Blood Ties Read Online Free

and few wrinkles, despite her white hair.
    "I don't see the Squire." A man across the aisle
stood and peered around the church. "You told us that
Forest McCready would be here."
    "Shhh." His female companion-Abbie guessed it
was his wife-tugged at his shirt. "For the love of God,
Phillip!" she scolded. "How can Matthew tell us anything, with you runnin' your mouth?"
    The accents that filled the church were as distinctive
as Emma's, but more Old English than Old South to
Abbie's ear. The words and phrases were quaint and
old-fashioned, but she had no trouble understanding
them. The island fascinated her, and not just because
of the potential archaeological site.
    "Will Tawes saw surveyors out there yesterday," reported the white-haired matron, standing and raising
her voice. "Way I hear, the sale's not gone through yet. So the mainlanders are trespassing. What good is the
law if they can run roughshod over our land when they
please?"

    "Money talks!" came from the back of the church. "I
told ye all this truck would come to nuthin'."
    Matthew raised his hands and motioned his flock to
calm. "Friends, neighbors ... illustrious guests ..."
    "There's Bailey," Abbie's mother whispered. "Over
there. That's her uncle Will with her. I don't see her fiance, Daniel. He's the minister's brother."
    "Ah-hem." Matthew Catlin cleared his throat pointedly. A hush fell over the church. "Thank you. Thank
you. First of all, I'd like to introduce our archaeologist, Dr. Karen Knight, and her daughter Abigail.
Please stand." He offered a professional smile. "Everyone! Give them a big Tawes welcome!"
    "Where's Forest?" someone asked. "Why isn't he
here?"
    "Forest McCready," Emma whispered. "The lawyer."
    "As most of you know," Matthew continued, "our purpose here is the preservation of a prehistoric Indian-"
    "Speak for yourself," a man interjected. "Some of us
are just nosy."
    Phillip's better half rose, hands on her ample hips.
"Is the drowned boy Roger Gilbert's youngest?"
    "Hearsay only," the minister replied. "No positive
identification of the deceased has-"
    "It's the Gilbert boy," Emma told the woman.
    Murmurs rippled through the church, and Abbie
was certain she heard the gray-haired woman behind
her say something about a curse.
    Matthew tried again to regain control of his audience. "Mere speculation. We need to focus on the purpose of this gathering. As most of you already know,
Thomas Sherwood, a life-long resident of Tawes, died
without a will, and a great nephew, Robert Mellmore of Baltimore is his next of kin. This Mr. Mellmore has
accepted an option on the property by the Onicox Realty Group, which wants to build a marina and condos
on our island."

    "Mainlanders!"
    "Please, please. We'd like to keep this short tonight.
Nothing is definite yet. There's a question about
whether or not Thomas Sherwood owned the land."
    "You just said a sale is pending," Phillip reminded
him.
    Emma got to her feet. "Forest McCready got a judge
to hold everything until the title is straightened out.
He thinks Sherwood's father was just a tenant farmer."
    "For sixty years?"
    Laughter erupted from the back of the church.
    "Who paid the taxes on the land?"
    Heads turned. The soft question brought the gathering to silence. The speaker, lean and graying, with
rough features that could have been chiseled of red
oak, stood as straight as a Roman column. Not much
Indian blood in him, if any, Abbie thought, but he carried himself with the innate dignity of most of the
tribal elders she'd known.
    "Will Tawes, the famous artist," her mother whispered. "Bailey's great-uncle."
    "Good question, Will," Matthew said. "I don't know,
but I'm sure Forest McCready could tell us. They may
have been paid from the island trust."
    Abbie glanced at her watch. She knew she should
have passed on the town meeting. If it dragged on,
she'd just get up and leave. Her mother could deal
with the locals.
    Emma interrupted the minister. "Excuse me,