Beyond the Quiet Hills by Aaron McCarver Read Free Book Online Page B

Jacob gasped, “you can’t give me this!” He held up the gold watch with the gold chain. “You’ve worn this as long as I can remember.”
    â€œI’ve worn it longer than you can remember. My father gave it to me when I was twenty-one,” he said. “But I thought you ought to have it.”
    Jacob ran his hand over the smooth yellow gold and stared down at the finely crafted watch. Lying in the bottom of the box was a small key that wound it. For a moment he could not speak. As he had done since he was a child, he opened the watch and looked at a miniature painting of a couple. They were his great-grandparents, he knew, the father and mother of James Spencer.
    â€œThey would have been very proud of you, Jacob,” James said quietly, “as your grandmother and I are proud.”
    A lump formed in Jacob Spencer’s throat, and he could not look up for a moment. He held the watch gently, running his hand over it, and finally whispered, “Thank you both. I’ll keep it as long as I live.” He turned and left the room hurriedly, and as soon as he was gone James said, “He’s a good boy, Esther.”
    â€œYes, he is.” Esther turned her eyes to where Jacob had disappeared and had long thoughts, but she did not speak of them to her husband.
    ****
    Jacob looked around at the spacious room where the ball was being held. It seemed to him rather frivolous to have a room in the house for nothing but parties, but the Dentons were proud of their ballroom and entertained lavishly. As Jacob surveyed the elegant surroundings, he had to admit that it was actually a rather beautiful place for a party. The rectangular room had gleaming white walls, and five floor-length windows lined each of the longer side walls. The windows were covered with fine lightweight white linen drapes that hung on gold rods and were held back by gold brackets. Gold sconces hung between each window to help illuminate the room, and paintings of landscapes decorated the bare spaces on the walls. The domed ceiling was covered with white punched tin panels edged in gold paint. A roaring fire in the white marble fireplace added a touch of warmth to the room, the flames reflecting their light across the highly polished black-and-white marble floor. Heavy mahogany chairs upholstered in dark blue silk damask encircled the room, and long serving tables laden with refreshments for the guests lined one side of the dance floor.
    Jacob moved over toward the refreshment table where several of his friends were talking in an animated fashion. Tom Denton, a tall young man of sixteen with reddish blond hair and blue-green eyes, said, “Come and help me with these barbarians, Jake. You’re practically a man now at the ripe old age of sixteen.”
    A laugh went around from the young men, and Jacob grinned and shook his head. “I guess I’ll hold off on that for a little while. What do you need help with?”
    Tom Denton’s eyes flashed. “I’ve been instructing these fellows in the meaning of the Boston Massacre.”
    â€œBut that happened a year ago, Tom.”
    â€œDoesn’t make any difference. England hasn’t forgotten it. She won’t, either. Mark my words.”
    Stephen Posten, a short, chubby young man of seventeen, shook his head. “England’s too busy with her empire to fool with a little thing like a few rebellious colonists.”
    â€œDon’t you believe it, Steve!” Tom exclaimed. “England never forgets anything . Why, she sent soldiers all the way to India to protect her possessions there. She’s not about to lose the Colonies over here.”
    Posten came from a middle-class family. His father was owner of a small business that made shoes. “It’ll pass away. Wait and see.”
    But Tom Denton was not a young man to be denied his strong opinions. His family was not only wealthy but strongly Tory and loyal to King George.