The Amazon Quest (House of Winslow Book #25)

by Gilbert, Morris

  “I have to blame him,” her father insisted. “He’s two years older and you’re his baby sister. You shouldn’t have done it, Jared.”

  Jared shook his head and stared down at his shoes. “I know it, Dad. Just pour it on. Whatever you say, I deserve it.”

  Aaron suddenly broke the tense moment with a chuckle. “You two are always into something! What one of you doesn’t think of, the other one does.”

  “But, Dad,” Emily said, “if I’m going to be a writer, I’ve got to know what life is really like.”

  “Do you think Theda Bara’s life is worthy of study?” Aaron demanded.

  “Well, she’s the one person everyone’s watching these days, and I think people are what they watch.”

  “That’s why you don’t need to be watching her,” Gail said at once. “I hope you don’t want to become like Theda Bara.”

  “Oh no, Mom!” Emily shook her head. “I didn’t mean that. I just want to know what’s going on in the world.”

  “Well,” Aaron said slowly, “you’ve had an experience you can write about. Now let me give you another one—you’re grounded for a week. Write about that.”

  Emily’s face fell. “You mean I can’t leave the house?”

  “I mean you come home right after school, and you stay in until you leave again the next day.”

  Emily bit her lip. “All right, Dad. Whatever you say.”

  “Me, too,” Jared said.

  “No, son. I know you have ball practice, and that’s very important to you. It’s important to me, too. You go to ball practice, but you stay in nights.”

  Jared suddenly grinned. “Wouldn’t you just rather whip me with a belt?”

  Aaron looked at his son’s strong physique. “There was a time when I might have been able to handle that, but I have my doubts about it right now. No, you just stay in.”

  “It’s all right, Jared,” Emily said. “We’ll find something to entertain us.”

  “Sure we will,” Jared said cheerfully.

  “We’ll play records, and then I’ll help you with your algebra.”

  The two turned and walked away, their voices echoing back as they ascended the stairway.

  “Didn’t seem to hurt them much—being grounded,” Aaron muttered.

  Gail came over and put her arm around her husband’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s have coffee. After a crisis like this, I feel I need some reinforcement.” She led him into the kitchen, poured two cups of coffee from the large coffeepot, and set them on the kitchen table.

  As they sat down and drank the rich brew, Aaron leaned back. “This is good,” he said. Then a thought occurred to him, and he shook his head. “It’s a good thing Wesley’s staying overnight with Clarence, or he would have gone with them.”

  “Oh, I don’t think either one of them would have dragged him to that awful movie,” Gail said quickly. “They’re both good children. You probably did worse when you were a teenager.”

  Aaron laughed. “I sure did. I think I was studying for the gallows when I was their age.”

  Gail laughed and looked with affection at her husband as he drank his coffee. Aaron Winslow worked very hard. He had become a fine writer and wrote a daily column for the Hearst papers. In addition, he was active in his church as chairman of the board of deacons, and he took every chance to go hunting or fishing, taking the children with him whenever possible.

  He looked back at Gail fondly. “You know, I was thinking today about when I went off to fight in the war.”

  Gail’s face changed as she, too, remembered her husband going off to fight in the Spanish-American War.

  “That was a hard time for us, wasn’t it?” Aaron said.

  “It was, but God brought you back.”

  “Yes, He did, and I’ve always thanked Him for it. Lewis and I both could have died over there, along with some pretty good fellows.” Aaron and his brother, Lewis, had fought all the way through the Spanish-American War, and Gail had gone as a nurse. The war had been a turning point for Aaron. Before facing the bloody charge up San Juan Hill, he had been a rather selfish individual. But that crucible of fire had changed his whole life. As he sat holding the mug of coffee in his big hands, he reminisced about that time. He shook himself finally and said, “That wasn’t anything compared to this war over in Europe. At the Battle of Verdun last year seven hundred thousand men were killed. It’s unbelievable.”

  “What’s going to happen?” Gail wondered. “Do you think we’ll get into it?”

  “I think we’re bound to. Wilson’s dead set against it, but if Germany ever declares submarine warfare against our ships, President Wilson will have no choice. It’s just gotten completely out of hand. Hundreds of thousands of men are dying, and for what?”

  “It’s terrible, Aaron.”

  “Countries are constantly trying to expand their control, so it just seems that wars are part of the curse that’s on the world.” He took another sip of his coffee and then said, “You remember last March when Pershing and his troops went down to Mexico to fight Pancho Villa? They didn’t capture him, but nonetheless our country may be glad of that military experience, because right now our army doesn’t have any experience.”

  After a moment of silence, Gail spoke aloud what they were both thinking. “Jared might do what Logan did. He might enlist.” Logan Smith, a relative of Aaron’s, had gone to France and joined a British unit and become an ace pilot. He had shot down twenty-one planes, and his picture was in all the papers.

  “Yes, he might just do that,” Aaron said with a sigh of resignation. “He’s not impulsive, but Jared will always do what he thinks is right. We’ll just have to pray that America can stay out of the war.”

  ****

  Emily stood in front of her English class and cleared her throat. “The name of my theme is ‘Europe Is None of Our Business.’ ”

  Mr. Ryan Laurence smiled behind his hand but said nothing. He looked out over the class and saw agreement and disagreement on the faces of his students. As a rule, the girls wanted America to stay out of the war, while the boys, always looking for adventure, would have liked nothing better than a chance to get into it. Mr. Laurence listened as Emily read her paper, which basically argued that Europe had always had wars, and that America should take care of her own business. When she finished, he asked the class, “Any comments?”

  “I’ve got a comment,” Bill Jackson piped up. He was a tall sixteen-year-old who played fullback on the football team. He had black hair and dark eyes, which now sparkled as he said, “Emily, I don’t know what you’re thinkin’ about. You believe we can hide out over here forever? The kaiser’s not going to stop with Europe. He’ll come this way, too, and fight us if we don’t go stop him.”

  “That’s right,” Don Daily agreed. He was a scholarly boy, the brain of the class, and he knew all about the European war. “All you have to do is look at what’s happened already. The kaiser wants to dominate all of Europe. What makes you think he’ll leave us alone?”

  “We’re too far away,” Emily snapped. “He wouldn’t dare cross the ocean and come way over here.”

  “We couldn’t do anything to stop him if he did,” Daily argued. “We don’t have any army.”

  “What do you mean we don’t have any army?” Emily demanded.

  “I mean we cut back on spending so that we only have a few troops. We’d have to put twenty million men in uniform to stop the kaiser.”

  Mr. Laurence allowed the argument to go on for some time. It was his way, when his students were interested in a subject, to let the discussion go whichever way they pleased. As the bell rang and the students started filing out of the classroom, he said, “Emily, just a minute. I need to talk to you.”

  Emily picked up her books, held them to her chest, and walked over to him. “Yes, what is it, Mr. Laurence?”

  “Here’s the theme you wrote last week. I’ve made some observations.”

  Emily at once put her books down on a desk and gr
abbed the paper. Her eyes flew open. “Why, you’ve got comments written all over it in red ink. It looks like it’s bleeding!”

  “It’s overdone, Emily. Too strident. You need to calm your writing voice down.”

  Emily stared at him with indignation. “But I worked for days on this theme.”

  “And you’ve done a good job in some ways, but you’ve let your heart outrun your head. You’ve ignored some facts that I’ve pointed out.”

  “That’s not bad to let your heart rule you, is it, Mr. Laurence?” She wished she could call him Ryan, but she knew as a student she could never take that liberty.

  Laurence, who had endured girlhood crushes from his students for several years, knew of Emily’s feelings for him. He kept his comments on a strictly formal basis, however, as he continued. “You have a good heart, Emily, but you’re too impulsive.”

  He went over his editorial suggestions with her on the paper. Finally Emily sighed and took it, tucking it into her notebook. “All right. I’ll write it again.” She looked up suddenly and said, “You think I’m right about the war, don’t you? That we ought to stay out of it.”

  “No, as a matter of fact,” Laurence said, “I’m leaving to go fight in two weeks.” He saw her face fall and added quickly, “I’m joining a unit in Canada. I’ll be in the trenches in France in less than two months, I would suppose.”

  “No, you can’t do that!” Emily’s face twisted in distress.

  “I’m afraid I have to. You follow your heart so much, and this time I have to follow mine. I am English, you know, and it’s my friends and companions who are dying now. I can no longer ignore their plight. I’ve got to go and do my part.”

  Emily felt a heavy cloud descend on her, and she wanted to reach out, take him by the lapels of his coat, and demand that he stay out of the war. That would not do, of course, and she could only say, “But what will I do without you?”

  “There’ll be another teacher.”

  “But he won’t be like you.”

  “He may be better. Let’s hope so. I’ll probably tell you this again before I leave, but you’ve been one of those students who brings great joy to a teacher’s heart. Most kids don’t care about anything—especially English,” he said dryly. “Not much fun diagramming a complex sentence. But it’s been a pleasure to me, Emily, seeing your mind develop. You’re so full of life and so impulsive,” he added with a slight smile. “You’re a fine writer, too. Use your gift to help people.” He hesitated and then said, “And use it for the glory of God.”

  ****

  “ . . . and so he’s leaving to fight. He’s joining the army in Canada. Mom, he shouldn’t do it!” Emily was beside herself with grief as she spilled out the news to her mother.

  Gail had been aware of Emily’s crush on her English teacher for some time. It had caused her some concern, but she had gained a measure of relief when Mr. Laurence had once confided in her, “Emily’s at a bad age, but she’s got a good spirit. Much like yours, I think, Mrs. Winslow. She’ll get over this, just as she’ll get over some other things in life.” Now Gail was thankful for that conversation. Still, she knew his leaving was hard for her daughter, and she tried to comfort her. “I’m sure Mr. Laurence is doing what he feels he has to do.”

  “But I don’t want him to go,” Emily wailed.

  “All over this country, and I’m sure all over Europe, there are sisters and mothers and friends who are crying, ‘I don’t want him to go.’ But they have to, I suppose. He is English, and his country’s in danger.”

  Gail talked with Emily for some time, and when the girl left to do her homework, she went to the window and stared out. The winter of 1917 had been a mild one, and she was thankful for that as she looked out at the new spring growth budding on the trees and blanketing the distant hills of Virginia in a vivid pale green. She watched Cap’n Brown as he chased his tail and then tried to catch a mockingbird that lived in one of the hedges. The dog was unsuccessful, of course, but he never seemed to grow discouraged.

  Gail thought of Jared and could not push away the fear of losing him. “If America gets into this war, he’ll have to go, too,” she said, shaking her head. “What will I do then?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  A Real War Hero!

  Aaron looked up from the emerald green grass he was cutting and paused to take a breath. The last days of March had proved windy as always and the air was crisp, filled with the smell of fresh earth and grass clippings. He watched Gail, whose back was to him, as she plunged a spade into the dirt, and he grinned. Leaving the push mower, he walked over to her, put his arms around her, and lifted her clear off the ground.

  Gail gasped, “Put me down!”

  Aaron immediately obliged, then spun her around and kissed her vigorously.

  Gail let the shovel drop and tried to push him away, mumbling, “Aaron, what are you doing?”

  “I’m kissing you.”

  “The neighbors will be scandalized.”

  Aaron released his wife and held her at arm’s length, gazing intently into her eyes. “You know, I think they probably expect that the two of us have done this before.”

  Gail struck his chest and said, “Go cut the grass!”

  “I’d rather kiss you than cut that old grass.”

  A smile touched the corners of Gail’s lips, and she was suddenly filled with happiness. Her married life had been wonderful, and now as she studied Aaron, bronzed and fit, she thought, How God has blessed me! So many women don’t have what I have. . . .

  The two of them turned suddenly at the sound of an adolescent war whoop.

  Wesley Winslow, age fourteen, was running toward them—tall, lanky, and almost skinny. His brown hair matched his father’s, as did his large blue eyes. He had a white canvas bag imprinted with the words Richmond Daily News draped around his neck. His voice was shrill as he announced, “Look who’s coming to Richmond!”

  “Must be somebody important,” Aaron said, grinning. “Is it Charlie Chaplin?”

  “No!” Wes exclaimed indignantly, his eyes sparkling. “It’s Cowboy Smith!”

  Aaron held the newspaper up, and Gail moved around to study the story. A picture of a fine-looking young man adorned the front page with the large headline declaring, “Cowboy Smith Comes to Richmond.”

  Aaron read the first lines of the story out loud. “Lieutenant Logan Smith, known more familiarly as ‘Cowboy Smith,’ will make Richmond one of his stops on a speaking tour around the country. Lieutenant Smith has shot down twenty-one enemy aircraft in the European arena and has engaged in combat with the famed German ace Baron von Richthofen. Lieutenant Smith is the son of Lobo and Lanie Smith and has been furloughed to tour the United States. He has stirred the country with his aerial exploits against the Germans and alerted his hearers to the dangers of the war in Europe. Smith will speak on Saturday at the Civic Auditorium.”

  Wes danced around impatiently. “Dad, he’s our kinfolk, isn’t he?”

  “Well, yes he is,” Aaron nodded. “I did a story on his father once—Lobo Smith. He was a gunfighter out west and later became a marshal in the Oklahoma Territory.”

  “Since he’s family, do you think Cowboy Smith would come see us?” Wes asked. “I’d sure like to meet him.”

  “I don’t know,” Aaron said thoughtfully. He looked up at Gail. “I would like to see him, too. He’s a fine young man. Of course, when I met him years ago, I think he was only about fifteen. I like his parents very much. You met them at our last family reunion.”

  “Yes, I did. He was so romantic,” Gail said.

  “Who?” Wes demanded. “Cowboy Smith?”

  “No, he was just a boy then,” Gail said. “I was talking about his father, Lobo. He had a patch over one eye and looked like a pirate.”

  “And he was a real gunfighter?” Wes asked.

  “Something like that,” Aaron said. Then an idea seized him, and he said, “I’m going to go call Lobo and Lanie. Maybe they can put in a good word for us
. I’d like to invite Logan to stay with us so we can show him around.”

  ****

  A small crowd had gathered at the Richmond Airport, for word had gotten out that Cowboy Smith would be landing there soon.

  It was Saturday afternoon, and there being no school, the whole Winslow family was there. Wesley and Emily jumped up and down with excitement as somebody in the crowd yelled, “There’s a plane! That must be him!”

  Emily grabbed Jared’s arm and said, “Just think, we’re going to have a real war hero at our house.”

  “I thought you were against the war,” Jared said with a grin.

  “Well, that doesn’t matter,” Emily protested. “What counts is that we get to meet a real hero. I’ve never met one.”

  “Yes, you have. Dad was a hero in the Spanish-American War,” Wesley said indignantly.

  Aaron laughed. “That’s ancient history, Wes.”

  “I don’t care, Dad. You were a hero for all of that.”

  Aaron shook his head and smiled as they all turned to watch the dot in the sky grow larger. The plane flew through a bank of clouds, made a sweeping turn, then came in for a perfect landing. The pilot taxied up to the edge of the crowd and cut the engine. Then he climbed out of the cockpit, jumped to the ground, and spoke to the maintenance man for a few moments before turning and walking toward them.

  “Isn’t he good-looking?” Emily breathed.

  Logan Smith was indeed an attractive young man. He was not tall, but his carriage was erect. He wore a fingertip-leather flying jacket and a pair of jodhpurs, and his feet and calves were encased in gleaming black boots. As he pulled his helmet off, the sun struck his hair, showing a faint red tinge. Emily noticed that he had the most unusual eyes—almost indigo in color—and he was smiling as he approached. He raised his arm to acknowledge the applause and cheers that broke out from the crowd.