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

made its morning round from east to west and warmed the lake waters with its golden light, Ginna awoke. The pillow beside her was still curved with the shape of Jonathan’s head. But he was gone, and she was alone.

She felt lethargic, as if she had been on a long voyage of discovery and now was content to rest. But how much more pleasant it would have been to wake up with Jonathan, her husband, beside her.

She stretched and yawned, then looked at the clock. And she knew that she could not put off getting dressed any longer. She would have to appear at breakfast as if nothing momentous had happened during the night. But could she do that? Seeing Jonathan and acting as if she remembered nothing of the night, when the imprint of his love was still so strong, a physical reminder that she now belonged to him, heart and soul?

By the time Ginna heard the breakfast bell, she was dressed. And with a particularly vulnerable look on her face, she walked down the steps.

He was standing in the hallway when she descended. “Good morning, Ginna. I trust you slept well?”

“Oh, yes, Jonathan. Quite well, thank you. And you?”

“A wonderful night.”

“Well, I had a nightmare,” David commented, watching the two standing there together.

“Probably the aftereffects of all that cotton candy you ate,” Jonathan said.

“How did you know that, Uncle Jonathan?”

“Because you still had a pink mustache when you and Nanny finally returned home.”

The three walked into the breakfast room together as if nothing had changed from the previous morning. Even Morrow’s face was bland when she greeted them. Only Allie threatened to give away their secret with her knowing smile as she poured the morning coffee.

“I’m having tea this afternoon with Lila Montgomery,” Morrow commented, “after I return from the settlement house. Would you like to come with me, Ginna?”

Jonathan quickly spoke up. “I promised I’d take Ginna back to the exposition today. She missed seeing the Gobelin tapestries.”

“Then will you be back in time for supper?”

“No. We’ll eat at one of the restaurants at the fair.”

“I suppose the Montgomerys are going to be leaving in a few days, if they’ve kept to their schedule,” Ginna mentioned. “Will you please ask Mrs. Montgomery if it’s still convenient for me to travel back to Washington with them?”

Morrow ignored Jonathan’s frown. “Of course. But I’ll certainly hate to see you leave. It’s been wonderful having you here with us.”

“Don’t go, Ginna,” David said. “I want you to stay. Tell her to stay, Uncle Jonathan.”

“We both have to leave, David. You’ll just have to come and visit us once we’re settled on the plantation in Kentucky.”

“Yes, I could do that,” he answered, very seriously.

At Braxton School, other little boys were also at breakfast that morning. But a pall lay over the entire school, for two of the students, Nathan Forsyte and Pinky Boswell, were still missing.

The headmaster, Dr. Pemberton, had exhausted all leads. And as he looked at the two anxious fathers, Charles Forsyte and Quincy Boswell, both seated in his front parlor, he was concerned not only for the welfare of the boys entrusted to his care but for his own position as well. The trustees would not look kindly upon a man who could not even keep track of his students.

“And you don’t have any inkling where they might have gone, Dr. Forsyte?”

“No. Mr. Boswell and I discussed it coming up on the train yesterday. The boys are good friends, so we know that wherever one is, the other is bound to be there, too.”

“Only we don’t know where that might be,” Quincy offered, rubbing his hand over his full, ruddy face. “But I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d told me that Pinky had taken off for the exposition in Chicago.”

“We checked at the train station. They didn’t leave from Braxton on the train,” Dr. Pemberton said.

“How far away is the next train depot?” Charles asked.

“Let me see. That would probably be Holborne, over three miles from here. Or Woodbine, five miles in the other direction.”

“Have you inquired at either station?” Quincy asked.

“Why, no. I don’t believe anyone thought of that.”

Charles and Quincy looked at each other, and as Charles stood, do did Quincy. “We’ll go to both and then check back with you later in the day,” Charles said.

Getting the directions from the headmaster, Charles and Quincy walked out of the cottage.

As they climbed into the carriage and left the school grounds, Quincy said, “My wife is beside herself with grief. We thought we were doing the right thing sending Pinky away to school. But if something happens to him, we’ll never forgive ourselves.”

“In England, it’s the standard procedure. Nathan is used to it, being away at school. But he’s never pulled this kind of stunt before, running off.”

“Your wife blames Pinky for being a bad influence on Nathan. And with this thing happening, maybe she’s right.”

“No, Mr. Boswell. I know Nathan. And he’s quite capable of getting into mischief on his own.”

“I appreciate your saying that, Dr. Forsyte.” Quincy pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his brow. The morning was already extremely hot and would get hotter before their journey ended.

When they reached the Holborne station, a passenger train had just deposited its passengers and left in a trail of white smoke. Under the shade of a nearby elm tree sat an empty wagon with a pair of mules harnessed to the wagon tongue.

Tying up their own carriage and horses, they witnessed the reunion taking place on the platform.

“Was it worth it, Pa?” asked a strapping youth dressed in overalls. He reached out to take the shabby luggage from a middle-aged man and his young wife.

“You bet it was, son. Me and Prudie here saw the most goldurned sights—even a cannibal cooking pot.” He winked at the boy. “There was even a naked lady dancin’ behind a fan. But when she dropped one of her fans, Prudie grabbed my arm and pulled me out of