Dorothy Garlock Read Online Free PDF Page A

that spanned a gurgling stream. Eli couldn’t stop taking it all in; with all the talk of change, he was happy to find that some things were the same.
    As they rounded a turn in the road, they came across a couple of men mending a broken fence. One of them, a younger man with his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose bulging muscles, hefted a large wooden post as easily as most men would pick up a stick. The older man doffed his hat, wiped his brow, and greeted them.
    “Afternoon,” he said.
    “Afternoon, Silas,” Hank had time to say before they were past them.
    It took Eli a moment longer to realize who they had just met and surprise made him turn around in his seat for another look. “Silas?” he wondered aloud. “That was Silas Givens?”
    “Yes, it was.”
    “Then the fella with him would have to be his oldest boy, William,” he said incredulously. “But the last time I saw William he wasn’t much more than a cornstalk in baggy clothes. That man back there was as fit as an ox and nearly half as big!”
    Hank laughed. “It’s like I told you. Things change!”
    The miles passed by with more talk and laughter, but Eli felt that there was something gnawing at Hank. Eli had known the older man nearly all his life, and he knew Hank would tell him when he was ready. Soon, they neared the homestead. They passed over a short rise in the land, and the ranch buildings came into view.
    “Home,” he muttered.
    The Morgan ranch lay on a stretch of flat land at the end of a large grove of elm and pine. The main building, a squat, single-story house hewn from the neighboring trees, sat at the ranch’s center. All around it, smaller buildings, tall barns, and corrals for cattle spread out over the land. As they rode on, Eli could see a ranch hand driving cattle into a pen. The familiar sounds and smells washed over him, and he was suddenly filled with the sensation that he had never left. This life was as much a part of him as the blood that coursed through his veins.
    “Before we arrive, there’s something I think you ought to be made aware of.” Hank fidgeted beside him. “It’s a mite strange and a bit hard to get used to, but there ain’t nothin’ any of us can do to change it.”
    As Eli stared at his uncle, he was filled with dread. He was certain that he was about to be told the reason that the telegram had been sent, the reason that he’d been called home. His hands clenched into tight fists as he said, “What are you talking about?”
    “Well . . . it’s just that . . .” but before he could say more, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. His shoulders relaxed and he sighed. Pointing on ahead, he said, “I guess you can just see for yourself.”
    Eli followed Hank’s arm. They had just passed by two of the holding corrals and were nearing the main house. The sight that greeted Eli’s gaze was enough to strike him mute. He blinked once, twice, and even a third time in the hope that he wasn’t seeing a mirage. His mouth opened and closed but no sound would dare to come out.
    There, on the front porch, stood Abraham Lincoln.

Chapter Three
    E LI COULD SCARCELY believe the sight that greeted his eyes. As he looked at the man who was even now making his way from the porch toward their wagon, his mind raced to take in all the details. The man’s frame was long and thin, his arms and legs gangly under the coal-black suit that hung loosely off his body. A tall hat the same color as his suit was perched atop his head. Scraggly black hair lined his jaw below his bare upper lip.
    “Ho—how in the hell?” Eli sputtered.
    He would have readily admitted that he hadn’t been the best student in school, but he wasn’t an ignorant fool either. As a boy, he’d seen photographs of the man from Illinois who had gone on to become the sixteenth president of the United States. The figure walking toward him was the spitting image. Eli blinked quickly, hoping that the trick that assailed his vision would go