Saturday's Child Read Online Free PDF
Author: Dallas Schulze
but maybe Roosevelt can figure out a way."
"I don't think the president is actually planning on designing the thing himself, Grandfather."
"Of course not. But none of this has anything to do with why you came home." Tobias waved his hand impatiently, returning to the original subject.
"I thought the least I could do was return for my sister's wedding," Quentin said. "Besides, winter in Wyoming can be a bit harrowing. I decided I could use a break."
"A break, is it? Or did you want a taste of your old life again? That sniveling wimp of a cousin of yours couldn't wait to tell your mother all about your return to your wicked ways."
Quentin's smile held an unpleasant edge. "It was quite a surprise to find Joseph across the table from me.
"He seemed to think it an unpleasant one."
"A man who plays as badly as he does shouldn't play at all."
"Do you still blame him for young Alice's death?" Tobias asked gruffly.
Quentin's fingers tightened over the captured rook he'd been toying with. The look he shot the old man would have been enough to set a lesser man back on his heels.
"I do not wish to discuss Alice."
"No, I know you don't. You haven't discussed her in eight years, not since she died. Well, time is supposed to heal all wounds and I think it's time you took a look at that one. You may find it's healed more than you think.
"And though I think Joseph Landers is a liar and a cheat and probably not above murder, the girl's death wasn't his doing."
"Why are you bringing this up? And why are you defending Landers? As I recall, you've threatened more than once to forbid him to ever set foot in this house again."
"That I have. And if it hadn't been for your mother's weeping and carrying on, I'd have stuck by that. How a daughter of mine could be so fond of such an irritating little twerp..." He broke off shaking his head over the vagaries of females. "But that should be enough to convince you Alice's death wasn't his fault. You know how your mother felt about Alice, how she felt about your engagement. The fact is, boy, there was nothing anyone could have done but what Landers did."
"He left her there alone," Quentin said, his jaw tight.
"He went for help," Tobias corrected. "When she fell through the ice, he couldn't pull her up himself. That damned gown must have weighed fifty pounds and the ice was rotten. You couldn't have done anything but what he did."
Quentin stood up, the memories roiling inside him. He couldn't argue with his grandfather's words, but neither could he bring himself to agree with them. For so many years he'd focused his anger on Joseph Landers and heaven knew the man deserved it on a hundred other counts. He'd simply never let himself accept that, in this one instance, he might be innocent of wrongdoing.
Because, if Joseph wasn't to blame, he might have to accept some of the responsibility for Alice's death himself. If he hadn't gone away... If they'd married as everyone had expected...
Quentin stared out at the wispy fog that draped Nob Hill in a gossamer blanket, but his eyes were on the past. He'd been in the Yukon, on the tail end of the great gold rush when word of his fiancee's death had reached him. By the time he received the letter, she'd been dead and buried nearly a month.
She'd gone to New York with his family for the New Year celebrations, gone to see in the last year of the old century. She'd been ice-skating with several of her friends, including his sister Ann, hardly more than a child then. When she'd skated too near the center of the lake, the ice—not yet solid enough to bear her weight—had given way.
Joseph had gone for help, but by the time they were able to pull Alice from the water, she was half-frozen. The chill turned into pneumonia and she'd died within a week. There'd been nothing anyone could do, everyone had agreed on that. It was a terrible tragedy.
Quentin had known Alice Mason since they were children. And he'd known they were going to marry since he was
"I don't think the president is actually planning on designing the thing himself, Grandfather."
"Of course not. But none of this has anything to do with why you came home." Tobias waved his hand impatiently, returning to the original subject.
"I thought the least I could do was return for my sister's wedding," Quentin said. "Besides, winter in Wyoming can be a bit harrowing. I decided I could use a break."
"A break, is it? Or did you want a taste of your old life again? That sniveling wimp of a cousin of yours couldn't wait to tell your mother all about your return to your wicked ways."
Quentin's smile held an unpleasant edge. "It was quite a surprise to find Joseph across the table from me.
"He seemed to think it an unpleasant one."
"A man who plays as badly as he does shouldn't play at all."
"Do you still blame him for young Alice's death?" Tobias asked gruffly.
Quentin's fingers tightened over the captured rook he'd been toying with. The look he shot the old man would have been enough to set a lesser man back on his heels.
"I do not wish to discuss Alice."
"No, I know you don't. You haven't discussed her in eight years, not since she died. Well, time is supposed to heal all wounds and I think it's time you took a look at that one. You may find it's healed more than you think.
"And though I think Joseph Landers is a liar and a cheat and probably not above murder, the girl's death wasn't his doing."
"Why are you bringing this up? And why are you defending Landers? As I recall, you've threatened more than once to forbid him to ever set foot in this house again."
"That I have. And if it hadn't been for your mother's weeping and carrying on, I'd have stuck by that. How a daughter of mine could be so fond of such an irritating little twerp..." He broke off shaking his head over the vagaries of females. "But that should be enough to convince you Alice's death wasn't his fault. You know how your mother felt about Alice, how she felt about your engagement. The fact is, boy, there was nothing anyone could have done but what Landers did."
"He left her there alone," Quentin said, his jaw tight.
"He went for help," Tobias corrected. "When she fell through the ice, he couldn't pull her up himself. That damned gown must have weighed fifty pounds and the ice was rotten. You couldn't have done anything but what he did."
Quentin stood up, the memories roiling inside him. He couldn't argue with his grandfather's words, but neither could he bring himself to agree with them. For so many years he'd focused his anger on Joseph Landers and heaven knew the man deserved it on a hundred other counts. He'd simply never let himself accept that, in this one instance, he might be innocent of wrongdoing.
Because, if Joseph wasn't to blame, he might have to accept some of the responsibility for Alice's death himself. If he hadn't gone away... If they'd married as everyone had expected...
Quentin stared out at the wispy fog that draped Nob Hill in a gossamer blanket, but his eyes were on the past. He'd been in the Yukon, on the tail end of the great gold rush when word of his fiancee's death had reached him. By the time he received the letter, she'd been dead and buried nearly a month.
She'd gone to New York with his family for the New Year celebrations, gone to see in the last year of the old century. She'd been ice-skating with several of her friends, including his sister Ann, hardly more than a child then. When she'd skated too near the center of the lake, the ice—not yet solid enough to bear her weight—had given way.
Joseph had gone for help, but by the time they were able to pull Alice from the water, she was half-frozen. The chill turned into pneumonia and she'd died within a week. There'd been nothing anyone could do, everyone had agreed on that. It was a terrible tragedy.
Quentin had known Alice Mason since they were children. And he'd known they were going to marry since he was