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“I cannot imagine you as anything other than perfect.” He sensed her embarrassment and released her.

She patted her hair and gave him a flirtatious smile. “Let’s just keep it that way, Mr. Colton. I don’t want to disappoint my husband.”

How he wished circumstances were different at the moment. But they were still in the hospital, newlyweds or not. “Now, what’s this incredible news?”

“A crowd gathered at seven this morning outside the town hall, since your trial was supposed to start today. But instead of a trial, they were treated to a speech by the sheriff and also from the judge. In front of all those people, Woody, the sheriff told them what happened and that they all needed to be wary and on the lookout for Mrs. Goodman’s attacker. He even went so far as to tell them that the same man was responsible for Rebecca’s death. He gave them a description of the man Mrs. Goodman encountered, and he apologized and told the people how wrong he had been—about everything, including blaming you for what happened to Rebecca. It was like God finally opened the eyes of the people. It was wonderful.” She clasped her hands together underneath her chin. “Then the judge spoke. He was very imposing and firm, even when a few in the crowd tried to argue and debate. He threatened to have all the naysayers arrested if they didn’t shape up. Pastor Seymour then got up and said if anyone wanted to join him, they would have a prayer
meeting at the church right now for your . . . our family. At least a hundred people followed him down the street to the church.”

Her words struck his heart, but he found himself hesitant to believe it. Would people really change after all this time? There was bound to be gossip continuing until the culprit was caught. And Woody wasn’t sure when or how they would accomplish that.

Lillian grabbed his hand. “You don’t believe it will do any good, do you?” She cocked her head to one side. “I know this has been extremely hard on you, Woody, but you’ve got to have faith that God will work this for His good.”

“I know. My faith has just taken some bruising and battering from these folks, and I’ve got to overcome the habit I’ve developed of hardening myself.” He looked down at Jimmy. “I need to keep my priorities straight.”

He let go of Lillian’s hand and sat on the side of Jimmy’s bed. “You doing all right, son?”

A giant smile answered his question.

“I won’t leave you if you don’t want me to, but I do need to check on the olive trees. Would that be all right? I’ll run down to the farm and be back to stay with you again tonight?”

The smile continued, this time accompanied by a nod.

Lillian went to the other side of his son’s bed. “And I’ll be here all day. We’ll go to Mrs. Goodman’s room when she wakes up and visit with her for a little while. Maybe we can even read her a book.” Her face lit up, and she looked down at him with love.

A warmth rushed through Woody. She really cared for his son, and she cared for him. How had he gotten so lucky to be blessed by this woman? There was no reason she should have ever considered being his nanny, much less his wife.

She
loves you
, a voice seemed to speak to his heart. Woody nodded. Love changed everything. It could heal wounds, soothe anguished hearts, and give strength to the weak.

Woody reached over to touch his son’s chin. “Well, then, that sounds like a fun day. If you don’t mind, I’ll head out to the farm and I’ll be back. You take care of your new mama for me.” Jimmy smiled and took hold of Lillian’s hand and nodded with great enthusiasm.

“We’ll make sure to find some supper for you.” Her smile lit up the room. He found himself more anxious to leave so he could get back. “Oh, and Woody—the horses and wagons are at Pastor Seymour’s place.”

He laughed. “I guess that’s helpful information.”

Waving at Jimmy and nodding at Lillian, Woody put his hat on his head and headed to fetch his wagon and team. While his heart soared with feelings of love and family, relief and gratefulness, the weight of responsibility pressed in again on his shoulders. There was a man out there who thought nothing of beating an old woman half to death. There was a man out there who thought nothing of killing a helpless mother with a young son. The farm he loved no longer felt safe, and he worried that bringing his family home again might prove dangerous. Not only that, but if his trees didn’t get water, they would die. And if Woody couldn’t save them, he might well face a financial blow from which he’d never recover.

Where do you put your trust?

The silent prodding came from deep in his heart and made him straighten in the seat and smile. Woody determined to push the doubts and worry aside. It didn’t matter. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. He would bless the name of the Lord. He had Jimmy, Mrs. Goodman, and Lillian. If the worst thing
happened and he lost the farm, well, he would keep on. His trust wasn’t in the farm. His trust was in the Lord.

Woody pushed the horses as hard as he dared to the farm. The irrigation ditch would take a lot more work, and the last two weeks had been scorchers.

Instead of stopping at the house, he drove the wagon to the pond. To his surprise, the men were nowhere in sight, and a beautiful stream of water flowed through the fully completed irrigation ditch. How had this happened?

He set the brake and hopped down from the wagon. Marveling at the water flowing from the pond, he stared at the ditch and followed the stream with his eyes. Off in the distance, the grove was getting water. Not only was the main ditch dug, but feeder lines went off of it to extend into areas deeper in the grove.

“Mr. Colton!” Sam’s voice drifted on the hot breeze.

Woody turned and saw his crew boss running toward him.

Sam waved and ran the rest of the way. “Did you see? It’s a miracle!”

Woody laughed. He couldn’t contain the joy. “I see it, Sam! It’s a miracle indeed. How did you all finish this? You fellas must have been digging night and day since they let you go.”

“No, sir.” Sam beamed at him. “It really is a miracle. When we got here, the ditch was finished, and not just the main. Water was already flowing throughout the groves. The trees are in good shape.”

“You mean,
you
didn’t finish the ditch?”

“No, sir.”

“None of the men knew about this?”

“No, sir. Although Miss Lillian had been out here, and she mentioned someone named Harry.”

Lillian’s blisters. Woody scratched his head. It made a little
more sense now. Harry must’ve helped a lot. He glanced heavenward and knew that no matter who had done the actual work, the miracle had come from God alone. He pulled his hat from his head and bowed in prayer.

Thank You. Not just for this, but for everything. The
bad. The good. The times of confusion and pain, as
well as those of contentment and pleasure. I never thought
I could pray such a prayer, but Lord, I think I finally understand about those verses in Philippians and learning to be content no matter my circumstances.

He looked back at the ditch of water—water that would provide new life to his trees. Lillian had blessed him and Jimmy with new love, and God was blessing him with new hope. The old was truly passing away and all things were new.

“Boss, I don’t want to interrupt, but I suppose you saw the house when you passed by.”

Woody looked at Sam and shook his head. “I wasn’t paying any attention. My mind was all about this water and the trees.”

“You’d better let me ride back with you, then.”

Frowning, Woody felt the hair on his neck prickle. “What happened?”

“I don’t rightly know. When we got here we found quite a mess.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
E
IGHT

L
illian wiped her neck with her handkerchief. She’d love nothing more than a dip in a cool stream at the moment. This heat was insufferable.

Mrs. Goodman had fallen asleep again, but she was clearly feeling more like herself. The doctor was pleased, which made Lillian pleased. It would be days, maybe even weeks, before she could go home, but it couldn’t come soon enough.

Jimmy padded into the room in his stocking feet, his hair all tousled.

“Well, look who’s awake from his nap?” She picked him up for a hug. “My goodness, you’re getting very heavy. You must be eating well, huh?” She tickled his tummy.

He smiled sleepily and laid his head on her shoulder. While he had improved by leaps and bounds, the boy still had a lot of healing and catching up to do. An entire year of mourning his mother’s death had taken its toll on him, as well as his recent bout of quinsy.

“Why don’t we go back to your room and read your book again?”

He nodded.

With a quiet click, Lillian shut the door to Mrs. Goodman’s room and headed down the hall. She set Jimmy down halfway there. “You really are getting heavy. You must be growing.”

This elicited a bigger smile, and Jimmy stretched his neck and stood on his tiptoes.

“Lillian, I’m so glad I caught you,” Mrs. Seymour’s voice echoed down the hallway. “I have a telegram for you. They brought it to our house, and I promised to get it to you.”

The pastor’s wife handed over the paper, and Lillian put a hand to her throat. What could be so important that a telegram had to be sent? Grandfather? Fear and guilt gripped her, but she pasted on a smile and helped Jimmy up onto his bed.

She found her voice. “Would you mind reading to Jimmy for a few minutes while I check this?”

“Not at all.” Her friend smiled at her. “Take all the time you need.”

Lillian walked out of the room and closed the door. She leaned against the wall and opened the telegram.

LILLIAN PORTER, ANGELS CAMP, CALIFORNIA

YOUR GRANDFATHER IS GRAVELY ILL. REFUSES TO CORRESPOND OR SEE YOU.

BUT I REQUEST YOUR PRESENCE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE.

STANTON

She clutched the paper to her chest and let out a little sob. Grandfather. That stubborn man. But this time, his stubbornness couldn’t save him. Stanton wouldn’t have resorted to a telegram unless it was dire. Her grandfather must be dying.

But she couldn’t leave. Not now. She and Woody had just married. Not only that, there was a killer on the loose, and Jimmy and Mrs. Goodman needed her.

Oh, what to do?

Several moments passed as she pondered the situation. Turning back to the room, she opened the door. “Mrs. Seymour, I need to send a reply, if you could stay for a few more minutes?”

“Certainly.” The two went back to the book they were reading.

Lillian grabbed her bonnet and headed to the telegraph office. She would ask Stanton to keep her abreast of the situation, but she wouldn’t be able to leave just yet. Oh, but she longed to see her grandfather one more time. But would he refuse? So would traveling out there even be worth it? Maybe the old man’s stubborn disposition would keep him alive a little longer. But how could she be in two places at once?

Lord, I don’t know what to do. Woody needs me.
Mrs. Goodman and Jimmy need me. And Grandfather is sick.
I don’t know how bad it is, but You know. Please help me to make the correct decisions. And
please heal Grandfather. Even if it’s just his heart
You heal so he can go home to You in peace.

The house was still intact, but someone had made sure to leave a mess. Was it some sort of message?

Woody stood on the porch and slapped his hat against his thigh. All the windows on the main floor were smashed in, and four rocking chairs were mangled and lying on their sides on the covered porch.

Sam sighed beside him. “I’m sorry, boss. I didn’t notice it right away. We were all so worried about getting water to the
trees that I don’t think any one of us gave it a thought. We tried to start cleaning up, but we didn’t get all that far.”

“It’s all right, Sam. Frankly, it doesn’t surprise me.” He glanced at the second floor and then to the tiny windows of the attic. “Come with me.”

Woody raced up the stairs to the second floor and then up the stairs to the attic. Sure enough, as soon as he reached the top, he found all the floorboards torn up. Someone had been up here looking for something. So the man who’d hurt Mrs. Goodman must’ve hidden something—something very important or valuable—up here.

“The man who killed my wife hid something up here. He was here to find it when Mrs. Goodman interrupted him.”

Sam gasped behind him. “Whoa. Why would he have hidden something in your attic, boss?”

“I don’t know, Sam.” Woody shook his head. Now if he could just fit the rest of the pieces of this puzzle together. “Let’s head back downstairs. I probably need to let the sheriff look at all this.” Woody remembered his journal of evidence, as well as the button. “He needs to see some other stuff, as well.”

Bone weary, Woody headed back into town after he and the other men boarded up the open windows. Sam promised they’d focus on cleaning up the mess, since it was evident that the trees were in good shape. He’d need to order new windows and other repair provisions in the morning.