Dual staircases rose from the foyer to the second floor in a straight, formal fashion. To the right of the foyer was a small parlor with large windows overlooking the porch. In one corner stood a small fireplace.
Another room—appearing to be a library—branched off the parlor, but Silas did not move to investigate. His eyes swung to the left of the foyer and took in a large living room running almost the full length of the house.
This room, as well as the foyer sported huge windows, some accented with colored or ornately etched glass. The living room overlooked the porch and was full of beautiful furniture. Several doors exited off this room, and Silas felt an urge to explore. He glanced at Amy to find her watching him.
“Were you hoping I’d be impressed?” Silas’ expression was knowing.
“Are you?” Amy’s grin was downright cheeky.
“What if I said no?” Silas asked with an elaborate shrug.
“I’d say you were a poor liar, Si Cameron.”
“You’d be right,” Silas said with a laugh.
“Amy,” a deep, almost-masculine voice called from the living room. Amy turned and rushed into the arms of a tall, reed-slim woman.
Silas watched as the two shared a long hug. When at last they separated, Bev Randall held Amy at arm’s length. The unfeigned concern Silas saw written on her face endeared her to him immediately. “How is Grant?”
“A little better every day, but he’s been in so much pain,” Amy answered in a trembling whisper, and Silas knew without seeing her face that she was fighting tears. Her aunt knew also and pulled her once again into a firm embrace.
“I wanted to come, but…well…” The words died in the older woman’s throat as Amy nodded her head in silence. Once again the two hugged, this time in unspoken understanding.
Silas suddenly found himself the center of attention. Both women had turned to him and Silas stood quietly, studying Amy’s aunt as intently as she was studying him.
The face before him was thin, cheeks nearly sunken. Something about her mouth led Silas to believe she didn’t smile often. Her eyes were shrewd but not unkind, nor did they waver from his own as she began to speak in an almost-stern tone of voice.
“From Amy’s description, you can’t be anyone other than Silas Cameron.” She paused, and the young people in the room were almost tense as they waited for her to continue. But when she did, there was kindness in her rather gravelly voice. “I must admit that when Amy told me about you four years ago, I believed it could only be a 14-year-old’s imagination that could create such size. But I was wrong,” she said as she stepped forward with her hand outstretched. “You are big.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Randall.”
“Please call me Bev and allow me to thank you for coming to help Grant and Amy.”
“Aunt Bev,” Amy broke in, “how did you know Silas was here to help us?”
“Oh, that’s easy. Two nights ago a large, bearded man arrived by train when the skies were dumping rain on Neillsville. He rented a horse and headed in the direction of the Nolan farm.” Bev smiled at Amy, who was beginning to catch on, and continued her story to a still-confused Silas. “You see, Silas, there isn’t much in this town that goes on without my knowledge. Remembering Amy’s description of you and the direction you headed that night along with finding you in my front room… well, you see it didn’t take a detective.”
The three laughed at this logical explanation for Bev’s nosiness, but Amy sobered quickly upon remembering something.
“Aunt Bev, had you heard about the robbery at the Carlton farm?”
Bev nodded silently, and Silas and Amy watched a pained, troubled expression cross over her features. She opened her mouth to speak, but just then the front door burst open and in strode Evan Randall.
12
Silas spooned soup into his mouth from the most beautiful china bowl he had ever seen. The spoon in his hand was heavy with a large, ornate “R” engraved on the handle. It was obvious even to the most casual observer that everything in the Randall dining room, and probably the entire house, was of high quality and cost.
As he continued to eat, Silas watched Evan Randall converse with his niece. Silas tried to look at Amy, but she was partially hidden by a vase of fresh flowers sitting on the table between them.
Silas found it odd that Evan made no attempt to include him or his wife in the conversation. Still, Silas continued to study the man.
He was slim like his wife and a few inches taller. His hair was a medium shade of brown but his thin mustache and short, pointed beard were nearly black. Silas studied the man’s eyes. They were unsmiling eyes—even when the corners of Evan’s mouth had turned up, his eyes had stayed flat, almost expressionless. Silas remembered the way they had skimmed over him earlier when they were introduced. Silas had the distinct impression he’d been assessed and found wanting.
Silas’ thoughts were interrupted when the soup bowls were removed. He met Amy’s blue eyes just over the top of a red rose when the butler announced the serving of roast duck. Those eyes twinkled at him before Amy turned to answer a question posed by her uncle.
The meal progressed, and by the time dessert arrived Silas was a bit antsy. He was not used to taking so much time over a midday meal, and especially when he had not been allowed more than two sentences’ worth of conversation.
Amy also must have been aware of the time. Not more than ten minutes passed after the end of the meal when she said they had to be leaving. She hugged her aunt good-bye and promised to return soon. Silas stayed in the house a moment longer to add his thanks to Bev Randall as Evan walked Amy to the wagon. Once outside, he caught part of their conversation as he approached.
“Please, Amy, don’t reject the idea out of hand. You’ll always be welcome in this home. If you don’t feel good about leaving your father in someone else’s care, then plan to come when he’s back on his feet.”
Amy opened her mouth to speak, but Evan held up his hand to forestall her. “Don’t give me an answer now. Just think on it and know the offer I made before your father’s accident still stands.”
“Alright, Uncle Evan, I’ll talk to you later.” Amy’s voice sounded almost sad.
Silas had boarded the wagon and was surprised when Evan reached across Amy to shake his hand. His smile was almost warm. His words were even more surprising. “I’m glad you’re here, Silas. I hope with your help Amy’s father will be up and about soon.” He didn’t wait for a reply but turned and walked back to the house.
Silas sat for a moment and stared at the woman beside him. When she did not look at him, but sat staring somewhere beyond the horse’s ears, he spoke. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me what that was all about?” He watched Amy frown and bite her lower lip, telling him she’d heard his question, but she made no move to answer.
Just as silently, Silas urged the team forward. Amy still had not spoken at the edge of town and Silas left her to her thoughts even though his were racing. He had not liked the bit of conversation he’d heard or the unexpected words directed to him from the town banker. Something told him Evan Randall never acted unselfishly. Silas shook his head slightly over his judgmental attitude. The last thing Evan Randall needed was Silas’ condemnation. What he really needed was prayer, and Silas was suddenly thankful for Amy’s silence as he began to pray silently.
Amy, sitting so quietly on her side of the wagon, was praying also. Not just praying, but begging God for wisdom in this impossible situation that was bound to bring pain to someone she loved.
A few weeks before her father’s accident, Evan had approached her about coming to live in town with him and Bev. Amy had been so surprised that she had not known what to say. She had rarely seen her uncle so excited. “You have no social life when you live so far out of town. Bev and I have more space in this house than we know what to do with. I know you would never make this move without talking to your father. But I’ll say this much, Amy,” and here his voice
grew very stern, “if your father really loves you he won’t stand in the way of your happiness.”
Amy had been dumfounded by his words. She had never expected to receive such an invitation from her uncle, and she wondered where in the world he got the idea she was unhappy on the farm. Amy was still reeling from shock when her uncle spoke his first insensitive words to her. “I don’t have to remind you, Amy, that Debra Wheeler is a town girl. Now I think Thomas Blane is a fool to give you up and obviously not good enough for you, but the truth is that the most eligible men are from town and they would naturally want wives from town.”
Had Amy not been so stunned by his words, she would have burst into tears. She was well on her way to getting over Thomas. In fact, she was doing so well she wondered if indeed it had been love she felt for him. But these words coming so cruelly from her adored uncle, that somehow her being from the farm had made her not good enough, were almost more than she could bear. Even now they caused a sharp pain in the region of her heart. It didn’t help that Amy thought Debra Wheeler very beautiful and her pride had suffered a severe blow at being tossed over for one of the most attractive girls in Neillsville.
Suddenly she wanted to talk it over with Silas. But after the way she had treated him in front of her uncle’s house, she wasn’t sure he was speaking to her.
“Silas, are you angry with me?”
“No, should I be?”
“Yes.”
“How do you figure?”
“Well, you asked me a question in town and I wouldn’t even look at you.”
“That’s true. But did you stop to think that I asked you a question that was none of my business?”
Amy shifted on the seat to look at Silas and he pulled the team to a halt. They were still about a half mile from the house.
“Oh Silas, I wasn’t offended by your question—never think that, but I’m in a terrible mess and I really need someone to talk to and it can’t be my dad. If he ever found out, he’d be just crushed.”
“Found out about what?” Silas asked, his eyes leveled on her face. Had she not said a word he would have known something or someone was playing havoc with her heart. For an instant he thought it might be the man she had been engaged to and wondered why this idea bothered him so much.
Amy was unaware that her face was a mask of confusion and grief as she answered. “Before Dad’s accident, Uncle Evan asked me to come and live with him and Aunt Bev. Today he assured me the offer still stands.”
Amy spoke the words quietly, and Silas understood almost instantly the dilemma she was in. She had long been an envoy of peace amid these two families, and now she found herself between the kettle and the coals. No matter what her choice, someone she loved was going to be hurt.
13
Grant was starved for news from town and fired many questions at Silas and Amy during supper, much to the relief of both. Time had not allowed them to sit long on the road, and they were still both in deep thought over their unfinished conversation.
“Amy,” Silas had said, “I don’t have answers for you right now. I need to think and pray before I can advise you, and I’m not even sure I should do that. You may need to work this out for yourself. But I’m glad you told me and when you want to talk, you know I’m here.” Amy had thanked him. The regret and concern she had seen in his eyes had somehow given her a small measure of peace. She didn’t feel quite so alone in her pain.
Amy had just finished the dishes when Grant called her to his room. Silas had helped him into bed after supper, then he went out for a final check on the cows. Grant asked Amy to play for a while, and Silas found her seated at the piano and playing softly when he returned.
Moving quietly, Silas settled onto the couch and let the music flow over him. Amy was in profile to him as she played, and Silas watched with the eye of a fellow musician. As always, her style and grace were beyond compare. Her hands moved with confidence as she played from memory. Silas recognized the music, noticing she went from hymns to a more difficult piece that had a soothing, almost haunting melody. His head fell back to rest on the couch and, as his eyes slid closed, he began to reflect on the day.
The Randalls wanted Amy to come and live with them— what a mess! The conversation Silas had overheard at the wagon now made complete sense. Judging from the words Evan had directed at Silas, he seemed very confident Amy would come as soon as Grant was on his feet. Silas had to admit to himself, his first reaction to the idea was negative, but who was he to judge? Maybe God wanted Amy living in town.
Amy, as far as he could see, had been working hard all her life to balance her affection between her father and uncle—a position she had not asked for but one which had been thrust upon her at birth. Judging from the relationships Amy had with both men, it was obvious she was doing an excellent job. Silas felt a bit of anger that she should now be forced into making this kind of a decision. Possibly some of the anger could better be termed frustration at having no advice to give this young woman. She held a special place in his heart, as a younger sister would. His feelings must have shown on his face because he opened his eyes when the music stopped to find Amy watching him. “The music is supposed to relax you, Si, not make you frown.” She smiled at him as she spoke, but her eyes were questioning.
“It wasn’t the music, Amy, I can assure you. Nothing has changed in four years; you still play like an angel.”
“Just exactly how many angels have you heard play?” Amy’s voice was a bit mocking.
Silas gave her a stern look. “I can see there are other things that haven’t changed in four years; we’ve talked about this before. When someone compliments your playing, you thank them—not belittle your work with some light remark.”
“But Silas, that’s just it, it’s not work. My playing has always come so easily that I feel guilty accepting compliments.”
“It’s still a gift from God, and to make light of it is wrong.” The two sat regarding each other in stubborn silence for some moments. Amy spoke first.
“Were you frowning over what I told you in the wagon?” Amy was sure her dad was asleep, so she did not drop her voice.
Silas’ voice was serious as he answered. “It hasn’t been far from my thoughts since you told me. Would you like to talk about it?”
Gone was the big brother who scolded her for a flip response to his compliment. In fact, Silas’ voice was so tender that Amy nearly cried. She spoke slowly and Silas listened without interruption.
“A few weeks before my dad’s fall, Uncle Evan approached me about coming into town to live with them. Somehow he has the impression I’m unhappy out here on the farm. Nothing could be further from the truth.” She paused, but Silas kept quiet.
“Silas, had you heard I’d been engaged?” At his nod she continued. “The boy I was engaged to is from town and well, Uncle Evan felt I would meet someone else if I lived there. I’ve so wanted to talk with my dad, but I’m afraid he’ll think I’m staying here out of some sort of obligation and it wouldn’t be the truth. I don’t want to move into town, but I have no idea how to tell my uncle without hurting him or making him think Dad is forcing me to stay.
“I know my uncle never meant to be mean, but he said the most eligible boys were from town and they would naturally want a wife from town. Debra Wheeler lives in town. She’s Thomas Blane’s new fiancée, and Uncle Evan thinks if I had been from town Thomas would not have broken up with me. I didn’t tell my uncle that I plan to never marry, but I couldn’t help but feel a little hurt when he implied I wasn’t good enough. I also know my uncle has never accepted Christ, and I’m afraid that if the bond between us is broken, he’ll never come to know the Lord.”
Even in the light of this man’s need for salvation, Silas was working hard at keeping a normal expression on his face as rage boiled within him. How dare her uncle make Amy feel as though she were not good enough! Thomas Blane was a fool and obviously didn’t deserve her. Silas would have laughed if he’d known how closely his th
oughts echoed those of Evan Randall, a man he was having more and more trouble liking all the time.
“I know you can’t tell me what to do, but thank you for listening, Silas.”
Silas’ heart nearly broke at the forlorn look on her face. “You’re right, sweetheart, I can’t tell you what to do. But I will say this: I think you’re doing your father a great injustice. Part of the hurt you’re feeling is because you want to talk to him. I know he’ll listen and help you, and you know it too. Even with a broken leg he’s still the father who loves you with all his heart. He’ll not let you down.”
Amy sat and stared at Silas as the truth of his words came through to her. How many times had she asked God for help while possibly missing how close it had been all the time? “Thank you, Silas.” Amy spoke the words softly and moved to her bedroom. Silas blew out the lanterns and headed for his own room.
Grant lay quietly in his bed listening as Silas climbed the stairs to the attic. He stared at the ceiling, feeling old beyond his years and helpless. He wanted to pray but didn’t even know where to begin. After all he’d overheard tonight from the living room, the pain in his heart overpowered the pain in his leg. He felt a single tear slide down his temple, his heart crying out to God as it had so many times past, “Please God, let Your will for Amy be as special as she is.”
“You got the note?”
“I got it.” The voice answering was sharp with anxiety.
“What’s it say? We got another job to do?”
“Patience man, this barn’s been standing alone for years. A light burning in here and we’re as good as found out.”
The testy man’s companion peered out into the ebony night. There didn’t appear to be anyone about, but one couldn’t be too careful. Suddenly the attention of both men was drawn upward by the sound of fluttering wings—bats, no doubt. Each man reacted in his own way—one suppressed a shiver, the other pulled his hat a bit closer about his ears, and whispered, “Well, if we can’t read it here, let’s get back to town.” The man was not about to admit his fear, but he nearly sagged with relief when his partner moved toward the horses.