His Brother's Bride by Denise Hunter

wearing a proud look on his face.
    â€œYou mean your treasure,” she corrected, relieved that he’d found his favorite. “One more to go!”
    He attacked the dirt with vigor, and she moved down the row of tomato plants, plucking another weed.
    She’d reached the end of the row when Adam jumped up. “I found it, Emily!”
    The marbles that had sat in his lap spilled to the ground. He reached down to collect them and ran to her. “Will you hide ’em again?”
    â€œTell you what, if you fetch me my bonnet, I promise to hide your treasure again after supper.”
    â€œYippee!”
    â€œIt’s on the front porch.”
    He ran toward the house, his marbles cupped in his hands. Emily watched him go until he rounded the corner, then, turned back to her work.
    She’d only uprooted two more weeds when she heard his cry.
    â€œEmily!”
    She jumped up from the dirt, her legs faltering from having been bent so long. She could hear him crying, and though it didn’t sound like an emergency cry, it sounded serious.
    She came around the front corner of the house to see him lying facedown on the wooden steps, still, except for the heaving of his torso. Had he twisted his ankle on the steps? Hit his head on the porch rail?
    Please, Lord, let Adam be all right.
    â€œWhat is it, Adam?” She squatted down beside him.
    â€œMy aggie!” He pointed at the gap between the rise and tread of the step.
    A heavy dose of relief flowed through Emily. She put a hand to her booming heart.
    â€œOh, Adam, you scared the wits out of me.”
    â€œIt fell out of my hand and rolled down there.” Another wail escaped his lips, and he turned his tear-trailed face to hers.
    â€œIt’s all right, Sweetheart, we’ll get it.” She sat on the step beside him and patted his shoulder.
    He turned into her arms and melted into her embrace.
    â€œIt’s all right,” she said.
    â€œIt’s my best one.”
    â€œI know, Honey, we’ll get it.” She pulled away and surveyed the crevice. There was no way a hand would fit through there. She grabbed the step ledge and tried to pry it up, but it didn’t budge.
    â€œLet’s get Pa,” he said.
    She tried to loosen the board again and failed. “I’m sure I can do it. I just need to find the right tool. Stay here.”
    As she walked to the barn, she looked back and saw there had been no need to tell him to stay put. Adam was not going to leave his marble.
    When she sat down beside him again, she had a heavy hammer in her hand. “Move back, now.” She whacked under the ledge until it lifted. As she pried up the board, the rusty nails squeaked as they loosened their grip on the plank.
    Sunlight poured into the cavity, bathing the stale space with light. Emily set the step tread on the porch.
    â€œThere it is!”
    The green glass marble lay nestled in dirt below. She reached in through strings of cobwebs and grabbed it. As she pulled it out, something alongside the inner wall of the steps caught her eye.
    She handed the aggie to Adam, and he threw his arms around her. “Thanks, Emily.” With that, he ran into the house, the door slapping behind him.
    Emily reached back into the crevice and grabbed for the canvas against the wall. Once she had it in her hands, she quickly withdrew it, dropping it beside her, and plucked off all the webs on her arm. She set the plank in place and hammered it back down.
    Picking up the rumpled canvas, she stood and walked up the steps.
    On the top step she froze. The canvas, browned with age, and blurred by water damage was a map.
    She eagerly scanned the page. Yes. She could see where a crude house was drawn. At the top right-hand side of the page, an X was very clearly marked, though the drawings in the area around it were blurred. She flipped the map around. If this were the front of the house, then the X was behind the house to the west. But how