The Hilltop Boys on the River by Cyril Burleigh
The Hilltop Boys on the River by Cyril Burleigh
"If you are going with the boys on the river, Jack, you will have to get a motor-boat. Won't you let me buy you one?"
"No, not a bit of it, Dick."
"But you want one?"
"Certainly, and I am going to have one."
"But motor-boats cost money, Jack. Why, mine cost me---"
"Never mind what it cost, Dick. You spend a lot more money than
I can afford to spend, and you have a gilt-edged affair, of course.
I want a boat to use as well as to look at."
"But you want a serviceable boat, Jack?"
"I am going to have it, and it will not cost me anything like what your boat cost. Just let me look around a bit, Dick."
"All right, I'll let you do all the looking you want, but I'd like to buy you a boat just the same."
"No doubt you would, and so would Jesse W. and Harry and Arthur and a dozen other boys, but I am going to get one myself, and it will not cost me much either, and will give me all the service I want. We don't go into camp under a week, and that will give me all the time I want to build--"
"You are not going to build you a motor-boat, are you, Jack Sheldon?" asked Dick Percival in the greatest surprise.
"Well, not altogether build it, Dick. Put it together, I may say. I did not mean to let the cat out of the bag, but now that she is out you need not scare her all over the neighborhood so that everybody will know that she is out. Let Pussy stay hidden for a time yet."
"Yes, but Jack, how are you going to---"
"No, no, Dick," laughed Jack, "you have seen the cat's whiskers, but you haven't seen her tail yet, and you won't until I get ready. I have told you more now than I meant to, and you must be satisfied with that. I'll have the boat, don't you be afraid."
The two boys were two of what were called the Hilltop boys, being students at an Academy situated in the highlands of the Hudson on top of a hill about five miles back from the river, as the crow flies, but considerably more than that by the road.
Jack Sheldon was a universal favorite in the school, and although he had been obliged to work to pay for his schooling at the start he was not thought any the less of on that account.
Two or three strokes of fortune had given him sufficient money to more than pay for his education, and to provide his widowed mother with many extra comforts in addition, so that now he could give his time to study and not be distracted by work.
He had long known the value of money, having learned it by experience, and he was now averse to spending more than was necessary on things that gave pleasure rather more than profit.
He would not let Dick Percival, who was the son of rich parents, and had more money to spend than was really good for him, buy him a motor-boat, nor would he spend too much money on one himself when he would use it only for the smallest part of the year.
The school term was over, but Dr. Theopilus Wise, the principal of the Academy, had arranged to continue it for a portion of the summer, not in the Academy, but in a camp on the river where the boys would have plenty of open air, exercise, relaxation, and all the fun they wanted, besides doing a certain amount of school work to keep them from getting rusty as they expressed it.
The summer school was to begin its session in a short time, and, meanwhile, Jack remained at the Academy instead of going home, some distance away in another county, giving his attention to certain matters in which he was interested.
He had done work for the editor of a weekly paper of a town on the river, the nearest large town to the Academy and was well known in the place besides, having many acquaintances there among business people.
Being fond of the water, and knowing that many of the boys would have boats of one kind or another, but mostly motors, Jack had already looked about him, and had already not only formed his plans, but had put some of them in operation.
Leaving Percival, who was his principal chum among the Hilltop boys, Jack went on his wheel to Riverton, the town nearest to the Academy, and called in at the office of the News where he found the editor, Mr. Brooke, pecking away at a typewriter in his sanctum, using two fat fingers only in doing his writing rather than all of them as an expert would do.
Brooke had learned to use the machine in that way, however, and would adopt no other, although he had been shown by Jack, who was a rapid writer on a machine, and could compose on it, that he could do much faster work by the other method.
"How do you do, Sheldon?" said Brooke, looking up. "Got any news?"
"What are you going to do with that little gasolene engine that you used to run your little presses with?" asked Jack.
"I don't know, sell it, I guess. It isn't good for much except junk."
"How much do you want for it?"
"Oh, you can have it if you think you can do anything with it," said the editor carelessly.
"No, I don't want it for nothing. I'll pay you for it."
"What are you going to do with it? It's too little to run any but the small presses. Ain't going to start a paper, are you?"
"No. I can fix it up so as to make it do good work. I want to put it in a motor-boat."
"It might do for that, and if you can fix it up you're welcome to it. You have a mechanical bent, I know, and I guess if any one can fix it up, you can. Well, say ten dollars."
"All right. It will cost me another ten to put it in shape, but after that it will do all right. Will you deliver it to a man that I send after it? I'll take it down to the Riverton shops and work on it. They let me tinker things there whenever I want to."
"Certainly. Send an order, and I'll let the man have it."
"Very good. That's all for the present," and Jack went out.
His next call was at the machine shop he had spoken of, and going on their wharf he looked around, saw an old rowboat lying on the ground, took a good look at it, and then went to the foreman and said:
"What do you want for that rowboat lying on the wharf? I'd like to buy it. It will just suit me."
"It is not worth much, Mr. Sheldon," said the foreman. "You can have it if you want it."
"No, I want to buy it."
"Oh, well, say a dollar, but you'll be a dollar out if you buy it."
"I don't think so," said Jack, who knew what the boat was worth, and that a little money expended on it would not be wasted. "May I have a bench for a few days?"
"Yes, for as long as you like."
Jack hired a man to take the boat to the shop, bought some paint and brushes and some narrow boards used for flooring, and then sent for the engine, which he placed near the boat.
He was of a mechanical turn of mind, as Brooke had said, and knew a good deal about engines, and by the purchase of a few necessary articles, and by working himself he managed in the course of a day or so to put his engine into a condition that thoroughly satisfied him.
Then he bought a propeller, lamps and other necessaries, had the engine fitted into his boat, and then proceeded to deck it over forward, having already remedied any defects that it had, and making it perfectly watertight, and like a new boat with a fresh coat of paint and varnish.
He was a week on the work, but at last his boat was ready and was put in the water with the aid of two or three men from the shop.
He took a run of a mile or so up the river, and then back to the shop, greatly satisfied with the result, having fitted up a boat for less than half what a craft of the cheapest kind would have cost him had he bought it at retail.
He tied his boat up, covered it over and told the foreman that he intended to leave it there for a day or so, and would then call for it.
"Looks to me as if you had a pretty good boat, Mr. Sheldon," said the foreman. "I saw you going up the river. You made a good ten-mile gait, I shouldn't wonder."
"Yes, and I can do better yet," said Jack, smiling. "I was just warming her up a bit. She'll do better when she gets seasoned."
All this time Jack had said nothing to Percival about his boat, which certainly did not look like a made-over affair now that she was painted and decked over, had her lights and all her appurtenances, an engine in her hold and a flagstaff at her bow, meaning to give his friend a surprise.
The day before they were to leave the Academy and go into camp on the river Percival asked Jack if he had secured his boat yet, and added:
"I have mine, and she is a beauty, cost me three hundred dollars, but it's worth all that."
"Mine did not cost me a hundred," said Jack, "and she is sixteen feet long, and makes good speed. I'll have her down to-morrow when we go to camp. She is in a machine shop in Riverton, and it will be easy enough to take her down to our quarters."
"So you have one, eh?" exclaimed Dick. "Where did you buy it? You've been very quiet about it. Did you send to the city for it?"
"No, I got everything around here, as I said I would, fixed it up myself from one thing or another, but I don't think you'd know it, for she is like a new boat."
"And you did all the work on her yourself?"
"Certainly," laughed Jack. "It is nothing new for me to wear overalls and a jumper, and get my hands greasy. I can wash them."
"The first time I saw you it was in overalls. Dress doesn't make a boy. I believe you'd look all right in anything. But I'd like to see the boat now, Jack, and not wait till to-morrow."
"Well, I don't mind showing her to you, Dick, so if you will get out your runabout we'll go down and I'll give you a trip on the river."
"To be sure I will," replied Percival eagerly. "Come along."
There was only one man in Raegan's heart, and it was Mitchel. In the second year of her marriage to him, she got pregnant. Raegan's joy knew no bounds. But before she could break the news to her husband, he served her divorce papers because he wanted to marry his first love. After an accident, Raegan lay in the pool of her own blood and called out to Mitchel for help. Unfortunately, he left with his first love in his arms. Raegan escaped death by the whiskers. Afterward, she decided to get her life back on track. Her name was everywhere years later. Mitchel became very uncomfortable. For some reason, he began to miss her. His heart ached when he saw her all smiles with another man. He crashed her wedding and fell to his knees while she was at the altar. With bloodshot eyes, he queried, "I thought you said your love for me is unbreakable? How come you are getting married to someone else? Come back to me!"
I was four months pregnant, weighing over two hundred pounds, and my heart was failing from experimental treatments forced on me as a child. My doctor looked at me with clinical detachment and told me I was in a death sentence: if I kept the baby, I would die, and if I tried to remove it, I would die. Desperate for a lifeline, I called my father, Francis Acosta, to tell him I was sick and pregnant. I expected a father's love, but all I got was a cold, sharp blade of a voice. "Then do it quietly," he said. "Don't embarrass Candi. Her debutante ball is coming up." He didn't just reject me; he erased me. My trust fund was frozen, and I was told I was no longer an Acosta. My fiancé, Auston, had already discarded me, calling me a "bloated whale" while he looked for a thinner, wealthier replacement. I left New York on a Greyhound bus, weeping into a bag of chips, a broken woman the world considered a mistake. I couldn't understand how my own father could tell me to die "quietly" just to save face for a party. I didn't know why I had been a lab rat for my family’s pharmaceutical ambitions, or how they could sleep at night while I was left to rot in the gray drizzle of the city. Five years later, the doors of JFK International Airport slid open. I stepped onto the marble floor in red-soled stilettos, my body lean, lethal, and carved from years of blood and sweat. I wasn't the "whale" anymore; I was a ghost coming back to haunt them. With my daughter by my side and a medical reputation that terrified the global elite, I was ready to dismantle the Acosta empire piece by piece. "Tell Francis to wash his neck," I whispered to the skyline. "I'm home."
I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.
I sat on the cold tile floor of our Upper East Side penthouse, staring at the two pink lines until my vision blurred. After ten years of loving Julian Sterling and three years of a hollow marriage, I finally had the one thing that could bridge the distance between us. I was pregnant. But Julian didn't come home with flowers for our anniversary. He tossed a thick manila envelope onto the marble coffee table with a heavy thud. Fiona, the woman he'd truly loved for years, was back in New York, and he told me our "business deal" was officially over. "Sign it," He said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He looked at me with the cold detachment of a man selling a piece of unwanted furniture. When I hesitated, he told me to add a zero to the alimony if the money wasn't enough. I realized in that moment that if he knew about the baby, he wouldn't love me; he would simply take my child and give it to Fiona to raise. I shoved the pregnancy test into my pocket, signed the papers with a shaking hand, and lied through my teeth. When my morning sickness hit, I slumped to the floor to hide the truth. "It's just cramps," I gasped, watching him recoil as if I were contagious. To make him stay away, I invented a man named Jack-a fake boyfriend who supposedly gave me the kindness Julian never could. Suddenly, the man who wanted me gone became a monster of possessiveness. He threatened to "bury" a man who didn't exist while leaving me humiliated at his family's dinner to rush to Fiona's side. I was so broken that I even ate a cake I was deathly allergic to, then had to refuse life-saving steroids at the hospital because they would harm the fetus. Julian thinks he's stalling the divorce for two months to protect the family's reputation for his father's Jubilee. He thinks he's keeping his "property" on a short leash until the press dies down. He has no idea I'm using those sixty days to build a fortress for my child. By the time he realizes the truth, I'll be gone, and the Sterling heir will be far beyond his reach.
I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.
I gave him three years of silent devotion behind a mask I never wanted to wear. I made a wager for our bond-he paid me off like a mistress. "Chloe's back," Zane said coldly. "It's over." I laughed, poured wine on his face, and walked away from the only love I'd ever known. "What now?" my best friend asked. I smiled. "The real me returns." But fate wasn't finished yet. That same night, Caesar Conrad-the Alpha every wolf feared-opened his car door and whispered, "Get in." Our gazes collided. The bond awakened. No games. No pretending. Just raw, unstoppable power. "Don't regret this," he warned, lips brushing mine. But I didn't. Because the mate I'd been chasing never saw me. And the one who did? He's ready to burn the world for me.
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