The Amazon Quest (House of Winslow Book #25)

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Just win the Pulitzer Prize with it.” He smiled back at her.

  Emily moved toward him as if to embrace him but put her hand out instead, which he took. “Thank you so much,” she said, squeezing his hand fiercely. Her eyes glistened as she ran her hands over the smooth surface of the gold pen.

  Emily had opened several more packages when suddenly the doorbell rang. Aaron frowned. “Who could that be? I’ll go see.”

  He left the parlor and turned down the hall. When he opened the front door, he saw a tall man wearing the insignia of a captain in the United States Army. “Mr. Winslow?”

  “Yes, I’m Aaron Winslow.”

  “My name is Ramsey, Mr. Winslow. Clark Ramsey.”

  “Captain Ramsey? Why, Jared spoke of you so often.”

  “Yes, he was in my company in France.” Captain Ramsey hesitated, then said, “I hate to barge in, but I was going to Washington, and I hoped I would catch you at home if I just stopped by. I have a little business with you.”

  Aaron looked puzzled. “Why, of course, Captain. Come in.” When Ramsey stepped inside, Aaron said, “Come into the parlor. We’re having a little family birthday celebration.”

  “I could come back later—”

  “Oh no. We’re about through. My family will want to meet you. You were such a good friend to Jared.”

  “Well, if you’re certain it wouldn’t be an imposition. But I think my business will please you.”

  Puzzled by the officer’s appearance, Aaron led the way into the parlor. “We’ll take a little break in the celebration, Emily. I want you all to meet Captain Clark Ramsey. This is my wife, Gail, my son, Wes, and my daughter, Emily. It’s her birthday we’re celebrating.”

  Momentarily he forgot James, who was sitting behind him in a chair.

  “I’m glad to know all of you,” Captain Ramsey said. “I won’t take much of your time.”

  “We thank you so much for the beautiful letter you wrote about Jared, Captain,” Gail said. “I put it with the rest of Jared’s belongings that we’re keeping.”

  Captain Ramsey reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a small box covered with felt. It looked a great deal like the box Emily’s writing set had come in. “Nothing can ever take away the sacrifice you have made, but I wanted to bring you this myself.” He opened the box and held it out toward Aaron and Gail. They stared at it, and the officer said softly, “It’s the Medal of Honor, sir. I know you and your family couldn’t be prouder of your son, but this medal is just a memorial from his country. I don’t think I know of any Medal of Honor more richly deserved.”

  Aaron’s hand was shaking as he reached out. He took the box and held it and put his arm around Gail. Wes and Emily came to either side of them, and they all stared down at the medal.

  “I have the written citation here that gives the details of your son’s heroism,” Captain Ramsey said. He handed the letter to Gail, who took it and opened it, and they all read the details. By the time she finished, her hands were shaking, too.

  “Your son was the best soldier I ever saw, and that’s saying a lot,” Captain Ramsey said. “I missed him terribly and I still do. It gives me such pleasure to present this medal to you.”

  At that moment Captain Ramsey was aware, for the first time, that another person was in the room. He turned and put his eyes on James Parker, and Emily saw his face change. He had been smiling, but the smile vanished instantly, a hard glint appeared in his eyes, and his lips grew tight.

  “Parker! What are you doing here?”

  Aaron was taken aback by the antagonism in Captain Ramsey’s voice. “Well, you know James, of course.”

  “I know him,” Ramsey said harshly. “What’s he doing here?”

  Gail said, “What’s wrong, Captain? We have letters telling us how James went out on the battlefield to carry Jared off when he was wounded, and Jared asked us to show kindness to him if he ever came here.”

  Emily stared at Captain Ramsey and then turned to look at Parker. The blood had drained from Parker’s face. He did not speak a word, but he looked as if he had been struck a terrible blow.

  She turned to the officer. “Captain Ramsey, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know the circumstances here,” Ramsey said in a clipped voice, “but this man was no friend to your son, Mr. Winslow.”

  “What do you mean, Captain?”

  “I mean James Parker was known in the company as a liar and a thief—and a coward. He never carried your son off the battlefield. Parker there ran away under fire and took a bullet. It was Jared who ran out to get him. He carried Parker back, and just as he got to the trench, he took the bullet that eventually killed him.”

  Emily stood immobile, her throat almost closed, unable to speak a word. She whispered, “James—” and then when she saw his face, the truth was written there. “Is this true?” she said.

  “He’ll never tell you the truth, Miss Winslow. He never told the truth a single time. I did a little looking into his background after he was dishonorably discharged, and the best I can tell is he’s been a crook all his life. Several of Jared’s friends tried to stop him from going out to get him, but Jared just shook his head and reportedly said, ‘Maybe. But Christ died for him.’ So he went out after him, and that’s how he died. For a worthless cur.”

  Wes uttered a strangled cry, and then he threw himself at James, striking out at his face. His father stepped forward quickly and pulled him back. “Never mind, Wes,” he said, his voice cold. He looked at Parker and said, “I want you out of my house. Get your things and leave immediately.”

  Everyone watched for one instant as James stood. His eyes went around to the faces of the family that had taken him in. Then he turned and moved swiftly out. As soon as he left the room, Captain Ramsey said quickly, “I’m sorry. I came here to give you something beautiful and wonderful. I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s not your fault, Captain. Would you mind sitting down and telling us more about all of what happened?”

  “Certainly, sir. I wanted to give you more details.”

  They all sat down, and Captain Ramsey began to speak. He had talked for only a few moments about Jared when they all heard the front door close. To Emily it was like the clang of a steel door that was shutting something out but was also shutting something in. She forced herself to listen as Captain Ramsey spoke of her brother. Once she glanced across at Wes and saw the pain and disillusionment that marred his youthful expression. She saw her parents also and knew that James Parker had left a mark on their family that nothing would ever erase.

  ****

  Emily was standing at the window when a soft knock came at her door. She had half expected that one of her parents or both would come. “Come in,” she said, and when she turned she saw her father enter.

  He came over to stand beside her, and then he put his arm around her. “Are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not, Dad. I don’t think I ever will be.”

  Aaron studied her face. He would have done anything to protect his children from such an outrageous betrayal of trust, but there was nothing he could do about it. He did not speak for a while, then he murmured, “It’s terribly hard now, but it will be better given time.”

  “No, it won’t. I was a fool!”

  “Don’t talk like that!”

  “Why not? I was a fool to fall for a man like that! I must have no sense at all!”

  Aaron spoke softly. He could feel the tremor in Emily’s body and knew that she was cut inside, as if with razors. “I don’t want you to let James’s deception ruin your spirit, Emily. Right now all of us are struggling with hatred.”

  “You too, Dad?”

  “Of course. You weren’t the only one he deceived. We all wanted to believe him. He was very good at making people believe whatever he said.”

  “I’ll always hate him.”

  “If you do, you won’t hurt him. He’s gone forever. You’ll never see him again, but you’ll hurt yoursel
f.”

  Emily leaned against her father. He put her head down on his chest as he turned to hold her in his arms, and for a long time the two stood there. Finally, with her voice muffled, she said, “I can’t change how I feel. I don’t think I’ll ever change, Dad.”

  “You’ll change, Emily, in time.”

  “I’ll never be able to believe a man again.”

  “Now, now, that’s foolish talk. Not all men are as deceitful as James Parker.” Finally he kissed her cheek and said, “If you want to talk about it, I think it would be good. Especially if you’d talk to your mother.”

  “All right, Dad.”

  As soon as her father had left the room, Emily straightened and whispered fiercely, “I’ll hate James Parker as long as I live! He killed my brother!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Summa Cum Laude

  Emily Winslow sat in a row of folding chairs in the gymnasium of Leighton College. The Class of 1922 had gathered there along with parents, grandparents, and friends to be thrust out into the world by the school president and the faculty. Emily had completed her four years of work in only three years by going to summer school and taking a full load. Now as she thought back over the past three years, it seemed to her that a different Emily Winslow rose when the dean asked all the graduates to rise. As she moved forward slowly listening to the dean call out the names, she had the feeling that the young woman of eighteen who began college had been metamorphosed into someone entirely different by the age of twenty-one. For some reason this thought disturbed her, yet at the same time she knew she could face the future with a determination that had not belonged to the younger Emily Winslow.

  The names were reeled off until there were only three graduates in front of her. After those three moved forward, she then heard the dean announce, “Emily Winslow, summa cum laude.”

  As Emily stepped forward, she heard a shrill yipping sound, and Wes’s voice seemed to echo through the entire gymnasium. “That’s my sister!”

  The audience had been asked to hold their applause until the end, but now, following Wes’s shrill yell, the applause came in waves as Emily took her diploma and shook hands with Dr. Sanford. He said to her, “I’m proud of you, Emily. Very proud!” His words of praise gave her a warm feeling, and as she crossed the stage, she looked out in the audience and spotted her parents and Wes. They were all smiling, and Wes was holding his arms extended upward with both thumbs in the air. She returned their smiles, waved her diploma, and put her own thumb in the air.

  Emily stepped down off the platform and took her seat alongside David Wayne and Sarah Wilton, clutching her diploma tightly. She was more proud of it than the articles and stories she had gotten published during her three years in college. Quickly she thought of how hard she had worked—all the late nights of study and few vacations as she churned out ream after ream of papers. Some had found their way to the wastebasket, but her father had warned her to never throw anything way. “You never know when you’re going to use it again. Maybe just one sentence or one idea. Keep it all.”

  For the most part, she had taken his advice and had managed to get published in a number of magazines. Several women’s magazines accepted her short stories, and she also published an article on the city of Richmond, accompanied by Wes’s photographs, in a travel magazine. While in college she found she had the most success with her nonfiction work. None of the publications ever paid her a great deal of money, but she now had a thick résumé and proven success in getting published.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when the president of the college said, “That concludes the list of graduates. Let’s give a tremendous hand of applause to these fine young people.”

  Emily stood with her class as the applause rolled on, and for one instant she was slightly confused. What comes next? she wondered.

  Her goal in life had always been to be a writer, and she was proud of her successes so far. But now that college was over she needed a full-time job. Where would she work? Who would hire her?

  The college band began to play the recessional, and as Emily walked out of the gymnasium holding her head high, she was struck with the unpleasant memory of James Parker. A deep bitterness and anger welled up in her, searing her insides like a hot coal. For the first six months after Parker had left, her spirit would often be shaken, and she would grow almost frantic with bitterness. Throughout her years in college she had learned to forcibly shove those thoughts out of her mind, and sometimes she could go for months without thinking of him in such a way.

  But now as she marched out, keeping pace with the other graduates, it all came sweeping back, draining away all the joy of her graduation. The struggle was fierce, but by the time her parents and brother had come to meet with her outside in the bright May sunlight, she had gotten ahold of herself, forcing the painful memory back into some deep recess. It felt like a demon that was kept under lock and key but managed to escape from time to time to torment her with a mocking smile and glinting eye.

  “Well, congratulations, daughter.”

  Aaron Winslow put his arms around her and picked her up, squeezing her until she gasped, “Daddy, don’t squeeze me to death!”

  “I can’t help it. I’m so proud of you I wanted to shout along with Wes. I almost did.”

  “I’m glad you restrained yourself,” Gail laughed, “because I almost shouted, too. Wouldn’t that have been something? The Winslow family losing it all.”

  “I still think we ought to do it,” Wes said. He put his fingers in his mouth, preparing to let loose a shrill blast, but Emily reached out and jerked at his wrist.

  “Don’t you dare, Wes!” she admonished him.

  “Aw, sis, I’m so proud of you! I just don’t know how to tell you!”

  “Thanks, Wes. I was just as proud of you at your high school graduation, and you’ll put me to shame when you go to college.”

  “How am I going to do that?” Wes grinned. “You can’t get higher than summa cum laude. Besides, I don’t want to go to college.”

  “Let’s not start that old argument,” Gail said softly. “I think we ought to celebrate and buy the most expensive meal we can find.”

  “I was thinking we’d go get a hamburger down at Mom’s Place,” Aaron said, winking at Wes.

  Wes, at the age of nineteen, was one inch taller than Aaron and resembled his father in a startling fashion. His mother had told him, “If you want to know what your father looked like at nineteen, just look in the mirror, son.”

  “I don’t want to eat at Mom’s Place,” Wes complained. “I’m with you, Mom. Let’s spend all of Dad’s money and buy a steak at George’s.”

  “That’ll take my war pension,” Aaron grinned, “but lead on, McDuff.”

  As Emily left with them she pulled off her mortarboard and ran her hand over her hair. She had finally adjusted to being called “Red” and brushing off remarks about the tempers of redheaded women. Now as she shook her hair down her back, she said, “I feel kind of empty.”

  “I guess that happens after you look forward to something for so long,” her mother replied. “Then it’s gone. But you’ll always remember these years.”

  “And besides, big opportunities are coming up,” Wes said. “You’ve got your first Pulitzer to look forward to.” He grinned and reached over and put his arms around her, squeezing her hard. Then he shook his head and took her arm. “Come on, Summa Cum Laude. I’ll show you how to put a steak away!”

  ****

  Donald Sutton leaned back in his chair and stared across his battered desk. The desk had become a joke at the Richmond Daily News. Everyone had urged Sutton to get rid of it and buy a new one, but he had stubbornly clung to it, despite its nicks and scrapes and cigarette burns. The drawers would not work half the time, but all that did not matter to Donald Sutton, for he was a conservative man who clung to tradition. He liked old things better than new.

  Now as he studied the young woman on the other side of him, he gave the impression of
solidity. He was a burly man with black hair that had a startling white streak running from front to back a half inch wide. His eyes were black as ink, and the cigar he held in his right hand was as much a part of him as were his fingers. His other arm had been left in France during the last days of war. Blue smoke curled around his head and permeated everything within a twenty-foot radius. His only extravagance, as far as Emily could tell, was expensive cigars.

  Emily had learned to trust Sutton, but she was nervous now as she sat on the chair across from him. She had been working on the paper for only two months, but she was bored out of her skull with her job. She had expected that working on a newspaper would be exciting, and she had come with high hopes, but she had quickly learned that she was not to be trusted with any important stories. So far she had covered the Richmond flower show, City Council meetings, and the annual convention of the Daughters of the American Revolution. When she had arrived at work this very morning, she found she’d been assigned the local dog show. It had been the proverbial final straw. She had marched into Sutton’s office and demanded to talk to him. At his gruff assent, she had sat down, and now as he looked at her with his ebony eyes, she knew her chances of getting anything out of this man were small. One reporter had told her he had worked for four years before Sutton had trusted him with anything significant. Nevertheless, Emily had drawn up her courage and now said, “Mr. Sutton, you know how much I appreciate your giving me a job, but—”

  “But you’re bored, and you want to cover the latest ax murder.”

  Emily had to laugh, and she was relieved to see Sutton’s lips turn up in something close to a smile. “Exactly what I want. Is there an ax murder to report?”

  “No, and if there were, I wouldn’t put you on it.”

  “But, Mr. Sutton, give me a chance. How can I ever get anywhere unless I can write about something more exciting than the swine selection at the county fair?”

  Sutton puffed on the cigar without touching it. He leaned forward, placing his single hand flat on the mats of paper before him, and studied the young woman. He had liked her spunk, for she had appeared at his office one day without preamble and said, “Mr. Sutton, you’ve got to hire me. I’ll do anything you say. I’ve got to go to work. I’ve got to learn to write.” Sutton had tried to dismiss her with a wave of his remaining hand, but she had stubbornly stayed before him arguing, not stridently, but with a stubbornness that pleased him. He was a stubborn man himself, and finally he had said, “I don’t have time to argue with you. I’ll try you for a week. After that I’ll probably fire you.”