The Fortune by Beth Williamson Read Free Book Online Page A

be a nurse under her father’s tutelage and the carpenter crafted art from wood. Together they made the most beautiful children the world had ever seen.”  
    “And they lived happily ever after.” Charlotte sighed. “There is one thing I don’t understand, though.”
    “What is that, ma petite ?” Papa asked.
    “Why did you leave France? That’s where you fell in love. It must be a special place.” She leaned forward, her chin on her palm.
    Frankie knew part of the story, remembered some of it, but it wasn’t her tale to tell. She petted her youngest sister’s hair, waiting to hear what their parents would say.
    Papa’s expression saddened and he looked at Maman. “Things changed after the July Revolution, after Louis-Philippe took the throne. We did not believe it was a safe place to raise our children. Those without money were without hope. We found that hope again in America.”
    “Without money? I thought Maman was a princess.” Charlotte was nothing if not guileless.
    “My papa was a physician until the revolution, then he was accidently killed.” The weight of the memories weighed on their mother’s words. “We needed to leave France.”
    Papa pulled his wife close, until Frankie could hardly see where one ended and the other began. “But we have each other and our girls, and that is what is important.”
    This time their parents kissed and Charlotte groaned. “I don’t want to see that part.” She got to her feet. “I’m going to go to sleep and dream of a prince making me beautiful gifts.”
    The sisters rose, each kissing their parents goodnight before crawling into their beds beneath the wagon. Frankie lingered over hugging her mother, then her father. They had risked everything for each other and their children.  
    Papa and Maman were still so much in love. Frankie felt a pinch of envy, but it passed. The thought of depending on someone else, for her life, her happiness, even her future, made her quake. She wanted to rely on no one but herself. Ever.
    By the time she found her bed, the rest of the girls were talking quietly. She closed her eyes, comforted by the sound of her sisters’ voices. In their new life in Oregon, her family would be all she had. Frankie was grateful to have them at her side. Life was hard at times, but family made those dark moments bearable.

Chapter Four
    Frankie successfully avoided seeing John Malloy, except from a distance, for four days. She walked beside the wagon as they traveled, too tired to do much but fall asleep beneath it at night. Mr. Malloy was everywhere she looked, however, helping folks and doing his job. It wasn’t her fault if he happened to be in her line of sight.
    The wagon train had finally stopped for the night. Frankie was gathering kindling in a thatch of trees when she noticed John nearby, chopping wood without his shirt.
    Frankie tried to swallow, but her mouth and throat had gone dry as the desert. She looked at John’s back as he worked. His skin was bronzed by the sun and she could see a slow trickle of sweat weaving its way down the middle of his back. She watched the droplets as they meandered through the topography of his spine. His well-toned muscles rippled with each stroke of the ax. The muscles were bunched together tightly, showing years of hard work. A white scar marred the left shoulder blade, at least six inches long and jagged. She’d helped her mother enough to recognize a knife wound.
    What am I doing?
    She gave herself a mental smack and started moving. Staring at the man was not only a bad idea, but if he caught her staring, she would be mortified. Her hands grew damp as she tried to sneak past him, the kindling clutched to her chest. She stepped on a stick, which cracked beneath the sole of her boot. Cursing softly, she quickened her pace, hoping he hadn’t heard her.
    John turned to look at her as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a swatch of cloth. He smiled. “Good evening, Frankie. Doing chores, I