The Ruby Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy) Read Online Free Page B

Pass—”
    “They call the entry an anomaly.”
    “I call it possibly fabricated.”
    “That makes no sense. Not when the rest of the entries are consistent with what others wrote in their journals. And why—” She straightened to give depth and conviction to her voice. “—would Frances Barrett make it up?”
    He arched his brow, seeming to look right through her.
    “Stop looking at me like I’m crazy.”
    “I’m not—”
    “I want to believe her, dammit, even if no one else does. And because I believe her, I think it’s unfair that people were killed and there’s no historical record. The gold and diamonds in the trunk probably belonged to the Murrays and should go to their heirs.”
    “Let’s say the story is true and you’re the Murray’s missing baby. Legally, the treasure would belong to you.”
    “I don’t care about it. I just want answers.” She stood and paced the room, stomping her feet on the hardwood floor. Finally, she said, “If I had a picture of Mr. Murray I could compare it to the portrait.”
    Elliott took another swallow of coffee, then studied the contents of his cup as if he were reading tea leaves. “Go take one. Sean went. Why don’t you? I’ll even go with you.”
    She gave him a dry laugh. “You want a nineteenth-century wife, too?”
    “No thanks. I like being a bachelor.” He sat on the arm of the sofa while she continued to pace in small circles. “Look…I don’t know whether the Barrett journal is true, but I know your father’s story is. If you’re looking for a logical explanation you’re not going to find one. The Barrett journal is-what-it-is and the brooch holds an ancient Celtic secret. That’s hard to grasp.”
    “I’ve had a ghost following me around since I was ten. The natural and supernatural coexist in my world.”
    “Look at the way your parents raised you. You’ve been attending pioneer re-enactments your entire life. You can ride, shoot, and yoke the oxen as well as your father. Why’d he insist you learn to do that? Why’d he direct you toward the medical field? Why’d your mother teach you how to cook over a campfire? You probably never noticed how your speech pattern changes when you’re out on the trail. You turn into a nineteenth-century woman.”
    He sipped his coffee and they were quiet for several minutes. “You may not want to hear this, but your father raised you to make this trip, or more accurately, to make a return trip. Sean would have told you the truth when he knew you were ready. Knowing him, I suspect he intended to go back with you someday.”
    Elliott picked up a legal pad and thumbed through the pages. “When did Frances Barrett say those people were killed?”
    “June sixteenth. Why?”
    “Well, look, if you went to South Pass—”
    “Have you ever been to South Pass, Wyoming? It’s a wide-open space now. Can you imagine what it looked like in 1852?”
    “No. But if you could get there by June sixteenth you could see if anyone matches the little painting, get a hair sample for DNA and then come home. You’re a paramedic. Dead bodies don’t bother you.”
    She shuddered and tried to block out the memory of her parents’ vacant eyes staring at her moments after the crash. “I’ve seen my share. They’ve all bothered me.”
    “That’s not what I meant.”
    She paced the room, biting her nail. “If I went back in time—and I’m not saying I’m going—but if I did, the tricky part would be arriving in South Pass by the sixteenth.”
    “When did Sean go back?” Elliott moved to the desk and put his feet up. “Sometime in the spring, wasn’t it? If you go back in March or April that would give you plenty of time to get to Wyoming, assuming the brooch takes you to the same place it took him.”
    She turned again and headed toward the window. “Do you really think I could do it?”
    “Well, you can’t change history or what happened in South Pass. That might obliterate your life in the twenty-first