Chapter 27

As Landon approached the Carter Mansion, he felt a little trepidation and then realized how foolish that was. He had managed worse situations. He missed Scout, but he had decided that it would be better if he stayed with Grace. Landon didn’t know Marcus Carter enough to bring the dog along.

Landon reached the door, rang the bell, and was surprised how quickly it was opened.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Petersen, come on in. Mr. Carter is expecting you in his study,” the old butler said, more polite than the last time.

He led the way through the living room to the study, a large room lined with books. A large mahogany desk piled with papers dominated the room.

Marcus Carter stood up to greet him. “Ah, Mr. Petersen, welcome again. I must admit I’m impressed, and that doesn’t happen often. I did some research on you. A decorated veteran, recipient of a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star Medal. You are the kind of person Middletown needs. I don’t usually take to people right away, but I like your grit.”He smiled wistfully. “I used to be that way.”

“I think you still are,” Landon said.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the old man said. He made a gesture with his hand and said, “Please, have a seat.”

Landon sat down.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Is the program in Seattle helping you in your recovery?”

“Yes, Sir. It has been very helpful.”

“Where is your dog, Scout?”

“I wasn’t sure if you like dogs or not so I left him with Grace McAllister.”

“I prefer animals to humans. With humans I never know where I stand. They bow and scrape in front of me, and then plot and scheme the moment my back is turned. Animals don’t do that.”

Landon had Darla in his mind when he said, “That’s very true, Sir.”

“Feel free to bring Scout with you next time you visit. I heard he’s a smart animal.”

“That he is, Sir. I will.”

Marcus Carter studied Landon’s face for a long moment.

“What do you think you know about my ancestor?” the old man asked jumping straight to the point.

He noticed the emphasis Marcus Carter put on think. “Not a lot,” he confessed. I found a newspaper in the library with a sketch of Fergus. I know he founded Middletown and he helped with the statehood campaign. I visited the local church yesterday and the Reverend told me about a family Bible.”

“Yes, I have Fergus Carter’s Bible here. I have it in an airtight, fireproof safe. You are welcome to look at it.”

“I’d love to.”

“The safe is in our library. Come with me.”

Marcus Carter stood up and walked the way down the hall to a room lined with books. There were several tables along with chairs. He opened up a cabinet and then the safe. Respectfully, he took out a weathered-looking Bible. “This came from Scotland. It was the family Bible dating back to the 1850s. It’s the one thing he held on to during the trek west.”

The old man placed the Bible on a table, opened it, and pointed to a page. “You might start there.”

Then, he sat down on a big leather couch.

Landon stared down at the handwriting. There was a flourish to every letter, but it was surprisingly readable.

Died: Jamie Carter this 7th day of April 1853, of drowning. God keep his soul.

The next entry was happier.

There was nothing after that.

“Here it says Fergus had a wife and three children.”Landon made a pause and added, “His wife had a very peculiar name, Aiyana. Was she a Native American?”

Marcus Carter subtly moved his lips with a pensive look in his eyes. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he said, “Yes, she was. White frontiersmen often wed Native American women who could act as intermediaries, helping navigate the political, cultural and linguistic gulf between tribal ways and those of the white men.”

“She died young and left him with three children. Did Fergus marry again?”

“No, he didn’t. A woman from Aiyana’s tribe came to stay with him and take care of his children.”

“What happened to the son? There was nothing else written in the Bible about him,” Landon asked.

“Oh, he survived, but he disappeared for years. Rumors were that he was an outlaw. He returned when Fergus was dying. Among the papers we have is a pardon from the governor two days before Fergus’s death, but I don’t think Fergus forgave him. Hamish became a pillar of the community and he is one of my ancestors.”