sets of prints here. I think they both went into the water.”
“We need the horses.” Tim ran up the path back to Stavewood with Mark close behind him.
“I don’t know what happened,” Timothy tried to explain hurriedly, as he loaded his rifle.
“Mark’s getting the horses and I’ve sent one of the hands out for Ben. Rebecca, I need you to stay here.”
“I’m coming with you,” Emma announced. She stood on the stairs in a plain dress with her hair pulled back.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Emma.” He kissed Rebecca’s cheek and headed for the door.
Emma followed him into the yard. “Mark, I’m riding with you.” She leapt up behind the boy lightly.
Mark looked at his father, puzzled.
“I can ride and I can yell. You’ll have to do any shooting however.”
The frantic trio rode up the mill to begin their search, Rebecca wringing her hands on the porch.
Timothy urged his huge black Arabian across the water aggressively, the stallion swimming briefly before finding footing on the opposite bank.
Mark and Emma searched the shore, calling Roland and checking every dark shape of driftwood and tangle that had lodged on its way down the waterway. Emma called out often, sick with worry. She left the horse several times, her and Mark checking tall grass and reeds and shouting the man’s name frantically.
They searched for hours before Tim returned to the south side of the banks and shook his head.
“They never came up on that side. I saw no evidence of them.”
Mark fought back tears, knowing his father was an accomplished tracker. “Maybe you need to search this side, Pa. I could have missed something. We’ll go ahead, the current is moving fast, maybe he’s down a ways yet.”
Timothy turned the stallion and began working his way back along the riverbank while the other two continued on downriver.
Roland hit the water with a chilling splash as he struggled to shake off the man clutching his back. He fought for the surface, kicking hard and gasped for air before being pulled under again. He felt the burn of a cut across his bicep and the sting spurred him as he kicked hard against a rock, freeing himself from the assailant. The aggressor sputtered and lunged towards him again. Roland swam towards the bank, lost his footing and was swept into the current.
He felt a tug on his boot and kicked hard, but lacked the strength and coordination in his injured leg to free himself and sunk under the icy water. He grabbed the attacker by the hair under the water and pulled him to the surface. Both men fought for air. Roland’s chest heaved hard and his fist came out of the water and landed hard against the other man’s face.
His enemy shook his head, splashing water into his face. He grabbed Roland’s arms and chest in a gripping hug and pulled them both under the surface.
When Roland had again wrenched himself free, he tried once more to reach the shore. He grabbed a log frantically and the piece broke free, pulling him along with the rush. The driftwood eventually hung on a tangle of roots and he pulled himself from the water and l
ay gasping on the bank. He heard a splash a few feet away and as he looked up he felt a dull thud and his world went black.
“Wait. Here, look.” Emma found a churned area in the mud, slick and wet.
Mark jumped down from the horse and found prints. “They’re going over here. It looks like there are marks from dragging something and here,” he pointed to a clear print leading into the woods.
“This isn’t a boot print,” Emma remarked. “Roland had his boots on.” She looked up into the boys eyes with worry.
Mark tied off his mare, slid his rifle from its sheath, and they followed the prints cautiously.
He grabbed her arm suddenly. “Wait, look there,” he pointed through the trees and Emma could see a soft yellow light.
They walked silently towards what began to look like a window and Mark gestured her to crouch down. They approached the building silently, the boy indicating more slick marks in the soft loamy soil. As they came up behind a squat cabin, Mark indicated that he wanted Emma to look into the window. He crouched down beneath the opening and gestured to her to step up onto his back.
She planted her foot carefully onto his shoulder and balanced her hands against the rough wood wall, gripping the logs as best possible. Mark stood up slightly and she pulled herself up stealthily and peered inside.
Chapter Eighteen
Inside the hut the room was bathed in the soft glow of a single lantern. Seated on a chair was a slender man. Emma did not recognize him. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head hanging down, panting heavily. At his feet she saw Roland, bound and unconscious in a large puddle on the floor. She climbed down from Mark’s shoulders and stumbled a few feet from the house, shaking with fear. She grabbed Mark’s arm and pulled him into the trees several feet from the building.
“There’s a man,” she gasped. “I don’t know who he is. He’s out of breath. Roland is there and he looks like he’s alive. That man has him tied up, but he looks wet and pale and…” she stumbled around amid the trees, trying to calm her fears.
South of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 2) Page 8
