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Darwin’s ears perked up at the conversation, but he kept his head focused on his drink. He hadn’t seen either of the men in years, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t figure out who he was.

“Nope. Can’t say that I have.” Chuck went back to washing and drying glasses. “One of your pals?”

“No pal to us.” Curly swigged another.

Gus chuckled. “Nope. No friend of ours. They think it’s that no-good Darwin Longstreet.”

“I heard he was wanted, but I always keep my mouth closed when it comes to the customers. Even mean ones like Longstreet.” Chuck’s towel circled the glass again. “He wasn’t my
favorite customer, that’s for sure. And he had a nasty temper. Don’t surprise me at all that he finally got his comeuppance.” He set the glass down. “They sure it’s him?”

Gus squared his shoulders and pushed out his chest. Tucking his thumbs in his suspenders, he narrowed his eyes. “I just heard the marshal say they had incriminatin’ evidence on the body. But the body wasn’t recognizable no more. He’d been dead awhile.” He lifted his glass for more. “And beat up real bad before that.”

Chuck obliged and filled the glass again. “Well, I guess they’ll have to let his kin know, huh?”

“Yup. Not that his cousins and uncle are much better. I’ve always been glad they live over Manteca way. Keeps ’em from venturing over here too much.” Gus reached an arm over and clasped Curly’s shoulder. “You know, I didn’t much care for Darwin, but maybe we should drink to him.”

Curly guffawed. “Sure, Gus.” He raised his glass.

Darwin turned and threw a coin on the counter, headed for the door.

“To Darwin!”

“To Darwin.” Curly echoed. “Good riddance.”

“May he burn in the lowest pits of—”

The voices faded behind him. He didn’t need to hear the rest. Who cared what those drunks thought anyway? A smile stretched across his face.

His little trick had worked. Darwin Longstreet was dead.

Lillian dipped her pen once more and continued her lengthy letter to the staff at Fletcher Manor. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. Each week she wrote an update.
She’d have to make sure she sent them soon. Her stack would definitely grow after tonight. Had she really been in California almost three weeks? What a thrill it was to share it with her friends back home. This letter would be fat indeed. Already seven pages! She glanced aside at the one-page missive she’d penned to her grandfather. Would he read it? No doubt Stanton would give it to him, but stubborn Adam Fletcher might very well throw it into the fire.

The thought saddened her. Here she was, following in her parents’ footsteps and finding what she’d discovered were her own dreams. She was making a difference and felt that God truly was using her service. It invigorated her each and every day. How had she lived so long and not experienced this true joy?

The lamp on her desk flickered and her thoughts traveled to Jimmy. The little boy captured her heart. He still wouldn’t speak, but she didn’t mind. He was eating and had become very curious and adventurous. Each day he worked on drawing letters and numbers on the slate with her. He seemed eager to learn and eager to please her. If she could teach him enough reading and writing, he’d finally be able to communicate with her—with all of them.

Tomorrow they would take another picnic to the pond and she would practice her fishing skills. The last trip had been a disaster. Jimmy laughed and laughed. All because she wouldn’t bait her own hook with the still wiggling and very-much-living worm. Well, she would have to show him tomorrow that she was made of sterner stuff. Secretly she hoped that Harry would show up again. After her talk with Woody, she was even more convinced that the boy needed help. And now that she’d finally gotten a taste of living a life that mattered, she longed to do more.

She laid her pages out to dry and extinguished the lamp. Tomorrow would be a glorious day.

The next morning, rain poured from the sky. Mrs. Goodman had already told Lillian that summer rains were rare, but given they were suffering drought, this was no doubt welcome relief. As Lillian entered the kitchen, she immediately spotted Jimmy by the screen door. Gone was the scrawny boy from a few weeks ago. He was still thin and small, but he finally had a healthier glow about him. But this morning, the sheen of tears in his eyes was almost Lillian’s undoing. Rain wasn’t a welcome relief for Jimmy.

She crouched next to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’m betting the sun will come out in a few hours and we’ll still make our fishing trip. And we need to remember to be thankful for the rain. It’s been a very dry summer, and that’s not good for the olives.”

He sniffed and looked at her, a glint of hope in his eyes.

“I’m not even averse to trying my hand at fishing in the rain. I read in a book that the fish like to bite when it’s raining.” She winked at him. “So we’d better get to our breakfast and studies.”

Jimmy nodded, but his disappointment was clear that the weather had not cooperated with their plans. He turned toward her and put his arms around her neck.

Lillian felt her eyes grow wide, and she wrapped her arms around the boy. She looked up and caught Mrs. Goodman wiping a tear away. Lillian felt like crying herself.

It had been a tough couple of weeks. Woody had informed her that he would be working long hours and absent from Jimmy a lot. It was time for the table olives to come out of the brine, and they had to hand-wash all the barrels of olives multiple
times and give them enough time in the fresh air to turn their lovely black color. Then the canning process would take place. He assured her that it would only be two to three weeks, but it had taken its toll on his son.

When Jimmy pulled back just a smidge, Lillian loosened her hold but kept her arms around him. What a delight this child was to her soul.
Thank You, Lord, that I can be here for him. I know this has
to be hard on both father and son.

Jimmy touched her locket with his fingers and then leaned his forehead against hers. He pulled back again and looked at her with questioning eyes.

“Yes, you may open it.” She nodded and smiled.

His little fingers fumbled with the clasp, but he got it open. For several moments, he just stared.

“It’s my mother and father. They died when I was very young.” She watched his expression, knowing the grief this poor boy experienced. “I miss them very much. But this way I carry them with me always, and I know they loved me, and I love them.” Lillian took a moment to look up at Mrs. Goodman again, wary of moving too fast. “Do you have your very own picture of your mother?”

Jimmy shook his head. A single tear slipped down his cheek.

“Would you like one?”

He nodded.

“Let me talk to your father and I’ll see what I can do, all right?”

A tiny smile lit his face.

“Your father told me that your mother used to play the piano.”

Jimmy nodded.

“And that she was teaching you to play.”

Again he nodded.

Lillian continued. “Well, it just so happens that I play, as well, and would love to teach you—if you like.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened, and he nodded with greater enthusiasm.

“Wonderful. We’ll have lots of fun with the pianoforte.”

Mrs. Goodman placed a huge plate of pancakes on the table.

“Yum. Do you smell that? Mrs. Goodman has made my favorite—pancakes! I’m starving, how about you?” She tickled his tummy.

He nodded and giggled.

Over her short time on the farm, she’d learned to interact with Jimmy and ask him questions that were easy for him to communicate an answer without speaking. If she tried to draw too much out of him, he got aggravated and would shut down. But if she asked mainly yes or no questions, he was very responsive. For whatever reason, Jimmy Colton refused to speak. Only time would tell if she could get to the root of the problem, but he didn’t need to feel pressured to speak, of that she was certain.

Having been uninformed of the extent of the situation before her arrival, Lillian had assumed that the boy was in shock. But on her very first day when she’d heard him laugh, she began to puzzle over his condition. According to Woody and Mrs. Goodman, he hadn’t done much since his mother died. They had found him lethargic most of the time, and he would gaze at nothing. He preferred to be alone. After his initial burst of trust and openness with Lillian, she, too, found that there were a few times he reverted to an almost dreamlike state, where he just stared off into space and didn’t even move.

Mr. Whiskers was definitely beneficial, and Lillian found herself thanking God daily for the bunny. She didn’t know
how the rabbit had come to be part of the family, but she was thankful that the animal seemed to be just what Jimmy needed. He not only needed to be nurtured, but he needed to nurture something in return.

By the time they were finishing their pancakes, Lillian was happy to see the sun poking through the clouds. “Looks like we better hurry up with our lessons so we can get to the pond.”

Jimmy nodded and hopped out of his chair. He handed his plate to Mrs. Goodman and went to Mr. Whiskers’s box to get him in his sling.

“Wash your hands first, please.” Lillian smiled around a bite of pancake. “We don’t want to get sticky syrup all over our slate.”

He raced to the basin and cleaned his hands and then went back to fetch the bunny. In record time he was in his chair in the dining room where they did their lessons.

After he’d drawn all twenty-six letters twice and the numbers one through ten twice, Lillian decided she couldn’t wait any longer and they should just head to the pond. The ground was sure to be wet, but then again, they’d had so little moisture, the ground might have soaked it all up already.

Her little student sat with his tongue hanging out one side of his mouth as he made another eight.

“Good job, Jimmy.” She took the chalk and drew a smiling face and a star. “But I think I hear the fishies calling my name. Are you ready to help me catch some dinner?”

He jumped up and smiled.

That was all the encouragement she needed. They put their things up on the shelf and headed to the kitchen. “Be ready, Mrs. Goodman. We’re planning on catching enough fish for dinner.”

“Oh, really, now.” The older lady placed her hands on her
hips. “Well, I’d just love me some fish, so you better catch a bunch.” She tapped Jimmy on the nose and he giggled.

They grabbed their poles and the picnic basket. Lillian had prepared for the day by wearing her oldest dress and boots. She had no doubt that they would return to the house filthy and smelling of fish, but it would be worth it. If it put Jimmy at ease and made him happy, it might make it possible for him to speak. Lillian would skewer worms on hooks all day if it brought about those results.

As they half walked, half ran to the pond, Lillian prayed the whole way that not only would she be able to murder a worm by squishing it onto the hook, but that Harry would show up. She wasn’t above asking for divine intervention even in the smallest things.

When they crested the last hill before the pond, she knew at least one part of her prayer had been answered affirmatively because Harry sat on the opposite hill. It was apparent he had spotted them because he waved and then skipped his way down the bluff toward them.

The rest of the morning flew by in a flurry of what Harry termed “fish, fish, fish.” Not only did she become an expert at threading her worm onto the hook, but she caught eight of their twenty fish.

Harry babbled all morning to Jimmy about Mr. Whiskers and flowers and catching fish. Lillian rather enjoyed listening and watching. But when she pulled out the picnic basket for their lunch, she hoped it was the right time to ask some questions.

“So, Harry, where do you live?”

He sighed. “Way, way, way over there.” He pointed to the direction he’d come down the hill.

Bother. That didn’t help her much. “Did it take you a long
time to walk over here? Because if it didn’t, we’d love to see you more often.”

“It’s a good long ways, but I don’t mind walking. I’ve walked a couple times all the way to the big trees all by myself.”

The big trees? “You mean the redwoods? The giant trees?”

He nodded, never taking his eyes off the last sandwich in his hand. “They’re so big, you could build a house inside them.”

Jimmy’s eyes grew wide.

“I mean it. It took me fifty big steps to walk around one of them, and I’ve got big feet.” Harry took a bite and kept nodding to Jimmy.

“I’ve always wanted to see the redwoods, but they’re a long ways from here. That must have been quite a walk.” Lillian couldn’t believe this young man had gone all that way.

“Yep. Ma told me about them a long, long, long time ago. When she died, I went to see them. It gave me a happy memory of her. She said God grew them big and strong like me.”

What innocence and beauty. Simpleminded indeed. How many people missed out on knowing kind souls because someone else labeled them as simpleminded? She frowned. Or unsafe, as they had labeled Woody.

Lillian shook her head at the thought. What a sad world they lived in. Harry was one of the sweetest human beings she’d ever met, and Woody had a gentleness to him that made her ever more convinced that he could never hurt anyone.