Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

Just then the wagon rounded the last bend. We'd reached North Creek at last. We pulled up to the station, where a train was waiting at the siding. As soon as the wagon stopped, a man came out of the station and handed a note to Mother. I put my head under her arm but I couldn't read it. The boys jostled close.

'Well,' said Mother. I could tell it was something she'd been expecting. 'Onto the train now. Let's go.' She handed the note to Ted, who read it passed it to Kermit, who read it and handed it to me.

'What does it say?' Archie asked.

I cleared my throat. 'It's from Father,' I said. 'It says, "President McKinley died two-fifteen this morning. Theodore Roosevelt."'

Archie's eyes widened. 'Oh,' he said. He went to help Ted and Kermit load the bags onto the train. I folded the note and gave it back to Mother, who put it into the pocket of her traveling suit.

It was odd that Father wrote his last name on a note meant for Mother. Sister would say it was a posterity letter, written not just for us but to be saved for history, and maybe she would be right. Father was Theodore Roosevelt. Colonel Roosevelt, the hero of San Juan Hill. Governor Roosevelt, of the state of New York. Since the past March, Vice President Roosevelt, and now, because of an assassin's bullet, President Roosevelt.

President of the United States.

As I climbed onto the train I thought, Now I am the president's daughter.