Free Hidden in the Trees (Bellingwood Stotries #1) by Diane Greenwood Muir

HIDDEN IN THE TREES

     
     

     
    COPYRIGHT
     
    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission.  The publication / use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
     
     
     
    Cover Design Photography: Maxim M. Muir
     
     
     
     
    Copyright © 201 3 Diane Greenwood Muir
    All rights reserved.

     
    Don’t miss the books in
Diane Greenwood Muir’s
    Bellingwood Series
    All Roads Lead Home – Bellingwood #1
A Big Life in a Small Town – Bellingwood #2
Treasure Uncovered – Bellingwood #3
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

     
    CONTENTS
     
     
    HIDDEN IN THE TREES
    COPYRIGHT
    CONTENTS
    ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
    CHAPTER ONE
    CHAPTER TWO
    CHAPTER THREE
    CHAPTER FOUR
    CHAPTER FIVE
    CHAPTER SIX
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    CHAPTER EIGHT
    THANK YOU FOR READING!

     
    ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
     
    Right when I was in the middle of writing the fourth book, my mind decided it needed a break and came up with the idea of writing a story with Andrew Donovan from the Bellingwood series as the main character.
     
    Before I knew it, this story had been spun and I sent it off to my editors / proofreaders for cleanup so that I could get it in the hands of my readers before the fourth book was finished.
     
    A very special thank you to Rebecca Bauman, Tracy Kesterson Simpson, Linda Watson, Carol Greenwood, Alice Stewart, Edna Fleming, Fran Neff and Max Muir for continuing to encourage me as I tell more of the stories that come from the fictional folks in Bellingwood, Iowa. It is an amazing experience to know that such brilliant people are supportive while uncovering my mistakes and helping me find ways to make things better.

     
     

     
     
     
     
     
     
     

CHAPTER ONE

     
    "Andrew James Donovan, this is the last time I am calling you. Get out of bed now!"
    The little boy scooted further down into the warm feather tick and pulled the quilt over his head. He didn't want to wake up, but knew that if he didn't, his mother would come up the ladder to the room he shared with his brother and wake him in an awful manner. She once lifted the blanket off his feet and dribbled cold water on his toes, shocking him up and out of bed.
    His older brother, Jason, was already outside working. Andrew had come awake long enough to hear him leave the room, but since the sky was still dark, he didn’t follow. They had purchased two new horses for this spring’s planting and Jason loved spending time with those big animals. Since he had taken on that new responsibility, it meant that Andrew now had to milk the cows and feed the chickens.
    Andrew moaned and finally threw back the quilt and grabbed his pants, pulling them on as he looked for his boots. He remembered that his mother had made him leave them in front of the door so he wouldn't track mud through the house.
    "It's about time, sleepy head," Sylvie Donovan said to her youngest son when he stepped off the last rung of the ladder. She tousled his hair and gave him a gentle push toward the table. It was a sturdy table their friend Henry had made for the room and served as the dining table during the day, and when the sun set, both Andrew and Jason used it to do their homework. There was very little furniture in the small home their father had built when he first moved to Bellingwood. The rocking chair that Sylvie's mother had given her when Jason was born sat near the wood stove and a long wooden bench was across