Within the Candle's Glow by Karen Campbell Prough Read Free Book Online Page A

lookin’ for
you
.”
    “He’s found me.” Ella watched him jump to his feet and wave. The sun reflected on his blond hair.
    She waved in return, but her eyes switched to Jim. He appeared to be in deep conversation with the man seated near him on the grass, his arms propped on his bent knees.
    “Ella Dessa.” Agatha nudged her. Her plump hand held a well-cooked turkey wing. “I hear you have a nice garden.”
    “Yes’um. It’s growin’, even with bugs nibblin’ it. I found the sunniest spot, just like you tolt me. I dug under leaves near the creek and mixed that dirt with field dirt.”
    “Wonderful.” The older woman patted Ella’s skirted knee, leaving a greasy spot. “I knew you’d do it. Is the mint thriving?”
    “We have it with tea.” She smiled. “I hope to make peas puddin’ end of this summer. Thank you for the recipe.”
    “You have a knack for gardening. Let me know when it’s time to pick the peas. I’ll help—if’n my back allows.”
    “Oh, I have help.” She nodded at the children. “They know they must lend a hand, right down to the least of them. Scott helped me raise a split-rail fence, but the deer still jump it. Velma’s old hound chases ’em.”
    “Mary and Lessie enjoy working in our garden. When I lived in Richmond, our house was in town. I had a gardener …” Agathasquinted, and her eyes shifted away from Ella’s face and concentrated on something near the woods. “Now, who in tarnation is
that?
”
    “What?” Ella twisted sideways, bumping Carrie’s shoulder.
    A long-legged, dark horse stepped out of the tree line into the sunlit field. Its hooves crushed the scattered white blooms of wild carrot. A solitary, lanky rider, with a long gun poised across the saddle, angled his mount toward the gathering.
    Straight-faced women urgently gathered the youngest of the children. A few men stood, seizing weapons from nearby wagons. An unordinary hush flowed over the picnickers. Only the loud cawing of a raucous crow, from the top of a dead pine, broke the eerie stillness.
    “Velma—Agatha?” Mr. Beckler stopped gnawing on a blackened turkey leg and laid it on the quilt. “I don’t like his looks.” He rubbed one hand across his greasy mouth and white mustache, never once shifting his eyes from the stranger. “If I wave a hand to you, rush all the children to the church. He mightn’t be alone.” His narrowed eyes swept the edge of the forest as he struggled to stand—wrinkling the quilt beneath his legs and boots. “I heard ‘bout trouble down in the mines. There’s thievery and random killing of innocent folks. Might be others waiting in the woods.”
    His spectacles glinted in the sun, but Ella saw steely grimness in his eyes. He got his gun and stood with the other men. His ramrod stance and large shoulders didn’t divulge his age in years. Only his snowy hair and beard showed how much of life he had managed to live through—without deadly harm.
    Six men from the picnic advanced on foot toward the rider—weapons ready.
    “Can we help you?” someone called out, a chill of forewarning in the deep male voice.
    It was unusual to have an outsider wander down into the cove’s narrow, flat curve between the mountain slopes—especially a rider emerging from the northern point. There were no roads or definite paths in that direction.
    The stranger reined in his horse, lifting one hand. A faded felt hat with a ragged brim hid his face. His lean figure wavered sideways. It appeared he might slide from the tattered saddle.
    “I mean no harm. Need … some vittles.”
    Ella caught her breath at the sound of the stranger’s unusual deep accent and reached for Velma’s arm. “That voice … I’ve heard it before.”
    Velma frowned. “So have I. Where?”
    Jim held up his hand, indicating the man should remain where his horse stopped. “We’ll collect food for you.”
    Ella squeezed Velma’s forearm. “Do you recall the men who brought word of your