The Amazon Quest (House of Winslow Book #25)

by Gilbert, Morris

  Aaron had been selected as spokesman, since he was a relative, and he stepped forward. “Hello, Logan. Do you remember me?”

  Smith stared at the tall man and grinned widely. “Why, I sure do. You’re Aaron Winslow, my kinfolk.”

  “That’s right. I don’t believe you’ve met my wife, Gail, and these are my children, Emily, Jared, and Wes.”

  As the crowd surrounded the pilot, voices began to pop up. “How many planes have you shot down?”

  “Did you get the Red Baron yet?”

  “Are the Allies going to win the war?”

  For some five minutes Logan Smith stood at ease answering the questions, some of them from a reporter with the Richmond Daily News.

  Finally Aaron spoke up. “I know the lieutenant’s bound to be tired. That was a long flight. If you’ll be at the auditorium tonight, I guarantee he’ll give you some question-and-answer time then. Come along, Lieutenant.”

  With some difficulty, Aaron got his family and the pilot through the crowd and into the Winslows’ Model-T Ford and drove away carefully, cautiously avoiding several well-wishers.

  “You must be hungry, Lieutenant,” Gail said.

  “I could sure use some good home cooking,” Logan said. He was in the backseat pressed between Emily and Jared. He turned to Emily and smiled at her. “I guess I’m crowding you a little bit, Emily.”

  “Oh, that’s all right,” Emily said. “A real war hero can do anything he wants to.”

  A secret humor touched the eyes of Cowboy Smith, and he shook his head. “No, he can’t. He’s just like everybody else, Emily, except he flies an airplane.”

  ****

  When they reached the Winslow home, Logan went at once to the guest bedroom and took a brief nap. A couple of hours later, he arose, showered and changed, then came down to dinner looking refreshed. Hungry after his long trip, he pitched into the meal that Gail had carefully prepared—a huge cut of beef roasted with potatoes and carrots, savory red beans, and fresh-baked bread. Logan remarked enthusiastically, “This is delicious, Mrs. Winslow. Just like Mom’s cooking.”

  “How are your parents, Logan?” Aaron asked.

  “They’re fine. They worry about me a lot, of course.”

  “Well, there’s no help for that,” Gail said. Her eyes touched briefly on Jared, and she shook her head. “There are mothers all over the country worried sick that we might be involved in this war soon.”

  “Tell us about shooting down airplanes,” Wes broke in, unable to contain himself any longer.

  Emily hardly touched her food as she sat entranced while Logan described air combat and Wes fired questions at him. Logan was careful to stress his own shortcomings instead of his successes. Even though he had gained fame as an ace pilot, he did not want his young admirers to get a false impression of the cruel reality of war.

  Finally Aaron had to put a stop to Wes’s questions. “You’re not giving the lieutenant time to eat, son, and your mother’s baked a special blackberry cobbler for dessert.”

  “I picked the berries myself,” Emily said.

  “Did you get chiggers?” Logan asked, grinning at her.

  “Yes. All over me.”

  “Chiggers like me, too. But even so, I still like to be out in the woods—picking blackberries or, even better, fishing.”

  “Well, now you’re talking my language,” Aaron said eagerly. “Can you stay for a while?”

  “I don’t have to be in North Carolina for two days.”

  “Good. I’ll guarantee you’ll catch the biggest bass you ever caught in your life.”

  “Can I go, Dad?” Jared spoke up at once.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  This, of course, prompted Wes and Emily to mount a campaign to be allowed to accompany their famous guest. Aaron protested at first, but Logan shook his head. “Everybody come. You, too, Mrs. Winslow.”

  “Just call me Gail.”

  “Good. You can call me Logan.”

  “Don’t you like to be called ‘Cowboy’?” Wes asked.

  “It’s the newspapers that call me that,” Logan said, smiling.

  “I wish Dad were living,” Aaron said. “He passed away six months ago. He was always interested in flying and would have loved to have met you.”

  “I’m sorry about your father,” Logan said. “I know you must miss him.”

  Aaron nodded. “Many of our older relatives have died recently—Mark Winslow and his wife, Lola. You remember them, Logan?”

  “I sure do. My mom and dad went to their funerals last year. They died within a week of each other. My mother was real torn up about it.”

  “Yes, I saw them there,” Aaron said, then shook his head. “For a long time we had no deaths in the family, but then Thad Novak died two years ago, and we’ve had a number of them since. I hear that Dan, Mark’s younger brother, has been ailing.”

  “Let’s not talk about such things,” Gail said quickly. “Tell us what it’s like in France, Logan.”

  “Well, all I see of it is the airfield, pretty much, and they’re just about all alike.”

  “What about Paris? Have you gone there?”

  “I’ve been a couple of times. Went up on the Eiffel Tower once. That was fun.”

  “I bet the girls flock around you every time you go to town,” Emily said.

  Logan turned and laughed at her, his teeth very white against his tanned skin. “Not so’s you’d notice it. However, I’ve got one young lady just about talked into marrying me.”

  Emily blinked with disappointment. “You mean you’re engaged?”

  “I mean I’m trying to be engaged. Her name is Danielle Laurent. I just call her Dani.”

  “Where did you meet her?” Emily pressed, leaning forward, her eyes intent on the handsome flyer.

  “I met her sister when I was wounded and in the hospital. Her father’s a doctor, and I was invited to their home. One look at her, and I was a lost cause.”

  After dessert, they all moved into the living room, and the pilot listened with pleasure as Gail played the piano. She had taken up music late in life but had quickly learned both the piano and organ and now was the church organist. At Logan’s request, she played the more popular songs of 1917, including “The Bells of Saint Mary’s,” “For Me and My Gal,” and a ragtime melody called the “Darktown Strutters Ball.”

  Emily sang several solos, for she was a fine singer and knew all the latest songs. She sang “For Me and My Gal” so well that Logan went over and gave her a hug. “You have a wonderful voice, Emily Winslow.”

  Emily flushed with pleasure and said, “Would you come to our school tomorrow? They’d let everybody out of class for assembly if you would.”

  “If we can fit in both the fishing and the school, that’ll be fine,” Logan agreed.

  ****

  The next day proved to be memorable for Emily. She put on her best dress, a light blue frock with white lace around the sleeves and the hem. When her mother asked her why she was wearing such a nice dress to school, she simply replied, “Logan’s going to be there.”

  Logan spoke to the entire student body of Richmond High School and afterward fielded the students’ questions. No speaker had ever received such an enthusiastic response, and fully half of the male students were determined to become aviators and join the war effort.

  Logan had smiled and informed them that the only way he had gotten into battle was to join the Foreign Legion, and from there had been fortunate enough to be accepted into the Lafayette Escadrille, a French flying unit made up of American volunteers.

  Emily stood beside Logan as soon as the assembly was over and whispered, “Will you come to my class with me, Logan?”

  “Sure. I’m all yours until noon, then we’re going fishing, right?”

  “I’ll have to play hooky.”

  “That’s all right. I used to be an expert at that.”

  Logan sat in on Emily’s history class and once again was nearly swamped by the stude
nts. The girls especially were practically swooning over him.

  As soon as the noon bell rang, Emily said, “Let’s make our getaway, Logan.”

  Logan grinned at the young woman. “Determined to become a fugitive, I see.”

  “Oh, fuzz, I’m not missing anything important. Just algebra.”

  Logan laughed and took Emily’s arm. “All right. I’ll cover you. Let’s get away from here.”

  ****

  The fishing trip was an enormous success. Logan and Aaron each caught a five-pound bass, and Emily caught one almost as large. They fished until nearly dark, when Aaron said, “Let’s get home. By the time we clean these whales, it’ll be time to eat.”

  “Suits me.” Logan looked out over the lake and shook his head. “It’s so different from what I’ve been doing. Look at how peaceful and quiet it is.”

  “Was it really so bad over there, Logan?” Jared asked.

  “It’s not bad in the air as wars go. At least it’s a quick death, for the most part.”

  Emily shuddered a little. To think that this young man, so full of life and so attractive, could be killed in a moment brought the reality of war home to her.

  “The ground war is bad, I expect,” Aaron suggested. “I didn’t see anything as bad in the Spanish-American War, but it was tough enough.”

  “The generals in this war think if you throw enough men against a position, even if it’s well defended, it can be taken. That might have worked back when there were no machine guns. But you put a machine gun in a protected position and rush a hundred men at it, and a hundred men are going to get shot down. And that’s what’s happening. I’ve flown over fields where a person could almost walk across them without touching the ground. Just walking on bodies.” He went on to speak of the horrors of war, and he noticed that Jared was listening carefully. Jared can’t wait to get in it, he thought with concern. I was the same way. I guess you can’t tell anybody how bad it really is. . . .

  ****

  Logan stayed with the Winslows for two days, and all the girls at Richmond High were frantic to meet him. Emily was besieged with pleas for an introduction, but she denied them all.

  “You just want him all to yourself, Emily Winslow!” Margaret Dickerson complained. She was the reigning beauty queen in Richmond, but nonetheless, she had made absolutely no impression on Logan. His thoughts were on Dani, the woman he hoped to marry, and he didn’t really have any interest in schoolgirl crushes, though he found all the attention rather flattering.

  Emily merely laughed at Margaret. Logan was her guest, after all, and she was going to enjoy their brief time together, despite the fact that he was very nearly engaged.

  Logan was amused at Emily’s interest in him, but he kept those thoughts to himself. When he asked her, “What are you going to do with yourself in life?” he was surprised by her response.

  “I want to be a writer,” Emily said proudly.

  It wasn’t the answer he was expecting from a young woman, but he was impressed that she would be thinking about going into a profession, not just snagging a beau. “A writer, eh? I guess that does suit you, Emily. You’re a good observer of people. You ought to get in touch with Josephine Hellinger.”

  “You mean the lady who writes a column for all the papers? Do you know her?”

  “Know her! Why, we went over to France together,” Logan said. “She’s a very intelligent woman. As well as beautiful, I might add. The trouble is she’s fallen in love with a British flyer—a Winslow, by the way. The same as you.”

  Nothing would satisfy Emily more than to hear the entire story of Josephine Hellinger. Logan told her what he knew, then finally suggested, “You ought to write her a letter, and I’ll take it back with me. Maybe she can give you some good advice on how to become a writer.”

  ****

  “I don’t see any sense in diagramming compound sentences,” Wes said, frowning. “It doesn’t do anybody any good.”

  “Yes, it does,” Emily said. She had been helping her younger brother, who hated English with a passion. Not only did he hate grammar lessons, but he was also having a hard time adjusting to the new English teacher at Richmond High, whose assignments, in Wes’s opinion, were “boring and stupid.” Like his sister, he missed Mr. Laurence, who had been a favorite teacher among the students but had joined the Canadian army and had already left Richmond for his basic training.

  Emily was trying to explain to Wes why grammar was important when Jared suddenly entered the room, pale, shaking, and clearly upset. She cried out, “What is it, Jared?”

  “It’s . . . it’s Mr. Laurence, Emily. He’s dead. He was killed in a training exercise before he even had a chance to leave for France.”

  Emily stood stock-still. For a moment she thought she had misunderstood him. “He can’t be dead,” she said.

  “It’s true enough. Word just came.”

  Silently Emily got up and walked stiffly out of the room. She went to her own bedroom and fell across the bed, trying to keep back the tears. She heard a knock, and then the door opened.

  “Are you all right, Emily?”

  “No . . . nothing’s all right. He was . . . such a wonderful man. This just can’t be true.”

  Jared sat down and laid a hand on his sister’s back. He was quiet for some time, and then he said with bitterness in his voice, “He never even had a chance to fight. It’s not fair. We’ll be in this war soon ourselves, Emily. We’re all going to be involved.”

  “Not you, Jared!” Emily at once pulled herself up and took Jared’s hand. “You don’t have to go.”

  “If America goes to war, I’ll have to go, too. Just like Mr. Laurence had to go to fight for his country, I’ll have to fight for mine.”

  Emily could not speak, and when Jared left the room she again fell down, not only in grief, but now in fear as well. She tried to pray, but no words would form in her mind or on her lips. Truly, she was more afraid than she had ever been in her life.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Winds of War

  Aaron Winslow sat reading a newspaper in his study, pondering the events of the past few months that had been pulling the United States closer and closer to war. The year had begun well insofar as economic matters were concerned. While the war raged in Europe, prices were up but so were wages in America. Unemployment was virtually nonexistent. With more and more money to spend, Americans were investing in an array of luxuries. Prosperity had cast a spell over the country despite the carnage across the Atlantic.

  In the midst of this prosperity, America received an enigmatic and terrible message from Germany. Russia was tottering toward disillusionment, and the Romanoffs had fallen from power. Czar Nicholas II discovered that the masses had turned against him. When the Bolshevik Revolution eased the burden on Germany’s armed forces in the East, Germany then turned her attention to the West, planting a time bomb that exploded with such force America was drawn into the conflict.

  On January ninth a message had gone out from Kaiser Wilhelm II to all vessels of the German navy: “I order that unrestricted submarine warfare be launched with the greatest vigor on February the first.”

  British Naval Intelligence had picked up a German wireless message and had thought at first it was only a routine transmission. But the terrible truth was soon realized, and when the news leaked out, America was forced to acknowledge that she could no longer ignore the European war. The broad Atlantic was not enough protection from the German menace in such modern times of international shipping and submarine warfare.

  Then in March 1917 German U-boats sank three American merchant ships. It had been nearly two years since the sinking of the Lusitania, in which 128 Americans lost their lives, setting off a national undercurrent of pressure to fight back. As a distant earthquake will set off a seismograph, so Germany’s now clear intent to wage unrestricted submarine warfare, even against American ships, shook the powers-that-be in Washington. And the tremors filtered down to farmers, tradesmen, and i
ndeed to the entire country.

  Emily found her father at his desk, looking at a newspaper story detailing the recent catastrophic events that were taking place on the high seas. Knocking on the open door, she said tentatively, “Are you busy, Dad?”

  “Not too busy for you.” Aaron put down the paper and waved at the chair close to his desk. “Have a seat and tell your old dad everything that’s going on.”

  Emily sat down and twisted her fingers together nervously. She had unlimited confidence in her father’s wisdom, and now she asked, “Will America go to war, Dad?”

  “If you’d asked me that a few weeks ago,” Aaron said, “I would have said it’s doubtful. But now that Germany has loosed its submarines on all ships, I think it won’t be much longer before we’re pushed into it.”

  “I hate to think about it.”

  “You’re worried about Jared,” Aaron said, nodding. “I’m concerned about him myself. He’d go like a shot if America declared war.”

  “That would be terrible.”

  Sighing heavily, Aaron went over and clasped his hands together and shook his head. “This war has been unlike other wars, Emily. The world’s never seen a war that consumed men so rapidly. It’s commonplace now to hear of a hundred thousand men being killed in a single battle. Before this, no war, in its entirety, ever cost that many lives.”

  “I don’t understand how it started.”

  “It started because of pride, Emily. Maybe all wars start like that. Men want something that isn’t theirs so they can be bigger and better and stronger. Germany started building a huge arsenal, and France, in order to defend itself, did the same. Both kept adding ships and guns, and finally the whole continent was an armed camp ready to explode. When the Austrian archduke and his wife were assassinated, their deaths were just an excuse to go to war. There’s no reason in it, so I don’t waste my time trying to ask why. It’s here and that’s it.”

  Emily had expected this answer, and now she said in an unsteady voice, “Dad, I think I would just die if anything happened to Jared.”

  Aaron rose and went over to her. He pulled Emily to her feet and put his arms around her, and she clung to him tightly. “He can’t go, Dad—he just can’t!”