Free Home to Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 3) by Nanette Kinslow Page B

face.
          “What’s your name?” he whispered.
          “Colleen,” she smiled, blushing.
          “Colleen,” he repeated. “Mark Elgerson.”
          “I took some of your clothing to wash. Those are my father’s things. Are you warm enough? Are you hungry? I made a good mutton stew, I-I could bring you some.” Colleen was so thankful that he was awake she stammered in her excitement and relief.
          “I am hungry,” he realized.
          “I’ll be right back!” She jumped to her feet and hurried from his side.
          “Colleen,” he croaked.
          “Yes,” she hurried back and waited anxiously.
          “Thank you,” he smiled weakly.
          He was so handsome she thought, and she smiled back broadly, her eyes filling with tears of relief.
     
          When she returned she carried a tray of steaming hot food and the enticing aroma filled the cold barn.
           She sat Mark up and balanced him for a moment and then shoved a pitchfork in the ground behind him and he watched her curiously. She draped a heavy folded blanket against the fork and gently leaned him back. Mark was surprised how comfortable it was.
          “I have a good stew and rolls. The potatoes are few, but good, and there’s fresh butter.” She buttered the rolls and laid a cloth across his lap and began to ladle food into an earthenware bowl.
          Mark tried to move his left arm to support the bowl but could not lift it. “I can’t move my arm,” he scowled.
          “You were very hurt. Maybe it needs time.” She scooted up next to him and held the bowl on his lap and handed him a large spoon. He took the spoon in his right hand and tasted the stew.
          “This is delicious,” his voice was deep and raspy. He set down the spoon and tasted the roll. “This butter is unusual,” he remarked. He looked at her again and suddenly realized that she was the girl he had seen for that moment in the restaurant kitchen.
          “I churn the herbs into it,” she smiled.
          “They have this at the restaurant in town,” he whispered.
          “Oh, yes,” she smiled proudly, sitting close at his side. “Do you like it?”
          “Very much.” He took another bite.
          “I need to find my friend,” he whispered as she laid him back. “And my family. Someone needs to get in touch with my family.”
     
          “Please rest. I don’t know how but I’ll find a way to get you safely out of here. You need to rest now.” She spooned a warm chamomile tea into him as he lay quietly. When he slept soundly she began to gather up the dishes and she stopped and knelt beside him, studying his face.
          When he had smiled at her she felt so comfortable with him, but now, even though he slept, he made her a bit nervous. His face was fine and handsome and she imagined kissing him, softly on the lips, and she blushed profusely. He looked like all of those princes in those fairy tales, she thought, nice and kind, his soft hair lying across the blanket.
          Colleen picked up her tray and hurried back to the house.

 
     
    Chapter Twenty-Two
     
     
           T imothy Elgerson stepped off the train in Barite, grabbed his bags hurriedly and rushed to his partner’s office. He had just spent the three longest days of his life trapped in the loud contraption and he was frantic with worry.
          He rushed into the office and Benjamin Neilson froze at the sight of him.
          Timothy said nothing, waiting impatiently for the man to say anything.
          “Hello, Tim. Come with me,” the man said, after what Timothy thought was an inordinate amount of time.
     
          Neilson led the timberman to the sheriff’s office and indicated that they go inside.
          Sheriff Mason looked up from his desk at the huge man and stood up quickly.
          “John Mason, this here is Timothy