“I got two cupfuls of broth into her. In a couple of hours I will try again.” Rebecca touched the exhausted father’s arm. “Roland, please get some rest. Emma can see how exhausted you are. She needs you rested now. We’ll be here. Please.”
In the middle of the day Isabel got more broth into the young mother and even a few spoonfuls of soup.
“Roland will sleep another hour or two. You should go home. Tim has brought over all of my things and I will stay until she’s good enough to be up and about. And the maid you brought will be here,” Isabel urged. “Take little Philip home to Stavewood and don’t exhaust yourself as well. We all need to keep up our strength, not only for ourselves but for Emma as well.”
“Timothy will be back shortly and I’ll go back to Stavewood with him,” Rebecca sighed. “I am very tired. I was so worried we would lose her.”
“I think the worst is behind us now.” Isabel touched Rebecca’s hand gently as she sat in the kitchen, her own baby sleeping soundly in her arms.
Chapter Forty-Four
Roland balanced the baby with one hand while he rinsed the dishes with the other. He had hung all of the now white sheets on the line and made a serious attempt at dusting the parlor. Little Ottland, now three weeks old, gurgled softly in the man’s capable arm.
Roland changed the baby’s diaper quickly and kissed his tiny forehead. The infant was healthy and filling out now. The wet nurse was needed less frequently and the new style of bottle seemed to work well, although Roland was never comfortable leaving the baby unattended with the device. Roland could see no problems with the babe and every day he became less worried about any lasting effects from his difficult birth.
Emma stepped to the doorway silently and stood watching the man rinsing dishes with one hand. She had fought terrible depression every minute, in many ways as difficult as overcoming her addiction. She lay in the bed too exhausted to do much more than get up for basic necessities and to sit up to eat. Getting and keeping food down was often a challenge, but she fought hard. She wanted her family, her life and her health back terribly. She wanted to care for her child and mother him. She wanted Roland to be relieved of so much responsibility. He fought to stay cheerful, she knew, and waited on her constantly. She could stand convalescing no longer.
She had noticed on her slow descent down the stairs that the house was very clean, fresh and aired. All of the linens, she knew, that had been used during the difficult delivery hung unstained and white on the lines.
“You know you are making it very difficult for me to follow in your footsteps. The house is so immaculate, I am very impressed.”
Roland turned to face her and the sight of him, infant in hand and white apron around his waist, nearly brought her to tears.
“Emma! Why are you up? Do you need something?”
“I need to be up,” she stated and lowered herself into the chair.
He placed the baby in the bassinet and knelt beside his wife.
“Oh, Roland, please,” she pleaded. “Let me be up. I cannot bear being in bed another minute and to have you fussing over me any longer. I ought to be doing the dishes and hanging out sheets. Look at you, the house looks great and the baby is doing so well. And I, I am doing so well now.
“I don’t know what happened exactly. Isabel said maybe something wrong was left from before. I can’t cry another tear over it. I love you and I am so happy the baby is well and that I have you.” She cupped her hand against his cheek.
All of the fear and worry that Roland had held for the past weeks rose to the surface in him and he looked into her eyes seriously.
“I didn’t know if I could go on without you. When I thought I’d lose you and lose the baby, I thought I would just snap. Oh, Emma.” He swallowed hard.
“It’s over now, Roland,” she said in her familiar way, rolling his name off her tongue, and he smiled. “Let’s do what we must to get me back up and around again before I snap.”
Émigré laid his head on Emma’s lap and whined softly.
Two days later she stepped cautiously from her first bath since the birth of her baby, and, although she tired easily, she felt rejuvenated. Dressing slowly, she ventured down the stairs. The house was silent and she walked out to the yard.
Roland had purchased a large, white wicker chair, which held a brightly colored cushion and a soft lap blanket. He directed her to the chair, covered her gently, placed the infant in her lap, and produced a shovel and a wooden box filled with seed packets.
“Since you cannot dig in your garden yourself I am here at your service. I have all of your seeds and your gardening wish is my command. You tell me what to put and where to put it and by the time you are completely well you will have a thriving garden.” He smiled gallantly and leaned on the shovel.
Emma knew that if she weren’t already completely enamored with the man he would have won in her heart now in an instant.
She smiled at him with love in her eyes and began to direct him.
Several hours later he finished packing the soil over the last row of seeds and looked up to see that she had nodded off quietly, the infant fast asleep against her chest. He stood and watched them, two survivors, warm and resting in the soft shade of the big birch tree. His smallholding was a home now, he thought. He had his wife and his son. He had something he had wanted since he was a child. He had a family. He looked out over the meadow and took a deep breath of the warm spring air.
Chapter Forty-Five
Louisa studied the infant and frowned. The baby had his father’s coloring, a fair creamy complexion and a mass of dark hair on a round head. His cheeks were chubby and plump and he watched the girl intently with dark eyes.
She marveled at the fact that, although he was a pretty cute baby, he looked nothing like little Philip. This baby studied her but little Phillip liked to take in everything in the room. Where Phillip was a much more verbal infant, Ottland was content and observant. After examining him closely for several minutes the child had come to her conclusion and she stepped away.
“Well, Loo,” Rebecca asked expectantly. “What do you think of him?”
“I think that babies are just like their daddies. Phillip is loud and noisy like my daddy and Ott likes to look at you hard like Mister ‘Couver.
Timothy chuckled aloud and Rebecca shook her head as the family sat in the kitchen at the Vancouver house on their first social visit since the birth of the baby.
“Cuz’n Emma.” The girl stood beside the woman and scuffed her feet against the floor. “I’m so glad you are going to be better now. Whenever we came to bring things for Mister ‘Couver he looked just terrible with worry over you. He looks so much better now, he was scaring me!”
The woman patted the child’s hand gently. “I’m glad too, Louisa. I never want Mister Vancouver to ever be worried over me again.”
Mark shifted Phillip on his lap and hummed deeply as the baby began to fuss.
Rebecca took the child and she and Emma climbed the stairs to change the children and feed them.
“Do you miss not nursing him?” Rebecca ventured as she watched her cousin feeding the baby with the double ended glass bottle.
“I do,” Emma responded thoughtfully. “I will never get back those first few days when I didn’t even see him, but Roland can feed him too and that’s nice, especially since I couldn’t care for him at all. He’s so good with him. Maybe part of that is because he had to be.”
“I’m sure he would be even if you had not had trouble.”
They women sat in the quiet room, feeding and loving their babies each in their own way.
Chapter Forty-Six
Timothy Elgerson watched a wagon rattle along the roadway as he returned from his trip to Billington. He rode slowly and quietly, always cautious when he met a stranger on the road towards Stavewood. He knew he did not recognize the vehicle, or the men inside. A third generation landowner in the area, he had seen all types of folks pass through, not all of them friend
ly. He had heard the stories of his father and grandfather, men who looked for the best in others, but often found the worst. He watched the wagon, covered in a filthy piece of canvas, turn down the road to the Weintraub ranch and kicked his team towards home.
“Maybe they’re just looking to buy the place,” Rebecca reasoned.
“Then we’ll just welcome them to the neighborhood,” he replied as he checked his rifle.
“All set, Pa.” Mark returned from the Vancouver house with Roland, both men were armed and waited in the foyer.
“I wish you would just not take weapons up to meet new neighbors.” Rebecca wrung her hands nervously.
“If they are new neighbors. We won’t know until we talk to them.”
The three men mounted their horses in the yard behind the estate and Rebecca watched them ride off apprehensively.
Timothy approached the house cautiously, gun tucked away under his jacket, while Roland and Mark hung back watching from a covered position. The wagon he’d seen on the road sat in front of the house and Timothy gave it a quick once over. The contrivance was old and well used, repaired in several places. All of the maintenance was done haphazardly and the wheels were mismatched and battered. The nag that pulled the vehicle was old and his hide bore the marks of years of cruelty. Timothy knew that a man who drove their horse with abuse was usually not a good neighbor. He shook his head obviously so that Roland and the boy saw him and climbed the porch of the house.
The neglect of the home had been apparent even several years earlier before the Weintraubs had all died. Now there was a busy hornet’s nest high above the front door and it appeared that several windows had collapsed into the house.
Timothy knocked on the door loudly and stepped aside. He waited and then knocked again.
After several minutes a man answered the door. He was thin, likely in his mid-forties, and missing several teeth. Although he stood a good distance from the man Timothy could smell the liquor on the man’s breath.
“Good afternoon,” Timothy stood straight to his full height. “I live up the way and I’m just checking on the place. My name is Elgerson and you are…?”
The man stared at Timothy blankly and stumbled back into the doorway. Another man, much younger and somewhat more sober, appeared in his place.
“Hiya.” The man walked up to Timothy and held out his hand. “You gotta excuse my brother here. He’s feeling a bit under the weather. I’m Victor Leach.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Timothy shook the man’s hand suspiciously.
“My brother and I heard that this place was for sale and we’re coming by to give it a look see.” Timothy took a step back from the man which was a sign to Roland. He knew that the ranch was still being held by the bank and was not available for purchase.
Roland Vancouver strolled up casually at the signal from his friend. He walked steadily, with conviction, and stepped up onto the porch, his heavy boots sounding hollow against the worn boards. “Evening, Tim,” he said casually. “What’s going on?”
The stranger on the porch took a step back toward the door. “I was just telling Mister Everson here that we came out to get a look at the place,” he said. “We’re looking to buy in the area. This looks a bit run down though so we won’t be staying.”
“Elgerson,” Timothy corrected.
“I see,” Roland remarked and both he and Timothy stood their ground.
The stranger gathered his partner and both men headed for the wagon.
Mark watched from his vantage point until the vehicle disappeared on the road towards town and then joined Roland and his father. Inside the house they found several empty liquor bottles and places where someone had urinated.
Timothy had long wanted to see the building destroyed. The house was beyond repair and a lure for animals and people like those who had just pulled away. Jude Thomas would have been the rightful heir to the land, but the taxes had not been paid in years and the bank now had frozen the title. It concerned Elgerson that the house was not located near the road and was hard to find, yet these two outsiders had known exactly how to reach it. The men discussed how they might keep watch for future incidents and headed for home.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Émigré bared his teeth inside the kitchen door at the Vancouver home and sank down to his haunches. The hair along his spine stood up straight. At almost a year old he was near full-size, and at over 50 pounds he was a stunning, well-cared for canine. Thickly covered in an abundant coat of fur, he had been confined to the house for the day, following a thorough bath and vigorous brushing.
Emma looked up from bathing Ottland in the big porcelain sink and stopped still. She had heard the dog bark often when something alarmed him, or sometimes when he would tree a possum or squirrel, but never had he shown his teeth the way she was witnessing now. He hunkered low to the floor and backed away one step from the door.
“Maybe he heard Roland in the yard,” she whispered aloud. But, he had planned to stop at Stavewood to go over some business after spending the day at the mill and Emma did not expect him just yet. And besides, Émigré would know Roland’s familiar footsteps in the yard.
She watched him maintain his protective stance and finished bathing the baby quickly, wrapping him in a dry towel. She turned down the lamp and spoke to the dog softly.
“Émigré,” her voice was calm. The dog did not turn to face her, but twisted an ear in acknowledgment, his eyes never leaving the door. After several seconds he paced across the kitchen, always facing the door and Emma took the child and went to the hall. On this very warm August evening every window in the house was open. She stood in the foyer and tried to decide what she ought to do.
On his first day back at the mill, Roland Vancouver was overcome by the warm reception he received from the mill crew. The greetings and smiles on the men’s faces only further illustrated how he had changed, not only since meeting his wife, but even more after nearly losing her. Now he was a husband and a father and he saw the world in a different way. He vowed to be a better foreman and a better man. He would not disappoint Timothy Elgerson and would run the mill to the best of his ability, but he would run it in a different way. A better way, he thought.
On the walk back to Stavewood, at the end of the day, he realized how happy he was to get back to work, to what he did best. He knew Emma was well enough now to be home during the day, and would soon be up to meeting him for lunch again. He followed Timothy into the estate where he smelled a fine dinner cooking and he enjoyed the warmth of the family there.
“I look forward to the day Emma is up to walking over.” Rebecca settled Louisa in her chair in the family dining room.
“Not as much as she is herself,” Roland replied as a generous plate was set before him. “She was telling me that she was going crazy in the house and, without the baby and the view, she might be completely miserable.”
“We’ll all be glad to see her out and visiting again,” Timothy remarked.
“And I need her in my garden. Nothing seems to grow as well without her.” Rebecca took a bite of the tender beef.
Mark smiled in agreement as the family enjoyed their meal together.
For several minutes Emma watched the dog growing more uneasy. She considered that she might leave the house. It appeared that Émigré was following whatever was outside through the house from the inside. If someone was outside and wanted to rob the place she might be able to get away, get to the cabin quickly and stay there until Roland came to look for her.
She struggled with the possibility of letting the dog out but feared for his safety. She worried what would happen if Roland were to encounter whoever it was while returning home.
He had been watching the girl, this stranger, for several days now. She would hang her clothing on the line, her body slim and slender. When she bent to reach into the basket he could watch her trim backside and imagine the filthy things he would like to do to her. He had waited for so many days for the man to le
ave and he began to wonder if he ever left home at all. Once he had gone, early that morning, the stranger had followed a good distance until he was sure the man had left for the day. He had lain in wait through the heat of the day, watching her from the woods. He didn’t see the dog today and thought it must be off running. He knew that the animal had a loud bark, but when he had crept up to the window on this evening he didn’t hear the rousing howl of the animal.
He thought she was beautiful and was told that she enjoyed being taken, that she was only keeping up appearances living as wife to the man. His cell mate had told him about her so many times. Told him what she liked, her and the tiny dark woman up the road at the big house. She would feign a lack of desire, but she would love what he wanted to do to her.
Roland thanked the Elgersons for the meal and started his walk home. The air was warm, with barely a breeze and he looked forward to getting back to his family and the cool of the meadow. He knew Emma would be waiting and that she grew stronger every day. He looked forward to holding his son and the coming years of watching him grow.
Emma watched the knob on the back door turn and squeak slowly and softly. The collie curled his lip and prepared to attack when Emma grasped the fur at the back of his neck and pulled him back from the door.
“Shhhh…” she hushed, so that the animal could barely hear her. He backed up as she directed and followed her quickly up the stairs.
South of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 2) Page 20
