Read Online Tamera Alexander - [Timber Ridge Reflections 01] by From a Distance - Free Book Online Page A

boardwalk down to the street. She gathered her skirt at the sides, grimacing at the thick layer of sludge and muck left from last night’s rain. And her with her favorite dress on. Not a good decision on her part.
    Her second miscalculation of the day.
    Whenever Washington received rainfall, the air was thick and muggy, pressing over the city like a wet woolen blanket. Why the forefathers of this country had chosen to build the nation’s capital on a swamp, she’d never understand. Yet that wasn’t the case in these mountains. Yesterday’s dirt might’ve been churned to mud, but the air still felt dry and light. Pungent evergreen scented the chill along with a sweetness she would’ve sworn was honeysuckle, but neither scent improved her attitude.
    She climbed the stairs to the boardwalk and arrived at the telegraph office, only to be stopped cold by a sign posted on the door. Her last strand of patience evaporated. She strode inside. “How long will the telegraph be down?”
    The man behind the counter quickly rose from his stool, his once-white apron smeared with ink and dingy with stains. At least he wasn’t the young boy who had assisted her earlier that week. It had taken that inexperienced youth three tries to relay the telegram to the next station. And even then, she’d wondered if Goldberg would ever receive it and if it would still resemble her original message in any form.
    “Good day, ma’am.” The man gave a conciliatory nod, his expression showing regret. “I wish I could say, but I’m not sure. They think it’s a problem down in the canyon. I heard something about the rains causing a slide during the night.”
    “A slide?” She briefly glanced outside. “That much rain fell?”
    “Doesn’t take much here, ma’am—especially this time of the year. Not with the snows thawing and beginning to melt. If you want to leave your message with me, I’ll send it as soon as they have the lines repaired. That way you won’t have to come back in.”
    She reached for a slip of paper, aggravated at the situation but also with herself. “Yes, thank you. I’d appreciate that.” It was her own fault she’d missed getting that package on the stage. Still, Timber Ridge was primitive compared to Washington—rain taking out the lines. She thought she’d factored in the remoteness and what effect it would have on her situation, but she hadn’t.
    She penned the brief message in her head first, and removed unnecessary words as she set it in ink, factoring each cent. As well as factoring the confidentiality of the man sending it. “Am I assured, sir . . . that the messages I send through your company are kept confidential within your office here in Timber Ridge?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” His expression and manner reflected integrity. “Only me and whoever’s listening to the clicks on down the line will know what you sent. Unless you’re telling someone how you’re about to rob the bank.” Humor crept into his features. “Then I might have to get the sheriff involved.”
    She liked this man. “Agreed. Please send word to me at the boardinghouse once you receive confirmation of receipt.” She laid her coins on the counter.
    He read what she’d written and nodded. “Will do, Miss Westbrook.”
    Only a few steps down the boardwalk, she passed a darkened office window. It was part of the same building that housed the telegraph office, but it occupied a larger portion, and she’d already been there once. Sketched in large white letters on the front glass window were the words Timber Ridge Reporter.
    As was her habit when she traveled, she’d stopped by her first day in town to pick up a copy of the newspaper. A person could learn a lot about a town from its newspaper, and by meeting its editor. But Drayton Turner, the Reporter ’s editor, had been out. “On special assignment” according to the young woman behind the front desk, as if Elizabeth should’ve been impressed by such a statement. The