Lynna Banning Read Online Free PDF

goat lifted its head from a cluster of pink roses twining over a picket fence and stopped chewing. Two hard black eyes regarded her with curiosity for a full minute before Erika gave another sharp jerk on the rope. The animal trotted after her.
    Jubilant, she marched along Chestnut Street with a spring to her step. She had bargained for the goat at the first farm she’d reached on the road out of town, trading the promise of a free consultation with Dr. Callender for the best milk goat of the bemused farmer’s herd. But getting the animal from the farmer’s field to the doctor’s backyard wasn’t so easy.
    So far, Jasmine had devoured most of the wild irisblooms scattered along the road back to town, plus a large portion of a purple butterfly bush arching over a neighbor’s fence, and now the roses. Erika sighed. Just a few more blocks, and she could tether the headstrong animal to the plum tree behind Dr. Callender’s stable. With its preference for a diet of flowers, the milk should be extra rich and tasty!
    Pleased, she tugged the animal around the corner onto Maple Street and tied it to the plum tree behind the whitewashed barn.
    Jonathan lunged into the dusty black buggy, grabbed the reins and flicked them smartly over the mare’s broad back. “Of all the confounded, muddleheaded arrogance,” he muttered. “One of these days, so help me, I will throttle that quack Chilcoate within an inch of his life!”
    Daisy leapt forward and trotted down Main Street. When the doctor forgot to signal his intention, the horse turned the corner by habit.
    No, Jonathan amended, belatedly pulling on Daisy’s rein. He would not throttle the man. He’d let the fool hang himself with his own rope. Sooner or later it had to happen; one of his noxious elixirs would poison someone. Jonathan prayed nightly for the health of the unwitting townspeople of Plum Creek and carried an extra bottle of ipecac in his medical bag.
    Underneath, he knew getting rid of the incompetent old man wasn’t going to change a thing. It was the mayor—that idiot banker, Brumbaugh—and the rest of his town council toadies who were bent on ignoring the situation until it would be too late. An hour ago he’d argued himself blue in the face, ended up shouting at the mayor and telling Rutherford Chilcoate to shut up unless he could speak intelligently or even comprehend the existence of bacteria.
    What would it take to convince them he knew what he was talking about? They needed a new water system, one that bypassed contamination sources and had a reservoir and modern filtering equipment. Cholera had been rampant in eastern cities for the past decade; it was only a matter of time before it hit Plum Creek. A sixth sense told him it would be sooner rather than later, since the farms and small ranches upstream continued to let their animal waste matter seep into the town water supply. Summer would be hot. And long.
    He flapped the mare’s reins. Unfortunately, new water systems cost money. He’d offered to finance the project himself if they’d just vote on it! Their lack of concern made him so mad he could eat thistles.
    He jerked the reins unnecessarily. Daisy had already halted in front of his house. Jonathan raked one hand through his hair, rose to step out of thebuggy and stopped short. What in God’s name had happened to the scarlet zinnias Tess had planted a month ago? Every single bloom in the carefully tended border had been nipped off at the crown.
    He dropped the reins, bounded out of the buggy and strode up the walkway onto the veranda.
    “Mrs. Benbow!” He surged through the front door and headed for the dining room.
    The housekeeper poked her head out of the kitchen. “Sir? Why, whatever be the matter?”
    “The zinnias! What happened to Tess’s zinnias?”
    Mrs. Benbow looked blank. “What’s wrong with them?”
    Jonathan strove to calm his breathing. “They’re gone, that’s what. No blooms, just stalks.”
    The housekeeper’s