by Suzanne Marsh

Created on: April 21, 2008   Last Updated: June 11, 2008

"Dad, Dad, the sword is missing." Matty Swanson flew down the stairs and into her Dad's study. John Swanson looked up from the novel he had been reading. "Matty, slow down. What do you mean the sword is missing?" When was the last time you saw it?" Matty had fallen in love with the sword from the time she was ten years old. She had imagined meeting the man who had given her Great Grandfather that sword. She had swung that sword and led the charge down Little Round Top, and again against Crazy Horse and the Sioux Indians at Rosebud Creek, and again with Teddy Roosevelt up San Juan Hill, against the Kaiser's troops and finally against the Nazi's as they invaded her home land. "Dad it was here a day ago when I beheaded Mary Queen of Scots." John Swanson smiled, Matty shared his love of history and made his world glow with her exploits as she learned about different historical events.

John and Matty raced up the attic stairs: John stopped dead in his tracks the outline of the sword was apparent but no sword, this was the worst thing that could have happened since his Dad had phoned earlier in the day to say that he had decided to donate the sword to the Joshua Chamberlain House in Augusta, Maine. John opened his cell phone hit speed dial and spoke to his younger brother Nick. Nick listened while John's voice rose. "John calm down, I'll be there in about fifteen minutes with a crime investigation unit. We'll find the sword." Nick walked out the door of the Maine State Troopers Barracks in Augusta, Maine and drove out toward Old Forge Road where John and Matty lived. Arriving with the crime scene boys Nick headed for the attic, John heard him before he saw him. "Nick, who could have taken the sword? We have to get it back now today." Nick walked over to the outline of the sword stroked his chin in deep thought. "Hey Dawson start dusting for prints over here next to the outline. Then run anything you find to the lab."

Chip Logan removed the sword from the back seat of his Honda Civic it had occupied the entire seat length wise. Chip had done odd jobs for John Swanson over the years as he had done for Professor Mark Walton the former owner of the Second Day of Battle at Gettysburg. Professor Henry Charleston waited patiently for Chip, and the sword he had waited for all these years. That sword belonged next to the painting of the Second Day at Gettysburg, he didn't care how Chip had gotten either item he wanted them and had the means to pay for them. They would hang

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