The Sapphire Brooch by Katherine Logan (reading eggs books .TXT) 📗

of them. On the wall opposite the bed were paintings of Chimney Rock, South Pass, and the Blue Mountains. They were painted from sketches she had made during their trip west in 1852.

He eased to his feet and headed toward the bathroom. A Union Cavalry jacket hung on the back of the door. He ran his hand over the wool and checked the hand-stitched seams where the lining and wool met. Excellent quality and workmanship.

Stacked on a chair nearby were trousers, a cotton muslin shirt, and a slouch hat. A pair of spit-shined cavalry boots sat on the floor.

How could anyone have entered his room without making noise? He’d already noticed the floorboards creaked, and he was a light sleeper with excellent hearing. Either he’d been knocked out or someone with unusual stealth had come in and left the clothes. He rubbed his head. There weren’t any bumps.

David McBain.

Braham had a new appreciation of the soldier’s abilities.

On the desk under the window he found a belt and buckle and leather-end suspenders, every item made with the highest-grade leather. An old, moth-eaten uniform would have been fine with him, but as he had discovered, Elliott Fraser expected the highest quality in his animals, the people who worked for him, and goods and services he purchased. He wouldn’t have purchased a moth-eaten anything.

Braham remained in the hot shower for a long time, letting his mind drift to Charlotte. If she knew there was another brooch, she’d call Elliott immediately to explain the real reason she wouldn’t take Braham back to his time. Would Elliott still loan him the brooch if he knew Braham intended to stop Lincoln’s assassination? Probably not. But David would understand why Braham had to stop an assassin’s bullet.

He took his time dressing. Each article of clothing added another tug on his heart and mind, pulling him back into his century. He stood in front of the mirror, gazing at his reflection. At some point in the past four years he had become a soldier in his appearance, thinking, and behavior. He was no longer a lawyer, friend, cousin, nephew, uncle. He was a major in the United States Cavalry, on assignment to the president. He picked up his hat and gauntlets and mentally saluted his commander-in-chief.

Braham found Meredith and Elliott in the office, sitting in front of a blazing fire, talking quietly. He cleared his throat to announce his presence. “Sorry. I didn’t plan to sleep so long.”

“Wow,” Meredith said, looking him over. She came close, fiddled with the jacket, and patted the shoulder boards. “I don’t think we need the tailor. Do you, Elliott?”

“It’s a perfect fit. David has a good eye.”

“Do you have your money?” Meredith asked.

Braham tapped his chest. “Yes.”

David entered the room behind him. “Here’s the rest of it. A saber and Colt revolvers.”

Braham tested the weight of the revolvers. “Did ye fire them?”

David laughed. “Aye. I found the sights on the revolvers a wee bit crude, at least compared to today’s standards. Be careful.” He slapped Braham on the shoulder. “If ye come back, I’ll take ye out and let ye shoot with some real weapons.”

Braham threw him a crooked grin as he strapped on the holster and saber. “Ye make it tempting, but I won’t be back.”

Elliott picked up the rosewood box from the desk, opened it, and removed the ruby brooch.

“The first time I saw this, it was pinned to Kit’s dress. She was only a baby. We had no idea where she came from. We thought someone had abandoned her. I hope it brings ye the happiness it has brought her.” He handed it over. “Good luck, Major.”

Braham turned the brooch over and over in his shaking hand. “I don’t know how it works. Kit never told me.”

“I’ve never seen it open, but I know how it works.” Elliott showed him the clasp. “Press right there, and the stone will pop open to reveal the Gaelic. Once ye speak the words, ye’ll go through a fog. When the fog lifts, ye’ll be someplace else. Hopefully right here, but in another time. Don’t touch anything here. Whatever ye’re touching when ye go into the fog seems to make the trip, too. Good luck, lad.”

Elliott, Meredith, and David moved to the other side of the room. Elliott wrapped his arms around his wife. David snapped to attention and saluted. Braham saluted him in return. Blowing out a breath, he opened the brooch, drew his revolver, then spoke the words engraved on the stone, “Chan ann le tìm no àite a bhios sinn a’ tomhais an gaol ach’s ann le neart anama.”

23

Mallory Plantation, Richmond, Virginia, Present Day

Charlotte hadn’t called Braham all day, and neither had Jack. They had decided to give him time alone to think. In hindsight, it had been a mistake. She had worried all day. After seeing her last patient, she switched on-call schedules with a colleague and rushed out to the plantation. When she got there, the house was dark and her car was gone. Uneasiness spread over her and the hairs on her neck stood up.

Braham could be asleep, and the car could be in the garage…or it could be wrapped around a tree, floating in the river…

Stop it.

The police would have called if her car had been in an accident. He’s not hurt, he’s only… what? Sitting in the dark?

She grabbed the house remote from the glove compartment and pushed a button to turn on every light in the house. Braham might want to sit in the dark, but she wasn’t going inside without the lights on. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, but she was afraid of bumping into a burglar.

She entered, but left the front door open. “Braham. Braham.”

There wasn’t a sound. No radio. No TV. No YouTube videos playing on the iPad. She knocked on his bedroom door. The bed was empty, made without a wrinkle or a ripple. It was so tightly made, in fact, a quarter would bounce