He had wished he could tell her he understood the hurt. He had been only 13 when his mother died. It had been only three weeks since Maureen Nolan’s funeral, but Silas knew from experience that to Amy it felt like a year.
Standing quickly, Silas made a snap decision. He faced Grant and spoke. “I know I’m a poor substitute for Amy, but if you’ve no objections, I’d like to play.”
Grant answered with a small smile, “Please, Silas, feel free.” But Silas didn’t move with Grant’s consent alone. He turned to the sober young girl in the room, who was regarding him with big, surprised eyes.
“Do you have any objections, Amy?”
“No.” She didn’t hesitate in answering, but her voice was so low that Silas saw more than heard her answer.
At the piano, Silas played wholly from memory. Within minutes, the other occupants of the room were forgotten as he moved from one song to the next. The piano’s tone was beautiful, and Silas pulled deep within himself as he played piece after piece.
He would never know exactly what brought him back to the present, but just then he looked over at Amy and she smiled at him. For an instant, Silas was so surprised he didn’t respond. It was the first time this quiet girl had shown anything past an indifferent, neutral acceptance of him in her home.
When Silas finally returned the smile, Amy’s grew wider. They sat there grinning at one another while Silas finished the song.
Not long afterward the three retired for the night. As Silas readied himself for bed in his small attic bedroom, he was sure the ice had broken through for Amy and him. He really did want to be her friend.
Every day for nearly three weeks Silas had worked alongside her father, working steadily even when Grant slowed down or came to a complete halt. After a week, Grant began to talk and Silas listened without comment to the man’s heartache, his concern for Amy foremost in his mind.
The days the men worked and talked seemed to be a gentle push for Grant onto the road of acceptance and recovery.
Not so with Amy. She grieved silently without complaint or comment. It was at this time Silas realized how much he’d taken his siblings for granted. Amy needed a big brother to help shoulder the grief.
As Silas settled into bed, he knew he wanted to be that big brother. “Please, God,” Silas prayed as he dropped off to sleep, “help Amy open up to me. Let her know that I care and understand.” Remembering the smile she had given him, he fell asleep, sure that tomorrow would be different. But it would be a few more days and a ruined breakfast before the ice broke completely.
Silas was jolted out of his reverie when the conductor passed through the train and announced there would be a delay at the next stop. There were grumbles throughout the car, but Silas was just glad he’d left Baxter early.
The conductor said to feel free to get out and stretch a bit, so Silas moved out of his seat toward the door.
They were stopped in Elroy, a small town not too many miles out of Baxter. Silas quickly decided not to wander about and took a bench in the shade to watch the busy activity of the depot.
It wasn’t long before the sights of the depot grew mundane and Silas’ thoughts wandered back to the time he and Amy finally became friends.
Grant and Silas walked from the barn to the house. The milking was done and both men were ready for a big breakfast. They were greeted at the door not by the smell of fresh coffee and biscuits, but by the pungent odor of burned bacon and eggs.
Amy stood with the frying skillet in one hand while waving a dishcloth over the smoky mess with the other. When she saw her father, she simply said, “I’m sorry, Dad. Breakfast will be a little late this morning.”
“Don’t worry about it, Amy. I’ll wash up and give you a hand.” And that was the end of that. Amy didn’t cry or offer a long excuse, just a simple apology and it was over. Silas was impressed.
The moment of friendship arrived when Silas also washed up and, stepping behind Amy, took the burned skillet from her hands. “I’ll get this for you.” The look of surprise on her face could only be matched by the expression on her face when he’d asked to play the piano a few days earlier.
Silas didn’t wait for a comment from Amy but simply proceeded to scrape the pan clean. Amy’s surprise turned to genuine puzzlement when he did not return the skillet but put in strips of bacon and began to crack eggs into a bowl.
The three worked together in silence, Grant and Amy both sending a look in Silas’ direction now and then. The meat was eaten as silently as it had been prepared. Grant and Silas were still at the table with their coffee when Amy was ready to leave for school. She kissed her father good-bye and then moved over to Silas. He smiled at her and said, “Have a good day, Amy.”
“Thank you, Silas.” Amy spoke these words just before bending and planting a quick kiss on his cheek. Silas turned to stare at her as she bolted for the door. Neither man spoke of it the rest of the day, but Silas noticed for the first time that Grant whistled while they went about their daily work.
A precious friendship began that day and Silas boarded the train with a feeling of contentment in his heart brought on by his reflection of that time. The friendship he and Amy shared had been special, one that no amount of time could obliterate. Each held a special place in the heart for the other.
The remainder of the trip, if uneventful, was less worrisome for Silas. By the time he arrived in Neillsville, it was raining. Silas had planned to hire a horse from the livery and ride the two-and-a-half miles out to the Nolan farm, but the rain caused him to reconsider.
Reasoning to himself there was no guarantee the rain would let up tomorrow, Silas went ahead toward the livery. He might as well get wet today as tomorrow.
It was dark and gloomy as he rode out of Neillsville, and he could feel the reluctance of the animal beneath him. Not that he blamed the poor beast. This was not fit weather for anyone. Silas only hoped, as he picked up the pace a bit, that Pastor Nolan’s letter had arrived and his appearance would be expected.
6
Amy muffled a small groan as she stood up from her cramped position on the milking stool. How excited she and her father had been at the freshening of two more heifers just last month. Now, with only two more cows to go and her back screaming, Amy couldn’t help wondering what they’d been so excited about. The morning milking never hurt her back like the afternoon milking did, and Amy, in her tired state, never stopped to think that the full schedule she kept between the morning and afternoon milking may have something to do with that fact.
The milking and cleanup finally completed, Amy threw her cape over her shoulders and, with head bent to watch every step, she moved carefully across the puddle-strewn yard to the house. Doctor Schaefer was scheduled to see her father sometime that night, and Amy wanted to be present.
Not until Amy was on the porch did she look up to see if Doc’s carriage was in the yard. Although on this rainy night he would probably have come right into the barn, Amy peered through the rain-darkened evening for signs of him and saw none. Satisfied she had finished before he arrived, she went in to check on her father.
Grant sat back against the pillows of his bed and heard the front door open and close. He waited quietly, without calling, knowing Amy would come to check on him as soon as she was dry. The pain was only a dull ache, but the frustration was ever-present. Having to lie in bed while his daughter did his work was almost more than he could bear.
“Doc should be here anytime, Dad. How about some supper?” Amy spoke as she entered the room and sat down gently on the bed, moving carefully so as not to jar his leg.
“Let’s eat after he comes. First, tell me if there is any trouble with the cows.”
Amy was accustomed to this question. Even when her father had been in great pain, he asked after the cows. He went on before she could answer. “I hate to see you go out in this rain. You didn’t get a chill, I hope.” Amy almost laughed over the fact that he asked about the cows before checking on his daughter. He wa
s like an overanxious mother where those cows were concerned. But considering they were the source of family income, she couldn’t say as she blamed him.
“The cows are fine, including the latest milkers, who are doing great. Everything is closed up for the night, and I did not catch a chill,” Amy recited quickly, hoping she had omitted nothing and that his worries would be eased, but a funny look came over his face.
“Amy, am I driving you nuts?”
Amy was so surprised by this question, she laughed outright. “Dad,” she gasped, “what in the world are you talking about?”
But he did not join in her merriment, and she tried hard to pull a straight face. “When have I ever had trouble milking? If there was a problem, you would be the first to know. And the second you start to drive me crazy, you’ll also be the first to know.”
This brought a small smile to Grant’s face and he asked, “You’re sure everything is fine?”
“Positive.” Amy said with a smile. “How’s the leg?”
“Better, much better. It usually throbs in the night, so I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to me sleeping the days away for a bit longer.”
“Well, as much as I’d like to see you out of that bed, I’ll tell on you in a hurry if you rush things.”
“I’m sure you will. You’re as bossy as your mother was.” They both laughed at this. Maureen Nolan had been the most unbossy woman on the face of the earth.
Old Doc Schaefer arrived as Amy was fixing supper. He readily agreed to stay for the meal, and the amount of stomach stretching his binders gave proof that he rarely turned down such offers.
Doc checked Grant over and was pleased to see him progressing so well. Between Amy and the doctor, Grant was able to eat at the kitchen table for the first time in nearly two weeks. Conversation was lighthearted for most of the meal and, having escaped the bed, Grant was in high spirits.
Over coffee and dessert, Doc Schaefer asked a surprising question. “Had you heard? Carltons were robbed last night.”
“Robbed?” Amy was incredulous. “What in the world was there to steal?” Amy’s question was valid. The Carltons had a very small farm and usually had a hard time making it from month to month.
“Well, Harold must have told one too many people he was planning on taking some of that inheritance money from Ruth’s aunt for farm repairs.”
“But Ruth said that money was in the bank.”
“It was until yesterday and then was stolen last night.”
The table was silent as Grant and Amy digested this bit of news. More coffee was served and the three talked on until it was evident Grant had overestimated his strength. The rain had not let up and so as soon as they had Grant settled back in bed, Doc took his leave.
He and Amy talked for a bit but, with the rain continuing, Amy wanted to get out and check the stock one last time before settling in for the evening.
“Amy,” Grant said as she was leaving, “take the shotgun out with you.” Amy’s eyebrows rose in surprise at this, and for a moment she hesitated. “Please, honey, it would make me feel better.”
Amy nodded silently and headed for the door. She realized that until just then she hadn’t even thought of the thieves still being in the area.
The gun felt cold against Amy’s side as she made her way across the yard for a final check on the animals. She tried to squelch the fear she felt as she stepped carefully around the puddles, but the desire to do double checks on the shadows was a temptation. Psalm 56:3 came to mind as she moved toward the barn: “What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.” After thinking of these words, Amy knew instant comfort.
The rain was not a hard downpour, but a steady shower. The warmth and familiar smells of the barn were an added comfort as Amy stepped within. She leaned the gun against a post while lighting the lantern.
The wind seemed to pick up as did the rain as she walked along the stalls. Amy was angry with herself for the fear she felt. She knew God was watching over her and once again claimed the verse in Psalms. Everything was in order and Amy had just blown out the lamp and picked up the gun, when the door was opened wide.
Having just ridden in the dark, Silas was a few steps into the barn before his eyes made out a lone figure pointing a gun at him. He froze and felt his heartbeat accelerate. He had wondered how he would be greeted at the Nolan farm, but this was ridiculous.
“State your business, mister, and do it quickly.” The voice speaking from behind the gun was high-pitched with fear, but Silas recognized it.
“I’ll state my business, Amy Nolan! You’ve got exactly two seconds to get that gun pointed in another direction, or I’ll do it for you!” His voice was gruff with relief, and he was just a bit angry.
The gun lowered slowly. “Silas?” The voice went up still another octave.
“Silas?” Silas mimicked in a high imitation of her voice.
With that the words came pouring out as she tried to light the lamp. “Oh, Silas! Oh no, I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I held a gun on you. You scared me and you see there was this robbery and well, I wasn’t expecting anyone to come in.” The words stopped as abruptly as they had started when the lamp was finally lit and turned high. Amy could only stare at the drenched man before her. Silas stared back. Amy watched the flash of white in his beard as a slow smile started.
“Hi.” Silas’ voice was soft now, and deep.
“You mean you’re speaking to me?” Amy asked, her tone dry. Silas’ laughter echoed in the barn, and he reached to give her a quick hug.
“I take it from your reaction, I’ve arrived ahead of your uncle’s letter?”
“There’s been no word on your coming, but I’m so glad you’re here.” Amy’s voice was sincere and childlike all at once.
“How is your dad?”
“He’s doing better, and he’ll be thrilled to see you.”
They stared at each other for a few more minutes, Amy feeling like she could hug him again but remembering she was not 14 anymore. Silas thought how grown up she was.
They worked together to stable Silas’ horse and, as they made their way across to the house, Silas had the odd sensation he was coming home.
“You would think the boss could have put this off for one night. I’m freezing.”
The man to whom he spoke only grunted in reply and continued to stare out into the rain. Within ten minutes, coming from the direction of town rode a black-cloaked figure on an equally black mount. The men stood silently as the horse and rider entered the broken-down barn that had stood abandoned for years.
Without dismounting, the rider spoke. “You have the money?” The voice was husky and low, and the two men within the barn tried to make out the face of their mysterious employer. The turned-up collar of the cloak, along with the low brimmed hat, kept the rider’s identity as dark as the night.
Wordlessly, bags were exchanged. A large sack was handed up to the rider and quickly concealed beneath the cloak.
Anticipating the next move, the two men caught small bags as they sailed from atop the horse.
The chink of coins as the bags landed in the outstretched hands was the only sound made as the two men watched the rider turn the mount and disappear into the wet gloom.
“Who do you suppose he is?”
“I don’t have a clue, but if we start asking questions the money will stop,” the other man spoke as he tucked the moneybag into his belt. “And that is a risk I’m not willing to take.”
7
Silas lay on his back in bed. The vaulted ceiling was familiar, as were the smells and sights of his attic bedroom. The room was simply furnished with a bed, washstand, and dresser. Moonlight streamed through a small, yellow-curtained window and shone on Silas’ clothes where they hung from a hook on the wall. Next to the hanging clothes was a small wooden chair. For Silas there was a strange sense of comfort in seeing everything as he remembered.
Silas had the same feeling with Grant and Amy, even though there had been changes.
The three of them had taken about an hour to get reacquainted, and Silas was amazed at how welcome they had made him feel. It was as if they had never been separated.
As he lay musing, Silas remembered that Amy had said something about a robbery. He would have to ask her tomorrow. Right now he was too tired to think. He knew the morning would bring hard work—not that he had ever been afraid of work, but getting a good night’s sleep was beginning to blot out all other thought.
He knew this was where God wanted him, and it gave him a feeling of contentment as he drifted off to sleep that could only be matched by that of the two people readying for sleep downstairs.
Amy had never prepared for bed so slowly. Her mind kept going over and over the events of the last two hours when Silas had appeared in the barn, and then seeing her look of surprise mirrored on Grant’s when Silas’ large frame had filled her father’s bedroom doorway.
Silas carried with him an air of confidence that brought with it a sense that all was going to be well.
Four years ago God had given Amy a big brother, for six weeks, in the form of Silas Cameron. Silas had come to them like an armored knight in days of old, at a time when their pain and confusion over losing their wife and mother was so great, they didn’t believe their world would ever be normal and happy again.
Quiet and sensitive, Silas had offered comfort and stability in his warm, gentle way. Amy had never known a better listener. She smiled to herself as she began to brush her hair. Silas was back, and everything was going to be just fine.
For the first time in over two weeks Grant’s mind was not on the throbbing in his leg as he tried to fall asleep.