by Carol Cox
Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart seemed to stop abruptly. Then it picked up its pace again, pounding in her ears. “I believe a position might be open . . . for the right man.”
Ben raised his other hand to push a wayward curl back from her face. A quiver shook Amelia from head to toe as she gazed into his eyes, feeling as though their souls connected. Her breath quickened when he raised her to her feet and slipped his hands behind her shoulders.
She pressed her hands against his shirtfront and felt his heart beating against her outstretched fingers. Once again, he breathed her name and leaned toward her.
The door crashed open, followed by a shrill cry of, “Hey, Miss Amel—”
Amelia froze, then turned to see Jimmy framed in the doorway, with Clara and Homer close behind him. She felt her face flame when she saw their startled expressions, and she didn’t dare look at Ben.
Clara planted her hands on her hips. “Homer said you were up and around again.” A grin stretched her mouth wide. “Appears to me you’re feeling pretty spry.”
Homer only chuckled, while Jimmy remained rooted to the spot, his eyes and mouth open wide.
Amelia floundered for something to say. “We . . . we were just . . .”
“No need to explain.” Clara’s lips spread in a wide grin. “It’s pretty clear what was going on . . . and I must say, it’s about time.” She stepped closer to Homer and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.
Ben blinked and turned to Amelia. “Did I miss something while I was in Prescott?” he murmured.
Laughter gurgled from Amelia’s throat, and she spoke just loudly enough for him to hear. “It looks to me like God has been working in more lives than just yours and mine. After being a confirmed bachelor for so many years, it’s a miracle Homer isn’t running for the door.”
Ben’s chuckle vibrated beneath her fingertips, still pressed against his chest. “I’m beginning to think it’ll take a miracle for us to finally get that kiss without someone interrupting.”
Amelia stared up into his face, only a breath away. “Or maybe we just need to step out and take matters into our own hands.” She slid her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. After an instant’s hesitation, Ben tightened his arms around her and returned the kiss with gusto.
Several delicious moments later, they drew apart, and he stared down at her with laughter in his eyes. “So does that mean you can find a place for me at the Gazette?”
Amelia nodded and raised her lips to his again. Just before they met, she whispered, “It does indeed. And to tell the truth, right at this moment, I don’t care who’s watching.”
Acknowledgments
I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to Sky Shipley, owner of Skyline Type Foundry, who patiently walked me through the operations of a 19th-century newspaper. The insights and information he shared enriched the story immensely and kept me from committing some whopping errors. Any mistakes I’ve managed to make in spite of his guidance are strictly of my own doing.
And special thanks to Mary Rigby, Micki Davis, and the staff and patrons of the Ash Fork Public Library. I appreciate your encouragement and support more than I can say!
Author’s Note
Dear Reader:
Like the towns of Pickford, the setting for Love in Disguise, and Cedar Ridge, where Trouble in Store takes place, you won’t find Granite Springs on any Arizona map. But all three of these fictional places are firmly rooted in real locations. In the case of Granite Springs, that would be the area around Camp Wood, an abandoned town site about twelve miles northwest of Prescott. With its rich history of logging and mining, and the wide array of scenery—ranging from flat ranch land to hills dotted with dense stands of cedars to pine-covered slopes—it made a perfect place for Amelia and the Granite Springs Gazette to call home.
While the settings for these Arizona stories only exist in my imagination, I’ve taken pleasure in sprinkling some actual sites and people in amongst the fictional. The Hotel Burke, where Ben stays during his visit to Prescott, was the original name of the present-day Hotel St. Michael, which stands on the corner of Gurley and Montezuma, directly across the street from the Courthouse Plaza. My first meeting with Karen Schurrer, my wonderful editor, took place in the hotel’s dining room, where we enjoyed the same view of the plaza Ben did while he waited for a reply to his telegram.
The Eleventh Infantry Band from nearby Fort Whipple really was directed by Achille LaGuardia. And if the name LaGuardia strikes a chord in your memory, you might be thinking of Achille’s son, Fiorello, who spent part of his childhood at Fort Whipple before growing up to become the mayor of New York City.
In writing a story about a frontier newspaper, I needed to fill the gaps in my knowledge about 19th-century journalism and printing processes. I was able to find information from books and online sources, but not nearly enough to capture the essence of producing a small-town weekly. Fortunately, a solution was closer to hand than I dreamed. A phone call to Prescott’s Sharlot Hall Museum led me to Sky Shipley, owner-operator of Skyline Type Foundry, one of only three type foundries left in the United States.
Sky graciously allowed me to visit his foundry in Prescott and showed me his extensive collection of antique printing presses. Further teaching took place at the print shop in Sharlot Hall Museum, where Sky took me step-by-step through the process of setting up and printing a newspaper on a Washington Press, just like the one in this story. My appreciation for his help—and my admiration for his passion to keep letterpress printing alive—knows no bounds.
Sky offered an especially valuable insight in letting me know that newspapers during the late 19th century were often funded by special interest groups intent on furthering their own agendas. Therefore, the passion Amelia’s father had for digging up and printing the truth, and nothing but the truth, would have been something of an anomaly at the time. It’s that very contrast with the typical newspaper editor of that day that would have made Andrew Wagner stand out and have a story worth recounting, and it was a joy to let his character and love for truth shine forth.
Thank you for taking the time to follow Amelia’s adventures in Truth Be Told. May God continually reveal His truth to you as you walk in His light!
Carol
Philippians 4:4
Author of thirty novels and novellas, Carol Cox has an abiding love for history and romance, especially when it’s set in her native Southwest. As a third-generation Arizonan, she takes a keen interest in the Old West and hopes to make it live again in the hearts of her readers. A pastor’s wife, Carol lives with her husband and daughter in northern Arizona, where the deer and the antelope really do play—within view of the family’s front porch.
To learn more about Carol, please visit her at:
Her website: www.AuthorCarolCox.com
Her blog: www.AuthorCarolCox.com/journal
Facebook: www.facebook.com/carol.cox
Twitter: www.twitter.com/authorcarolcox
Books by Carol Cox
* * *
Love in Disguise
Trouble in Store
Truth Be Told
Resources: bethanyhouse.com/AnOpenBook
Website: www.bethanyhouse.com
Facebook: Bethany House