His Precious Inheritance (Inspirational Historical Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

for the undergarment. Her mother grabbed hold of her hands.
    “I know you want to take care of me, Clarice. But I also know Mrs. Smithfield has raised your room and board since I’ve come.”
    “How did you— Mrs. Duncan!” She went as stiff as a board. “How did
she
find out? She had no right to snoop into my business, the old—old
busybody
! I didn’t want you to know. It’s my—” The squeeze of her mother’s hands stopped her.
    “I
asked
Mrs. Duncan to find out for me, Clarice. I may not be very wise in city ways, but I know people won’t let you live for free. And I don’t want to be a—”
    “Don’t you say that word, Mama!” Tears stung her eyes. “I
want
to take care of you. It gives me pleasure. It’s what I’ve been working toward ever since I left the farm and you had to do all of the cooking and cleaning and hoeing and raking and the scrubbing of those huge piles of oily work clothes for Father and Don and Jim and Carl by yourself, until—” Her voice broke. She drew a long shaky breath.
    “You have to stop thinking about that, Clarice. It’s over.”
    “You can’t
walk
, Mama. It will never be over.” The bitterness soured her voice.
    “Yes, Clarice, one day it will. I don’t know if it will be here on earth or in Heaven, but one day I will walk again. Meantime, I need something to do with my days and I’ve always enjoyed sewing and mending—as long as it isn’t oil-stained work clothes. And I’m quite a hand at it, if I do say so as shouldn’t. And I’d
like
to think I’m earning my way a little.” Her mother slanted a look up at her and wrinkled her nose. “Surely, you can understand that, Miss Independent.”
    The name pulled a smile from her, just as her mother knew it would. “I suppose so. But you don’t
need
to earn your way, Mama. I can take care of you. That’s what I was about to tell you.” The excitement crept back, colored her voice.
    “And I want to hear.” Her mother released her hand and patted the bed.
    She pushed her box out of the way and perched on the edge. “Dr. Austin—he’s one of the leaders of the Chautauqua Assembly—has asked me to write a monthly column for the
Assembly Herald
. And I will be paid the same as for the annual Chautauqua Experience article I write for the
Sunday School Journal
.
I’m a professional columnist, Mama!” She jumped to her feet, too excited to remain sitting. “And it all happened because I had to— Because I decided to change the way I write my
Sunday School Journal
article.”
    She lifted the box that held her notes on the interviews she had conducted all day and carried it over to the desk in the turret area. “You see, I needed to interview Dr. Austin, and so I had to explain how I wanted to change the article. But he had a meeting to attend, and I waited outside to interview him...” She lifted the lid of the long box window seat, pulled out a sheet and blanket, spread them over the pad and tucked the edges beneath. “When he called me in, he introduced me to the new owner of the
Jamestown Journal
—that’s a biweekly newspaper here in town.” She tossed a pillow down at one end of her makeshift bed and walked out of the turret to the wardrobe. “Mr. Thornberg is going to edit and print the
Assembly Herald
from now on, and so I am to submit my articles to him.”
    “Here in town? Or must you still take the steamer to Fair Point?”
    “Here in town.” She gave a tug at the double doors, winced. “I
hate
opening this wardrobe. That squeak gives me shivers.” She took her nightclothes off a hook on the inside of the door and stepped back into the small alcove formed between the wardrobe and the wall. “And there were all of these letters from CLSC members piled on the desk.
Hundreds
of them, which Mr. Thornberg now has to answer.” A smile tugged at her. She stuck her head out beyond the wardrobe and grinned at her mother. “He looked so nonplussed I’m certain he didn’t know about them.