Heart of Stone Read Online Free PDF Page B

don’t think so.”
    He turned around and stepped out into the sunshine, into the Indian summer heat and dryness that was Texas.
    She reached for her basket and watched as he walked down the steps and out into the street. Then she let go a pent-up, heartfelt sigh.
    “Not at all, Preacher,” she whispered.
    Not tomorrow. Not next week.
    Not ever.
    Once inside, Laura carried the basket directly into the kitchen and set it on the wide work table in the middle of the room. Sheslipped out the letter Harrison had put in, bid Rodrigo good morning, and hurried upstairs to her room. Once there, she sat on the tufted chair in front of her dressing table, picked up a thick hat pin, and used it to open the envelope.
    Her fingers trembled as she carefully unfolded the page.
    Dear Mrs. Foster,
    I’m sorry to inform you that I haven’t any positive news to send along regarding the whereabouts of Megan Lane.
    Laura tried not to acknowledge the pain of her disappointment as she lowered the letter to her lap. She knew the rest of the page would detail how Mr. Abbott had spent the last of the retainer she’d sent him and how much more he would require to continue his search for her sister—for whom she had not one clue to help them with their search.
    If she hadn’t met Tom Abbott during the war, if she didn’t know him to be a fine upstanding employee of the famed Pinkerton Detective Agency, “The Eye that Never Sleeps,” then she wouldn’t even consider sending him another advance. But she did know Tom to be completely discreet and one of the best private investigators Pinkerton had ever hired. He’d honed his skills during the war as a spy for the Union.
    If anyone could find Megan after all these years, it was Tom.
    If he failed…
    If he failed she would have him start searching for Katie and Sarah.
    She refused to let herself dwell on failure. She’d planned too long, paid too high a price to fail. She wasn’t about to give up hope.
    Not yet. Not until every means had been exhausted. She would find her sisters.
    She had to.

THREE
    F oster’s Boardinghouse was full of life over the week’s end. There was much conversation and laughter at the dinner table with two families in residence, but no matter how full her days were, loneliness was Laura’s only companion when she locked the door and tucked herself in at night. The hours of darkness seemed to stretch on forever. Restless hours filled with glimpses of what should have been her childhood—or the years between then and now. Her sisters, a loving home, the innocence of a first love, not to mention all she had suffered…Memories fueled the regret and shame that she hadn’t been able to protect Megan and the others, to bind her sisters together.
    By day, she combated sleeplessness with hard work. She turned on her charm for boarders, making certain their stays under her roof—whether merely overnight or for an extended time—were memorable. She planned the details of every menu herself, inspected every cut of meat, every piece of fruit, every dish served. She oversaw the laundering of the linens, the polishing of the furniture. She taught Anna how to sprinkle lavender water on the pillows and turn perfect sheet corners.
    She set a demanding pace for the Hernandezes only because she demanded perfection of herself.
    Throwing herself into her work usually exhausted her by earlyevening, but invariably, she’d awaken long before dawn. Eventually she’d give up tossing and turning, light the lamp, and read.
    On Monday morning there were five guest rooms to clean, five sets of laundry to wash and hang, starch and press. She told Anna she would polish the silverware and dust the drawing room herself. She donned a full-length apron over a sprigged muslin gown, scooped her springy curls into a loose chignon, then made a head scarf out of a clean linen towel and tied it around her hair.
    She found polishing the silver soothing. Her hands worked as her mind wandered back to a