Within the Candle's Glow

by Karen Campbell Prough

  Her fingers instinctively clutched his wide shoulders as her heart rose in her throat. For brief seconds, she felt weightless, akin to down from a milkweed pod. She flowed freely in the wind. Then she realized her feet were solid on the ground and jerked her hands away.

  “It—it was nice to ride ‘stead of walk.”

  “I liked the company.” He turned for her bundle.

  “I did, too.” With her right hand pressed to her neck, she hid the scars. Under her fingers, her pulse leaped like a runaway horse. She stared at the ground. Cracks in the reddish soil revealed the recent lack of rain. Dust coated her boots.

  I wish it didn’t have to end. I’d ride with him ‘round the world.

  “Here.” Jim presented the wrapped goods.

  She let go of her neck and took the package.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. I miss seeing you. Everything I hear comes from Sam—recounting stories about you at the evening meal. He expounds on the fun you have, like fishing and berry picking. It makes me feel left out. The homestead demands most of my time.”

  “I’m sorry.” She realized the low noise in her ears mimicked her own heart, beating like a bird’s frantic wings. “Your brother is a good friend.” She swallowed and blurted out, “You should go with us next time. We’ll carry a picnic basket and hike to the falls.”

  “Samuel wouldn’t like it,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder at the wagon. “I must go. Oh, there is other news. Your teacher told me his uncle, Miles Kilbride, is willing to provide books for the school, and—”

  “Miles?” Her mind produced an image of a handsome, curly-haired man. “He came here for Konrad and your sister’s weddin’—years ago.” Anxiety tightened her chest. “He’s back?”

  “No, not yet. He wrote. He and his wife are moving here.”

  “Why?” She squeezed Velma’s package.

  “Miles hates Terminus—says it’s growing too fast. He and his wife hope to build a home on the upper end of our cove, beyond the narrows and above the stream. Near the new mill, I guess. They’ll stay with my sister and Konrad until the place is finished. Miles also said he’ll provide materials for a school building. He wants it built near the church, in the widest part of the cove.”

  “A school?”

  Her throat felt dry. The secret she knew about Miles had to be kept hidden!

  “Beckler’s Cove will benefit greatly. His offer is unheard of in these parts, unless someone strikes gold. When Walter’s father started his trading post in this skinny cove, I bet he didn’t expect the number of families settling here.”

  Ella shuddered, apprehension gripping her. Miles must never know what’s written in Mama’s Bible!

  “Children shouldn’t go without schooling. My brothers, sisters, and I were lucky to have a teacher for a mother—or else—we’d be like others in these coves and hollows.”

  She felt belittled by his words. Her own mama had done the best she could with teaching her. Abruptly, she stepped back, anger tensing her shoulders.

  “Jim, I must go. Thanks for the ride.”

  “You’re welcome.” He frowned. “Ella, did I say something wrong?”

  “No. Velma might wonder where I am.” She turned to watch a ground hog waddle through a patch of tall grass near the creek. The chubby-cheeked fellow propped himself up and eyed them. She hefted the package in her arms. “I must go in.”

  “I understand. Goodbye.”

  With a heavy heart, she watched him climb on the wagon.

  “Gi’dup!” He snapped the reins along the team’s backs. “Gee!” He urged them into the right hand fork of the trail.

  She felt ashamed. He was right about a school being important to all of them.

  “Jim!”

  He jerked on the reins and twisted sideways to watch her run to the wagon.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Yes.” She bowed her head. “I got upset at what you said ‘bout those lackin’ schoolin’. I shouldn’t have.”

  He dropped the reins, jumped from the wagon, and placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “Raise your head. Ella Dessa Huskey, I would never intentionally hurt you. I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking. I don’t consider you unlearned. And I’d never want to hurt you.”

  The kindness in his voice tugged at her heart.

  “I know that, Jim. I’m the one who’s sorry for bein’ short with you. It were—it was wrong.”

  “You’re tenderhearted. Don’t ever lose that gift.” A faint smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Go let Velma know you’re home.”

  She stood watching the wagon and its driver disappear into the distance.

  Chapter 3

  Samuel entered the barn and forked loose fodder into a stall with two new calves. Dancer, the family’s black-and-tan hound, emerged from a dried pile of cornstalks. She stretched and wagged her white-tipped tail.

  “Howdy, Dancer. I didn’t see you there. You want to get stabbed?” His stomach sickened at the thought of accidentally killing her.

  Four puppies, in varying shades of brown and black, whimpered and tumbled after the old dog. They wiggled under her sagging stomach and tripped her, but she stood still and nosed them. She was blind in one eye. The well-placed kick of an ornery cow had almost killed her.

  “This pitchfork could’ve stuck you.”

  Dancer swung her head sideways and peered up at him with her good eye.

  “When did you move the pups in here? Too unprotected under the corncrib? Well, you needn’t have worried. Big Hog killed the rattlesnake. I buried it.” He patted her boney head. “Sorry. No scraps from the house.” He chuckled as a male puppy attacked his pants leg. “Brave one, aren’t you?”

  He bent to tease the pup and ruffle its creamy tan coat. With a sharp yelp, the puppy jumped at his hand and mouthed it with needle-like teeth.

  “Ouch!” Samuel snatched his hand away and examined the red punctures. “Dancer, you best teach your offspring some manners.”

  The rumble of wagon wheels summoned him to the open door. He stood there in the fading sunlight and leaned on the pitchfork handle. His older brother brought the tired horses to a standstill.

  “Hi, Sam. Open the other door for me.” Jim jumped from the wagon. “New calves in the stall?”

  “Yep, that young cow wouldn’t tend them. I guess twins were too much for her. She kept butting them out of the way, even knocked one down. Stomped it.” He wedged the left door open. “I’ll help unload. Hey, did you see Ella Dessa?”

  “Sure did.” Jim grinned. “Get up on the wagon and hand down the bags.”

  “You make it sound like there’s something you ain’t telling me. What is it?”

  “Are you helping me unload?”

  “You’re avoiding my question.” Samuel pulled himself up on the wagon and handed Jim a sack of grain.

  “Naw. I gave her a ride home from Beckler’s.”

  “Why?” A stab of jealousy hit him.

  “Why not? It saved her walking. It’s hot today.” Jim removed his hat and used his shirtsleeve to wipe his forehead. “She had on a blue skirt—matched her eyes. She sure looked pretty. I told her as much.”

  “You didn’t.” Without warning, Samuel dropped a bag of grain from the end of the wagon.

  “Samuel!” Jim bent his knees, grabbed at the bag, catching it on his thighs. “I almost lost it and busted precious grain over the ground. Papa would whip you.”

  “Since when do you have the right to tell Ella Dessa she’s pretty?”

  With raised eyebrows, Jim lifted the sack to his shoulder. “The right? Why should it bother you?”

  “I’m going to the house.” Samuel clamped his teeth together and hopped off the wagon. He couldn’t let Jim see he was in a rage—a rage amounting to plain jealousy. He brushed his hands together. Fine dust particles drifted away with the wind. “You need to stick to giving Sophie evening rides around the cove.”


  “Oh, I saw her home, too.”

  “What?”

  “I said—”

  “I heard you.” Samuel turned on his boot heels. “Have fun unloading.”

  “Well, thanks for the help. Tell Mother I’m home.”

  Jim’s voice contained a hint of laughter.

  “Tell her yourself.” Samuel walked with his chin to his chest. Why did his brother persist in egging him into a turmoil over Ella Dessa? He could tolerate stepping in a yellow jacket’s nest easier than Jim’s teasing.

  Still growling under his breath, he stomped into the house. He rinsed his hands at the washbowl and headed for the long pine table. Papa sat there reading the Bible.

  “Jim git back?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” The white-haired man peered over a pair of round spectacles balanced on the bridge of his large nose. They were too small for his broad face. “Need to talk? You look ‘bout to bust with a problem needlin’ you.”

  “I’m tired of Jim’s cocky attitude. He’s bragging he saw Ella Dessa.”

  “So?” Papa laid the Bible on the table and scratched his scalp. His movements ruffled his thick hair.

  “Forget it. It’s nothing. Where’s Mother?”

  “In the girls’ room, making ‘em tidy up. They thought they’d be sneaky not puttin’ coverlets and quilts in place this morning. Your mother don’t abide by slothfulness.” He pointed one stubby finger at the page in front of him. “Says, right here, to train up a child in the way he should go.”

  “He should go?” Samuel saw a chance to get a rise out of his papa. “But, they’re girls—unless you’re speaking of Phillip.”

  “Samuel McKnapp, it means all children, boy or girl.” He tapped the page and turned the Bible around. “See? Read for yerself.”

  Samuel laughed. “I know what it means.”

  “Hmmph!”

  “Papa? Can I take Dancer’s largest pup down to Ella Dessa? She’d love him—I know she would. She could start training him to be a watch dog.”

  His papa snorted. “He’s barely five weeks.”

  “So? He’s feisty.”

  “Tomorrow’s the Sabbath. Don’t take that puppy.” A deep frown creased his brow.

  “Hey! I’m not selling it to her.”

  “Don’t raise your voice.”

  Samuel sighed. “I’m not selling it to her—just giving it to her.”

  “You musn’t drag a puppy to the widow and add it to the mouths she’s got to feed, not countin’ herself and Ella Dessa.”

  “Ella Dessa’s earning a bit. She needs a dog to trail her to work, wait around, and follow her home.” He beheld Jim coming through the door and spoke louder. “She should have a dog for safety, so men don’t believe she needs a ride home from Beckler’s General Store. Why, just today, I heard one of them no good fellows forced her into his wagon, so he could take her home.”

  “What?” Jim frowned and removed his hat. “You’re crazy.”

  “What?” Their papa’s booming voice echoed in the room. “Who’s messin’ with Ella Dessa? Who thinks they can act that way?” He slammed the Bible shut and started to stand.

  “No, Papa—no.” Jim hurried to the table and gripped the older man’s shoulders with both hands. “Stay seated. Samuel’s pulling your leg—your good one. I took Ella home today. It so happened she got off work about the time I finished seeing Sophie home. It’s been a busy afternoon.” He sat at the table and backhanded Samuel’s arm.

  “Ouch!”

  “You sure can’t take a little ribbing.”

  “That hurt.”

  Jim ignored him. “Papa, you ought to see the platform Walter built on the back of the store. You can stand on it and step into your wagon. No more steps. It’s rough-looking, but it works.”

  “Must be nice. I’d like to see it, ‘stead of sittin’ home.”

  Jim shrugged. “Sure—next time I go to the cove.”

  “I reckon I need to go along so Ella Dessa don’t get kidnapped ag’in.” Their papa winked and grinned at Samuel. “You two boys don’t go to fightin’ over her.”

  “We’re not fighting.” Samuel gave a pronounced exhale of disgust and rubbed at a bug bite on his hand. “Jim’s ribbing me.”

  “Hmmph! Both of you got that certain gleam in your eyes. Worries me some, you bein’ brothers.”

  “I don’t have a gleam in my eye.” Jim muttered.

  “Yeah, you do.”

  Papa’s words shocked Samuel. Is he saying Jim likes Ella Dessa? He stood and ignored Jim.

  Their papa pulled the ragged Bible toward him, opened the cover, and turned a couple of fragile pages. “Let’s see. What’s the Good Book say ‘bout brothers?”

  Samuel headed to the door. “I’ll be at the barn.” Before the door shut behind him, he heard Ella Dessa’s name and paused.

  “She’s Samuel’s age. Papa, I’ve no certain look in my eye. She’s too young and shouldn’t have to walk home when I’m right there.”

  “Son, I’m older than your mother, by eleven years.”

  “I have my thoughts set on a girl more my age.”

  “Who, Sophie Wald? The girl with her nose in the clouds? She’s chased you for years. I feel, if you was interested—you’d have married her ‘fore now. Did you ask her to the picnic?”

  Samuel didn’t hear Jim’s reply. He hurried to the barn and got the tan puppy he claimed for Ella Dessa. He tucked it under his chin and petted its head and back. The contented pup snuggled in for a nap, unmindful a human cuddled it and not its mother.

  “Papa’s right.” His breath stirred the fuzzy coat. He touched his lips to the animal’s head and smiled. The scent of hay surrounded it. “I must have that look in my eye, ‘cause I feel a whole lot of something in my heart, and it isn’t willing to stay there much longer.”

  #

  That evening, Ella couldn’t shake her worries about Miles Kilbride. After the evening meal with Velma and the six children, she slipped to the loft and went to her private corner of the crowded space. Velma’s daughters, Carrie, Mae, and Rosemary shared the loft with her, while the boys, Scott and Remy, slept along one wall below the loft. There wasn’t much space for privacy within the confines of the old cabin, and Velma had the only real bed, wedged into a corner of the cabin’s one room, along with a tiny pallet for Adam.

  She sat with her legs crossed and opened a miniature wooden trunk she kept tucked under the tight slope of the roof. She drew out a handsome carved box and her mama’s precious worn Bible. Her fingers traced the rose chiseled into the cover of the box. She knew whose hands and artistic talent had created the unique and true-to-life design—a man named Miles Kilbride.

  Memories of her mama flashed like bright scenes in her mind as she unlatched the cedar-scented box and fingered the few items. Mama’s hairpins, six of them, carved out of oak and polished to silky smoothness, felt cool to her touch. Ella sometimes wore them. Most of the time, the fear of losing them caused her to store them in the box.

  She lifted a folded piece of yellowed paper, smoothed its creases, and laid it flat in her lap. The faded ink was still visible. She whispered words written to her mama before Ella’s own birth.

  “Dearest Meara, my friend, Logan, promised to deliver this missive to you this evening. I cannot slip away. I have the night watch over the new mining equipment. We leave in one week for North Carolina. Logan laughs at a teacher working in a questionable gold mine, but it is what I must do, right now.

  “With every fiber of my being, I yearn to have you as my wife. There will never be another woman who will fulfill what I am as a man. Tomorrow, I am coming to ask for your hand in marriage. Parson Wheedon said he could marry us on Saturday.

  “I will bring the hairpins to you. I have finished the carving on the box. It is my wedding gift to you, along with what is stored inside it. Keep it safe. It is our future.

  “I have to know you are my wife before I leave. It will be my last
trip. I promise. I just need to fulfill my obligations with Barringer, the mine owner. I dislike the lack of restraint showed by all when just flakes of gold are discovered. I will not waste my life on the love of gold. God’s gift of art and teaching anoints my talents.

  “When I return, I will take what I have placed in your hand for safekeeping and buy a piece of land for us. There, I will build you a wonderful home and dig wild roses to plant around it. I will hide it from all eyes, so we can cling to one another. We’ll be concealed from the world. The scent of the roses will not surpass the way you take my breath away. I will go back to teaching, and you will lovingly nurture our children. Yours forever and ever, Miles Kilbride.”

  Over four years ago, after discovering the letter in Mama’s Bible, Ella had hidden it in the carved box—a box made by a man now wanting to settle in the secluded cove. She’d have to see Miles Kilbride, talk to him, and hide facts he didn’t even know existed.

  Tears dripped off her face as she bent over the letter. They made irregular splotches on the thin paper and accompanied marks left by tears before her birth.

  “Oh, Mama, he’s comin’ to live here. What do I do? How do I keep the secret? Why didn’t you tell me the whole story? Why did God let this happen?”

  The irony of it all swamped her thoughts. The passage of time had brought Miles into Beckler’s Cove, a long way from where he once lived. Above him on the mountain, without his knowledge, the woman he had once loved lay silent in her grave. Whispering pines hid her resting place.

  Ella covered her lips to keep sobs from breaking loose.

  Years ago, Velma had been the one to point out a strange name written in the front of the Bible. The record of Ella’s birth, inked in Meara Huskey’s attractive handwriting, had recorded Ella Dessa Kilbride. The recorded date of her mama’s arranged wedding to Jacob Huskey suggested Ella had been born months too soon, or Meara had been in the family way when forced into a loveless marriage.

  With a shaking hand, Ella wiped her face and squared her shoulders.

  “Mama, you bore so much for me—torment at Jacob Huskey’s hands. He left the cove and me.” Her quiet words couldn’t reach the ears of those playing below the loft. “I can keep the secret. No one’ll ever talk bad of you. I know what you did to protect me.”