Amily moved carefully, using a walking stick Harlon had fashioned from a strong branch.
He offered his arm when the ground became difficult.
She accepted when she needed it.
And when she didn't, he let her manage.
By the time they reached the cellar, her breathing was heavy.
But she was smiling.
“I made it.”
Harlon looked toward her.
“Of course you did.”
She laughed softly.
“You sound terribly certain.”
He smiled.
“I've learned not to underestimate you.”
They entered the old cellar.
The air smelled of damp earth and rotting wood.
Harlon lit a lantern.
Stone shelves lined one wall.
An old barrel stood near the far corner.
And above them, a narrow wooden stairway led toward the farmhouse kitchen.
Harlon tested the steps carefully before allowing Amily to climb.
The lower treads were sound.
The upper ones creaked.
But they held.
They emerged inside a dark kitchen.
Dust covered everything.
Broken crockery lay near the stove.
A cupboard door hung from one hinge.
And sunlight entered through a cracked window.
Amily stood motionless.
Her mother had lived here.
Perhaps cooked here.
Laughed here.
Run through the rooms as a child.
She looked toward the empty hearth.
Then whispered, “I wish she'd told me.”
Harlon stood beside her.
“Perhaps she was waiting until she thought it was safe.”
Amily nodded.
Then looked toward the western wall.
“We need to find the compartment.”
They moved quietly through the house.
Outside, hammering continued.
A wagon wheel creaked.
Men shouted instructions.
Harlon listened carefully.
Then led Amily into a narrow sitting room.
Its wallpaper had faded.
A broken mirror hung above an empty fireplace.
And against the western wall stood an old cedar cabinet.
Amily stopped.
Her heart pounded.
“The cedar compartment.”
Harlon examined the cabinet.
It was built into the wall.
The lower doors were warped.
The upper shelves empty.
But the workmanship was unusually fine.
Amily approached.
Her mother had written about a cedar compartment, not necessarily a freestanding chest.
She ran her fingers along the carved wooden frame.
Then noticed something.
Near the lower edge were three small decorations.
Two straight marks.
One circle.
Her breath caught.
“Harlon.”
He stepped closer.
She pointed.
“The embroidery.”
He leaned forward.
The marks matched.
Amily removed the silver key.
She examined the cabinet carefully.
No keyhole was visible.
She frowned.