CHAPTER
3

Amos stared at the telegraph machine that had fallen eerily silent. What was happening on the other end? Was Miss G in trouble? And how should he respond? It was his sworn duty not to speak of anything he learned via the wire. All communication was confidential. But he couldn’t just ignore what he’d heard. It was too ominous. Too dangerous.

If Miss G fled, how would he ever find her again? And if she didn’t . . . and the mysterious he caught up with her? Amos’s fingers clenched into tight fists. He had to do something. Had to help her somehow.

He glared at the wires leading from the telegraph, up the wall, and outside. If only he could travel via those same wires to Miss G’s side. To hold her, comfort her, protect her from whatever villain threatened.

Why now, God? Why are you snatching her away from me at the very moment we started to connect on a more personal level? Is this your way of telling me I’m destined to be alone?

The wire crackled, and tapping ensued.

Hs? Is there a reply?

Amos bent forward in his seat, pressing both arms into the tabletop, circling them around the telegraph as if he could comfort his lady through his posture. All of his energy centered on listening for Miss G’s reply. A reply that was very slow in coming.

Hs? the sender repeated.

Message received. No reply. Hs off.

“No,” Amos groaned. “Don’t sign off. Not yet.”

He waited for the other operator to sign off. Then waited another painstaking, time-crawling minute to ensure privacy on the line.

G? Are you there? He tapped.

“Please be there,” he begged under his breath. “I need to know you’re all right. Don’t shut me out.”

He fingered the key again. Please. I want to help.

Nothing. He sat there for twenty minutes, waiting for a reply that never came.

She was gone. Just like that. The very moment he’d found the courage to open himself up to the possibility of a meeting, another man swooped in and plucked her from his loose-fingered grasp.

Amos flopped backward in his chair, suddenly more drained than if he’d ridden his bicycle along the MKT rail line all the way to Wichita Falls.

The perfect woman. One who actually enjoyed conversing with him. One who made him laugh. Who brightened his evenings. One who was younger than he . . . and single. A woman—not a relative or aged church member—who made him feel like he wasn’t a mistake, like he had value, purpose.

Purpose.

Amos straightened. Planted both feet flat on the floor.

Purpose.

What if God had not been taunting him with what he could never have? What if God had directed his evening at Lucy’s to run later than usual for a specific reason? To ensure that he was on the wire when that emergency message came through.

What if God had allowed him to feel closer to Miss G than ever right before that message hit the wire so that he’d be invested? Invested enough to take action.

Amos surged to his feet. He set his chin, then grabbed his coat and locked up his office. He had a bag to pack, a replacement operator to find, and a family to say farewell to all before the first train left in the morning.

We hope you’ve enjoyed this special sample of Heart on the Line by Karen Witemeyer. For more information on this book, please visit www.bethanyhouse.com or your favorite bookstore.