Free Heart of the Sandhills by Stephanie Grace Whitson

two.” He nodded toward the carriage bearing Amanda Whitrock toward Stephen Bannister’s home where, she had told Aaron, she would be dining that evening to take her mind off Aaron’s departure.
    Aaron looked out the window. “You think so?” he said hopefully.
    “Of course,” Elliot said. “Miss Whitrock will do the same thing with Stephen she’d be doing with you.”
    “What’s that?”
    “She’ll dangle every letter you write under his nose and probably squeeze out a real tear or two just to convince him how she really feels about you. And he’ll spend the summer tied up in knots. Just like you.” He slapped Aaron on the back. After a moment of silence, he grew serious. “Tell Daniel and Robert I’m sorry I haven’t been able to accomplish more for them. But I won’t stop trying. I’ve an appointment with Senator Lance in two weeks, and I’m going to do everything I can to get assigned to the commission visiting Niobrara this summer.”
    Aaron nodded. The conductor shouted his final warning and Elliot stood up to go. “Jane and I are very proud of you, Aaron, as would your father be. Write those letters you promised. Be yourself. And let the good Lord handle Miss Whitrock’s heart.” He squeezed the boy’s shoulder and was gone.
    Uncle Elliot was right, Aaron knew. As the trained pulled out of the station, he determined to follow his uncle’s advice. He would write faithfully. He would pray for Amanda. But most of all, he would get about doing his duty, because only if he was doing God’s will would he ever be truly happy. He had learned that from his father and he believed it with all his heart.
    Pulling his hat down over his eyes, Aaron sighed. The problem was, he thought , believing something didn’t always make it easy to live it .

Six
    He that hideth hatred with lying lips, and he that uttereth a slander, is a fool.
    —Proverbs 10:18
    On a sunny morning in March, when snowmelt was swelling the streams and converting roads to seas of mud, Daniel Two Stars sat outside the lean-to that served as a barn mending harness. Looking up the road toward the Grants’ house, he could see Gen and Nancy hurrying home.
    “Robert,” Daniel called to his friend, who was carving a new handle for a broken plow. When Robert looked up, Daniel nodded toward the women. At sight of his wife in such a hurry, Robert dropped the piece of wood and hurried toward her.
    “It is time?” he asked, taking Nancy’s arm.
    Breathless with the effort of walking the quarter-mile from the Grants’, Nancy shook her head. “No, no—still too early—” she giggled. “Relax, husband. Everything is fine. Everything is wonderful! Mrs. Marsh—was here—yesterday. She said she has been admiring the railing you made around the Grants’ porch all winter.” Nancy gasped and hiccuped, finally shaking her head and motioning to Gen. “You tell them.”
    “Mrs. Marsh was admiring the porch railing you made.” Gen’s eyes glowed with enthusiasm. ‘And Marjorie began to tell her what a good carpenter you are. She showed her all the other things you made for the house, Robert. The shutters, and those pretty decorations high up on the—” she held her hands over her head, fingertips touching, searching for the word.
    “On the gables?” Robert asked.
    “Yes,” Gen nodded, “those fancy carvings on the gables. Mrs. Marsh loves them. And she said she’s sending her husband to talk to you, to see if you would do the same thing for them. For their new house.” She laughed. “Marjorie was wonderful. She hesitated, said she didn’t know if Jeb could spare you to do the work. And Mrs. Marsh just kept insisting until she said you could charge whatever you wanted.”
    “Doesn’t Mrs. Marsh know I’m one of the Indians her husband thinks is going to murder his family in their sleep?” Robert said doubtfully.
    “She just wants her house to be as pretty as the Grants’,” Nancy giggled. “After she left, Marjorie asked