The Secret of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 4) by Nanette Kinslow Page A
Authors: Nanette Kinslow
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on earth would you make a date with that young man to go fishing?”
“First of all,” Louisa replied in a very matter-of-fact tone so there would be no mistake, “it is not in any way whatsoever a date of any kind. Secondly, why shouldn’t I go fishing? I never have you know. Why should it be for men only?”
“But Loo,” Rebecca was sticking to her guns, “fishing is nasty. It smells and you are a young lady.”
“No, mother. It’s not just for men, women fish too and some of them are rather good at it.”
“What women?”
Timothy had continued to eat quietly, looking between his lovely wife and bullheaded daughter.
“I’m going fishing early,” Louisa declared, brushing off her mother’s question. “It’s something I have always wanted to do.”
Rebecca shrugged her shoulders in confusion.
Now Louisa lay in the darkness thinking about the fact that her mother had assumed her fishing trip with Luc was a “date”. Yes, she admitted to herself, he really was quite handsome, but he was a local man. Luc was not educated and refined like Talbot. He was more like her brother, or her father, more like a friend. Luc Almquist was exactly the kind of man Louisa had told herself a thousand times she didn’t want. A different type of man would suit her much better. She wanted a city man, a refined man, someone dashing and debonair, an educated man, not anyone right underfoot here at Stavewood.
Louisa pushed the thought of Luc from her mind and instead focused on the research she had done earlier. After all, it was the whole point of her trip.
Louisa had not thought about the Weintraubs in a very long time before today. Diana’s daughter, Octavia, had not been attractive. She was described as awkward, crude and classless. There were those who pitied her, especially after her suicide. Diana at one time had an exemplary reputation breeding horses but somehow she had lost that business. Years later it was discovered that she and Jude Thomas had been the masterminds behind a series of very successful train robberies around Hawk Bend. Louisa wondered what, if anything, all these things had to do with her mother.
She sat up in the bed and checked the time on her watch. It was late but she accepted the fact that she could not sleep. Whenever she had a puzzle there was one surefire way to solve it. She climbed out of bed and pulled out all of her papers. In the corner she lit the lamp and carefully removed all of her mother’s sewing notions from the long wooden table. She began by copying each note onto a separate slip of paper and then sorting the slips into logical groups.
When she had finished, she stepped back and surveyed her work. Arranged in neat rows were sketches of Hawk Bend Station, the shack Mark had described and dozens of names, facts and locations. She mapped out the ride from the station to the cabin and the shack. In one column she started a list of questions. She wondered who had shot Bumble Bee and why. And why had someone been digging at the shack where her mother had been held? Louisa realized she had more questions now than answers.
She took her heavy typewriter from the case and set it in the middle of the table. Slipping a single sheet of paper into the rollers, she turned the knob to feed it through and began typing. The Secret of Stavewood stamped onto the white sheet as she pounded the keys. It was a start. For now she considered it a working title to help her organize her thoughts. She typed out an outline and suggestions for chapter titles: The Trip in Coach, The Kidnapping, and The Train Robbers. A story was beginning to take shape. She typed until she could type no longer.
Twelve
T he soft light of a dreary dawn found Louisa stirring in the narrow bed. She sat up and looked around the room. A
“First of all,” Louisa replied in a very matter-of-fact tone so there would be no mistake, “it is not in any way whatsoever a date of any kind. Secondly, why shouldn’t I go fishing? I never have you know. Why should it be for men only?”
“But Loo,” Rebecca was sticking to her guns, “fishing is nasty. It smells and you are a young lady.”
“No, mother. It’s not just for men, women fish too and some of them are rather good at it.”
“What women?”
Timothy had continued to eat quietly, looking between his lovely wife and bullheaded daughter.
“I’m going fishing early,” Louisa declared, brushing off her mother’s question. “It’s something I have always wanted to do.”
Rebecca shrugged her shoulders in confusion.
Now Louisa lay in the darkness thinking about the fact that her mother had assumed her fishing trip with Luc was a “date”. Yes, she admitted to herself, he really was quite handsome, but he was a local man. Luc was not educated and refined like Talbot. He was more like her brother, or her father, more like a friend. Luc Almquist was exactly the kind of man Louisa had told herself a thousand times she didn’t want. A different type of man would suit her much better. She wanted a city man, a refined man, someone dashing and debonair, an educated man, not anyone right underfoot here at Stavewood.
Louisa pushed the thought of Luc from her mind and instead focused on the research she had done earlier. After all, it was the whole point of her trip.
Louisa had not thought about the Weintraubs in a very long time before today. Diana’s daughter, Octavia, had not been attractive. She was described as awkward, crude and classless. There were those who pitied her, especially after her suicide. Diana at one time had an exemplary reputation breeding horses but somehow she had lost that business. Years later it was discovered that she and Jude Thomas had been the masterminds behind a series of very successful train robberies around Hawk Bend. Louisa wondered what, if anything, all these things had to do with her mother.
She sat up in the bed and checked the time on her watch. It was late but she accepted the fact that she could not sleep. Whenever she had a puzzle there was one surefire way to solve it. She climbed out of bed and pulled out all of her papers. In the corner she lit the lamp and carefully removed all of her mother’s sewing notions from the long wooden table. She began by copying each note onto a separate slip of paper and then sorting the slips into logical groups.
When she had finished, she stepped back and surveyed her work. Arranged in neat rows were sketches of Hawk Bend Station, the shack Mark had described and dozens of names, facts and locations. She mapped out the ride from the station to the cabin and the shack. In one column she started a list of questions. She wondered who had shot Bumble Bee and why. And why had someone been digging at the shack where her mother had been held? Louisa realized she had more questions now than answers.
She took her heavy typewriter from the case and set it in the middle of the table. Slipping a single sheet of paper into the rollers, she turned the knob to feed it through and began typing. The Secret of Stavewood stamped onto the white sheet as she pounded the keys. It was a start. For now she considered it a working title to help her organize her thoughts. She typed out an outline and suggestions for chapter titles: The Trip in Coach, The Kidnapping, and The Train Robbers. A story was beginning to take shape. She typed until she could type no longer.
Twelve
T he soft light of a dreary dawn found Louisa stirring in the narrow bed. She sat up and looked around the room. A
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