The Roswell Legacy Read online

  They were swept along toward the falls. Charles reached out for a limb, a bush, anything that would slow their progress to certain disaster. A sharp pain cut across his palm as he grabbed for a limb and found thorns instead. A stone in place of bread. Separation instead of reunion. He belonged to no one, had nothing except his own tormented anguish. But in that instant of pain, a miracle occurred. All his anger and hostility toward God for taking away his dream was washed clean. And he knew he didn’t want to die. He wanted to live.

  With that realization, a quietness, a strength came to him. He no longer reached out for every small limb and twig. He flowed with the water and the logs until he saw the chance for his and the boy’s survival. It was a giant, weathered tree, its fallen trunk hanging directly over the precipice.

  “We’re going over the falls!” the child screamed.

  “No. Hang on, son.”

  Charles’s arms wrapped around the tree trunk; his feet came out of the water, while directly beneath him the logs surged and plunged downward into the rainbow-colored mists.

  Surrounded by the roar of water, the battle of logs, Charles held tight to the tree trunk. Then, after a few moments of rest, he began the tedious climb along the trunk, edging little by little, toward safety.

  When Charles finally reached the top of the deserted bluff and gently pried loose the small boy’s arms from around his neck, he lay on the ground, exhausted. “We’ll rest for now,” Charles said.

  The child began to shiver. “I’m cold.”

  “I know. So am I.” Charles drew the boy closer to him for warmth.

  Later, when the trembling of his arms and legs had subsided somewhat, Charles stood. “It’s time to go,” he said.

  But Charles did not return to the sluice. They were now on the same side of the river as the logging camp, and he knew it was more important to get the child into dry clothes than to waste valuable time looking for the father.

  As Charles stepped into camp with the boy in his arms, one of the cooks, presiding over the fire, looked up from his cooking pot. “Mon Dieu,” he said, crossing himself. “I am seeing a ghost.”

  “Not a ghost, Tony. Just two bedraggled river rats needing something hot to drink.”

  With Hudson Bay blankets wrapped around them, Charles and the boy were sitting before the fire when three men returned to the camp.

  The boy stood and ran toward one of the men. “Papa!”

  “Edward! You’re alive. Someone told me, but I didn’t believe it.”

  “We rode the logs, Papa. And almost went over the waterfall. But this man saved me.”

  The child’s father walked slowly toward Charles. And in a voice filled with emotion, he said, “If you had one wish in all the world, monsieur, what would you wish for?”

  Charles’s smile was ironic, for no one could grant him that. But as the image of the Wilderness battle flashed through his mind, the cries of the wounded surrounding him, he said, “I would become a doctor.”

  On the yacht, Charles opened his eyes and glanced at the surgical kit within arm’s reach. On the day he’d saved the child, his second wish had seemed as impossible as the first. But then he had not known that the child, Edward, was the heir to the Bernet logging empire.

  It was Alphonse Bernet, himself, who had arranged the London surgical training that was responsible today for Charles’s summons to the bedside of the president of the United States.

  CHAPTER

  5

  On a tree-shaded knoll overlooking the long vista to the Washington Monument, a Georgian redbrick house sat majestically behind an iron fretwork fence. The matching iron gates were open, revealing a cobblestoned drive that pointed the way to the well-lit house.

  The Meadors’s carriage followed the familiar drive and then, at the circular island closer to the house, swept its way in a wide curve, finally ending its journey directly before the house steps. White-coated servants, who had been standing on the porch, raced down the steps with umbrellas to shield the arriving guests from the rain. And just beyond the porch, Peggy and Tripp Drake waited by the door to greet their last guests.

  With coats relegated to the maid’s arms and the senator steering Rad away for a private word or two before they joined the other guests, a relieved Peggy Drake gave Allison a perfunctory peck on the cheek. “I’m so glad you’re finally here, Allison.”

  Allison looked at her friend of seventeen years. “Are we late, Peggy?”

  “Oh, no. You’re right on the dot. But you can’t believe how edgy I’ve been after all that’s happened today. I’m counting on you, Allison, to keep this party tonight from turning into a complete fiasco.”

  “I’m sure it will be every bit as enjoyable as the last one you gave, Peggy.”

  Her assurance was greeted with a shake of the head. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew who Tripp made me invite at the last minute.”

  For a moment, Allison felt a sense of terror. Please don’t let it be Araminta and Coin, she prayed. After so many years, she couldn’t bear to face her former husband in a room filled with Rad’s colleagues. Then she remembered. Coin was out of town.

  “Who?”

  Peggy looked around her to make sure that no one else was within ear’s reach. “That Maddie creature. You know, the barmaid that Senator Birmbaugh of Nevada married. Tripp said the senator is much too powerful to snub, especially with the session coming up, so I was to invite her. I told him I wasn’t about to speak to that woman, much less ask her to this house. And if he made me, then I just might pack up and go home tomorrow. But no amount of tears on my part could dissuade Tripp. She’s sitting in the parlor with the others right now.”

  The distress in Peggy’s eyes prompted Allison’s compassion. “I’ll do whatever I can to help, Peggy.” And she added, “But things could be much worse. At least Frances and the president aren’t here.”

  “I guess that’s my only salvation. Heaven knows, this is one dinner party I hope Lottie misses writing about for the society column.”

  “I hear she’s out of town, too. So let’s go in and face the dragon.”

  Peggy gave a slight, nervous laugh. “Well, she’s not really a dragon. In fact, she’s quite pretty—in a rather common way.”

  The large entrance hall where the two women stood was a square, high-ceilinged room with black and white marble tiles on the floor. The oversized, circular velvet ottomans had been covered with chintz for the summer months, and huge pots of ferns and greenery in every available space gave the room the look of a conservatory.

  Brushing past one of the fronds, Allison followed Peggy into the formal parlor, where the female guests were being entertained with discreet, soft music that was coming from the adjoining music room. The instrumentalists were barely visible beyond another display of palms and ferns. One of the maids was also busy offering crystal goblets filled with golden sherry to the guests. Most of the women took the offered refreshment, for they were not a part of the Prohibition movement.

  “Now the party can begin,” Peggy announced, as she entered the room. “Allison and Senator Meadors have arrived.”

  With her hand on Allison’s arm, Peggy guided her around the parlor. “I believe you know almost everyone here.…”

  “Allison, how nice to see you again.”

  “Hello, Rosetta. I’m so happy to see you, Mrs. Forbes. Letty …”

  Allison made the complete journey, going almost full circle with her hostess, acknowledging old friends and acquaintances. The routine was ingrained by rote, requiring nothing more than a smile, a nod, and an appropriate few words here and there. And then Peggy stopped before a woman Allison had never seen before.

  “May I present Mrs. Birmbaugh, the senator’s wife. Mrs. Birmbaugh, Mrs. Meadors.”

  “How do you do?”

  The woman smiled at Allison, and at that moment, Allison was reminded of Madrigal, the young mill worker who had been shipped north on the same train as Allison, Flood, and Rebecca and had wound up
on Rad’s plantation in Kentucky for a time. But Madrigal had ridden away from Blue-grass Meadors years before, with Rad’s brother Glenn, and neither one had been heard from since.

  Catching herself staring at the woman before her, Allison knew that she had to pull herself together. It was the red hair, of course. But the experience that afternoon with Araminta had done something to her emotions, causing her to conjure other faces from the past, even in this stranger before her.

  “I already know a lot about you, Mrs. Meadors.”

  Peggy quickly intervened. “Then why don’t you take this chair next to her, Allison? That way, you can get to know Mrs. Birmbaugh while I see how much longer it will be before dinner is served.”

  There was nothing left for Allison to do but take the offered chair. She was aware of the interested glances and the undisguised feelings of sympathy directed her way for having been selected to keep the stranger in their midst from total ostracism.

  But she also saw the grateful look on Maddie Birmbaugh’s face. And she felt a kinship with the woman, so alone in a room filled with people.

  “I didn’t really want to come tonight,” Maddie whispered. “But the senator made me.”

  “It’s always difficult, isn’t it, to walk into a room where you don’t know a soul.”

  “That’s the Lord’s truth. I thought I was gonna be beside Tug—I mean, the senator—all evening, but we got separated the minute we stepped inside the door.”

  “Well, it won’t be long before we’re all together again at the dining table.”

  “That’s what’s bothering me the most. I wouldn’t say this to another living soul in this room except you, because I’ve already heard how nice and kind you are. But I’m scared to death of embarrassing Tug at dinner. What if I use the wrong fork or spoon?”

  What a small worry, Allison thought, in comparison to the one she carried in her own heart that night. Yet, to Maddie, it was a major crisis.

  “I understand we’ll be seated near each other,” Allison said. “So if you’re not certain, just watch me to see which one I pick up.”

  “Oh, what a load off my mind. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

  For Maddie, each bit of struggled conversation that Allison managed was welcomed. Caught up in her own self-consciousness, she didn’t seem to realize that Allison Meadors was sadly lacking that night in vivacity and wit, that she was merely going through the formality of casual conversation while her mind was elsewhere.

  Peggy returned to the room at the same time that Tripp and the other men appeared from the library. “Dinner is ready,” she announced. Then she turned to her husband. “Tripp, take Allison into the dining room. And Rad, will you please escort Mrs. Birmbaugh? Senator Birmbaugh will be my dinner partner tonight.” In quick succession, she paired off the other men and women, separating the wives from their spouses.

  The long table in the oversized dining room was covered in the finest white Irish linen, with Capo di Monte candelabra spaced at intervals. And midway on the table stood an extravagant centerpiece made of fresh-cut flowers to resemble a peacock with its tail feathers spread wide. The porcelain china was white with bands of cobalt blue and gold. As usual, Peggy Drake had managed to blend the decorations with her own costume, a blue silk dress with a small band of peacock feathers in her hair. And at each place, a small porcelain peacock held a snow-white place card with the name of a guest carefully penned in flowing script.

  Like a child, Maddie Birmbaugh clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, how beautiful,” she said, surveying the table.

  Rad smiled at his host as he seated her. “Mrs. Birmbaugh is right. Peggy has outdone herself tonight, Tripp.”

  “In more ways than one,” Senator Drake responded in a dry manner.

  With his wife and Maddie’s husband at one end of the table, it was up to Tripp, as host, to guide the conversation at the other end. And as the servants walked around with silver trays and porcelain platters filled with food, Tripp turned to Maddie. “I understand you arrived from Nevada just a few days ago, Mrs. Birmbaugh.”

  “Yes, I did.” Maddie laughed. “I was so dirty that Tug didn’t even recognize me at the station. Thought I was one of the servants until I called out to him, ‘Hey, Tug, aren’t you gonna give your wife a kiss?’ It’s taken me the past three days just to scrub off the train soot. I’m plumb raw, I can tell you that.”

  Seeing the horrified look in Rosetta Morgan’s eyes, Maddie turned to Allison. “Did I say something wrong, Mrs. Meadors?”

  “Long journeys are always difficult,” Allison countered without answering her question. “Particularly on trains.”

  “I much prefer going by boat,” Rosetta said with relish. “Don’t you, Allison?”

  “Much.”

  Like two skilled players, Allison and Rosetta rescued the conversation each time Maddie made a gaffe. By the time the dessert appeared, Senator Birmbaugh’s wife had successfully spoken on every topic that was taboo at the table: religion, politics, money, and one’s personal cleanliness. But at least she had watched Allison for her cue for the correct flatware. And only the more understanding people at one end of the table had overheard her comments, for Peggy was busy holding court at the other end.

  As the candles burned low and the silver finger bowls were dispensed with, Peggy stood. “Ladies, if you will join me, we’ll leave the gentlemen to their cigars and brandy.”

  The announcement brought the men to their feet. Amid the shuffling of chairs, Rosetta leaned over to Allison. “I don’t know when I’ve had such fun. This dinner party has given me enough to talk about for the rest of the summer.”

  “Are you staying for the entire special session?” Allison inquired quickly.

  “No. The last two weeks in August, the children and I will go to the shore. And you?”

  “I’m not sure. I may go home for a while. And you, Mrs. Birmbaugh. Will you be staying in Washington?”

  “I guess so. Not much to do in Nevada, since Tug bought out my …” Maddie caught herself. “Seeing I just got here, I might as well stay.”

  The women went up the stairs and dispersed in various directions, and a few moments later, Allison sat down before the dressing table in one of the bedrooms and began to go through the motions of repairing her hair. Peggy sat in a nearby slipper chair and watched.

  “A half hour longer and then I can collapse,” Peggy announced.

  Allison turned from the mirror. “I don’t know why you were so worried, Peggy. You managed quite well tonight.”

  “The others took their cue from you. You realize that, don’t you, Allison? You’re the one who kept the party from certain disaster.”

  Before Allison could dissent, Peggy continued, “I’ve been so busy that I haven’t even asked about your visit with the Forsytes this afternoon.”

  At that moment, Letty appeared in the hallway, followed by Rosetta and Maddie. “Maddie and I were just admiring the new painting in the guest bedroom, Peggy,” Rosetta commented. “Where did you find such an attractive piece?”

  “It came from my aunt’s estate,” Peggy replied. Allison, grateful for the diversion, stood and joined the others in their walk down the stairs. She had no wish to discuss the afternoon fiasco with Peggy.

  Now assured that her role as Washington’s premier hostess had not been damaged despite her unwanted guest, Peggy held court for the rest of the evening with her usual verve. But for Allison, the last half hour sagged dreadfully.

  The tinkling of laughter, the small talk were grating on her nerves. Like someone who had held her breath far too long and yearned to drink in great draughts of fresh air, so Allison yearned to leave the restricted atmosphere of the parlor, where the sickening sweet scent of tuberoses had combined with the summer heat to overwhelm her. The headache that had threatened earlier now came in full force.

  Oblivious to the sudden streak of lightning outside the window, Allison could stand it no longer. “Peggy, I really must go.…”
>
  Once again the other women followed Allison’s move. “Yes. We’d better get home before the storm breaks.”

  Within a few moments, Allison and Rad, along with the Birmbaughs, stood together on the porch and waited for their carriages to pull up to the steps.

  “Remember, Mrs. Birmbaugh, tea on Tuesday, at my house,” Rosetta Martin called out as she rushed past them.

  Maddie nodded and then turned to Allison. “I won’t ever forget your kindness tonight, Mrs. Meadors,” she said, holding tight to Tug’s arm.

  In turn, the senator confided to Rad, “I’ve been thinking it over, Meadors. Just want you to know you can count on my fairness in the vote.”

  With a shaking of hands and good-byes, Rad and Allison rushed to their carriage. Once the carriage started down the driveway, Rad laughed. “In one short evening, Allison, you did more than all my aides have done in a month—caused a hostile senator to rethink his position. It’s a pity that wives aren’t paid for their work. But maybe I can find some way of remedying that.” He leaned over to kiss her and she gave a start. “What’s wrong?”

  “I really do have a dreadful headache, Rad.”

  “Then close your eyes and rest your head against my shoulder.”

  The man seated beside her had been a rock of strength through so many years. But now she had no right to draw on that strength.

  To take her mind from her own problems, she began to think of Maddie Birmbaugh. There was something not quite right about her. But she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  “Rad, how long have the Birmbaughs been married?”

  “Nearly …” He stopped abruptly, and Allison could feel the muscles in his arm tense. “I’m not sure. Why?”

  “Oh, it’s not important. I was just wondering.”

  They rode the rest of the way in silence. But Rad remained wary. Sometimes he thought that Allison had a sixth sense about things. He was probably the only one, besides Tripp, who knew for a fact that Maddie couldn’t possibly be married to Tug, since his wife still lived in Ohio. But if Tug wanted to pass this woman off as his wife, it was his choice. Only heaven help him if Peggy Drake and the other wives ever found out what he’d done.