Jericho 3 Read Online Free Page A

Civil War era hearth as Eileen and Lieutenant Colonel Leslie Raines scurried back and forth from the kitchen to serve the 20 or so who had gathered to celebrate Jane’s life.
    Camp was trying to make small talk with a way-too-slick Army aviator who went to flight school with Camp’s now deceased fiancée. He suspected the guy had probably cast his line several times to hit on Jane, and she was probably just as nauseated then as Camp was now.
    Raines carried the tea pot over to Ruth.
    “Can I warm you up, Mrs. Campbell?”
    “Leslie, please call me Ruth, or I’m going to have to start calling you colonel. You wouldn’t like that, now would you?” Ruth said smiling.
    “No, ma’am, I wouldn’t.”
    “Maybe she’ll be calling you ‘mom’ if your son ever gets his act together,” Sea Bee said quietly to Ruth, not aware, and not the least of which caring, if Raines was still standing within earshot.
    “Seabury, your manners! This is Jane’s wake for goodness sakes.”
    “Bury one, marry the other. Get busy, boy. Stop wasting time,” Sea Bee said in his typical unrefined and urgent fashion as he stared mesmerized into the flickers of flame that danced randomly in the fireplace.
    Raines was embarrassed. Ruth just ignored him as she had done so well during the natural ebb and flow of a 58-year marriage to a farmer.
    Eileen scrubbed some food off the plates as she worked the sink with her sweet bed and breakfast hospitality and charm. The sounds of car doors shutting pulled her eyes to the pane glass window in front of her.
    “Camp? You’d better come here,” Eileen said as she waved a drying towel toward the window.
    Camp got up from the table as “Slick” kept telling his war stories to anyone still interested in listening.
    “What’s up, gorgeous?”
    Eileen pointed out the window and toward the driveway.
    “Well I’ll be…Raines! It’s General Ferguson and his two coffee-pouring majors.”
    Camp opened the side kitchen door and walked out followed by Raines and Eileen.
    “General, I am so thrilled that you would make the drive all the way out here to honor Jane. Please come in and join us,” Eileen said from several feet away.
    “Thank you, Eileen. We certainly want to honor Jane. The captain was a hero. There are thousands of wounded soldiers who owe their lives to her steadfast work in Iraq. How many missions did she fly, Camp?”
    “Sir, one day she flew combat wounded into Balad on eight flights within two hours…officially, 860 missions…unofficially, who knows.”
    “Gentlemen, please come in and join us for some home cooking,” Eileen said as she opened the kitchen door.
    “Eileen, we’d be delighted. Perhaps you could take care of my staff first. I’d like to borrow Captain Campbell and Colonel Raines for a minute, if you don’t mind.”
    Eileen smiled and hooked an arm around each of the two majors and led them into Lightner Farms.
    “Walk?” Ferguson asked.
    “Sure,” Camp said. “There’s a nice trail out back.”
    The three walked behind the lodge and onto the bark chip trail that crawled in and out of poplars, evergreens and white birch trees. Ferguson unwrapped an Ashton Belicoso 52-gauge cigar, bit the top off and flared it five times with his lighter.
    “Sir, is there any new information on the tularemia report out of Afghanistan?” Raines asked trying to ignite the conversation.
    “Yes, I’m afraid so, but not with the tularemia. The battalion surgeon sent samples to the medical lab at Bagram, and it came back as garden variety. Probably undercooked meat or infected water.”
    “Sounds about right for three guys in a cave,” Camp said. “Were they Taliban or local Pashtuns?”
    “Taliban.”
    “So that’s why you’re concerned?” Camp asked.
    “Maybe. The three Taliban boys were put on a standard antibiotic regimen there in the regional hospital. They’ll be released within the week.”
    “Then what’s the problem, general?” Raines asked.
    “The