Born of Treasure (Treasure Chronicles Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Jeremiah stiffened. A Treasure didn’t desert anything. However, if he had, that was for the family to deal with. They didn’t need Captain Greenwood airing that. His mother would want to hear Clark’s side of the story before thinking ill of him.
    Clark had known the suffering of Alyssa’s sister when no one else had other than her diary. Another secret of Clark’s. Treasures didn’t need secrets kept from each other. They were honest and hard-working. Next time Clark came home, Jeremiah wouldn’t stop until they were all open.

    From what I gather, this newfound son is the man we seek. His background and looks, as described to me by the father, match. He is traveling, but the father has called him home for Hedlund Day. They will host a celebration. We need adequate backup to apprehend.
    Captain Greenwood signed his name to the bottom of the letter, folded the paper, and stuck it into the envelope. He dripped wax onto the back and pressed his signet ring into it to create the image of the interlacing C and G.
    Leaving his bedroom, he discovered a Bromi slave scrubbing the kitchen table. The Treasures had retired to their beds, so Captain Greenwood pulled three coppers from his jacket pocket.
    “Take this into town for it to be mailed by morning.” Captain Greenwood thrust the letter against the Bromi’s chest. “If an express is offered, see it used. Here are funds to pay for that. See that they aren’t stolen or you will be executed. There are others to take your place.”
    The man blinked his black eyes. Stupid Bromi. They couldn’t do a simple job. “Do you understand my language?”
    “Yes, sir. The express won’t run none in this weather.”
    “See that it does. I have extra coins. I’ll check next time I’m in town to see it was done.”
    “It isn’t safe to travel at night in rain. The floods come fast these parts.”
    “That’s why I’m sending you.” The man was stupider than a child. He didn’t even dress proper, with the front of his shirt undone to his belly button. He should be wearing the cravat required by all Bromis in civilized company to hide that ridiculous tribal tattoo they all sported on their necks below their right ears.
    Captain Greewood ripped the belt off his waist and brought it across the Bromi’s face. “Get going, slave! See that it goes out as soon as possible.”
    His skin tingled and breath rasped in his lungs. Clark Treasure had never been so close to his clutches. The fool wouldn’t escape again. He and his
condition
belonged to the government.



hat’s the book.” Eric pointed to the center of the top shelf. “See that black streak at the bottom of the spine? That’s supposed to be a nine. It was my ninth journal.”
    Clark grasped the top and angled it toward him, pulling the book from the shelf. The leather had been worn smooth in the corners, unmarked apart from the smear that had once been a number. He glanced to make sure no one except for them dwelled in the back of the bookstore. “Why didn’t Senator Horan want your diaries?”
    “He didn’t care about a man’s ramblings. He wanted my texts, my figure journals. Those had all my calculations.” Eric snorted. “Got them too, except for two Donald has and one I left at Garth’s.”
    Clark lifted his eyebrows. When his father had said to retrieve his diary, he’d expected confidential and incriminating information. “Does this list everything you had for breakfast?”
    “Yes. A good diary keeps a daily list.”
    “We traveled twenty miles to know how many eggs you had on a Monday.” Only a professor would think that kind of account worth something. “Sometimes, I was happy if I got a chicken’s egg to boil once a month.”
    He winced. It wasn’t Eric’s fault he’d had to live in poverty.
    “It’s my diary. It belongs with family,” Eric whispered.
    “Brass glass,” Clark muttered. “I’m glad… to have it.” The book in hand, he headed toward the front of the bookshop.