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FOR CHURCH IN THE WILDWOOD:

Leap of Faith by Pamela Griffin:  Preacher’s daughter, Amanda Hodges, is drawn to mysterious newcomer, Matt Campbell, despite everyone’s assumption that she will one day marry Zeke Randall. Amelia finds every excuse to visit quiet Matt as he helps build a much needed church. A jealous Zeke tells Amelia that Matt fits the description of one of the notorious James Gang, but rather than be repelled, she seeks the truth by following him. Matt loves the spirited Amanda, though he’s tried hard not to. He made a grave mistake years ago and now hopes to rectify it by searching out his brother. Will learning Matt’s past put hate in Amelia’s heart? Even put her in danger?

For therein is the righteousness of God revealed from faith to faith: as it is written, The just shall live by faith.

Romans 1:17

one

Missouri Ozarks, 1869  

An eye-pleasing blend of cedar, pine, and hardwood trees just beginning to bud after a long winter blanketed the gently rolling hills that surrounded Amanda’s valley home. Here and there, pink-blossomed redbuds mingled with white-blossomed dogwoods, providing splashes of color. The morning sun cut a golden swathe between two tall hickory trees, casting light into an area often in shadows, and highlighted the few workers building the church for Hickory Hollow.

            Amanda watched one man in particular as he helped lift a heavy stone block to place it on another. Rays of sunlight outlined his muscles through his shirt as he toiled alongside the others.

            “Amanda Hodges, you stop ogling that man,” Ivy Randall stage-whispered to Amanda, loud enough so the other two girls in their company could hear. “Zeke wouldn’t like it.”

            Amanda’s eyes slid shut in exasperation. Sometimes the blue-eyed woman with the fair hair was her tormenter, sometimes her bosom friend. Today she’d proven to be a little of both. “Ivy, I told you, I’m not interested in your brother.”

            One of the workers called out to another, reclaiming Amanda’s attention. She looked at the growing rock wall of what would be their new church building. The little timber schoolhouse was fast on its way to becoming unable to hold the growing congregation.

            Heavy chinks of hammers striking iron stakes, boring holes into rocks that would support the roof’s wooden beams, echoed throughout the otherwise peaceful valley. A chill wind had arisen minutes ago, but the change in weather wasn’t fierce enough to send Amanda seeking shelter.

            The Wilson boys—ten months apart but as alike as two pecan halves in a nutshell—busily worked, slapping and spreading mortar, then together lifting the next block of rock and setting it into place. Zeke Randall worked with them, though he didn’t appear as busy as the others. Amanda’s father also worked alongside the few townsmen who’d turned out to help. Though he was well into his forties, his body was strong, and he easily kept up with the younger men. Amanda’s attention again settled on one dark-haired man in particular, and a wistful smile lifted her lips.

            Matt Campbell was relatively new to their mountain valley town, but already he’d proven to be a help to any in need. When a strong set of shoulders was required, he was the first in line to offer his services. And what a nice, strong and broad set of shoulders he had. . . .

            “Your mother’s coming round the bend,” Ivy said into Amanda’s ear a little too loudly. “And I’ll tell you again, it sure doesn’t look proper for the preacher’s daughter to eyeball all the workers.”

            “I’m not eyeballing all the workers,” Amanda muttered, then clenched her teeth and lifted her fingers to the offended ear to rub it. Her statement was true. She had no interest in any of the men, with the exception of one.

            She moved toward her mother. “Need some help, Ma?”

            Huggably stout after bearing seven children, three of whom had died at birth, Clara Hodges gratefully handed a basket of freshly laundered linens to her daughter. “Do see to this, would you, Dear? I must run over to Sally John’s and check on her and the baby. She wants your pa to come, but he’s so busy I hate to bother him. Would you ask him for me later?” She swiped a damp lock of graying brown hair from her eyes. “And please start supper.”

            “I’ll see right to it, Ma.”

            Being a preacher’s wife and seeing to a host of needs, not to mention also acting as midwife in their town, her mother carried more than her fair share of duties to Amanda’s way of thinking. Amanda walked past several of many hickories clustered in bunches throughout the area and quickly approached their three-room log cabin, with its cedar-shakes for a roof and the gray stone chimney along one side. The other girls followed like a flock of cackling hens.

            “I surely don’t understand what you see in Mr. Campbell when you kin have Zeke Randall,” Selena Mills stated. “Mr. Campbell wears his hair too long, his nose is bent—and why ever set your cap for a man who limps when you kin have someone with two strong legs?”

            “A pair of shears would fix Matt Campbell’s hair right nicely, though it does look smart when it’s combed sleek and shiny and brushes his shoulders.” Amanda dropped the basket onto the table and gave the redhead a sideways glance. “As to the other, there’s a lot more to life than dancing, Selena. I think Matt’s limp adds character. As does his not-quite-straight nose, his lean jaw, and that fine dark stubble on his face he always seems to have.” She giggled. “He’s quite a handsome fellow if you want my opinion.”

            “We’re all well aware of your opinion, Amanda, but you best not let your pa hear you talk like that,” Ivy put in. “And calling Mr. Campbell by his Christian name. . .Honestly! You sound almost brazen. Nothing at all like a preacher’s daughter should be.”

            In truth, Amanda felt little like a preacher’s daughter. She often spoke her mind and was anything but meek and humble, much to her parents’ consternation. Yet she couldn’t help the way she was—nor the way she wasn’t.

            Her hand stilled from laying folded dishtowels on a high shelf, her gaze going dreamy as she looked toward the windowpane. “Tell me truthfully, girls, did you ever see such lovely blue-gray eyes as Matt has? They look like the sky after a storm’s swept it clean, all sparkling and clear—but sort of misty, too.”

            “Land’s sakes!” Mayflower Starnes replied in mock dismay, her brown eyes wide in her freckled face. “Now she’s gone poetic on us. Ladies, we best leave afore she starts recitin’ ‘An Ode to Love.’ ”

            “Humph.” Amanda resumed her chore. “I’m not the romantic in this bunch, Mayflower. That would be you.” Though lately Amanda had thought more about love and marriage, especially now that she was seventeen—and now that Matt Campbell was a resident of Hickory Hollow.

            “Well,” Ivy intoned, “all I have to say is your pa will never let a stranger court you. No one in the hollow knows anything about him. He talks about as much as a turtle, and his snap is likely as vicious. When he gets that brooding look, he almost scares me.”

            “Oh, fiddle-faddle,” Amanda said. “At least he doesn’t run off at the mouth like some folks I know.”

            “Meaning Zeke, I suppose?” Ivy asked in an affronted tone.

            Amanda sighed. “It’s not that I have anything against your brother, Ivy. I just don’t care to have him as my beau.”

            “You’re gonna wind up breaking his heart. I just know it. He’s liked you since we were in school together.”

            Break Zeke’s heart? Hardly. That is, if he had a heart to break. Amanda kept quiet, realizing nothing she said would matter. Many in the hollow had already paired her and Zeke as a couple.

            Forgetting the three other women, she gazed out the window toward the rock wall a short distance away and watched the tall man who limped in the opposite direction.

                                                                        ****

Matthew Campbell straightened to a stand, letting the mortar-covered spade drop to the ground. With his sleeve, he wiped the moisture from his brow, then put his hands to the back of his sweat-sodden shirt and tried to massage the kinks out. Damp weather often made his back and hip ache, though he was just twenty years old. Yet after what he’d been through these past few years, he felt like he’d lived a coon’s age three times over.

            To the west, above the thick forest of oaks and hickories, Matt noticed a swollen storm cloud creeping in their direction. The sun had disappeared more than an hour ago, leaving behind skies of pale gray. An irritated grunt escaped his throat, and he put his work-worn hand to the partially built wall of cold stone, still damp from the last downpour.

            “We best get busy and try to finish up before the sky unleashes on us,” he told the group of three men who crouched nearby for a breather.

            A fair-haired man with a well-groomed mustache straightened, still holding the dipper from the barrel of collected rainwater. His pants, shirt, and vest were neatly pressed, and his lightly sunburned face wasn’t one bit shiny from exertion. Probably because Zeke Randall did the least amount of work possible, though he gave the appearance of being busy at his task. Matt knew better. He’d been watching the dapper son of the lumber company owner all afternoon and noticed how he lollygagged behind the others. And why come dressed for a hard day’s work all gussied up as if he were attending his own wedding?

            A belligerent expression crossed Zeke’s face. “I don’t recall anyone dying and making you boss, Campbell.” His voice was low but loud enough to issue a challenge.

            Matt decided not to take the lure. He’d dealt with a lot worse than Zeke but wasn’t interested in a fight. He’d encountered enough violence in one lifetime for ten men.

            Bob and Pete Wilson rose from their hunched positions with goofy smiles, their dark gazes focused beyond Matt’s shoulder. Matt turned to see what had caught their interest.

            Zeke’s sister Ivy stood nearby, staring at both brothers and giggling. Yet it wasn’t on Ivy that Matt focused his attention, but rather on the woman next to her—with thick hair the shade of rich coffee containing a dollop of cream. Slightly plump, her skin like pale pink roses after a frost, Amanda Hodges looked his way. Her eyes were as spring-a-green as the buds on the trees, able to rivet a man where he stood—and they did so to Matt now. He felt as if lightning had raced out of the approaching storm clouds and struck him dumb.

            Matt swallowed hard when she continued to stare. Some might think petite Ivy with her angel-like features was the only beauty of Hickory Hollow, but Matt would disagree. Amanda’s nose might be just a tad too tilted, and her lips a mite wide, but her face and eyes shone with the vibrancy of her personality.

            Zeke stepped forward. “Ivy, this is no place for you—nor you, Amanda. I’m quite busy with helping your pa. Run along home. We’ll talk later.” He moved to take hold of Amanda’s elbow, but she jerked it from his reach the moment he touched her sleeve.

            “I didn’t come to talk to you, Zeke.” Amanda turned her fascinating eyes away from Matt and to the north end of the church wall. “Pa! I need to speak with you if you have a minute.”

            A short, sinewy man with tufts of silver hair sprinkled among the dark strands turned from his task. “Trouble?” He pushed his hat farther back on his head and approached his daughter, the hammer still in his hand. His gaze swerved to Matt, then returned to Amanda. His lined brow clouded.

            “No, Pa. Leastways I don’t think so. Ma said that Sally John Adcock asked you to drop by—you know how nervous she’s been about the new baby, it being her first and all.”

            “Amanda, if there’s no emergency, then tell your mother I’ll visit later,” Pastor Hodges said, “after I get a good day’s work in.”

            As if his words were a signal, the sky unleashed a smattering of raindrops on their heads. Ivy squealed and raised both hands above her piled-up braids. Seemingly bent on being stubborn, the drops abruptly turned into sheets of hard rain.

            “Get on back to your homes,” Pastor Hodges yelled above the loud sound of water spraying on stone. “We’ll try again next Saturday.” A deep bellow of thunder underscored his statement.

            Matt anchored his hat more firmly on his head and stared through the veil of silver rain at what little progress they’d made. He knew Pastor Hodges was itching to get the church built, but it seemed one delay after another prevented them from doing so, and the fact that so few men turned out each Saturday didn’t help matters one bit.

            Before heading to his cabin farther up the mountain, he chanced a look in Amanda’s direction and watched her hurry through the door of her home. Matt forced his gaze away. He had no business thinking about a preacher’s daughter. Not after the shameful life he’d led before coming to Hickory Hollow.

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