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

life. They play with guns. Guns shoot people. And then I have more work to do.”

“So why are you here?”

“Because modern medicine started during the Civil War, and I find that piece of history fascinating. I don’t come for the women and guns.”

He pressed his hands against his chest in fake humility. “I feel so shallow.”

“You said it. I didn’t.” She fiddled with the twisted haversack’s strap, which reminded her of the puzzle box packed inside and the mysterious sender. If she mentioned the gift to Ken, he would tease her about having a secret admirer, and she wasn’t in the mood to be teased.

“What’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “You need to get laid, don’t you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me a ten-miler won’t cure.”

“God, Charlotte. Running is a solo sport. Do something which forces you to interact with people. With men. Hell, with anyone.”

“What do you think I’m doing here today?”

“Lecturing. You talk at people. You don’t talk with them. There’s a difference. Borrow a horse. Ride with the cavalry.”

“I have my own horse.”

“But you didn’t bring him. Why not?”

A trail of ants near her feet suddenly became more interesting than the conversation. “If you must know, I didn’t have time to get a current Coggins certificate, and they wouldn’t let my horse in without one.”

He shook his head, giving her a sigh with more than a hint of frustration. This bantering happened every time they got together, which was why they’d never dated. He loved her and wanted her to be happy. She understood his concern, and no one else had the courage to get in her face the way he did. He knew he could tell her the truth. Whether she listened to him or not, well, it was up to her.

Occasionally, though, she did want to smack him. She yanked at his arm. “Come on. Let’s stop arguing. Hang out at the medical tent today.”

“And do what I do every day but without the medical advances of the past century? Would you really like to go back and practice medicine the way they did then?”

“We’ve had this debate before.”

“And we’ll continue to have it.” He focused on something in the distance. Probably a beautiful woman in the crowd. “You’re coming over to spend the night, aren’t you?”

“I brought my cot, but I’d rather stay in your guest room.”

He gave her a brief, distracted glance. “We’ll talk tonight over a good steak and a bottle of wine. I’ve got some ideas.”

“Now, Ken—”

“I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t want to do. Just listen.”

She compared two uncomfortable situations: listening to Ken pitch the virtues of a few single men, or sleeping on a hard cot in the chilly night air. If she went to Ken’s, she’d get a nice dinner with wine and she’d sleep in a comfortable bed.

“What kind of steak?” she asked.

“Ribeye and wine.”

“Since you went to all that trouble, I’ll listen, but I won’t commit to anything more. The last time you fixed me up, the evening was a disaster from the get-go. Then it took weeks to get rid of the guy.”

“I’m not saying another word until you’ve had a couple of glasses of wine.”

“So I’ll be what? More amenable?”

He grinned as if he had her cornered already. She would never again go out with a guy he recommended, but she was willing to listen. Halfheartedly.

When they reached the field hospital, he ducked inside the tent and brought out a small valise. “I have a surprise for you.” He opened the valise, lifted out an envelope, and handed it to her.

“Greenbacks?”

“Your tailor gave me a lead. Turned out to be a good one.”

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Did I pay you enough?”

“To the dollar.”

She opened the envelope and fanned the neat pile of bills with her thumb. “There’s a lot of money here.”

He rolled his eyes. “They’re greenbacks, Charlotte. You can’t spend them.”

“Oh, shush. You know what I mean.” She stuffed the envelope inside the haversack with the mysterious box. “This is Jack’s birthday present. He’ll be thrilled. Thank you.”

Ken pulled up two folding chairs and straddled one with his arms crossed on the back. “And how is Castle?”

“Argh.” She plopped down in the other chair and leaned forward with her forearms on her thighs, her hands clasped. “The more popular the TV show gets, the bigger his head gets. He thinks he’s the real life Richard Castle.”

“He looks and acts like the character.”

“He thinks he’s invincible like the character, too. One of these days his research is going to get him killed.”

Ken smoothed his mustache with a fingertip. “Why isn’t he here today?”

“He’s in the mountains finishing up his edits. Then he’ll probably go to Washington to meet with his agent. He spends more time with her than he does in Richmond. He should move there.” Of course, if Jack ever moved, Charlotte would be devastated. He was the only family she had, and she depended on him. They talked or texted every day, and had dinner one night a week. Most weekends, unless she was on call or he was out of town, she hung out with him at the plantation.

“He won’t give up living at Mallory Plantation,” Ken said. “It’s part of his author brand. When’s the next book coming out?”

“Early summer, I think. Now he’s looking for his next project.” She got to her feet, gesturing toward a group of men approaching the battlefield. “There go the safety marshals.”

“Good. Let’s get this show on the road.”

A conversation on her right caught her attention. Although the voice was familiar, the long-jawed private wasn’t anyone she recognized. He was marching with a group of schoolchildren around the battlefield’s perimeter, toward Belle Grove Plantation, as part of the day-long living history activities.

“This was the most dramatic battle reversal in the entire Civil War,” the soldier said, “and ultimately ended the Confederate presence in the Shenandoah Valley.”

“My dad’s in the Second Corps, Army of Northern Virginia,” a boy in the group