Sam fiddled with the tool in his hand and wished he had something to say to his friend. “It’s alright, Mark.” He frowned. “We’ve been friends a long time. I’m ready to forget about it.”
Mark offered his hand to his friend and Sam shook it solemnly, pulling his companion to him into an embrace. The two young men hugged awkwardly.
“I’ll see you around.” Mark turned to leave.
“Alright.” Samuel Evens returned to his carpentry.
Mark Elgerson stood in front of the Evens’ house and looked up and down the street. The family lived on the edge of Billington on a pretty street lined in shady trees with little wooden fences. He rode along the road and looked up at the houses. Every building was made from Elgerson lumber. All the porches and even the shops that were built from brick had lumber framing. Elgerson lumber.
His name was important, he thought. His name was bigger than he was. Beating a good friend in the road over a girl should have been beneath him. Sam wanted to let it go, but Mark knew that the both of them would always remember. He might not remember Bernadette Shofield in time, but he’d always remember what he had done to his friend.
He kicked up the mare and headed towards home.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Little Phillip squealed with delight as Mark lowered him into the water. Warm sunlight sparkled on a shallow stone bowl in the creek, where the water pooled just deep enough to cover the toddler’s legs.
The big brother had rolled his trousers up to his knees and he dipped the baby’s feet into the warm pool. He wasn’t sure which one of them was appreciating the refreshing water more.
The toddler announced his enjoyment loudly, but, after mucking out the big barns, Mark’s feet ached terribly. He didn’t mind having to do the work, or that his paycheck went to pay Sam so that he could take several days off work until his face healed. He believed he deserved all this, and more.
“He sure loves the water,” Rebecca remarked as she slid off her slippers and dipped her toes into the creek. She was glad to be spending time alone with both boys. Mark had grown into a man so quickly. Seeing him with the child she thought he was nearly old enough to start a family of his own.
She watched the young man as he waded across the creek and set the child down on the quilt. Rebecca could see that his face still bore the dark bruise of his fight. She wished there was something she could say, some word of advice she could offer him. She walked to them and sat down, drying the toddler’s feet.
“I remember that time you made that bath for me up in the cabin,” she began.
The young man chuckled and sat back on the blanket.
“Mark, I don’t think I ever thanked you for saving my life.”
He looked at her seriously.
“My life changed for the better that day,” she sighed. “I’m sorry for what happened with you and Sam and Bernadette. I’m not your mother, but I know you and I am a woman. I just wanted you to know that you can talk to me. I’ll help you if I can.”
“Thanks. I don’t know if talking would have made much of a difference.” He watched the water tumbling along the creek.
“You and Emma, you’re different,” he continued. “You both look after your men. You look after each other. You all look after me. Emma said much the same thing to me this morning. I need a woman like you two.” He chuckled.
“You’re young yet. Take your time, it will happen.”
Little Phillip climbed onto the young man’s lap and patted his cheek.
“Mama.” Louisa skipped along the path to the quilt. “Can I get my feet wet too?”
“Take off your shoes and come here.” Mark gathered up Phillip in one arm and took the girl’s hand and walked out into the water.
Rebecca stood up, picked up her skirt and followed him into the creek. She reached down into the pool and scooped up the cool water and splashed it onto the children and the young man.
All three shrieked loudly and Louisa splashed her mother back. “Get her,” Mark egged the girl on and showed the toddler how to kick up water at his mother. Phillip giggled violently and soon Rebecca was completely drenched and the family stood soaking wet and laughing in the creek.
Timothy stood on the edge of the woodland and watched his family playing in the water. He was worried about his son, but the sound of his deep laughter amid the high pitched squeals of the children and Rebecca lightened his concern and he strolled back towards the house slowly.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Lavina Freid looked up at the big sign on the front of the Elgerson Mill and followed the arrow that indicated the location of the office. Things had changed so much since the day she had arrived as a picture bride in Billington and married Benjamin Fried.
She found Timothy Elgerson easily and he directed her inside and closed the heavy door behind them.
Waiting a moment for her ears to adjust from the noise of the saw, she looked around the room. It was comfortable and masculine. Ledgers and leather files filled the shelves against the walls and pictures of his family covered the desk. She looked at photos of just him and his wife, and others with their young man and new baby.
“What brings you out today?” Timothy sat down in the chair beside her, and not behind his desk. Intuition told him that her visit did not have anything to do with business.
“I wanted to tell you personally, before the paper came out this afternoon, that Benjamin passed away yesterday morning.”
“My deepest condolences, Lavina. Ben was a good man.” Timothy took her hand warmly and looked into her kind eyes.
Lavina Freid was a petite woman, like his wife. Her hair was dark, although she was nearly sixty years old, and was pulled back neatly. He knew that she was good with horses and had discussed his stock with her several times in the past. Visions of Ben flashed through his mind. He was a tall man, like himself. Ben was quick witted and warmhearted, always with a smile and a sincere twinkle in his eye. He had a talent for an impression and a way with a good story. Tim had always admired him for his wonderful sense of humor.
“I wanted to tell you, Tim. When I came here as a mail order bride not everyone was very receptive to me. Benjamin told me that you were the only one to congratulate him. At the time we did not know about Rebecca being a mail order bride as well. When we found that out it was even more important.
“We were very happy together. He was a fine man and I was very fortunate that he posted his ad and won that bet that paid for my passage here. Your support was so important to Ben and me.”
“I always liked him,” Timothy smiled warmly. “I know he was happy. It was on his face every time I saw him, since the day you arrived.”
Lavina rose to her feet and hesitated, looking around the room.
“I was just about to head home for lunch,” Timothy offered. “Please join me. Rebecca and Emma would love to see you.” Timothy thought about her returning home alone. They had married late in life and neither had any other family that he knew of. He knew they had kept to themselves with all the talk about her being a picture bride.
“If you don’t think I would be imposing,” she smiled in appreciation.
“Not at all.”
Timothy checked in with Roland and walked the widow to her carriage, helped her inside and then pulled the contrivance onto the narrow road towards his estate.
“Oh, Lavina, I am so sorry to hear about Ben.” Rebecca hugged the older woman warmly.
“Oh, honey,” Lavina choked back a tear. “He was so fond of you and your family.”
Rebecca thought back to the day she had found out that the woman was a picture bride as well and sighed deeply.
Emma placed her hand on the woman’s arm. The Freids had been the first people she had met in Billington, the day she had arrived. They were kind and gracious, offering a ride to Stavewood when no other coach was available.
“You look so lovely dear,” Lavina looked up to Emma and smiled. “Being married to Mr. Vancouver must agree wit
h you. We saw you that day, you know, carrying a beer across the lawn for him. Ben said it then. He said, ‘There’s another pair falling in love at Stavewood.’ You know the night we were first here, that night that Timothy had his big landowner’s party, was the night Ben said he loved me the first time, right here in your rose garden. Oh, it was a lovely evening and Rebecca looked so beautiful.
“You too, Mr. Vancouver,” she smiled to Roland. “You are walking all tall and handsome again. It’s all the love here.” She sighed pensively.
Rebecca took Timothy’s arm as he waved to Lavina Freid pulling out in her carriage. He looked down to the beautiful face of his wife and touched her cheek.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Jude Thomas paced the room in agitation. The windows were broken on one side of the building and several stones from the fireplace had come free and tumbled to the floor. In the far corner there was a hole in the roof and stains from past rains streaked along the wall.
Jude did not see or care about the condition of the house. The place had belonged to his aunt and he was indifferent, even in days past when it had been a stately home. Right now it was a place to stay for the moment. Once he’d finished his business with Elgerson he’d take the money he had hidden under the floorboards and buy his own place. He’d go somewhere where no one knew the hated name Elgerson, some place warm where the women were available and no one knew his name.
The conversation with the Shofield girl at her home ran over and over in his mind and he was consumed with finding a resolution, a way to salvage his plan.
“Mark told me that he didn’t want to see me ever again.” She’d wrung her handkerchief in her shaking hands. “Please don’t yell at me anymore. I don’t know what else to do.” Bernadette had sobbed deeply.
“Then you have to go back. You have to apologize, or make it up to him, anything. Whatever it takes. Aren’t you in love with him?” Jude yelled into her face.
“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I thought I was but he doesn’t love me and I tried what you said. I put his hand on me and he didn’t like it. He looked at me like he was repulsed. Maybe he doesn’t like girls or something.”
Jude gritted his teeth in frustration. “I don’t care. You need to go back.”
“Oh, please,” she begged. “I don’t feel well and I just can’t.”
Jude raised his open hand and it met the girl’s cheek with a sharp slap.
Bernadette jumped up and ran from her home. She found a quiet place behind the back shed and heaved the contents of her stomach into the weeds.
With some persuasion he believed the girl could get Corissa’s kid back on track and get her position back at the mill. It would only have to last long enough for them to trust the girl with information about when the payroll came in on the train.
He vowed he’d not lose his temper again with the girl. He’d take her out and buy her another new dress, something sweet. It had worked in the past. He just needed to be a bit more patient.
Bernadette came back into the room looking pale and sickly. Jude helped her to the bed and sat beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders.
“I’ll buy you another pretty gown. We’ll ride right now into St. Peter and you can get anything your heart desires.”
“Anything?” she sobbed.
“Anything,” he promised. “I just want you to be happy. If you help me with this I’ll take such good care of you that you’ll never be unhappy again. You know that I love you, right?” He feigned a smile.
“I thought you did,” she pouted. “Please don’t hit me anymore.”
“I won’t. It was wrong of me and it won’t happen again. Now go wash your face and we’ll go shopping.”
“Alright,” she sighed deeply.
Bernadette’s stomach settled as the day continued and once they arrived in the city she was feeling much better. The streets were lined with fancy carriages and bright trolleys and in nearly every window there was another pretty dress, a lovely pair of shoes or a fine bonnet. Jude purchased nearly anything that caught the girl’s eye and by nightfall her spirits had lifted considerably.
He checked them both into the hotel and in the dark of a small room he kissed her softly and made love to her on the thin mattress. She accepted his advances, his lovemaking was no longer painful, but her belly ached and when he had finished she was thankful he fell into a deep slumber.
In the morning they would return to Billington and she would go back to the mill and try to make it all up to Mark. She still thought about Samuel Evens though. She thought if she were in love with anyone it would be Sam.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
The warmly colored filly tossed her head as the young man walked patiently along the fence. He held her lead gently in one capable hand and the flexible lunge whip in the other. She was a brightly colored bay, her shade a soft auburn and she bore a white berry-shaped star along her forehead. Her mane and tail were near black, except for the flaxen stripe that streaked through her tail. Dark ears turned to follow him and her legs bore four white stockings.
“Well, Strawberry,” Mark spoke to her in a soft and encouraging voice. “Let’s see how you feel about this.”
He led her around so that she stood close to the fence and he put his boot onto the railing and raised himself up slowly. The filly tossed her head and eyed him suspiciously. He stood taller than her now and the horse was not sure if she was comfortable with the man’s position.
He stepped down smoothly and led her around the pen again, then halted her and stepped up on the rail again. This time it was less threatening and she stood more calmly. He went through the motions several times until she became comfortable with him petting her from above.
He carried the saddle to the fence and dropped it onto the rail. The long-yearling trotted up behind him and sniffed at the saddle over the man’s shoulder curiously.
“That’s an interesting thing now isn’t it,” he said to her and rubbed her muzzle affectionately. She tossed her head and trotted away briskly and then returned to sniff at the contraption again.
When she was no longer nervous he slid the saddle onto her back and cinched it swiftly but firmly, careful not to pinch or startle her. He held the lead, but allowed her to toss about, trying to rid herself of the weight. When she was convinced she could not throw it off she trotted to the man and stood beside him, nodding and setting her head on his shoulder.
“Not too sure about that, eh girl?” he stroked her withers affectionately.
Strawberry nickered softly and pushed her muzzle into his palm.
He stopped, and pulled out a light lunch, sitting on the fence talking softly to the animal. She sniffed at his food and pushed her muzzle into his bag, smelling the apples he had there and she pawed at the sack and blew through her nose.
He reached inside of the pack and produced an apple, which she grabbed quickly. When he tried to eat another himself she pranced around in front of him, bowing, as he had taught her, in an attempt to gain another piece of the fruit. He rewarded her, laughing in his easy, comfortable way.
Mark led her around again and stepped up beside her. This time it was familiar to her and she stood calm and easy. He led her away from the fence, slipped his boot into the stirrup and slid onto her back in one easy movement.
Strawberry backed up suddenly and lowered her head, dumping him on his backside into the dirt.
He stood up calmly and took her lead again. She tossed her head, backed up a bit, and then trotted to him again when he nickered to her.
He walked to her side and straddled her again quickly. This time she reared then backed up, lowered her head and dumped him again.
After several attempts the filly was enjoying the game, but Mark’s backside was beginning to bruise.
Strawberry walked around and waited for him this time. He took a deep breath and was on her back again, this time clinging tightly. She tried to unseat him, but he d
id not slide off as easily this time. She tried leaping and arching her back several times, bucking until he slid off again. She walked up to him and pushed him with her nose as he lay for a moment in the dirt.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he smiled.
Roland crossed the field and stood in the stand of trees a few feet from the corral. He watched the lively animal dumping Mark repeatedly and chuckled at the boy.
He saw him get up, dust himself off and shove his hat back onto his head and then get on again.
In yet another attempt, he got onto the horse’s back and, unable to unseat him again, she walked in a tight circle and tried to nip at his legs. Then she put out her foreleg and dumped him again.
When he stood up this time he sighed deeply and scowled at the animal. She tossed her head playfully and butted his chest with her nose.
Roland crossed the yard and called out.
“I’ll take her lead. Try again.”
“How about if I watch and you try,” Mark rubbed his posterior, hat in hand.
“It doesn’t work that way. Go ahead.” Roland pet the animal’s nose and placed his hand on her shoulder as Mark mounted her again. The older man led the horse around the pen and she did not resist. She trotted along nervously, but quietly, and after several passes around the corral Mark began leading her to one side and the other with gentle pressure from his legs and soft pulls on the rein.
Eventually Roland removed the lead and Mark urged Strawberry to a quicker trot and she paced along the fence easily.
Roland slipped out of the gate and stood, arms resting on the rails, watching the young man on his first ride of the fine animal.
None of the other horses remained now, only this one. She was a beautiful creature, slender and finely boned. There was no question she was fast. Roland had watched her several times race uninhibitedly across the fields. Mark was a kind and capable horseman and cared for the animal well.
South of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 2) Page 27
