Niceville

Palgrave Sallytown Methodist March 15 1893. Palgraves received credit letter signed G. Ruelle April 12 1913 “for care and confinement Clara Mercer and delivery of healthy male child March 2nd 1913.”
    Martin and Zorah Palgrave operated printing shop that created tintype print Niceville Families Jubilee 1910.
    Indications Leah Searle made same findings re Rainey adoption and communicated same to Miles Teague at his office in Cap City on May 9 2002 prior to adoption from alleged “Palgrave foster home,” no actual trace of which can be found in any taxpayer list or census other than in Cullen County census of 1914.
    Conclusion: further study required to verify place of birth, true identity, and origins of person now known as Rainey Teague.
    Query Miles Teague suicide possible result of his realization that Rainey Teague’s recovery from Ethan Ruelle crypt was related to R’s uncertain origins. Otherwise it is inexplicable.
    Must place all this before Kate now, since she, as his legal guardian, will be the obvious choice to provide him home until he comes of legal age. These issues need to be resolved ASAP.
    Kate read it twice, a third time.
    “What does this mean, Nick?”
    “What it says. Clara Mercer delivered a healthy male child at the Palgrave home on the second day of March in 1913.”
    “But I looked into the Palgraves. Martin and Zorah. The records were right there, in Leah Searle’s files.”
    “But you never found them, did you? The Palgraves? No trace anywhere?”
    “No. But Leah Searle must have. She laid it all out in her records. Including Rainey’s birth certificate.”
    “When was Rainey born?”
    Kate went inward, remembering. Her expression shifted and her lips went a little blue.
    “March 2, 2000.”
    “Where?”
    “In Sallytown. Nick, this is … it’s all wrong. I don’t know where Dad is going with this—”
    “I’d say, neither did he. But he was coming down to talk it out with you. Reed found a copy of this file sitting in your dad’s printer. Hefound the digital copy on his computer. The document had been modified only a few minutes before he printed it out, and he printed it out at 14:37 yesterday.”
    “Right after he talked to me?”
    “That’s what the file says.”
    Kate looked at Nick.
    “Rainey … Rainey is
not …
he’s not—”
    “Ninety-nine years old?”
    “You
cannot
believe that?”
    For a while Nick said nothing.
    “No, I guess I don’t.”
    “Then what
do
you believe?”
    “What do I believe, Kate? I believe I don’t want that boy living in my house, not right now.”
    “You
can’t
mean that, Nick. Not you. He has nowhere else to go. I have no choice. I’m all he has. I’m his guardian.
We’re
all the family he has now. You and me. You know we have to take him in. You
know
that. You’re all about duty and service and honor. That’s what this is. I know you understand that.”
    “Yes. I do.”
    She was quiet for a while.
    “And, for all we know, all this confusion about Rainey’s documentation could just be some kind of bureaucratic bungle. God knows we’ve both seen enough of that, between the law and the Army.”
    Nick had to admit she was right, and it showed on his face. Kate softened.
    “I know this is a lot to take in, honey.”
    “Yes. But I think you’re right. It’s something we owe the kid. He has no one else.”
    “So … you’re okay with it?”
    “Yes. I’m okay with it.”
    “You sound like it’s a death sentence.”
    “Do I?”
    “Yes. You do. It’s in your voice. Is that what you think it is?”
    “No. Not that.”
    “What, then?”
    Kate waited a full minute for Nick’s answer.
    “I’m afraid we’re letting the
outside
come in. But I’m with you. I’ll stand by him.”
    Kate smiled, kissed his cheek, sat back.
    “Come what may?”
    “Come what may.”

Morgan Littlebasket Weaves It All Together
    Morgan Littlebasket was in his Cessna, soaring like an eagle, gliding in a perfect arc along the rim of Tallulah’s Wall, skimming the treetops so close he was getting lash marks on the leading edge of his wing tips and really upsetting the crows. He was wearing his favorite rig, his Flying Tigers jacket and his Army Air Corps–issue Ray-Ban aviators, and he had the cockpit mirror set so he could see himself at the controls. The engine note was a pleasing baritone hum and his hands on the controls were rock steady.
    Overhead the sun was climbing into a blue sky over Niceville and far below his