Francesca of Lost Nation by Lucinda Sue Crosby Read Free Book Online

when a sudden gust of wind began slamming the outside door of the wood box. The noise jolted me back to Lost Nation from the Bastille. In fact, I was so startled that I hit my head hard on the wood box ceiling. But even the sharp pain I felt was instantly forgotten when I noticed an animal the size of a fox and about the same color red digging in the garden.
    No. Not a fox. A dog! A little red dog!
    It was obviously having a whiz-bang time and seemed to relish the destruction of Francesca’s prize roses. I took out after it, yelling and waving my arms like a lunatic — straight into the middle of a particularly heavy downpour. Nobody but Francesca dared touch those bushes, because they had been brought over from the Old Country more than a hundred years ago. The stupid creature was killing a family heirloom!
    After a minute or two, I managed to shoo it out of the side yard and across the property, where it disappeared into the curtain of rain. Then, the front doorbell rang.
    Sheriff Daniel Mosley had a presence that filled up most doorways. He was a tallish, well-built man with dark hair and light eyes. He sported a trim moustache, and his boots were always see-your-face polished.
    Daniel and Francesca had carried on a mild flirtation for years, each referring to their relationship as a “mutual admiration society.” Since the sheriff was obviously happily married and Francesca was also at least 15 years older than he, Daniel’s wife remained untroubled by a little innocent fun.
    “Daniel, what a nice surprise,” Francesca said happily. “For Heaven’s sake, take off that wet coat. Hang it there on the hook. Sarah, get us all some bath towels, and try not to puddle so much.”
    We settled comfortably in the kitchen, where Francesca poured out two mugs of coffee. She automatically put cream and sugar in front of Daniel. Remembering little preferences like that was one of her gifts.
    “You still have the best legs in the county, Frances,” Sheriff Dan said.
    “It's a little hard to tell in this get-up, Daniel. And I'm sure you didn't canoe all the way out here on this frightful day to talk legs. Though, of course, I'm always enchanted to hear your expert opinion.”
    “Truth is,” Daniel said, looking more serious, “I got some information over the wire this morning, and I thought you should hear it personally. An arsonist named Eisenstaedt escaped from the Anamosa State Penitentiary sometime yesterday — nobody knows exactly when. He might’ve gotten away in a meat supply truck, of all things, and he could be heading this way. Seems he spent some time here years back and may still have family in the area. We're looking into that now.”
    I wasn’t familiar with the word “arsonist,” so the sheriff explained it was someone who set fires on purpose. 
    He continued, “The two of you are living out here alone for most of the summer, and I got to thinking about it ... and ...”
    “I can certainly handle a gun, Daniel, if it comes to that,” Francesca said.
    “I know it. I’ve seen you shoot skeet. But I'm a little worried about you two all the same. Home Farm is pretty isolated, you know. I hate to think something bad might happen to a woman with the best legs in the county. It might just ruin my day.”
    They grinned at each other.
    Dan sipped his coffee and was silent for a moment. Then, he shifted in his chair. “My brother, Matthew ... well, you met him ...”
    “Yes,” she answered. “That poor man.”
    “Well ... He's going to be here awhile, visiting. Can’t fly, you see, till he’s healed up. He's been staying with Starr and me, but I think he might do better ... that is ... you two’d be a lot safer if he came to stay out here. Just for a while. To keep an eye on things ...”
    Francesca raised her right eyebrow.
    Sheriff Dan headed her off at the pass. “He wouldn't be in your way. You can see he's a quiet one, and he'd only have to stay until we find Eisenstaedt.” He cleared his