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    Legacy of the Stone
    Legacy of the Stone
    Legacy of the Stone
    Ebook161 pages2 hours

    Legacy of the Stone

    By Karlajean Jirik Becvar

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    About this ebook

    Unable to reconnect with Thomas and Judith Markham after the second fire, Addie returns to Hinckley. Only this time, Thomas and Judith's Uncle Caspian is not dead and Jake Tanner is seeking revenge. What does Jake want and why is he preying on Addie and the Markhams? Addie's adventure in time continues, and there has never been more at stake
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNorth Star Press of St. Cloud
    Release dateSep 15, 2014
    ISBN9780878399970
    Legacy of the Stone
    Author

    Karlajean Jirik Becvar

    Legacy of the Stone is Karlajean Becvar's third book in the Firestorm Chronicles series. The author makes her home in Hinckley, Minnesota, with her husband, five dogs, and two cats. Check out her website at thefirestormchronicles.weebly.com.

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      Book preview

      Legacy of the Stone - Karlajean Jirik Becvar

      Legacy of the Stone

      Book 3

      The Firestorm Chronicles

      Karlajean Jirik Becvar

      North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc.

      St. Cloud, MN

      Copyright © 2014 Karlajean Becvar

      Author photo copyright © 2014 Karissa Ausmus

      All rights reserved.

      Print ISBN: 978-0-87839-715-0

      eBook ISBN: 978-0-87839-997-0

      This is a work of fiction. While the literary perceptions and insights are based on fact, all names, characters, places, and incidents either are used fictitiously or are the product of the author’s imagination.

      First edition: September 2014

      Published by

      North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc.

      P.O. Box 451

      St. Cloud, Minnesota

      www.northstarpress.com

      Dedication

      To my nephew, Michael,

      who has always loved a great adventure

      And to my 2013/14 Creative Writing Class:

      Maria Carpenter

      Amber Engels-Colsrud

      Paige Hodena

      Samantha Johnson

      Angela Kordiak

      Nicole Smith

      Acknowledgements

      To Nick Hupton, without whose expertise in editing, I would have been lost.

      To my Junior Editing Team (Katelyn F., Katelyn K., and Josie B.).

      To North Star Press, Inc., for their continued belief and support in the validity of this series.

      Table of Contents

      Dedication

      Acknowledgements

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Epilogue

      About the Author

      Prologue

      September 1894

      He heard the crack of a rifle after the bullet penetrated his left thigh. Shock and pain made him cry out. Struggling to stay upright, he managed to move forward. He hadn’t been able to identify the direction from which the shot had come. All he knew was no shelter existed in this wasteland of smoke and ash. Perspiration broke across his forehead and ran down into his short beard as he dragged his useless leg behind him. He pushed his gray bowler hat off his head, letting the debris of ash camouflage it. His only bit of fortune was that night would come quickly, for the sun, which had been masked by heavy haze all day, had begun its descent behind the horizon.

      Something in his peripheral vision caused him to hesitate. Stumbling toward an abandoned piece of buckboard seat, he thought he could take refuge beneath it.

      A thunderous report ripped through the stagnant air. His entire body reeled with the second bullet’s impact, spinning him around and throwing him to the ground. He looked up, squinting against the growing dusk. How blessed rain would be.

      Crawling toward his only hope of escaping death, he used his arms as leverage. Reaching out his hand, he felt the buckboard seat’s splintered wood. With the effort of every muscle, he managed to pull his body up and over, so as to hide behind it. He yanked his navy blue bandanna from his vest pocket and dabbed at the blood seeping from the wound in his leg. Compressing his injured body as best he could, he lay still. But it wasn’t enough.

      The third shot landed between his shoulders. Before his eyes lost sight, before he exhaled, he saw his pursuer.

      The deed was done. The marksman watched as life writhed from the man’s body. Then, blowing the residual smoke from the tip of his rifle, he smiled and walked away.

      Chapter 1

      Monday, September 3, 1894

      Hinckley

      Addie Evers stood on the crest of a hill, or at least what used to be a hill. Looking south, she saw only gray mounds blanketing the ground—like dirty snow in spring. Every so often, she caught a glimpse of a door or piece of wooden siding or railroad tie or wheel spoke poking up through the ash. Somehow, these small reminders of civilization had survived, acting like a compass, pointing the way to Hinckley.

      She hurried to follow the other rescuers as they moved toward town. Pillows of soot puffed from under her boots and drifted to her nose. Addie covered her face with her arm. This was a desert, but the sand consisted of burned trees, buildings, animals—even human bodies. The stench of charred skin and smoking ash penetrated right through the gingham dress. As she looked around, she realized how impossible the task was of recovering bodies buried beneath the cinders. What did they really hope to find once they reached Hinckley?

      Addie knew whom she hoped to find: Thomas and Judith. She had spent all of Sunday traveling up and down Superior Street in Duluth, going from one safe haven to another—from one church to a storage building to the railroad station to an empty grocery to another church—seeking answers she never found. By 7:30 p.m., tired, frustrated and hungry, Addie found herself back at the First Congregational Church and knew she had to return to Hinckley.

      Henri and Louie hadn’t wanted her to leave, but she knew if she had any chance of finding Thomas and Judith, she had to return to Hinckley immediately. And alone.

      Louie had cried, which caused Henri to cry, which in turn caused Addie to cry. She promised them she would be back, hugged them tight, and left them in Clara’s care.

      Clara had been a godsend. She was one of the women who had welcomed survivors to the First Congregational Church. Her warmth and love infectious, it was Clara who had helped the broken people begin recovery by getting them to sing and dance with Addie. And it was Clara whom Addie trusted.

      Clara, I can’t thank you enough for watching the boys. I have no idea what I’ll find back in Hinckley, Addie had said as she kissed Henri and Louie, chucking Henri under the chin. And it’s no place for two little boys, she added.

      I’ll watch over them like a mother bird over a nest, Clara had told Addie, patting Henri on the shoulder and holding Louie tight on her hip. Don’t you worry. Be safe and come back as soon as you can. Then she had smiled.

      Now, Addie clung to Clara’s smile while every step across the scorched land surrounded her with emptiness. She prayed the boys knew she’d come back, that it hadn’t been just something she’d said to comfort them.

      Hold up! said Mr. Siever, the man who was leading the rescue party. He was tall and thin, stooped a bit at the shoulders, but strong. He dug into the ashes with his shovel before the others had a chance. His beard hung from his clenched jaw like cobwebs. He claimed the fire had gotten hold of it before he could fully put his face into water. He had refused to shave the scraggly reminder.

      Moving as quickly as they could, a few other rescuers joined him and dug as well. Soon they tossed aside their shovels and were on their hands and knees, pulling the soot and ash away. Steam curled upwards like mist, but Addie knew it was ash still trying to burn. She moved closer. To be digging only with their hands, she knew it must be a body they had found.

      As their fingers clawed at the ash, they uncovered a vest and an arm.

      Mr. Siever kept digging. Addie and the others stepped back. Putting his hands beneath the dead man’s arms, Mr. Siever gently lifted the body from the ashes. The man’s vest and suit, in fact his entire body, was in pristine condition.

      How can that be? one woman asked. Her face, drained of color, was framed by a faded black bonnet. She grasped the collar of her dress with her thumb and index finger, rhythmically pulling it closed and letting it fall open. How can he be whole when the fire destroyed everything?

      Let’s put him over there, where those who are gathering the bodies will see him, Mr Siever said. He and two other men carried the body and laid it on the ground further away. Mr. Siever placed the man’s arms across his chest. Addie knew it was out of respect, but what did it matter now that he was dead? This shouldn’t be how this man—how anyone—should be left.

      Is there any identification on him? Addie asked.

      Mr. Siever looked up. Identification?

      Yes. Does he have anything on him to tell us who he is?

      We’ll leave that to those who are collecting the bodies.

      Of course. Let the adults make the right and just decisions. Never mind the fact that Addie had already been through this fire twice. Never mind the fact that someone somewhere wondered about this man. They probably wondered about him just as Addie wondered about Judith and Thomas. She couldn’t imagine someone finding their bodies and leaving them on the edge of nowhere to be picked up. She shook her head, ridding it of the morbid thoughts and walked away, pushing toward Hinckley.

      Child, don’t go on your own! Mr. Siever called behind her.

      Chapter 2

      Addie didn’t bother turning around.

      As she neared what used to be Hinckley, white tents stood against the grayness of the earth and sky. They were like properly folded napkins on a large, empty table. Groups of people worked, pulling human remains and debris from the ashes. They were loading what they found onto wagon beds. Perhaps coming to Hinckley with hopes of finding Thomas and Judith had been a very bad idea.

      In Duluth, she should have searched more relief camps, more churches. She should have asked more questions, demanded more answers. But she was here now, and had no way of getting back to Duluth until Saturday or Sunday.

      Maybe her help would be needed here. Keeping busy would at least keep her mind off not being able to find Thomas and Judith. She worked her way into the town of tents and searched for a familiar face, listened for a familiar voice. The stench of death was prevalent here and almost unbearable. She pulled the collar of her dress over her mouth, giving her arm a rest.

      Addie? Addie!

      Addie turned around. Mr. Hannen! She ran to him and they embraced.

      I wondered where you had ended up, he said, holding her at arm’s length. You look good!

      Have you been here this whole time?

      He nodded, took out a handkerchief, and wiped his brow.

      Where’s your mother?

      I put her on one of the first relief trains to Duluth. Told her I would send for her when things were better.

      Addie looked in the direction of where the livery had been. Did you find your horses?

      Some. He jerked his head behind him. We’ve been using them to pull the wagons of debris and dead and to deliver food from Pine City. Can’t begin to thank our southern neighbors. They were able to get food and water here within hours. And Boomer? He’s been pulling his weight as well.

      Addie heard a long, sharp hee-haw. Boomer, who had been hitched to a small cart, was on his butt, with no intention of moving.

      I’d best go help out. He’s a stubborn one, you know,

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