Trafford Publishing: The Christie Legacy

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The Christie Legacy

by Jennifer Marshall

644 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-1825; ISBN 1-4120-1447-6; US$43.50, C$48.95, EUR36.00, £25.00

How often have you wondered where life would take you? Sarah O'Donnell took a road less traveled and arrived at a place and time she thought she'd left behind.

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about the book about the author sample excerpts catalogue info

About the Book

For twenty-four year old Sarah, the death of her grandfather triggers a series of events that reveal capabilities she didn't know she had. Just as she thought her life was mapped out before her, she finds herself faced with a choice that means it will never be the same again.
For twenty-six year old Nathan James, the death of Sarah's grandfather signals a whole range of complications that he and his community were hoping they would never have to face.
Set against the backdrop of the Great Plains of the American mid-west, The Christie Legacy is a modern day pioneering story with a difference. It marries the complications of a dominant, modern world with the simplicity of ethnic existence. It is the story of two people, and those around them, who live worlds and cultures apart, whose lives become unavoidably and irrevocably entwined through a series of mystical, tender, tense and sometimes dangerous events.

About the Author

Jennifer Marshall lives in the UK with her husband and two cats. The Christie Legacy is her first novel. She has long since been enthralled by the rich history and culture of the American Indian Nations, and has learnt much about their history, their unjust dispossession and modern day struggles.
"Let me take you on a fictional adventure that has its roots in the real world. The country is beautiful, the people warm and embracing. Their many challenges and experiences have their reward in love and great friendship."

Sample Excerpts

Richard Waterman was just about to make a phone call that in his eyes would set him on the way to his ultimate goal. He hesitated for a moment as his hand hovered over the receiver, he could hear movement and voices from down the hallway. As usual his timing was perfect and he looked up from a pile of papers that he was studiously scrutinising, or appearing to, just in time to greet his boss. Fred knocked on the open door out of courtesy. "Are we disturbing you at all Richard?"
"Of course not. What can I do for you Fred?" he replied inquisitively. "Just a quick introduction actually." Fred stepped inside the office and behind him followed a tall, middle aged Latin looking man. "Richard, I'd like you to meet Fabio Sironi, a very long standing friend of mine. He's visiting for a couple of days and dropped by. Fabio," Fred turned to face his guest, "I'd like you to meet Richard Waterman, the best a brightest star that Hopman has seen for many years. Richard, this is Fabio Sironi."
Handshakes and polite greetings were exchanged. Richard fawned and was suitably modest and humble enough over Fred's resume of him. No sooner had he mentally racked up another gold star for himself than the visit was over. Probably another rung on Fred's social climb to the top, thought Richard, and dismissed the Mediterranean visitor from his mind. He checked the outer office, the Secretaries had gone to lunch and with Fred, who never usually knocked before coming in, out of the way, the coast was clear to make his phone call. His well-manicured index finger searched out the number he wanted from his personal directory in his organiser, while the other hand lifted the receiver to his ear. He did have a hands free facility, of course, but that would be too risky, this particular conversation was best kept completely confidential. Brad Johnston, that's who's number he needed.
Brad Johnston was an independent rigger and surveyor, he was expensive but the best and the best usually assured confidentiality. Richard had learnt a long, hard, gradual lesson discovering the best things never came cheaply. He'd learnt this as he went along with his mother as she cleaned the houses of the rich in the suburbs of Chicago. He'd learnt this as his clothes grew too small and holes wore in them. He'd learnt this as his mother worked her self to death to keep body and soul together, to feed three boys and suffer through the beatings his drunken father dished out. He'd learnt this as he watched her die, with no money for medical treatment. He'd learnt this as he watched her be buried in a pauper's grave, in a pine casket with no stone marker. He'd learnt this as he ducked and dived on the streets of Chicago to keep himself and his brothers together. It was the hardest of lessons to learn, but learn it he did, so that it was etched on his mind forever. It drove him onwards like a demon that never gave up the chase, always a step behind, waiting for him to falter and ready to pounce to drag him back to the times before, the bad times, the times he'd never experience again.
He made the relevant arrangements with Johnston. A hard bargain was driven because Johnston was as shrewd as he was good at his job and he instinctively knew that for such secrecy to surround a survey request, it therefore followed that there would be vast profits involved if everything went to plan. Richard asked for a quick but comprehensive survey of the far reaches of the ranch, if men and machines were there for too long it might carry the risk of them being discovered, and he couldn't take that chance. Besides, Johnson's fee would come out of Richard's own pocket, and he wanted to be sure that there was enough evidence of Uranium being there before continuing with a more lengthy survey to determine the size and possible life time of the vein. The papers that Pritchard and Howard had provided him with gave rise to the fact that there was Uranium present in that particular part of South Dakota, but weren't informative enough.
He'd half expected them to have pestered him already, he'd have put money on that jumpy bank manager calling him up, but Howard was a wile old coot by all accounts. Richard had checked the pair of them out before making his visit. Pritchard had a chequered history with one or two skeletons hidden in his closet, but Richard had reached right to the back and pulled them out. His sources told him that Pritchard had narrowly escaped prosecution and imprisonment while here in Chicago, a slight matter of a few hundred thousand dollars straying from certain accounts into a central one, but through either luck or good judgement, there wasn't enough evidence to prosecute him, so he was banished to the wilderness, both physically and metaphorically, and ended up running what was probably their smallest branch in a one horse town.
Melvin Howard was a different matter. Richard didn't see him as a great threat but he was someone to watch carefully, nevertheless. He'd started off small with a part share in the agricultural station in Buford and slowly his mini empire grew through the allocation of various amounts of untraceable funds. He also had political ambitions, which made him slightly more dangerous, he was already Mayor but Richard doubted that Mayor was all he wanted to be. He appeared to have a few political connections, the odd Senator here and there, but with the money that this venture would provide he would probably buy his way to be State Governor, then Capital Hill.
Richard stood up from his desk to stretch his legs, he walked over to his window and looked out on down town Chicago. He looked at his Rolex Solid Gold Daytona, which always perked him up, one thirty, time for lunch. Jess, his assistant, had already gone for hers. When she'd poked her head around the door to see if he was free, he'd told her to make her own arrangements for today, as he had other plans.
They were well overdue for one of their elongated lunches. No one ever asked any questions about the length of time they were away from the office, they usually took with them a stack of papers so that everyone would presume that they were discussing work without the interruptions of phone calls and other colleagues. Richard didn't think for one minute, of course, that everyone believed this charade, but it made them both feel more at ease when returning in the middle of the afternoon.
Jess wasn't unattractive but was rather plain, not like Pamela, his wife. She was beautiful and delicate, like a fine rose but she had a nature and disposition to match. Richard hadn't made love to her for six months now, not since the last miscarriage, the fourth and final one that seemed to push her over the edge. But he still loved her more than ever, despite the fact that she had shunned him. She represented every thing in the world that was precious to him, apart from his career, that is. She'd taken him and moulded him into a more refined person, making his voyage into the cliquey world of the Chicago business community smoother than it might have been had he not met her. Before he embarked on his affair with Jess, he made in clear to her in no uncertain terms that he would never leave his wife and the reason for their regular afternoon sessions at the Hyatt were, as far as he was concerned, purely for sex. She seemed to accept this without reservation and appeared content with the way things were. Richard wasn't sure how long he could reasonably expect this to last, but while it did, he would enjoy it and perhaps find some other diversion to fulfil his needs when this one came to and end.
On his way out of the building he decided to stop off at the jewellery store. He picked out a delicate platinum pin that was fashioned as a rose and in the centre of the bloom was a tiny solitary diamond. A rose for my rose, he thought as he slipped the small gift wrapped box into his inside pocket and hoped against hope that the pretty trinket would bring a glimmer of pleasure into the pale and strained face of his wife. It would be a small step towards bringing her back from her self imposed and tortuous exile somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind. Doctors had tried to persuade him to have her hospitalised, as they believed it to be the only course of action left. The first time was bad enough, but there was hope then, hope of another child. The second and third times hit home harder still but they survived. The fourth time was devastating, and tore from them the last shreds of hope, and in Pamela's case sanity, that they had left.
Even hospitalising her throughout the length of time that the pregnancy lasted didn't prevent her from losing the baby. Then she finally cracked and no psychiatry, medication, or any amount of reasoning could stem the grief that took her over for the loss of her children. Three, girls and finally, a boy. After the third girl they put forward for adoption, but after miscarrying again, every adoption agency in the country refused consider giving them a child, because of Pamela's mental instability. It was then that Richard decided to take the first step with the South Dakota deal. When he sat in the hospital looking into the lifeless and empty eyes of his wife, something inside him snapped and he made a resolution there and then that if he had to he would buy a baby, in fact he'd buy four if he could, but for that he needed money, real money and this deal would provide that along with position and power. When she had agreed to marry him he swore that he would never let her go without anything she wanted and he would keep to his word, no matter what the risks might be.

Catalogue Information