The sheriff and Woody took that moment to lunge toward them. In a scuffle on the ground, Lillian felt a sharp sting to her arm. The knife. Where was it? She didn’t care if she was cut, as long as Darwin didn’t have it.
Darwin was spry and landed punches to both the other men, but another gun cocked right next to Darwin’s head this time.
Sam spoke. “Now, Longstreet, you’ve got three more pointed at your head. I suggest you give up.” The crew boss looked over to Jimmy. “Son, you did real good, but you can put the gun down now.”
Jimmy shook his head. “No, he killed my mama.” Tears streamed down his face.
Lillian grabbed the knife from underneath her and cut the rope at her feet. She walked over to Jimmy. “It’s over, sweetie. Let the sheriff take him to jail.”
“He killed my mama.” Sobs now shook his frame.
“Put the gun down, son.” Woody came closer.
Jimmy stood frozen, the gun aimed at Darwin’s chest as the sheriff cuffed the man. It was almost as if he couldn’t hear either one of them. Lillian bit her lip. Surely he wouldn’t fire.
“Jimmy. Jimmy. Jimmy.” Harry’s voice called out. “Jimmy, please don’t shoot him. He’s a bad, bad, bad man, and he’s done really bad things. But he’s my brother and I love him. Please.” Harry knelt beside Jimmy and wrapped his big arms around him. “Please don’t shoot him. Don’t be mean like he is. Don’t be bad, Jimmy.”
Jimmy sobbed harder and then finally lowered the gun. Woody quickly took the pistol from him and carefully uncocked it. Jimmy fell into Harry’s arms and cried. Woody and Lillian moved forward at the same time and wrapped them both up in a hug.
It was finally over.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
A couple of weeks later the trial for Darwin Longstreet was swift and to the point. Woody sat with Harry and listened as the judge declared Darwin’s fate. They had decided the situation might be too much for Jimmy, so Lillian had taken him to the general store.
The judge looked down at Darwin Longstreet and shook his head. “You have proven yourself as a menace to society. Therefore, I sentence you to be hanged by the neck until dead. Sentence will be carried out immediately.” He pounded his gavel and exited the room. The few people who’d come had risen for the judge, then quickly shuffled out, leaving Woody and Harry with Darwin and the sheriff.
“Brother.” Harry reached toward Darwin.
“Get away from me, stupid.” He spat at Harry. “I hate the very sight of you. You should’ve died a long time ago.” The sheriff jerked him away and headed out the side door with Darwin calling insults at Harry and anyone else he could.
Fat tears rolled down Harry’s broad face. Woody put his arm around his shoulders. “Don’t you give it a second thought, Harry. You aren’t stupid. You’re amazingly wise and pretty smart.”
“But he’s my brother and he hates me.” Harry was still looking at the door where the sheriff had taken his brother. “He’s gonna die.”
Woody nodded. “Yes. And for that I am sorry. Not sorry that justice will be done, but sorry that you will be hurt.”
Just then Jimmy and Lillian returned. Lillian had a newspaper tucked under one arm and Jimmy under the other. The boy would hardly let her from his sight. She had a smile on her face, and that always seemed to act like a balm for Woody and now apparently for Harry.
“You look happy, Miss Lillian. Did something good happen?” Harry sounded so hopeful, and Woody couldn’t help but pray that Lillian would have something good to say. Perhaps Mrs. Goodman would be able to rejoin them at home.
Lillian gave Harry a hug as Jimmy went to wrap his arms around Woody’s waist. “It sure did. Mrs. Goodman gets to return home with us today.”
Harry jumped up and down and clapped. “Mrs. Goodman is so nice. She gave me a hug.”
Lillian laughed. “Yes, she did. And once she’s better, I’m sure she will give you lots more.” She caught Woody’s eye and gave him a special smile before turning back to Harry. “But there’s more good news, too. Do you remember I told you that my grandfather was sick?”
Harry nodded. “But he didn’t want to see you.” He frowned. “Darwin said he hated the sight of me. He wished I’d died.”
Lillian patted his hand. “Harry, Darwin’s mind isn’t right. He’s had a lot of hate eating away at him most of his life. I don’t think he meant a word he said to you.”
This caused Harry to perk up. “Do you really think so, Miss Lillian?”
She nodded. “I do, so don’t be too sad. I think that Darwin—maybe when you were both little boys—before the hate took over, well, I’m certain he must have loved you very much. And we know that there’s still a chance for Darwin, because God loves him very much. We just need to pray for him to turn to God in his last hours.”
Harry nodded. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
Woody met her gaze and shook his head. She was something else. “So what’s your other good news, wife of mine?”
She held up a telegram. “Remember I told you that Stanton notified me that Grandfather was sick and told me I should come?” Woody nodded. “Well, I sent a message back because I knew I couldn’t just up and leave you boys to take care of yourselves and Mrs. Goodman. I didn’t know what to do. And after Darwin was arrested, I sent another telegram telling Stanton that enough was enough. Since Grandfather was sick and could do nothing about it, I wanted Stanton to sit and read to him every one of the letters I had written.”
Woody laughed. “That sounds just like you.”
“Well, it did the trick.” Lillian crossed her arms against her beautiful lace shawl. “Stanton said the letters perked up Grandfather to the point that he began to take food and medicine again. He said Grandfather wants to see me—that he loves me.”
Harry clapped his hands. “Good. Good. Good.”
Lillian laughed and nodded. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
“So when do you want to go see him?” Woody asked.
She drew close to him, and Jimmy went to stand beside Harry. She smiled sweetly at Woody and took hold of his arm. “That’s what I was hoping to talk to you about.”
“Oh dear. When you start in like this, I know it’s going to be quite interesting—perhaps even dangerous.”
“Nonsense. I just want for us to go see Grandfather as a family. You, me, Jimmy and . . . Harry.”
“Me?” Harry looked at them with such hope that Woody could have never denied him, even if he wanted to.
“Of course you,” Woody said. “You’re a part of our family now. If that’s okay with you.”
“A family.” Harry spoke the word with great reverence. “I have a family.”
Jimmy gave Harry a hug, and to his surprise Harry hoisted him into the air and up on his shoulder. “You’re my brother now,” Harry told him.
Jimmy giggled and squirmed. “And my papa and mama are your papa and mama.”
Woody felt tears dampen his eyes at the joy that radiated from the faces of his boys. “I think we should go have some ice cream and plan out our trip to Indiana.”
“I like ice cream,” Jimmy declared.
Harry nodded with great enthusiasm. “I like ice cream, too.” He headed for the door. “I know where we go for ice cream.”
Lillian put her arm around Woody’s waist, and he put his around her shoulder and pulled her close. They followed the boys at a distance, not caring at all about the spectacle they created.
“I like ice cream,” Woody whispered against her ear, “but I like you even better.”
“Funny you should say that.” Lillian gazed up at him with an expression of complete adoration. “Because I like you better than ice cream, too. And I like ice cream. A lot.” They hadn’t had much time as husband and wife, but the look she gave him made him look forward to all the years ahead.
He chuckled. “It’s a good thing.”
“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Lillian declared. “Mrs. Goodman sent this newspaper.” She let go of Woody and pulled it from under he
r arm. She opened it and handed it to Woody. “There’s a certain article she thought you would find amusing, especially with all the orders you’ve had coming in.”
Woody read the caption she pointed to:
Olive Growers’ Convention in Sacramento, California—Olives for All
He scanned the article and began to chuckle.
“Listen to this. It’s a statement from Dr. P. I. Remondino at the Olive Growers’ convention. ‘The modern American . . . will never know . . . a full tide of health until he returns to the proper admixture of olive oil in his diet. Until he again recognizes the value and use of olive oil, he will continue to drag his consumptive-thinned, liver-shriveled, mummified-skinned and constipated and pessimistic anatomy about . . . in a vain search for health.’” Woody laughed again.
Lillian giggled along with him. “That could be our next advertisement. Wouldn’t that get the gossip chain going?”
He stopped in the middle of the street and pulled her to him.
She blushed a pretty shade of pink but wrapped her arms around his neck.
Leaning down, he kissed her nose. “I don’t know about you, my dear, but I would prefer to stay out of the gossip chain for the rest of my life.”
“Me too.” She winked. “But I fear, Mr. Colton, that if you continue to kiss me in the middle of the street—”
He interrupted her with a quick kiss to her lips.
“—where everyone can see—”
This time, he kissed her a little longer, and her arms wrapped a little tighter around his neck.
“—while our boys are no doubt—”
He leaned in for another distraction.
“—no doubt already ordering three scoops of ice cream apiece—”
Another kiss. And a waggle of his eyebrows.
“—As I was saying . . . oh, fiddlesticks, what was I saying?”
He laughed and kissed her nose again.
A whistle from across the street drew their attention.
From none other than their pastor. Their friend chuckled and waved.
Woody drew his wife . . . his wife . . . closer and winked.
She sighed. “I’m guessing we will remain the talk of the town.”
He kissed her soundly on the lips this time and looked around and smiled. “But you made a good point. We’d better hurry. We wouldn’t want them to run out of ice cream before we got there.” Releasing her from his embrace, he took her elbow and led her down the street while she laughed.
“Life will always be an adventure with you, Woody.” She straightened her hat. “And I’m looking forward to every moment.”
DEAR READER
We are so thankful for each of you—our readers. Thank you for taking another journey with us. What a joy it’s been to hear from so many of you about All Things Hidden and to hear your excitement for Beyond the Silence.
Once again, our story is bathed in the historical detail and setting of a real place and time, but we also took some artistic liberty—this is, of course, a work of fiction.
Angels Camp, California, is a real place with an amazing history that goes beyond gold (just look up Mark Twain and the Jumping Frog Jubilee), and we had a wonderful time working on the research. The people of the Angels Camp Museum were a huge help, as well as the Calaveras County Historical Society.
There are real people we used in our story that we’d especially like to point out. Mrs. Rolleri really was famous for her handmade ravioli. In fact, people would line up at the back door on Sundays with their buckets ready to fill. George Stickle and his brother Edward came to the area in 1849 and built their store in 1852. Although in the story we called it the Stickle Bros. mercantile, all photos show the sign above the store being labeled “G. Stickle.” George was a fascinating character who we kept coming across in our research. In fact, in A History of Angels Camp it states that George had one of the “finest reputations of any man in Angels Camp. His Enterprises were always of top repute. He helped organize the first Republican Party in town, served as a school Trustee, and was postmaster for several years.” While George’s personality in the book is a creation of our own, we imagined that the real George Stickle just might have been that same champion for Harry.
We’d also like to mention Freda Ehmann, a German woman who experimented in California and actually came up with the process that is still used today for canning table olives. She became famous for it just a few years after the setting of our story. While we spent months immersing ourselves into the research for the olive farm, only so much of it made it onto the page. But we hope you enjoyed it as much as we did. We know we will never look at olives or olive oil the same again, especially knowing that so many of them are still picked by hand.
Again, dear reader, thank you. You are a treasure to us.
We pray you have enjoyed the journey,
Kim and Tracie
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It takes a team of talented people to put a book like this in your hands. And the team at Bethany House is beyond compare—from editorial to marketing to cover design and everything in between. They are incredible. Thank you—our BHP family.
In loving memory of Sharon Asmus—our beloved editor on both All Things Hidden and Beyond the Silence. Thank you, dear lady, for your years of service, and your encouragement.
To our husbands and families—we love you dearly. We couldn’t do what we do without your love and support (and sarcasm, corny jokes, research, and brainstorming help)!
To the countless people who took our phone calls (and personal visits) in stride at the Angels Camp Museum and Calaveras County Historical Society and did your best to answer all of our questions—thank you!
But most important, to our Lord and Savior. May You be glorified in all that we do. Thank You for the gift of story and the opportunity to share our love for You and Your Word.
Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen.
Jude 1:24–25
Tracie Peterson is the award-winning author of over one hundred novels, both historical and contemporary. Her avid research resonates in her stories, as seen in her bestselling HEIRS OF MONTANA and ALASKAN QUEST series. Tracie and her family make their home in Montana. Visit Tracie’s website at www.traciepeterson.com.
Kimberley Woodhouse is a multi-published author of fiction and nonfiction. A popular speaker and teacher, she’s shared her theme of “Joy Through Trials” with hundreds of thousands of people across the country. She lives, writes, and homeschools with her husband of twenty-plus years and their two awesome teens in Colorado. Connect with Kim at www.kimberleywoodhouse.com.
Also by Tracie Peterson and Kimberley Woodhouse
All Things Hidden
www.traciepeterson.com • www.kimberleywoodhouse.com
Books by Tracie Peterson
BRIDES OF SEATTLE
Steadfast Heart
Refining Fire
Love Everlasting
LONE STAR BRIDES
A Sensible Arrangement
A Moment in Time
A Matter of Heart
LAND OF SHINING WATER
The Icecutter’s Daughter
The Quarryman’s Bride
The Miner’s Lady
LAND OF THE LONE STAR
Chasing the Sun
Touching the Sky
Taming the Wind
STRIKING A MATCH
Embers of Love
Hearts Aglow
Hope Rekindled
SONG OF ALASKA
Dawn’s Prelude
Morning’s Refrain
Twilight’s Serenade
ALASKAN QUEST
Summer of the Midnight Sun
Under the Northern Lights
Whispers of Winter
Alaskan Quest (3 in 1)
BRIDES OF GALLATIN COUNTY
> A Promise to Believe In
A Love to Last Forever
A Dream to Call My Own
DESERT ROSES
Shadows of the Canyon
Across the Years Beneath a Harvest Sky
HEIRS OF MONTANA
Land of My Heart
The Coming Storm
To Dream Anew
The Hope Within
LADIES OF LIBERTY
A Lady of High Regard
A Lady of Hidden Intent
A Lady of Secret Devotion
WESTWARD CHRONICLES
A Shelter of Hope
Hidden in a Whisper
A Veiled Reflection
YUKON QUEST
Treasures of the North
Ashes and Ice
Rivers of Gold
House of Secrets
A Slender Thread
What She Left for Me
Where My Heart Belongs
Resources: bethanyhouse.com/AnOpenBook
Website: www.bethanyhouse.com
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