Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 1)

by Kinslow, Nanette

  Chapter Six

  Finishing their business, the portly financier rose to shake Timothy Elgerson’s hand. “What are you planning to do with all of that land, Tim?”

  “Own the whole territory,” Elgerson joked, “and then I’ll run you all back east!”

  “Well, my Missus would thank you for that,” the banker replied. “Good luck to you Tim. Don’t run off too many of us though. You might need a few of the boys about to keep up your mills.”

  “You’re good with a saw then, James?” Elgerson teased. “Perhaps instead of sending you east I ought to put an axe in your hands?”

  “I don’t believe I’d be able to swing it past this,” the gentleman replied, patting his generous abdomen.

  “That wouldn’t be there for long,” Tim remarked, gathering up his packet of deeds. “A week or two of good hard swinging would set that right.”

  “If I didn’t take it off with an axe first!”

  Elgerson chuckled warmly to the man and pulled open the bank door.

  “Take care, Tim!” The banker shook with laughter.

  “Same to you,” Elgerson replied. He closed the door behind him and studied the coach stop across the muddied road.

  It hadn’t occurred to him before this moment that he might be in any way nervous about picking up a bride.

  “Bride,” he thought. A funny word for such a situation. It sounded romantic, even hopeful. Elgerson’s only hope was to get retrieving the woman over with, and he strode out into the street towards the small receiving office.

  “Why, my dear Mr. Elgerson! What on earth brings you to town today?”

  Timothy turned in response to the sound of his name and moaned softly to himself at the sight of Octavia Weintraub lumbering towards him up the walkway, the bulk of her weight bringing up a creaking complaint from each plank she stepped upon.

  Clad in her odd attire, a colorless piece of clothing straining beneath a dangerously revealing neckline, Octavia more rolled to Elgerson’s side than strode.

  “How pleasant a surprise to find you here today and so convenient as well, Mr. Elgerson!” Octavia purred as she slipped her generous wrist inside of Elgerson’s arm.

  “How’s that?” Elgerson asked, preferring not to hear her reply.

  “Why, I’m nearly faint with starvation and I can’t imagine anything more delicious than partaking of a meal with you, sir!” Octavia exclaimed while vainly attempting to bat her thin lashes.

  “Miss Weintraub,” Elgerson studied the massive girl. “A strapping girl like you, starving?” Timothy could not resist the comment.

  “I’m healthy and capable for anything that’d please you, sir,” she giggled.

  Elgerson suppressed a shudder. “And where would your mother be on this fine day?” He knew when Octavia was around her doting mother would not be far away.

  “Mother’s off on an errand.” Octavia bit her lip absentmindedly. Wherever her mother was, it had better be getting rid of that picture bride!

  Octavia knew precisely why her intended gentleman was hanging around the carriage stop. She dared not let on, but the thought of his disappointment at not finding his child bride was practically unbearable in its pleasure.

  “So, Mr. Elgerson,” she hummed. “Why was it again you are in town today?”

  “I just closed my final land deal, Octavia,” he replied distractedly.

  The woman found herself flustered that his answer was only partially the truth and pressed on.

  “Why then, we simply must celebrate! You will be having a party of course, to announce your acquisition. Oh please, when?” Octavia studied Timothy’s face searching for any sign of excitement.

  Elgerson looked at her squarely and felt his blood rising. Octavia was a master at putting those around her into compromising positions. Timothy could never let her know that his property transfer was not the entire reason for his being in town. It could be a perfect distraction for the woman to think he planned to celebrate the land purchase.

  “I’ve been so busy with the procurement, Octavia, I just didn’t think about it.” Elgerson attempted an excuse.

  “That’s not a problem!” Octavia waved her hand triumphantly. “I’ll pop up to your place tomorrow with my girl and put together a celebration straight away. Mother will be delighted to help, I’m sure, and that lazy staff of mine could use a good celebration to get them moving. We’d all enjoy a bit of a ball anyway what with everything being so dismal with all the merciless rain!

  “I’ll plan the menu straight away and the invitations will have to go right out…” Octavia began to wave wildly to an approaching passerby.

  “Amanda, you know Mr. Elgerson, of course. Why he’s just made the most huge purchase of land and we’ll be throwing a celebration. You and Roger must attend, I’m sure it will be so grand!”

  Elgerson stuttered and cleared his throat.

  “W-well, Octavia I really don’t think that…” he choked, realizing that the woman had taken the idea to this extreme.

  “Don’t be silly, dear!” The big woman ignored his protests and continued her invitations. “We’ll see you and Roger of course, Amanda, and please do bring your darling brother and his wife.” Octavia quickly moved on to a couple approaching from across the street.

  Railroaded again, Elgerson thought. Well, he sighed, what harm would it do? As he watched the buxom woman toddle across the street, excitedly inviting anyone and everyone in her sight, Timothy slipped unnoticed into the tiny carriage stop and approached the desk. At least he’d be free of dining with the woman and in her preoccupation he could see about the bride’s arrival privately.

  “No, sir. No one from St. Peter today,” the clerk responded. “Expecting anyone special?” he asked.

  “No one special,” Elgerson replied, more disappointed than he imagined he’d be. Perhaps she could have been held up with the rain. He felt agitated that he’d have no one to bring home to the boy and he’d need to return to the stop in the morrow to attempt to retrieve her again. He slipped around to the back of the building in order to avoid Octavia and her shouting to the entire town and headed for the saloon.

  Madam Rival turned from the customer she was charming and watched Timothy Elgerson enter the saloon. Through the thundering loud environment she watched as he clapped several men on the back, exchanging vigorous handshakes and warm greetings. Holding back for the time being, and returning to her gentleman, she knew it would do her no good to approach the man until he was well into his cups. In a few hours he’d be willing and would pour his heart out to her in her private room upstairs. He’d rebuffed her once before while sober. His rejection was something she did not want to experience again.

  Rival’s Saloon was infamous all through the territory for its hearty brews, earnest gamblers and women of every possible description. The girls were clean and for the most part attractive and, although the Madam was just past her prime, she was energetic and still beautiful with her deep copper penny hair and voluptuous figure. It was considered by many of the men a compliment to visit her personal quarters.

  Bess Rival moved with ease through her business, mingling openly and joking with the men. There were a few couples among the patrons, since she tried her best to run a reputable establishment, but the girls tramping blatantly with customers up the stairs kept her from being within acceptable limits to many. Women often openly shunned her as she shopped in town and the men behaved as if they had no recognition of her, even though almost the entire territory’s male populous had been in her place at one time or another.

  Timothy Elgerson, however, was another story. One particularly brew-inspired evening he had stayed long after most of the patrons had left for the night. When she had approached him with the pretense of sending him on his way he had warmed up to her and found himself facing the following morning in an embarrassing situation, although they both knew nothing intimate had transpired between them. Elgerson came to regard Bess Rival as something of a mistake, but Be
ss was still hopeful that would change. Like many who had fallen into her profession, she still held onto the hope that possibly one day she’d be married properly and Timothy was exactly what she wanted. She surveyed him from across the room, the deep timbre of his voice drifting towards her through the bustling crowd and she studied his reserved smile as he visited among the men. He was a fine specimen, she thought to herself and cursed the differences in their ages with Timothy not even thirty and herself denying the accumulating years.

  He moved with a grace uncommon in most men of his height and size and was ever the gentleman. She could barely wait for the evening to wind down to the time where Mr. Elgerson would bury his head in his hands, intoxicated and weary, and ask for her opinion. She’d seen him once in town with his boy, a handsome lad with the promise of his mother’s good looks and a shy air about him. Elgerson had not turned away, but instead introduced her to the adolescent in a very matter-of-fact way as, “the woman who owned the saloon up the way.” Bess was sure the boy blushed slightly, giving away the fact that her business reputation had preceded her, but Timothy had simply tipped his hat and continued on his way. It had occurred to her later that possibly the introduction to the boy was an omen in her favor. Bess liked children and had often wished she had a living child of her own.

  “Elgerson, you’re no fool taking in all that land after the big fire,” one gentleman commented. “But throwing a party with Octavia Weintraub might make you otherwise!”

  The men around the table laughed heartily.

  “Somethin’ you’re not telling us, Tim?” the man teased.

  “Hardly!” Elgerson bellowed, putting up his powerfully built hands in a gesture of denial. “That girl will stop at nothing to involve me in her shenanigans!”

  “I doubt that’s all she’ll be wanting to involve you in, Tim!” another man from across the table interjected.

  Elgerson chased down his shot with a deep gulp of his beer as the men around the table burst into laughter.

  “With all the woman around these parts clamoring to get at you, Tim, you ought to think about taking another wife just to quiet down your life,” someone seated beside Timothy threw in thoughtlessly.

  The mood changed suddenly as Timothy Elgerson gathered his pint and moved to the bar. It was widely known by most that he hadn’t fared well after his wife passed on, and Timothy Elgerson was just not the same. Over time he’d come into the saloon on occasion to raise a few glasses to drown his sorrow and attempt to put away his memories, but a melancholy lingered that most knew never passed. Mr. Elgerson sat alone, ordering another shot at the bar. His relocation in the establishment did not go unnoticed by Bess Rival.

  More than a few shots, and several hours later, as the last of the patrons shuffled out and the barkeeper stacked his washed glasses for another day, the madam pulled up a stool beside Timothy Elgerson. The deep masculine scent of him teased her senses and she snuggled a bit closer.

  “Evening, Tim,” she spoke softly.

  “Bess,” was his one word response.

  “Let’s take that last mug of beer upstairs and finish it off up there,” she proposed.

  Elgerson stumbled off of the stool and followed her silently up the staircase.

  Once in Bess’s opulent room he sunk into an oversized velvet chair and leaned his head back against the frame.

  “What happened tonight? Looks like someone took the wind out of you,” Bess asked cautiously.

  “Woman never showed,” Elgerson lamented. “Never came in.”

  “That girl you sent for to care for your boy?” Bess was concerned about Elgerson’s secretive posting of his ad. Timothy had assured her that he’d only placed the ad to find a mother for his son, but the madam had enough competition in Billington for Timothy’s attention and sending for a girl was too risky. Bess had studied Tim’s ad, the girl’s reply, and scrutinized the photograph but there was so much unanswered. The response was so brief, too tight and lacking any real information and the correspondent had merely given her first initial as “R”. The picture had been so damaged in transport it was impossible to put together an idea of who this woman might be. Elgerson’s belief that these girls only wanted stability and steady meals was grossly unfounded and Bess Rival knew otherwise. Many of her girls had arrived as mail order brides, either coming to the St. Peter area or just passing through. Most were impoverished and helpless, but nearly all were filled with romantic notions. Any girl who had thrown in with the lot and found Timothy Elgerson at the end of her venture couldn’t help but consider herself blessed in her fortune.

  “Yes, she wasn’t at the carriage stop,” he groaned.

  “Most never make it to their destination, Tim.” She went on.

  “Do you think something happened to her?” Elgerson sat upright and weaved slightly in the big chair.

  “No, no,” Bess reciprocated. “I mean many of them find something else along the way. In a day or two if she doesn’t arrive you should just put it away. Why, there’s women right here in Billington who’d make a fine mother for your son. I even took a liking to the boy myself.” Bess Rival had decided she was tired of playing the role of a confidant and dropped her hint boldly. If the woman should not arrive in the next few days Bess thought it was time she got moving into Elgerson’s life a bit more seriously before he ordered another, or worse.

  “You’re a good woman Bess,” Timothy stated kindly, blearily peering into the madam’s face. “That’s sweet of you to say. You’ve got a good heart and you’ve been a fine friend. I’ll find a way to settle the boy down.” The man rose unsteadily to his feet.

  Bess cursed under her breath. This is one damned handsome man, she thought to herself, but bull headed as an ox. Deciding to take it one step further she took hold of Elgerson’s arm, steadied him and tried gently to lure him towards the back of her apartment.

  “I’ll be going now. I appreciate you, Bess, really.” Timothy looked kindly into her eyes. “But I don’t expect I’ll be back. Thank you,” he said tactfully, and headed slowly towards the door. He turned back to face her and regarded her sadly. “You’ve been good to me, Bess, a real friend and I thank you. You take care now. I hope you find what you’re looking for, but Bess…” Timothy Elgerson’s words trailed off and he closed the door behind him.

  Bess Rival stood alone in her lavish dwelling and counted each footstep as Timothy descended the stairs. She knew she was far from her youth, but the sob that wretched from her throat was something she had not experienced since she was a child.

  Timothy Elgerson staggered to the stable, retrieving his horse and buggy and slowly rode out of town.

  Chapter Seven

  Mark mumbled to himself, “He’ll not be back today.” After piling the sacks neatly inside the stable as his father instructed, he took off into the woods towards the clearing where he spent much of his solitary time. He supposed he could do his chores and gather the eggs just as well tomorrow and his father wouldn’t discover any drop-off in the laying so it didn’t matter when he did it. In the isolated meadow he searched beside a clump of roots and extracted his bundle of traps.

  Weasels were nasty animals. Mark didn’t much care for them and, although his father had specifically forbidden his trapping them, Mark liked to try to ensnare one now and again for fun. He’d only actually caught one thus far, but since the disturbing feeling that he had experienced finding the last mangled animal had passed, Mark was ready to try his hand at it a second time.

  His friends trapped all sorts of animals, often bragging and exchanging pelts when they traveled into town for events. Most of the men at the logging camps trapped some on the side and Mark could see no real harm in it. The boy was certain that his father had only forbidden it to make Mark more miserable than he already was.

  The youth was left out of everything, he thought, with his Pa running off on some land deal or another and not returning when he said he would. The last stay at the house had lasted for only two nights and
there was no one for miles for him to talk to, not even the cook to bother. It was as if his father couldn’t stand the main house now. Mark missed the time when the residence was bustling with visitors and meals, a well-fed pig in a pit roasting on a summer’s day. There were friends and cousins and rides on the back of the buckboard in the warm evening. His Pa would take him out fishing nearly every week and out for a good hunt at least a few times a year. These days he couldn’t even recall where the fishing poles were, or a good number of the rifles for that matter. The boy inspected the three traps and took them into the dense forest.

  He pulled a leather pouch from his bulging pocket and selected a strip of dried rabbit, placing it in the trap and setting it carefully in the center of three rocks he had found situated beside a large pine. Unsure that it would be discovered by his intended prey, he decided instead to set it further from the tree in an open area of pine needles and then ran off to set the remaining pair. Mark was determined to have a nice clutch of pelts before his father returned. He’d conceal them under the buggy boards to get them home and have something to be proud of the next time they traveled to the logging camp.

  Once he had accomplished his stealthy mission, he decided to return to the cabin and go ahead and gather the eggs. The job would be far more entertaining with the distraction of imagining all of the animals that were being snared while he worked. As he splashed along the creek he was certain he’d heard a horse and cart off in the distance, but when he returned to the cabin he found no evidence of anyone passing through or his father’s return.

  Timothy Elgerson slowly pulled into the drive of the main house in the crescent moonlight. The soft croak of the last of the season’s frogs hung on the mist as if to enhance the desolation of the homestead. The promise of the approaching autumn waited in anticipation, a chill in the air whispering softly along the tops of the tall pines.