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He went on to the next pages now with renewed energy. He chose The Earl………… in his later years…………. yet kind to me up to his death………. my heart belonged to another…….. the necklace …… dress…….. wedding gift to me……….. someday our daughter may ask about her father………………… cowboy……………… ……………. He tried to make out the other words, but Logan guessed tears had fallen on this page from the shape of the stains in the words. Setting them all to the side was tough, but morning and chores came early. He washed the grime from the attic away and got ready for bed. He drifted off with images of Emma and their wedding in his mind. Logan was out in the barn early to get his part of the chores done. He was anxious to head to town and tell Emma about last night’s discovery. She might be able to help him trace the rightful owners of the journals. The day flew by and soon he was ready to leave after some last minute instructions for the men. The diner was busy with the supper crowd when Logan entered.. She was a tall, fit, Russian beauty, her large breasts straining the champagne-hue gown she wore, the thin straps holding up the delicate dress. Her nipples were hard, her cheeks flushed. “It’s brave of him to leave you alone with me.”“My brother is brave,” said the woman walking on my other side, her arm also entwined with mine.Zinaida was her brother if he’d been cast into a feminine mold. A striking blonde with flashing, green eyes, her lips plump, her round breasts jiggling in the soft-blue dress she wore. They jiggled and shook in such interesting, distracting ways. She had my dick so hard.“In here, we have prepared refreshments for you and your futa-daughters, Madam President,” Katerina purred. I always traveled with my daughters who advised me.“Oh, please, Becky,” I said, grinning at them. “And I thought you and your sister-in-law were my refreshments.”“Well, we could hardly satisfy you all ourselves,” purred Katerina as the pair of Russian guards opened the door. The two men.
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