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Date Posted: 18:49:25 03/24/03 Mon
Author: dqfan
Subject: Re: A Journey Home - ch.3
In reply to: dqfan 's message, "Re: A Journey Home - ch.2" on 14:12:04 03/24/03 Mon

CHAPTER THREE


The thunderous sound of Peter's rented motorcycle broke the relative quiet of the Old Town streets. From the back of his bike, Sophie could see a few dozen tourists milling about, along with one or two groups of school children on a field trip.

Peter parked in the visitor's lot, near the old train station. Taking her hand enthusiastically, he announced, "Come on, we'll walk from here."

Determined to make the best of the circumstances, Peter delightfully began to show Sophie all the sights of his youth. The train station, the livery, the old general store: Peter pointed them all out, eagerly telling Sophie the stories he remembered while they walked along the dusty roads.

"I used to come here every summer 'til I was about 10. Mom would visit her grandmother up at the homestead. The stories that lady could tell! Katherine Elizabeth Sully Prescott. She lived to be almost 100 and I swear she had a story for every hour of the day."

"Grammy Kates, that's what I called her," Peter reminisced fondly. "I was the only one she'd let call her that. I can still hear her saying to Mom, 'This one, Rachel, he reminds me of my Pa.'"

Stopping short, Peter grew quiet, standing before a modest building with a tiny porch below and a crickety old sign above. "Dr. Michaela Quinn, M.D.," Peter sighed as he read it. "Grammy Kates' mother, the first woman doctor of Colorado Springs."

Sophie placed her hand gently on Peter's shoulder and then rubbed his back soothingly, sensing his emotions were getting the better of him.

"I'd forgotten how much this place means to me," he breathed.

"It's funny," Peter continued, "Mark and Dad both hated it here but I used to beg Mom to let me come. It had the mountains, the adventure, the history, it had…" his voiced trailed off but Sophie understood and finished for him.

"It had everything a little boy named Peter could ever want," she smiled.

Peter beamed, loving her so much for being there with him. Excitedly, he turned. "See, over there, across the street, that's the Saloon, owned and operated by one Hank Lawson, proprietor," Peter chuckled.

"Aunt Charity's family owned the saloon?" Sophie asked incredulously.

"Uh-huh, and she's damned proud of it, too," he laughed.

"This is wonderful, Peter! Can we go in?" Sophie asked.

Looking at his watch, Peter shook his head. "Maybe later, but we gotta get to the church and it's almost 11 now."

Instantly remembering Charity's words, they both shouted in horrified unison, "SHARP!" and raced, hand in hand, across the meadow to the church.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Where is he, Charity?"
"You promised he was coming?"
"We're lost without him!"

Charity was growing increasingly annoyed, both at the unexpected early assemblage of her cackling, fretful committee members and at her unconscionably tardy godson.

"Sorry, we're late, Aunt C.," Peter announced, rushing through the door, tugging an out-of-breath Sophie behind him.

"Peter!"
"Dear Boy!"
At last, our Byron!"

"Byron?" Sophie asked inquisitively, with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't ask!" Peter hissed, having more than enough to deal with at the moment.

"So, how are all my favorite ladies, today?" Peter greeted the group with all his considerable charms.

"Devastated!"
"Overwrought!"
"Bereft!"

"I thought we were going to talk privately first," Peter whispered disappointedly in Charity's ear.

"It's not my fault they came early - and you came late," Charity snapped, her Lawson temperament clearly showing.

"Ladies, this is Sophie Becker," Peter introduced.

"Oh, no outsiders, I'm afraid!"
This is a private meeting!"
"I'm sorry, you'll have to wait!"

Not wanting to cause any trouble, Sophie gave a wave and was halfway out the door when Peter clasped her hand tightly.

"Sophie…" Peter announced proudly, pointedly pulling her close, his arm around her for support, "is my fiancee…"

"Heavens!"
"Why didn't you say so?"
"Sit down, dear, would you like a cup of tea?"

Sophie bit her lip and sat bemusedly at the table, trying desperately not to laugh. But, if this was what happened in the first five minutes of a WALPOCS meeting, Sophie couldn't wait to hear the rest…

^^^^^^^^^^^^

"This emergency meeting of WALPOCS will come to order!" Charity announced authoritatively. "We would like to take a moment to welcome our President, Peter Scarbrow, and his lovely fiancee, Sophie, and thank them for attending on such short notice."

Peter and Sophie smiled self-consciously under the microscopic stare of all those present.

"Get on with it, Charity," Peter sighed to himself.

"Peter, as you know, Old Town is protected under the Colorado Historical Landmarks Act of 1932. Over the years, we have lobbied to expand the protected lands as necessary. For example, as recently as 1970, your family's homestead was included, upon the death of your great-grandmother, Katherine Sully Prescott."

Peter did, indeed, know all of this. But what he still didn't know was what was the emergency!

"A few days ago," Charity continued, "a document was discovered at your homestead, verifying the existence of a time capsule that was buried by the original settlers in 1872. The location of this time capsule rests in unprotected land, not far beyond the meadow."

"Okaay," Peter thought to himself, resting his head on his hand in frustration, "I gave up a Christmas holiday with the woman I love to sit in an old church and hear all about a…time capsule."

Sophie could tell from Peter's body language that he was not coping well. Softly, she patted his other hand, which was drumming nervously on the table. "Easy, Cowboy…easy…" she whispered under her breath.

"We must save this time capsule at all costs!" Charity intoned in dire seriousness, bending over the table to look each member directly in the eye.

One by one the ladies nodded, with Sophie willingly nodding her assent as well when Charity's piercing gaze focused upon her.

Charity turned dramatically. "Peter…as our President, we await your suggestions…"

Peter gulped and wondered uselessly whether Mark had arranged for that fire truck to go by the night of their tournament. "Okaay…well…I would suggest…that we…buy the land?" he offered hopefully.

"Naturally, we tried that Peter," Charity countered, expecting more from him. "The land has already been purchased by a real-estate developer who wants to build a hotel on the site to accommodate the tourists that visit Old Town."

"Well, what if we offer him a deal, say twice what he paid for it?" Peter was settling down to business now. There had to be an easy solution to this - didn't there?

"Peter, he won't budge! We've tried everything…" Charity exclaimed exasperatedly as the women began to chatter nervously.

"How about if I talk to him?" Peter calmed them, certain he could arrange something.

"I thought you might say that," Charity replied, with the gleam of her forefathers wickedly present in her eye, "so I invited him here today…"

Peter's face fell ever so slightly and he turned to Sophie for support. Unfortunately, Sophie's confidence level was dropping rapidly and her eyes flew toward the ceiling. Never had she seen Peter manipulated quite so skillfully. "Oh yes, I'm going to learn a lot from Aunt Charity," Sophie voiced in silent admiration.

From the back of the church, the harsh bang of a door could be heard, followed by the imposing footsteps of a man who meant business - a tall, imposing man, impeccably dressed in what looked like an Armani suit, clearly poised and ready for action.

In his jeans, t-shirt, wool sweater and suede jacket, Peter felt woefully underdressed. What he wouldn't give right now for his New York wardrobe, his briefcase and a laptop. Oh well, he'd better make the best of it.

Bringing himself to his full height, which was still far short of his adversary's, Peter offered a firm handshake in welcome. "Peter Scarbrow. Pleased to meet you, Mr…?"

"Lodge, Randolph P. Lodge and the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Scarbrow…"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"As I explained to Mr. Lodge," Charity began, "we were cataloging a collection of letters found at your family's homestead when we came across this clipping from the old Gazette newspaper, dated October 1872. The byline is Brian Cooper, your great-grandmother's adopted older brother.

'Colorado Springs buried its first time capsule today in the field beyond the church meadow. A variety of items were chosen by the town council for inclusion in the capsule, which is to be opened 150 years from today. All of the council members were present at the ceremony with the exception of Dr. Quinn, who was ill and unable to attend.'

"The article then goes on to give the precise location of the capsule necessary to retrieve it - in another 22 years," Charity explained, emphasizing the time still remaining.

"Mr. Lodge, isn't there some sort of mutually agreeable arrangement we can come to here," Peter asked hopefully. Suddenly, Peter's Colorado Springs history lessons sprung to mind and the man's name began to ring a bell. "Lodge, you wouldn't be a descendant of Preston A. Lodge III, would you?"

Randolph answered succinctly on both counts. "No and yes."

"No, Mrs. Mitchell and I have been unable to come to an agreement and yes, my great-great grandfather was indeed Preston A. Lodge III." Randolph seemed confident he'd made his position quite clear.

"But then you should appreciate the historical value of this find," Peter pressed.

"I do appreciate it, Peter - may I call you Peter?" Lodge's condescending tone was unmistakable, "and I have given Mrs. Mitchell and her group one week to unearth the capsule and preserve its contents."

"Aunt Charity…?" Peter appealed, anticipating her negative response.

"Unacceptable! Our founding settlers specifically requested that the capsule should not be opened until 2022 and we must respect their wishes - your great-grandfather's wishes, Randolph…" Charity's disapproval was palpable as she stood face-to-face with her younger opponent.

"My great-grandfather's sole wish was that his family should succeed and prosper, both of which I shall do when my new state-of-the-art hotel is complete," Randolph argued, holding the plans to his hotel firmly in his hand.

"Okay, easy Randy - may I call you Randy?" Peter jabbed none-too-innocently.

"It's Randolph…"

"Right, Randolph. Well, Randolph, would you mind if I borrowed a copy of the plans? I'd like to take a look at your new state-of-the-art hotel." Peter wasn't sure how that was really going to help them but it was a start.

"Be my guest, but I do not intend to change my mind, Mr. Scarbrow," Randolph seethed. "You have one week!"

And with that, Randolph shoved the plans into Peter's hand and walked stridently out the door.

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