Minnie Crockwell - Will Travel for Trouble 01 - Trouble at Happy Trails Read Online Free PDF Page A

is.”
    A tragedy has occurred, although some clearly see it as providential. Certainly, Mr. Stewart does.
    “Yes, he did, didn’t he? He must have really hated his brother-in-law.
    Yes, it would seem so.
    I sat down on the couch. “Well, I guess that’s that. What am I supposed to do now? Go to bed like nothing has happened?”
    It would seem your fellow travelers have done so.
    “Oh, yeah, and where was my neighbor anyway? One minute, he’s all up in my business asking me about traveling or visiting family, and the next minute, not a peep from him as someone is firing a gun and someone else is screaming?”
    Perhaps he is a heavy sleeper.
    “Him and ‘the wife.’ I hate that term.”
    It does seem disrespectful.
    “Something like that,” I muttered. “A bit like ‘the dog’ or ‘the cat.’”
    I heard an answering chuckle. Ben was rapidly growing used to my tirades and quirks. I hated exposing myself to anyone so completely like this—with all my quirks and flaws—but I had little choice. He didn’t seem to be going anywhere soon.
    “Okay, well, I guess I’ll try to get some sleep.” I picked up the bedding I’d set out for Sally and put it away.
    Rest well, Minerva.
    “You too, Ben.”
    I closed the bedroom door as always, feeling more secure when I did, and I readied myself for bed again. I crawled into my queen-sized bed and pulled the blanket over me. However, once I turned out the lights, all I could see was an image of Carl with his head in bits and pieces. Not that I had seen the body or anything. Thank goodness!
    I tossed and turned, plumping pillows, pulling the pillowcase away from my mouth and tucking my blanket behind my shoulder blades. I turned the pillow over, stuck my feet out of the end of the blanket and turned over onto my left side. I imagined sheep jumping over a fence. I visualized a beach on the Gulf Coast, the pictures of which enticed me to visit one day. I flopped over onto my right side. Sally’s swollen face danced before my eyes.
    “Ben?”
    Yes, dear?
    “I can’t sleep. This is going to be a long night.”
    I am sorry, Minerva. How can I help?
    “I have no idea. Tell me more about your life.”
    Ah! A subject designed to put even the most ardent insomniac to sleep. I understand.
    “Funny,” I mumbled.
    As I told you before, I was born in Bishop’s Stortford, Hertfordshire, England, on the 10th of August, 1770. My parents immigrated to Stonington, New London, Connecticut, in 1778, bringing my brother, sister and me with them. My father, an Army officer, was tired of war and wanted to settle in the Colonies.  
    I grew up a happy child, wanting for nothing. My parents were kind and loving. We had plenty. My mother was a gracious woman and worked tirelessly to better the conditions of the workers on my father’s estate in Stonington. My father indulged her every whim. He loved her dearly. They both died during an influenza epidemic.
    I joined the Army in 1792 at the age of 21. In 1803, I was recruited to serve as an assistant navigator and cartographer on the Corps of Discovery expedition by Captain William Clark. We reached the Oregon Coast for the first time in 1805. We traveled up to Cape Disappointment on the 15th of November with Captain Meriwether Lewis. We camped. I went to sleep in my tent that night, and knew no more until I saw you at the remnants of the encampment.  
    “And you still can’t figure out what happened to you? Indian attack? Disease? A heart attack?”
    Nothing. I am certain there was no Indian attack. The Chinook Indians were very friendly and accommodating, sharing with our party some roots. I felt myself to be in fine shape, no illness that I recall. I am far too young to have morbus cordis.
    “Morbus cordis? What on earth is that?”
    What you call a heart attack, disease of the heart.
    “By my calculations, Ben, you’re actually fairly old—about 244 years or so.”
    Very amusing, Minerva. I was only thirty-five when