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Lillian patted his hand. “Harry, Darwin’s mind isn’t right. He’s had a lot of hate eating away at him most of his life. I don’t think he meant a word he said to you.”

This caused Harry to perk up. “Do you really think so, Miss Lillian?”

She nodded. “I do, so don’t be too sad. I think that Darwin—maybe when you were both little boys—before the hate took over, well, I’m certain he must have loved you very much. And we know that there’s still a chance for Darwin, because God loves him very much. We just need to pray for him to turn to God in his last hours.”

Harry nodded. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Woody met her gaze and shook his head. She was something else. “So what’s your other good news, wife of mine?”

She held up a telegram. “Remember I told you that Stanton notified me that Grandfather was sick and told me I should come?” Woody nodded. “Well, I sent a message back because I knew I couldn’t just up and leave you boys to take care of yourselves and Mrs. Goodman. I didn’t know what to do. And after Darwin was arrested, I sent another telegram telling Stanton that enough was enough. Since Grandfather was sick and could do nothing about it, I wanted Stanton to sit and read to him every one of the letters I had written.”

Woody laughed. “That sounds just like you.”

“Well, it did the trick.” Lillian crossed her arms against her beautiful lace shawl. “Stanton said the letters perked up Grandfather to the point that he began to take food and medicine again. He said Grandfather wants to see me—that he loves me.”

Harry clapped his hands. “Good. Good. Good.”

Lillian laughed and nodded. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“So when do you want to go see him?” Woody asked.

She drew close to him, and Jimmy went to stand beside Harry. She smiled sweetly at Woody and took hold of his arm. “That’s what I was hoping to talk to you about.”

“Oh dear. When you start in like this, I know it’s going to be quite interesting—perhaps even dangerous.”

“Nonsense. I just want for us to go see Grandfather as a family. You, me, Jimmy and . . . Harry.”

“Me?” Harry looked at them with such hope that Woody could have never denied him, even if he wanted to.

“Of course you,” Woody said. “You’re a part of our family now. If that’s okay with you.”

“A family.” Harry spoke the word with great reverence. “I have a family.”

Jimmy gave Harry a hug, and to his surprise Harry hoisted him into the air and up on his shoulder. “You’re my brother now,” Harry told him.

Jimmy giggled and squirmed. “And my papa and mama are your papa and mama.”

Woody felt tears dampen his eyes at the joy that radiated from the faces of his boys. “I think we should go have some ice cream and plan out our trip to Indiana.”

“I like ice cream,” Jimmy declared.

Harry nodded with great enthusiasm. “I like ice cream, too.” He headed for the door. “I know where we go for ice cream.”

Lillian put her arm around Woody’s waist, and he put his around her shoulder and pulled her close. They followed the boys at a distance, not caring at all about the spectacle they created.

“I like ice cream,” Woody whispered against her ear, “but I like you even better.”

“Funny you should say that.” Lillian gazed up at him with an expression of complete adoration. “Because I like you better than ice cream, too. And I
like
ice cream. A lot.” They hadn’t
had much time as husband and wife, but the look she gave him made him look forward to all the years ahead.

He chuckled. “It’s a good thing.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Lillian declared. “Mrs. Goodman sent this newspaper.” She let go of Woody and pulled it from under her arm. She opened it and handed it to Woody. “There’s a certain article she thought you would find amusing, especially with all the orders you’ve had coming in.”

Woody read the caption she pointed to:

Olive Growers’ Convention in Sacramento, California—Olives
for All

He scanned the article and began to chuckle.

“Listen to this. It’s a statement from Dr. P. I. Remondino at the Olive Growers’ convention. ‘The modern American . . . will never know . . . a full tide of health until he returns to the proper admixture of olive oil in his diet. Until he again recognizes the value and use of olive oil, he will continue to drag his consumptive-thinned, liver-shriveled, mummified-skinned and constipated and pessimistic anatomy about . . . in a vain search for health.’” Woody laughed again.

Lillian giggled along with him. “That could be our next advertisement. Wouldn’t
that
get the gossip chain going?”

He stopped in the middle of the street and pulled her to him.

She blushed a pretty shade of pink but wrapped her arms around his neck.

Leaning down, he kissed her nose. “I don’t know about you, my dear, but I would prefer to stay out of the gossip chain for the rest of my life.”

“Me too.” She winked. “But I fear, Mr. Colton, that if you continue to kiss me in the middle of the street—”

He interrupted her with a quick kiss to her lips.

“—where everyone can see—”

This time, he kissed her a little longer, and her arms wrapped a little tighter around his neck.

“—while our boys are no doubt—”

He leaned in for another distraction.

“—no doubt already ordering three scoops of ice cream apiece—”

Another kiss. And a waggle of his eyebrows.

“—As I was saying . . . oh, fiddlesticks, what was I saying?”

He laughed and kissed her nose again.

A whistle from across the street drew their attention.

From none other than their pastor. Their friend chuckled and waved.

Woody drew his wife . . .
his
wife . . . closer and winked.

She sighed. “I’m guessing we will
remain
the talk of the town.”

He kissed her soundly on the lips this time and looked around and smiled. “But you made a good point. We’d better hurry. We wouldn’t want them to run out of ice cream before we got there.” Releasing her from his embrace, he took her elbow and led her down the street while she laughed.

“Life will always be an adventure with you, Woody.” She straightened her hat. “And I’m looking forward to every moment.”

D
EAR
R
EADER

W
e are so thankful for each of you—our readers. Thank you for taking another journey with us. What a joy it’s been to hear from so many of you about
All Things Hidden
and to hear your excitement for
Beyond the Silence
.

Once again, our story is bathed in the historical detail and setting of a real place and time, but we also took some artistic liberty—this is, of course, a work of fiction.

Angels Camp, California, is a real place with an amazing history that goes beyond gold (just look up Mark Twain and the Jumping Frog Jubilee), and we had a wonderful time working on the research. The people of the Angels Camp Museum were a huge help, as well as the Calaveras County Historical Society.

There are real people we used in our story that we’d especially like to point out. Mrs. Rolleri really was famous for her handmade ravioli. In fact, people would line up at the back door on Sundays with their buckets ready to fill. George Stickle and his brother Edward came to the area in 1849 and built their store in 1852. Although in the story we called it the Stickle Bros. mercantile, all photos show the sign above the store being
labeled “G. Stickle.” George was a fascinating character who we kept coming across in our research. In fact, in
A History of Angels Camp
it states that George had one of the “finest reputations of any man in Angels Camp. His Enterprises were always of top repute. He helped organize the first Republican Party in town, served as a school Trustee, and was postmaster for several years.” While George’s personality in the book is a creation of our own, we imagined that the real George Stickle just might have been that same champion for Harry.

We’d also like to mention Freda Ehmann, a German woman who experimented in California and actually came up with the process that is still used today for canning table olives. She became famous for it just a few years after the setting of our story. While we spent months immersing ourselves into the research for the olive farm, only so much of it made it onto the page. But we hope you enjoyed it as much as we did. We know we will never look at olives or olive oil the same again, especially knowing that so many of them are still picked by hand.

Again, dear reader, thank you. You are a treasure to us.

We pray you have enjoyed the journey,

Kim and Tracie

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

I
t takes a team of talented people to put a book like this in your hands. And the team at Bethany House is beyond compare—from editorial to marketing to cover design and everything in between. They are incredible. Thank you—our BHP family.

In loving memory of Sharon Asmus—our beloved editor on both
All Things Hidden
and
Beyond the Silence
. Thank you, dear lady, for your years of service, and your encouragement.

To our husbands and families—we love you dearly. We couldn’t do what we do without your love and support
(and sarcasm, corny jokes, research, and brainstorming help)!

To the countless people who took our phone calls (and personal visits) in stride at the Angels Camp Museum and Calaveras County Historical Society and did your best to answer all of our questions—thank you!

But most important, to our Lord and Savior. May You be glorified in all that we do. Thank You for the gift of story and the opportunity to share our love for You and Your Word.

Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen.

Jude 1:24–25

Tracie Peterson
is the award-winning author of over one hundred novels, both historical and contemporary. Her avid research resonates in her stories, as seen in her bestselling H
EIRS
OF
M
ONTANA
and A
LASKAN
Q
UEST
series. Tracie and her family make their home in Montana. Visit Tracie’s website at
www.traciepeterson.com
.

Kimberley Woodhouse
is a multi-published author of fiction and nonfiction. A popular speaker and teacher, she’s shared her theme of “Joy Through Trials” with hundreds of thousands of people across the country. She lives, writes, and homeschools with her husband of twenty-plus years and their two awesome teens in Colorado. Connect with Kim at
www.kimberleywoodhouse.com
.

Also by Tracie Peterson and Kimberley Woodhouse

All Things Hidden

www.traciepeterson.com
•
www.kimberleywoodhouse.com

Books by Tracie Peterson

BRIDES OF SEATTLE

Steadfast Heart

Refining Fire

Love Everlasting

LONE STAR BRIDES

A Sensible Arrangement

A Moment in Time

A Matter of Heart

LAND OF SHINING WATER

The Icecutter’s Daughter

The Quarryman’s Bride

The Miner’s Lady

LAND OF THE LONE STAR

Chasing the Sun

Touching the Sky

Taming the Wind

STRIKING A MATCH

Embers of Love

Hearts Aglow

Hope Rekindled

SONG OF ALASKA

Dawn’s Prelude

Morning’s Refrain

Twilight’s Serenade

ALASKAN QUEST

Summer of the Midnight Sun

Under the Northern Lights

Whispers of Winter

Alaskan Quest (3 in 1)

BRIDES OF GALLATIN COUNTY

A Promise to Believe In

A Love to Last Forever

A Dream to Call My Own

DESERT ROSES

Shadows of the Canyon

Across the Years Beneath a Harvest Sky

HEIRS OF MONTANA

Land of My Heart

The Coming Storm

To Dream Anew

The Hope Within

LADIES OF LIBERTY

A Lady of High Regard

A Lady of Hidden Intent

A Lady of Secret Devotion

WESTWARD CHRONICLES

A Shelter of Hope

Hidden in a Whisper

A Veiled Reflection

YUKON QUEST

Treasures of the North

Ashes and Ice

Rivers of Gold

House of Secrets

A Slender Thread

What She Left for Me

Where My Heart Belongs