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God, why do I have to bear up under all this misery? Haven’t I lost enough?

As soon as he let the words float heavenward, he regretted them. God, the Father of all creation, had allowed His own Son to be sacrificed for Woody—and the rest of the world. The ultimate price had been paid because He loved them that much. Woody knew that suffering and trials were part of this time on earth, but he hadn’t expected it to hit him so hard. And to feel so weak and unprepared for it. There were days that he didn’t think he could go on without Rebecca. Especially knowing how she’d been murdered and that he hadn’t been there. No chance for good-bye.

And then, there was little Jimmy. He hadn’t spoken since they’d found him curled up in the locked closet. Bruised and shaking. Not only was his sweet wife gone, but so was his son. Had the boy witnessed what happened to his mother? Or had he been locked up during that time and heard it all? Both scenarios were torturous to Woody. He couldn’t undo the past. He couldn’t undo the pain. And he certainly couldn’t undo the damage the rumors had done.

As the weight of all the burdens pressed down on him, Woody pulled the horses to a stop. Wouldn’t it be easier for everyone if he just ended it all? His housekeeper would see to Jimmy. She was a good woman who loved the boy as if he were her own grandchild. It would be so much easier to just lie down and die. For several long, painful moments the ominous thoughts refused to lift. Finally, Woody straightened and shook his head.

No. A deep sigh pushed out of the depths of his chest. He couldn’t take his own life and leave Jimmy an orphan. But sometimes, keeping the darkness from closing in was more than he could bear.

With a flick of the reins, he started the horses again toward home. The dark thoughts—thoughts of ending his own life—had come with more frequency of late.
God, You know I believe in You with my whole heart. I know You love me. But I’m just not strong enough. I’m tired
and I’m worn out. And little Jimmy isn’t
getting any better. . . .
His prayer trailed off. The words were gone. He hated feeling weak. Feeling vulnerable. And yet, that’s exactly what he was.

The dark thoughts pressed in again. Miserable. Wretched. Worthless. They all described him. And he was useless to fight it any longer. Regret and anger were so much stronger.

As the horses rounded the corner toward home, he saw the
gate with the archway and the olive trees beyond. Rebecca stood by his side to make this place not only a thriving farm, but also beautiful. What was the use of it now? To try to sell his goods to people who didn’t know him, while his own neighbors and friends thought him to be a murderer? What good was that?

Once he was through the gate, he slowed the horses again. Jimmy sat in the dirt ahead under an olive tree. Cradling something in his arms. The wind tugged for a moment on the light brown hair of Woody’s boy. And his heart ached. How could he possibly think of himself at a time like this? His son was suffering through the grief of losing his mama the year before. He’d suffered enough. He needed his father.

Woody closed his eyes for a moment and offered a prayer of thanks as new strength took residence and chased the black cloud away. He didn’t understand God’s plan, but he knew that the good Lord had given Jimmy to him. Right then and there, Woody decided that no matter what, he would do everything in his power to help his son heal. He just wasn’t sure his power was all that useful.

Woody pulled the wagon to a complete stop and hopped down. “Whatcha got there, Jimmy?”

His son turned, a tear dripping down his cheek. He held the bundle in his arms up to his pa.

As Woody stepped closer, he saw a tiny rabbit with a torn ear. The little guy seemed to be alive, if the little nose twitching up and down was any indication. “We should get him home. I bet Mrs. Goodman can help us find a box for him to place by the stove. We’ll get him all fixed up.”

Jimmy nodded. But as he tried to stand, he couldn’t get up with the animal in his arms.

Woody lifted his son and the rabbit in one fell swoop and
headed to the wagon. The boy weighed next to nothing. Dirt covered him and his small bundle. Woody settled Jimmy in on the seat beside him, then headed the wagon back toward the house. He looked down at Jimmy and squeezed his hand. They might all be damaged and grieving, but they wouldn’t give up.

Mrs. Goodman knocked on the doorjamb into the library, which he used as his office. “Sorry to interrupt, Woody, but the mail was tucked into one of the supply boxes.” She laid it down on his desk. “Thought you might like to see it.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Goodman.” Woody looked up at his housekeeper and felt the need to say more. “And not just for the mail. You’ve been wonderful to us all these years and have had to go through so much with us. Thank you. I don’t say it enough, but I’m grateful.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, he’d shocked her, because his stoic and no-nonsense housekeeper had tears in her eyes. “I’ve hated watching you boys suffer. That’s for sure. And lately, you’ve had this dark cloud following you around. I’ve been quite worried.” She sniffed. “It’s much appreciated to hear your words of kindness.”

“I’m sorry they’re so overdue.”

“Stuff and nonsense. We both know that’s not true.” She straightened her shoulders. “Now before I head back to the kitchen, do you need anything? I promised Jimmy that we would check on the bunny before he went to bed.”

“No, I’m fine.” Using a letter opener, he opened the envelope from Indiana, praying that it was what he hoped.

“You just let me know, if you do.” Her feet shuffled away.

“Wait, Mrs. Goodman?” A sliver of hope started in his chest after reading the first few lines.

“Yes?”

“Would you mind coming back after checking on the rabbit? I have some news.”

“Not at all. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Woody nodded and went back to the letter. It seemed Miss Lillian Porter accepted his offer of the nanny position and was on her way. After weeks of waiting and no word, he’d given up hope. He glanced at the postmark. Apparently, it’d been his own fault. Had he not avoided town for so long, he could have gotten his mail sooner. He checked the calendar on the wall. Good grief! And she would arrive in just two days’ time.

Woody jumped up from his desk and thought of all the things they’d need to accomplish in two days. Excitement surged through him. Maybe Jimmy would finally speak again. Oh, it might take time, but Woody just knew that Miss Porter was the answer.

As he paced the room, Mrs. Goodman entered. “All right, Woody, so what’s this news?”

“The lady I was telling you about in Indianapolis?”

“Yes?”

“She’s coming. She’s on her way right now.”

“Why, that’s wonderful news! Jimmy needs someone so badly.” Mrs. Goodman pulled a pencil from behind her ear and her tattered notepad from out of her apron pocket. “And goodness knows, I’m too old to keep up with the lad. Oh, this will be just what we need. I’ll have to get the room ready for her and I think new curtains would be nice . . . and—”

“She’ll be here the day after tomorrow,” Woody threw out.

“Oh my.” Mrs. Goodman dropped her pencil, then picked it up again. “Yes. Well, then . . .” She scribbled furiously on the notepad.

“Don’t go to any unnecessary trouble. I know how you like to do things, but I’m sure Miss Porter will be happy with the room as it is. You’ve done a wonderful job keeping up the house.”

Mrs. Goodman left the room, nodding and talking to herself. If he were to guess, the older woman would have the room totally redone and have enough baked goods for an army of soldiers by the time Miss Porter arrived.

Now if he could just get to her before the town rumors did, he’d be doing well.

“Run!” Mama’s voice sounded weak. But one look at
her eyes told him she meant it. And Jimmy didn’t want to disobey. A sob caught in his throat.
Why couldn’t he breathe? But, Mama! Her eyes closed
and her hand went limp. She just lay there. He
couldn’t leave her.

The bad man yanked Jimmy up by his arm. “I don’t suppose you know where
my treasure is, you snot-nosed kid. . . .” His large hands
wrapped around Jimmy’s shoulders and squeezed.

His breaths came faster and faster. He shook his head.

The man shook him. Hard. “You sure? You better not be lyin’ to me.” He shook him again and again until his
teeth rattled.

The shaking helped him breathe, though. He
had to help Mama. This man scared him. More than
spiders and snakes. More than anything. “I don’t know. . . .
Mama doesn’t know, either. She always tells the truth.
Why’d you hurt her?”

The man made a face by scrunching up his nose and frowning too big. His
voice changed as he made fun of Jimmy. “She always
tells the truth.” His big hands shook him again and
the mean voice came back. “And I hurt her because
she couldn’t help me and got in my way. That’s why.” He looked around the foyer. “And now
you’re in my way, and I gotta dispose of you too, you little snoop.” With that, he smacked Jimmy
on top of the head with one hand and dragged him by the arm with the other.

The bad man stopped in front of the closet Mrs. Goodman used
for cleaning supplies and mousetraps. He yanked open the door
and muttered, “Too small to hide your mother’s body
in, but it would do for you, runt.”

“No,
mister, please! Don’t put me in the closet.” Jimmy
started to cry. He glanced over at Mama. She hadn’t moved.

“Shut up!” He yanked harder on Jimmy’s arm. “Might as well just shoot you right here.”
It took him less than a second to pull out the revolver from his belt.

The whirring started in Jimmy’s head again. This time, the spots came faster.

“Brother . . . Brother . . .” Another voice from outside sang the words.

The bad man said a word that Papa had told Jimmy never to say. Both of the big man’s
hands came around his throat and squeezed until he couldn’t breathe. He whispered, “You better not say a word
about me to anyone, you hear me? I’ll kill your pa and your little housekeeper, and I’ll kill everyone in town if you say one word.” And with
that, he slapped Jimmy hard in the face.

Pain shot through his whole head. Tears burned the corners of his
eyes.

“Did you hear me?” The man’s breath
smelled rotten. “Not one word. Or I’ll kill them
all. It will be all your fault. Just like it’s your fault that your mama’s dead.”

Mama was dead? No. He shook his head and tears slid down
his cheeks.

“All your fault. If you hadn’t
come in here when you did.” He pushed Jimmy into
the closet.

More calls came from outside. Someone was
looking for their brother.

The man’s head jerked to the door and then back to Jimmy. “Not
one
word. Ever.” Then he slammed the door shut and Jimmy’s
world went dark.

Jimmy sat up in bed with a gasp. The bad dreams wouldn’t stop. Always the same, remembering the day that Mama died. The bad man’s face was burned into his memory, but he couldn’t say anything. Not even if he wanted to.

He sneaked down the stairs to check on the baby bunny he’d found in the olive grove. It was so tiny. Just like Jimmy. And without its mama. Just like him.

The big old hawk had been attacking the baby bunny’s mama when Jimmy tried his best to scare off the big bird. But it took off with the mama and left the baby injured and all alone.

As Jimmy brushed his fingers over the soft little head, Jimmy wanted to cry. His new little friend had watched his mama get hurt, too.

The nightmare lingered in his mind. The memories were so bad. He wanted to tell Papa everything, but he couldn’t.

If he talked, everyone would die.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

W
arm June air hit Lillian in the face as she exited the stagecoach. The train ride had been arduous, but the stagecoach had been almost inhumane. Six people had been stuffed inside a space where four would have been more than plenty. She’d even had to give the care of her overnight bag to the driver as there wasn’t room to hold it on her lap.

Lillian marveled that they’d managed to get all of the luggage stowed on the stage, since overhead another four men had taken up residence due to a lack of space inside. All of the travelers had been men with the exception of one other woman, wife to one of the men. Thankfully, Lillian had been able to sit against the wall of the coach with this woman on her left. The men used decent manners, much to her relief, but never had she known such an uncomfortable ride. She sighed and did her best to put it all behind her. Their arrival in Angels Camp signaled that the worst was behind her.