September Sky (American Journey Book 1) by John A. Heldt

smiled.
    "I guess you do."
    "I can't blame you for looking around," Chuck said. "There are a lot of lovely ladies in this crowd, including one who doesn't appear happy to be here."
    "She does look kind of ticked," Justin said. "I wonder why she's mad at him."
    "Who knows? Maybe he criticized her cooking."
    Justin turned again to his right and saw that the dapper man, who appeared to be in his mid- to late thirties, had drifted off. He spoke to another man a few feet away, leaving his raven-haired beauty to sulk alone.
    Justin then looked at the woman herself and kept looking until she met his gaze. Sadness and despair had replaced the anger in her eyes. When he offered an empathetic smile, she frowned, turned around, and walked away. A moment later, she was gone.
    The collegian shifted his eyes to the podium, where the governor waxed poetic about the nine hundred men who had secured Texas' independence. He admired how Sayers was able to hold the attention of the huge crowd without the benefit of a microphone, but he found himself unable to get into the speech. All he could think about was the girl.
    "I see your distraction has left the premises," Chuck said. "Are you ready to go now?"
    Justin nodded.
    "Yeah. I've had enough of crowds and speeches for one day."
    "Are you ready for some lunch?"
    "I was ready an hour ago," Justin said.
    "Good," Chuck said. "Let's get some of that glorious Gulf seafood I read about on the train, preferably at a restaurant that's away from the ruckus. We have a lot to talk about."
    "Such as?"
    "Such as how we're going to keep Wyatt Fitzpatrick from a hangman's noose."
    "Do you have any ideas?" Justin asked.
    "I do. The first thing we have to do is learn more about our infamous relative."
    "How do we do that? We can't exactly knock on his door."
    "We won't have to – at least not yet," Chuck said.
    "I don't understand."
    "Then let me explain. Mr. Fitzpatrick is a co-owner of one of the biggest passenger shipping lines on the Gulf coast. He's been a fixture in the industry for years."
    "So?" Justin asked.
    "So there's a library near our hotel that probably has a file on this guy."
    "We're going to a library?"
    "We are. We're going to the Texas Maritime Library when it opens Monday morning. If we're lucky, we'll have our subject's life story by dinner."
     

CHAPTER 15: CHUCK
     
    Monday, April 23, 1900
     
    Charles Townsend liked libraries. Though he relied on search engines and databases as much as any reporter, he preferred to gather information the old-fashioned way – by browsing the stacks at the brick-and-mortar institutions that many considered obsolete.
    He knew he would find something on Wyatt Fitzpatrick at the Texas Maritime Library and a lot more on his passenger line. What he didn't expect to find at nine o'clock on a Monday morning was a librarian who looked a lot like his ex-wife.
    The woman wrote on a manila envelope as she stood behind a long reception desk. She lifted her head and smiled when Chuck and Justin approached.
    "Good morning, gentlemen," she said. "Can I help you?"
    "That depends," Chuck said. "Are you familiar with all of the collections here?"
    "I am."
    "Then we've come to the right person. We're gathering information for a book and would like it if someone gave us a tour of the place."
    "I'd be delighted to show you around," the librarian said. "I just need a moment to put this in the mail."
    "We'll wait."
    When the woman left to mail the envelope, Chuck looked around the lobby and saw that it was lightly occupied. On one side of the room, a sailor examined an oil painting that covered much of a wall. On the other, two elderly men in chairs went through the day's papers. A second librarian processed books at the far end of the desk.
    Chuck returned his eyes to the painting, which portrayed a schooner in a storm. It was an impressive work, one that no doubt cost the library a fortune. He imagined being a crewman on the imperiled sailing ship when a pleasant voice