The Sacred Shore by T. Davis Bunn Read Free Book Online

letter has come from home !”

Chapter 5
    Winston Groom returned to the carriage and announced, “We’ve arrived, m’lord.”
    â€œExcellent.” Charles alighted from the high-wheeled conveyance and could not hide his dismay at the sight. “What did you say was the name of this town?”
    â€œGeorgetown, m’lord.” Groom took a deep breath. “I say, this is quite the lovely place.”
    Charles glanced over and decided the man was not being sarcastic. He turned back and tried to put aside his dismay at where his brother had chosen to live. Where his niece had been raised. Here, as far into the back of beyond as Charles could imagine.
    The carriage had halted upon a rise, where hills fell in gradual waves to the distant waters. The village below contained perhaps a hundred houses, clustered within a shallow valley and surrounded by vast groves of trees. Charles asked, “With all this land, why on earth must they crowd together so? Are they serfs?”
    â€œNot hardly, m’lord. My guess is they own all the land you can see, right to the water’s edge.” Winston Groom sounded envious. “They build their houses close together because it is safer.”
    â€œAh. You mean Indians.”
    â€œNo, m’lord. Winter.”
    Charles thought back to the voyage and the winds and the cold. One night the halyards holding the sails had frozen so hard one had snapped with the sound of shattering glass. “I understand.”
    â€œGovernor Lawrence offered every able man who would settle these parts a hundred acres, a plow, an ax, and two bags of seed.” He inspected the vista for a long moment, then added, “Two more years I have in service, then this is where I’m headed. The air is free here, m’lord.” He took a deep breath. “Free.”
    â€œYes, well, you have been most helpful.” Charles pulled out the second pouch of sovereigns. “I will go on alone from this point.”
    Winston Groom clutched the pouch of gold to his chest. “But the governor ordered me—”
    â€œTell Governor Lawrence I am most grateful for his hospitality and the kind gift of his transport.” From the carriage’s rear gate, Charles untied the horse he had purchased in Halifax and swung into the saddle. “I wish to meet my brother alone.”
    â€œBut the road back to Halifax can be most perilous to a man traveling by himself, m’lord. You should really allow—”
    â€œI seriously doubt,” Charles offered in parting, “that I shall make the return journey alone.”

    The closer he drew to the village of Georgetown, the more dismayed Charles became. Even though on closer inspection the village was not disorderly. Far from it. He owned many such hamlets within his own estates, and few if any bore such an air of quiet dignity and careful maintenance.
    Though unadorned and stark, everything was well constructed. The apple groves were weeks away from budding, but the vast stretches of trees appeared carefully tended. The houses themselves were sturdy and snug, built of stone and thick local timber. The animals he saw were shaggy with winter coats, yet healthy and clearly well fed. The lanes were bordered with tall posts, no doubt to mark them after hard snowfalls. The entire village seemed strong and patiently ready for the coming spring.
    But visits through his own holdings had shown Charles clearly the kind of people who settled and raised offspring in this kind of bucolic setting—strong, boisterous, hearty souls who were best left on the land. Not at all the type of person he required.
    A farmwife ensconced on a wide front porch halted in her industrious weaving to watch him pass. Charles doffed his hat and received a pleasant good-day in return. He started to ask her where Andrew lived, then decided to head straight for the church. But he truly dreaded the coming encounter after so many years,