Love Under Two Mavericks Cara Covington (best ereader for pc txt) đ
- Author: Cara Covington
Book online «Love Under Two Mavericks Cara Covington (best ereader for pc txt) đ». Author Cara Covington
Finally, they were able to pry the lid up. Inside, was an envelope, with the words âPowell Familyâ written on it.
Clint looked at her as he reached for the envelope, and she nodded. She had no problem with his looking at it first. He opened the envelope and drew out three more smaller envelopes.
âThis one says Gabriel Powell, and this one says Nicodemus PowellâŠand this last one is addressed to a future Powell.â
She reached for the last one first. âGabriel was the son of Jonas, the first Powell to settle this land. Nicodemus was my Grandpa Nick, Gabrielâs son.â She smiled when she thought of the old man, whoâd died before her brother, Daniel. He used to put her on his lap and read her stories.
She looked up at the faces surrounding her and at the men who she knew, no matter what, had her back. âIt was Grandpa Nick who named that big old live oak the Legacy Tree.â
Then she tore open the letter sheâd taken from Clint. She read it aloud.
âTo a future Powell,
âThis day I held my baby boy, Harold, in my hands for the first time. His momma, my Millie, is doing well. My heart is full of hope for the future and joy. So much joy. What a blessing after the darkness of the war that the world, and me, just finished up with. The signing of a treaty gave the world piece, and now this small babe has given peace to me. This is what life should be, and by damn, Iâm going to make sure that this son of mine, and any future sons and daughters and grandchildren, have a chance for their own joy. I will not pass on the âburden of the soulâ that my grandpa Jonas passed on to my father, Gabriel, and which he, in turn, passed on to me.
âIâve made a decision. I have to build on to this house, anyway, and I have actually started the process. Iâve framed out where the concrete is going to be poured for the base on which Iâll add a couple of bedrooms on the downstairs level.
âAnd it is in this pad I will secure this letter, and the ones bequeathed me by Gabriel and Jonas, my father and grandfather. Iâll never forget the secrets they left me to carry. I have only to look at the Legacy Tree to remember. But I can hold those secrets. Let there be no more stains on any Powellâs soul.
Iâll tell my boy, as he grows older, that the tree that now is taller than all the rest is our Legacy Tree, a symbol of pride in the accomplishments of this branch of the Powell familyâthe branch descended from Jonas Powell. And it will be a symbol of hope, for the future generations of souls who choose to embrace this land.â
Nicodemus Jonas Powell
March 15, 1946
âBurden of the soul.â Michaela looked at Randy and then Lewis. âWhat could that mean?â
âRead the others,â Clint said. âI have to admit Iâm curious, too.â
âI donât know if I want to.â Michaela felt her cheeks heat. She had no idea why now she was wimping out.
âIâll do it, baby girl,â Lewis said.
Clint met her gaze and lifted one eyebrow. She nodded. He handed Lewis the other two envelopes.
The first one, written by Gabriel, was short and to the point.
âThis is your legacy, Nic, as it was mine on the death of my father. Iâve told no one. Itâs all on you.â
âThat didnât sound particularly friendly,â Randy said.
âIt didnât,â Michaela agreed.
âSure piqued the curiosity, though, didnât it?â Adam said.
There were various noises of assent around the table. Lewis shrugged, then opened the final letter and read.
âGabriel,
âI know I donât have much time left. Your mamaâs waiting for me to join her up in heaven, probably wondering whatâs taking me so long.
âTruth is, I have a burden on my soul, and I need to ease it some, I reckon, for St. Peter to let me into the pearly gates.
âOne night, fifteen years ago now, I was out with my telescope, the one my brother Shamus gave me before he headed out to see the worldâjust looking at the stars. You remember those nights? Iâd found a good place for stargazing to be the small knoll, just by the well.
âMotion caught my eye, and I used my scope to see what it was. I recognized my brother, Ezra. He had a horse-drawn cart and a couple men with him. They pulled in by that large live oak, jumped out, and started to dig. They worked those shovels like men possessed. Reckoned I knew why when they stopped their digging then unloaded what I knew was a coffin.
âThey dropped it into the ground then lifted the lid. And pouredâŠ.I donât have a clue what, but they emptied some bags of something into it. Not a body, unless theyâd hacked up some poor soul to bloody pieces. Wouldnât put it past Ezra. Then they squatted by it for a spell then covered whatever it was with dirt. That didnât take long. Then they all got back into the wagon and rode off.
âThe next morning, I walked down in that direction, toward that live oak. Those boys did a piss-poor job of things, let me tell you. If anyone came looking, theyâd know somethingâor someoneâhad been buried there. Over the next month, the rains came, and in time, you couldnât tell the ground had been disturbed. You couldnât tell that tree hid a secret. But I knew.
âNot long after Iâd espied him digging in the dark, I heard Ezra was in Waco, that he was working in the feed store there and staying upstairs in a room. But not once did he come to pay his respects to me and your ma. I never told her about what I saw
Comments (0)