Black Eagle by Gen Bailey Read Free Book Online Page A

things were known to happen. It was a rough land here in America, a dangerous environment, a place where accidents were commonplace. And if at times, Thompson ensured that accidents did, indeed, happen, where was the fault?
    Though constructed to be sturdy, the wooden steps quivered beneath Thompson’s weight as he made his way to the front door of the Rathburn estate. He was under no illusions as to what was the purpose of Rathburn’s summons. However, little could he have envisioned that on this one occasion, even he was to be startled.
    â€œI’s here to see Rathburn,” he stated to the butler, who answered the ring of the bell.
    James, Rathburn’s butler, nodded succinctly. He did not extend his hand to take Thompson’s overcoat as was customary. Instead James, the butler, backed up, away from Thompson, sniffing indignantly as the fleshy odor of the man permeated the hall. He said, “Mr. Rathburn is expecting you. This way, please.”
    If such rudeness were an unusual circumstance for Thompson, he deemed not to show it. With barely a glance at the butler, Thompson grunted out a response and followed the man into Rathburn’s private office.
    â€œAh, there ye are, Thompson. Thank ye, James. We will require a bottle of brandy, two glasses and complete privacy. No one, and that includes my niece, is to disturb us. Do ye understand? ”
    â€œClearly, sir,” said James, who left posthaste. He returned shortly thereafter, and set out the liquor and glasses on a table. “Do you wish me to pour, sir? ”
    â€œNo, James, that will be all.”
    James nodded and quit the room so quickly, one might have thought an evil lurked there.
    His hasty departure left an awkward silence in its wake. To cover over the gap, Rathburn slowly poured the brandy into the two glasses and offered one of them to Thompson, who shot down the liquor as though it were no more than a spot of warm tea.
    Rathburn was longer in his enjoyment of the brew. After some moments, he said, “Have ye ever considered a bath, Richard? ”
    â€œWhat fer? ”
    Rathburn didn’t answer, sighed instead, and continued, “I have an unusual task for ye, Thompson.”
    Thompson grunted, nodding. “Who is it to be this time, gov’nor? ”
    Rathburn didn’t hesitate to answer, stating forthwith, “My niece.”
    Thompson spit out whatever liquid was left in his mouth. “Come again? ”
    â€œThe person in question is my niece.”
    â€œMiss Marisa? ”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œBut I’s met Miss Marisa.” Thompson, for all that he might be immune from that deterrent called scruples, was yet taken aback. “But she is young and . . .”
    â€œMy ward? ”
    â€œBonny,” said Thompson. “I was going to say bonny.”
    â€œThat she is,” said Rathburn. “She will also be heir to a small fortune, when she comes of age to inherit. A fortune, I might add, that I will lose to some young suitor in the near future, if I cannot convince her to marry the man of my choice.”
    â€œThen ye is jealous of her? ”
    â€œNo,” stated Rathburn. Rathburn strode to his desk, where he opened a drawer and removed a pistol. “But I fear she has become much too inquisitive and an embarrassment to me. She has made certain information about my business known to herself, and that information is . . . delicate. Further, she fears me not.” Sitting in a chair pulled up behind his desk, Rathburn studied the pistol, before he proceeded to prime it. “I am afraid that her dangerousness to me has recently exceeded her worth.”
    Momentarily Thompson was silent. “But have ye not raised her from when she was a small child? ” he asked.
    â€œSo I have,” said Rathburn. He shrugged, then smirked. “The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh.”
    â€œI have never kilt a woman. Could ye not simply send her abroad?