Heart of Gold

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  She let her gaze move over the passing countryside. “It isn’t as bad as I thought at first.”

  “I’m glad that’s what you’ve found.”

  Half an hour later, she watched as the bay mare—now christened Ginny, short for Virginia—was untied from the back of the rented buggy by Joe Burkette. As he led the horse toward a stall inside the large barn, he said, “If I’d known you were in the market for a saddle horse, Reverend Adair, I could have shown you a few.” He jerked his head toward the corrals beyond the barn doors. “I’ve got some fine ones.”

  “My daughter had her heart set on this particular mare,” her father replied.

  Joe closed the stall door, then turned toward Shannon. “Then I understand. Who would not wish Miss Adair to have whatever she wants?”

  Odd. She was certain he meant the words as a compliment. And yet they didn’t feel like one. Or perhaps she simply didn’t want anyone to give her a compliment other than one particular man with black hair and deep blue eyes.

  “It would be a pity for such a pretty neck to get broken, Miss Adair.”

  “Well, you needn’t worry about your horse,” Joe said, intruding on her thoughts. “I’ll see that she has the best of care.”

  “Thank you. And perhaps you could find a sidesaddle for me. I wasn’t able to bring mine with me.”

  Joe gave his head a slow shake. “Not much call for a woman’s saddle in these parts, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I’m obliged.”

  He turned toward her father again. “Reverend, I understand you’ve been helping with the plans for the Independence Day celebration.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “I trust you think it a suitable function for your daughter to attend?”

  Her father glanced at her, then back at Joe. “Of course.”

  “Then I would like your permission to escort her.”

  It was Shannon who answered him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Burkette. I cannot accept your kind invitation.”

  Surprise filled his eyes.

  “I have accepted a previous one,” she added.

  A flicker of annoyance replaced the surprise.

  She could tell he wanted to inquire who’d asked her first. She was thankful he didn’t. For some reason she didn’t want him to know. Not because she was sorry she was going with Matthew. It had more to do with Joe’s demeanor or that look in his eye or . . . or something she couldn’t quite define.

  “Well, Mr. Burkette,” her father said, breaking into the taut silence, “we must be on our way. I have work still to be done, and my daughter must return to Mrs. Jackson.”

  Shannon sent a smile to Joe, hoping it looked genuine. “Please let me know when you find a saddle, Mr. Burkette.”

  He gave a curt nod.

  She slipped her hand into the crook of her father’s arm, and they walked out of the livery barn. When they’d cleared the doorway, she said, “Thank you again, Father. For buying Ginny.”

  “I’m glad I could do it for you, Shannon.” He covered her hand with his free one. “I’m not unaware of the sacrifices you’ve made by coming with me to Idaho.”

  She felt a second twinge of guilt for the times she’d complained, by words or by actions. “We were doing without in Virginia, too, because of the war.”

  “Yes, but we were still in our own home. That made some hardships more tolerable.” He pressed her hand. “I’m proud of you, my dear girl.”

  “You are?” She looked up to meet his gaze.

  “Yes.” He smiled, adding, “And I pray for you without ceasing.” They turned the corner onto Clark Street and the parsonage came into view. After a few moments of silence, her father asked, “You aren’t sorry you had to decline Mr. Burkette’s invitation, are you?”

  “No, I’m not sorry.” She shook her head. “It surprises me a little that I’m not. I suppose I should want to go with him. He is from North Carolina, after all, and his family knew our family years ago.”

  Her father chuckled. “The heart wants what it wants, Shannon. And although the Bible warns us about the deceitfulness of our hearts, those hearts aren’t always so. Not for the Christ follower. It’s in our hearts that God resides and into them that He whispers His will.”

  “Oh, Father, it isn’t my heart that wants—” She stopped, realizing what she’d been about to say was untrue. Her heart did know what it wanted. It wanted Matthew Dubois. She cared for him. Deeply cared for him.

  “No wonder my brother is falling in love with you.”

  “Well, I declare,” she whispered to herself. “Am I falling in love too?”

  “What’s that, my girl?”

  “Nothing, Father.” She smiled with determination. “Isn’t it a glorious day?”

  He chuckled again, as if he knew she’d changed the subject on purpose. “It is, indeed.”

  Matthew put his hat on his head and bid William a good night, then headed for home. With the sheriff ’s words still echoing in his mind, he found himself studying the faces of people he saw on the street. More than one stared back, but he figured that had more to do with the black-and-blue eye he sported than anything else.

  And maybe Jack was right. Maybe there were more strangers in town. Thinking so left him with an uneasy feeling.

  When he turned the corner, he saw Todd leap off the veranda and come running to meet him. That brought a small smile to his mouth.

  The boy’s happiness over his horse had spread throughout the household. It was contagious. In some ways Alice was doing more than holding her own.

  “Uncle Matt, guess what.”

  “What?”

  “Miss Shannon got a horse today.”

  “Really?” He opened the gate. “The mare she was looking at last week?”

  “Yep. That’s the one.”

  He ruffled Todd’s hair with his hand. “Maybe the three of us can go riding together sometime.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  Matthew’s smile grew a little wider. “She did?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  It was a good sign, he figured, that Shannon was willing to spend more time with them—not just with the boy but with Matthew too.

  Maybe he wasn’t as inept courting a woman as he’d feared. And after all, he didn’t need her to fall in love with him. There were plenty of good marriages based on other things besides love—mutual respect, friendship, and necessity, to name only a few.

  Matthew climbed the steps to the veranda. “Did you feed the horses already?” He didn’t need to ask. He knew what the answer would be.

  “Yep, and there’s plenty of water in the trough too.”

  “You’ve taken the care of the animals seriously. Not just the horses but Nugget too. I’m proud of you.”

  Todd beamed in response.

  Inside the house he was pleased to see his sister still downstairs at this hour, for the second day in a row. When he’d seen Dr. Featherhill earlier in the day, the physician had expressed surprise at the rally Alice had made in the past week, although he’d done his best to caution Matthew about expecting her strengthened condition to last.

  Matthew walked to the settee where she was reclining, leaned down, and kissed her forehead.

  She took his hand and squeezed his fingers. “Did you hear about Shannon’s horse?”

  “Todd told me.”

  Alice lowered her voice. “I think she’s almost as excited about Ginny as Todd is about Dusty.”

  “Ginny?”

  From the parlor doorway came Shannon’s reply. “It’s short for Virginia.”

  “Ah.” He turned to look in her direction, silently wondering if she would ever be content away from the place she’d grown up. He could even sympathize a little. After all, he didn’t want to give up driving stage either.

  “I’ve asked Mr. Burkette to find me a sidesaddle.”

  Joe Burkette. Matthew didn’t like the sound of his name. Didn’t want him finding anything for Shannon. He supposed it couldn�
�t be helped. The livery was the logical place for her to board her horse. Still . . .

  “Hopefully he shall find one soon. I’m eager to ride her. I can ride astride if forced to, but I don’t enjoy it as much.”

  Alice squeezed his fingers again before releasing his hand. Somehow he knew she wanted him to say something more.

  He took a step forward. “Never could figure out how a woman manages to stay on a horse using one of those sidesaddle contraptions.

  Looks plenty uncomfortable. Sittin’ atop a stage seems a far sight better to me.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you weren’t born a female, Mr. Dubois.”

  She laughed softly.

  Desire coiled through him at the sound. He thought there was a far greater reason he could be glad he hadn’t been born female—and she was standing in the doorway to the parlor, grinning with amusement and looking prettier than he’d ever seen her.

  20

  Shannon was walking home on Saturday morning, her shopping basket on her arm, when the stagecoach barreled past her at the corner of Main and Jefferson. A cloud of dust followed in its wake, and Shannon had to cover her nose and mouth with her hand and turn her head to avoid getting dirt in her eyes. The stage came to a halt in front of the Wells, Fargo office, and before the dust could settle, Shannon heard shouts and saw men running toward the still-rocking coach.

  Inquisitiveness drew her in that direction, too, although at a more restrained pace. She arrived in time to catch a glimpse of a man as he was lifted out of the coach; blood stained his shirt a bright red.

  “Somebody get the doctor!” Although Shannon couldn’t see him through the growing crowd, she knew the voice belonged to Matthew Dubois. “What happened, Clint?”

  “Robbers, about seven or eight miles south of here. They wanted the treasure box. I told them there wasn’t anything in it worth stealing, but the gentleman there . . . he pulled his gun and tried to prevent the robbery. That started the shootin’.”

  “Where’s your guard?”

  “Back in Boise City. He took sick at the last minute so we had to leave without him.”

  A man stopped at Shannon’s side and in a low voice asked, “What happened, Miss Adair?” Joe Burkette.

  In an equally soft voice she answered, “The stage was robbed. A passenger was shot.”

  “Did the thieves get away with anything?”

  “I don’t know. The driver said they were after the treasure box, but he didn’t say they were successful.”

  A murmur in the crowd announced the arrival of the town’s physician. Men moved aside to make way for Hiram Featherhill. Shannon had to stand on tiptoe and crane her neck to see him—hat on his head, black bag in his hand. When he knelt beside the wounded man, he disappeared from her view.

  It wasn’t long before the physician rose again. Then the patient was lifted from the ground by several men and carried toward the doctor’s office. Afterward the crowd began to disperse. Next the green, wire-bound Wells, Fargo box—she assumed that meant the robbery had failed—was removed from the boot of the stagecoach and taken into the office by William Washburn, after which Matthew and the driver climbed up to the seat and drove the stage to the far end of town.

  “I hope the passenger will be all right,” Shannon said, at last looking at Joe.

  “He was crazy to try to stop them. Besides, wouldn’t have been anything of much value on a stage coming into Grand Coeur from the valley. Nothing to risk your life over.” He shook his head. “Those thieves were fools. Time to rob a stage is when it’s leaving a gold camp. That’s when the box is full of treasure.”

  “You sound as if you know something about robbing a stagecoach,

  Mr. Burkette.”

  Her comment caused him to laugh. “Not hardly, Miss Adair. But

  I’ve lived in Grand Coeur long enough to know how the system works.” He glanced down at the basket over her right forearm. “You’ve been shopping. Were you on your way home?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I walk you?”

  She inclined her head. “If you wish.”

  “You know, you really shouldn’t go about town alone the way you do. It can be dangerous for a woman. Especially a woman as lovely as you.”

  “It would be a pity for such a pretty neck to get broken, Miss Adair.”

  She tried to ignore the memory of Matthew’s words, especially when Joe was standing at her side, paying her pretty compliments. If only she wouldn’t rather hear pretty compliments from Matthew instead.

  “May I?” Joe reached for the basket.

  She let him take it. Then they turned and headed in the direction of the parsonage.

  “I have some good news,” he said after a brief silence. “I’ve found a sidesaddle for you. I should have it next week.”

  “So soon?”

  He grinned. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

  Maybe she’d been wrong about his reaction when she’d declined his invitation to go with him to the town celebration. Or else he’d forgotten his irritation with her.

  “I am,” she answered. “You can’t know how very pleased I am.”

  “And perhaps you and I can ride together sometime soon.”

  Her father’s voice echoed in her memory: “The heart wants what it wants, Shannon.”

  Her heart didn’t want to go riding with Joe Burkette. Not sometime soon. Not ever. There was only one man whom she would wish to go riding with, and he would be seated on a tall dapple gray.

  She made a noncommittal sound in her throat and quickened her pace in a hurry to get home.

  It didn’t make sense, trying to rob the stage before it reached Grand Coeur. While there might be things of value being shipped into the gold camp, mostly one would find legal documents and the like. It was far more profitable to rob a stage on the way out when the treasure box was full of gold.

  Matthew knew it. So did Clint. So would the sheriff when he heard the news. But it seemed the thieves hadn’t thought it through.

  Newcomers to the mining district perhaps. Or men made desperate by circumstances.

  After the horses were changed out, Matthew made his way to the doctor’s office. He found Hiram Featherhill at his desk. Jack was with him.

  “How’s the passenger, Doc?”

  “He’ll live. Just a flesh wound.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “Yes,” the doctor replied.

  “I’d like to ask him a few questions. Is he up to it?”

  “Maybe later. He’s had a shock and needs a chance to recover from it.” The doctor looked at the sheriff. “Jack here asked the same thing.

  Got the same answer. You’ll both have to wait.”

  Jack turned toward Matthew. “The driver still at the stables?”

  “Yeah, Clint’s still there. He’ll leave on the return trip in about an hour.”

  “Then I’ll go talk to him now.”

  Matthew nodded to Dr. Featherhill before following Jack out the door. They both stopped on the boardwalk.

  “Did you come to the same conclusion I did?” Jack asked.

  “You mean robbing the stage on its way into town instead of out of it?”

  “Doesn’t add up.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  Jack Dickson looked up at the sky. “There was another murder near Idaho City. A Confederate shot a Unionist for singing ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic’ and refusing to stop when he was told.”

  “Not much reason to kill a man.”

  Jack removed his hat and wiped his shirtsleeve across his forehead. As he set the hat back on his head, he said, “I’m sworn to uphold the law, and whether the men in these mountains like it or not, the law of this territory is set by the Union.”

  “I’ve got no quarrel with that, Jack.”

  “I know, Matt. I just wish there were more like you.” He tugged down on the brim of his hat. “I’d best go talk to your driver.”

  Matthew remained on the boardwal
k, watching as the sheriff headed toward the Wells, Fargo stables. There was more trouble coming, just like Jack said. Matthew could feel it in his bones.

  After Joe bid Shannon a good day at the door of the parsonage, she left her shopping with Sun Jie and went to the church to tell her father what had happened in town. As she’d expected he would, he declared his intention to go to pray for the wounded man and to offer whatever assistance might be needed. Shannon went with him.

  Tagging along had little to do with concern for the victim, however. The truth was she wanted to see Matthew again. All the way home, even with Mr. Burkette walking at her side, it had been Matthew whose face she’d seen in her mind. It had been her father’s voice she’d heard in her head: “The heart wants what it wants, Shannon.”

  She hadn’t thought she could befriend a Yankee, and yet she had become a friend to Alice and to Alice’s son. As for Matthew . . . Well, she truly believed she’d come to feel something more for him than friendship. It seemed impossible that she could care for someone who didn’t love the South as much as she did, but there it was. She did care.

  Her father would say they could be friends with any Yankee.

  Those who trusted in Christ were all the same in the Lord’s eyes, all part of God’s family, grafted into the vine. Her father would say war could not divide them because they were brothers and sisters in the faith.

  But when she thought of Matthew, it most certainly wasn’t as a brother.

  Heat climbed up her neck to flood her cheeks.

  Thankfully, she and her father arrived at the doctor’s office at that moment. Dr. Featherhill welcomed them, then took her father to see the patient in the examination room, leaving Shannon to cool her heels in the front office. She was still standing near the window when the door opened and a man wearing a badge entered.

  When he saw her, he removed his hat. “Good afternoon, miss.” He looked around the small office area. “Is the doctor here?”

  “He’s in the back with my father. With Reverend Adair.”

  “Ah. Good to hear the patient’s up to having visitors. I’m Sheriff