The Roswell Legacy Frances Statham (mini ebook reader .txt) 📖

if things had been different. As it was, he would never feel comfortable around him because of Allison. But his son’s happiness was at stake and had to be considered.

“I see that we have problems, regardless of which direction we decide—to speak out or to remain silent, to give them our blessing to marry or not.” Rad was cautious in his choice of words. “If we refuse to allow the marriage to take place because of some inadequate excuse, there could be trouble. I don’t know about Ginna, but Jonathan would never be satisfied unless he was given the complete truth. Even then he might decide to marry her, with or without our blessing.”

“And the other problem you foresee?”

“Our commitment to keeping the secret, if we agree not to tell them. There can be no turning back, no changing of our minds, once it’s decided. The four of us will be honor-bound to lifelong silence.”

“Then what shall we decide, Major Meadors?”

Rad looked at the man’s face. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking, for he had hidden his thoughts behind his impenetrable doctor’s mask. But Rad, too, was cautious, especially where Allison was concerned. Revealing the truth of the first marriage was tantamount to placing an advertisement on the front page of the Washington newspaper. He did not wish such notoriety for Allison, or his son, either, for that matter.

“I defer to you, Dr. Forsyte.”

So here was the dilemma, skillfully placed back in his hands. Ginna had always received shabby treatment from Araminta. And it was only because of her coming to the States several months before the family moved there that his daughter had been able to escape Araminta’s attention long enough to meet Jonathan Meadors. The young man would find someone else to marry if Ginna were lost to him. But Charles was not so sure about Ginna. He only knew he could not be the one to take away her chance for happiness.

“What happened in the past should not be allowed to keep the two young people apart, if they truly love each other,” he said.

Rad nodded in agreement. “Then, for their sakes, I’d like to leave this office knowing that we have sworn to keep this former marriage a secret.”

“Yes,” Charles replied. “I think that would be for the best.”

“Well, since it’s settled, I’ll say good day. I have a busy morning ahead of me and I’m sure you do, too.” Rad stood, followed by Charles. And despite himself, Charles held out his hand to Rad.

With his departure, Charles felt at peace. The man was fair and honorable, as somehow he’d known he would be. Or else Allison would not have married him. Then Charles began to think of Araminta. And his sense of peace deserted him.

At Bluegrass Meadors in Kentucky, Jonathan galloped along the white rail fence that separated the pastureland from the house grounds. In the distance to the west, the great tobacco barns rose in the fields where the remaining stubble of leaves waited for burning.

And in the paddocks, the spring’s drop of foals kicked up their heels and whinnied from sheer pleasure.

Jonathan laughed aloud, for he understood how the animals felt on this hazy day of summer. The music in the air—of bees and June bugs, of horses’ neighs, and of the slight creak of the swing on the porch—was far sweeter to him than any sound of symphony or human voice. The love of the land was in his blood.

He would never be happy living in a crowded city, with its tall buildings blocking the view of the sun as it rose in the east. Yet he did not mind the occasional forays into the bastions of concrete, for it made his return to the land all the sweeter. And, of course, he would be forever grateful for the time spent in Washington this past year. If he had not worked on the special project with the Smithsonian Institution, he would never have met Ginna.

Jonathan pulled up at the barn in a cloud of dust and jumped from his mount. He patted the horse’s flank. “You enjoyed the run as much as I did, didn’t you, Breakers?” The old horse still remembered his derby days, but was now put out to pasture, serving as stud for future champions.

Jonathan walked the horse to let him cool down, and as he strolled leisurely with the reins in his hand, he thought of the changes he would like to make once he settled down with a wife and family. As much as he loved the thoroughbreds, he realized they were not a big money-making endeavor. Their beauty and the pleasure they gave were their own reasons for being, but as head of his own household Jonathan needed to start bringing in revenue rather than spending it.

“I’ll talk with Andrew,” he mused aloud, remembering his conversations with Morrow’s husband concerning the new refrigerated boxcars that had changed the nation’s eating habits. Shipping western cattle to Chicago could be the answer.

“Willie,” he called out suddenly.

“Yes, Mr. Jonathan?”

“Finish walking Breakers for me and then give him a good rubdown. I have some business to attend to.”

The stablehand took over, while an enthusiastic Jonathan, with plans spinning in his head, rushed inside to a paneled office and began a letter to his brother-in-law in Chicago.

That afternoon in Washington, Araminta undertook her midweek visit to Stanley Quail’s house to visit her daughter, Cassie. The girl was unenthusiastic about motherhood. Of course, Araminta couldn’t blame her. She had never let anyone suspect how she felt, but to Araminta, too, motherhood was vastly overrated, almost as much as being a wife was. They were merely the two duties that a woman had to endure in this life. And the less said about them, the better.

As Araminta climbed out of the carriage and walked up the steps, she realized that Cassie had done rather well for herself. Or rather, Araminta had done rather well for Cassie. For if