Heart of Gold

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Late on Saturday morning, Shannon put her father’s lunch into a basket and carried it over to the church. Before she reached the rear door of the building, she heard his voice, raised to be heard in the farthest corner of the sanctuary. Practicing his sermon, as he had every Saturday since before Shannon could remember.

  She paused, allowing a memory to wash over her, picturing herself as a little girl, holding her mother’s hand as they took her father’s lunch to him, just as she did now. The warm air had been sweet with the scent of flowering trees, and the sky had been a sharp cloudless blue that almost hurt the eyes. Together, they’d sat down and laid out the food and waited as he ate it. The love her parents felt for each other had been a palpable thing, understood even by a child, and Shannon had felt warm and happy because of it.

  How much she missed her mother. How she wished she was more like her. Despite Adelyn Adair’s privileged past, she would have known how to make a proper home in this godforsaken place. And without a single complaint too.

  Tears welled in Shannon’s eyes, but she blinked them back. They did no good. Crying changed nothing. They hadn’t kept her mother alive nine years ago, they couldn’t bring her back now, and they certainly wouldn’t change Shannon’s basic nature.

  With a deep sigh, Shannon continued on. When she reached the door, she opened it slowly, not wanting to make a sound. Not that it mattered.

  “Come in, Shannon,” he called to her as she stood in the small antechamber.

  A soft laugh escaped her, chasing away the last remnants of sorrow. As she stepped through the doorway into the sanctuary, she said, “How did you know I was there?”

  “A hungry man can smell warm cornbread a mile away.” He came down from the raised pulpit and took the basket from her. “And what else is beneath that towel?”

  “Cold ham and peas.”

  Although her father said nothing aloud, the look in his eyes spoke for him. Pleased over such a little thing. But he loved ham, and pork wasn’t easily found in the South these days. Even when one could find a favorite food, it cost a small fortune. Why, white potatoes had been selling for twenty-five dollars a bushel when they left Virginia.

  Shannon supposed that was one reason to be thankful for her father’s call to this church. A wider variety of foods was available in the mercantile, and the butcher shop seemed well supplied. Prices were still high, but not as bad as back home.

  Back home.

  The very words caused her chest to tighten. Would they ever go back home again? Would they be able to return to Covington House and the life they’d known? Could she hope her father would change his mind after a few months in this town? Or at least when the war was over?

  Her father led the way to the back of the sanctuary. There they sat in the last pew and he set the basket between them. After thanking God, he removed the napkin that covered his plate of food.

  “Mmm. Just what I needed.”

  Shannon gave him a smile, knowing that was another thing he needed. He wanted to believe she was just as happy to serve the good people of Grand Coeur as he was. Her mother would have been. Oh, if only she were more like her mother.

  “Shannon.” Her father spoke her name softly.

  “Yes?”

  “‘For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.’ God has a plan, a good plan, for your life.”

  “Yes, Father. I know.”

  “But we must act on our beliefs, dear girl. If you truly believe it, how can you resent that He has brought you here? It could be the very place that takes you to that expected end.”

  “I don’t resent it, Father.” She managed to make the words sound as if they weren’t a lie. “I just . . . I just miss home. I miss the people I know and love.” At least all of that was the truth. “Everything here is so strange, so . . . so . . . unrefined.”

  He reached out and gently touched her cheek, saying nothing. And yet in his silence saying so much.

  I must try to do better. To be better. I will try.

  Matthew stood on the boardwalk outside the Wells, Fargo office, looking east, waiting for the stagecoach to roll into sight. It was late by half an hour. He wasn’t happy about that, no matter the reason. But since Alice and Todd were supposed to be on this stage, it made him anxious, a foreign feeling. Another quarter of an hour and he would get a horse from the livery and go looking for them.

  As if in answer to that thought, he heard the jangle of harness and the thunder of twenty-four hooves striking the earth. A few moments later the horses came into view, the driver already drawing back on the reins, slowing them from gallop to canter to trot to walk. The coach bounced and swayed as it rolled to a stop right in front of him.

  Before the driver could climb down from his perch, Matthew stepped off the boardwalk and opened the coach door.

  Relief and alarm simultaneously shot through him when he saw

  Alice and her boy. Relief because they were in the coach and had arrived unharmed. Alarm because Alice looked far worse than he’d anticipated. But then, it was years since the two had seen each other. More than a decade. Maybe she was thin and pale by nature.

  “Matt,” she said, scarcely above a whisper.

  “It’s good to see you, sis. Been a long time.” He held out his hand for her.

  She ignored it, instead putting her hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Matt, this is my son, Todd. Todd, this is your Uncle Matt.”

  The youngster looked a lot like his mother. He had the same dark brown hair, the same big brown eyes, the same small dimple in his chin.

  “Howdy, Todd.”

  The boy shrank back against his mother.

  Alice offered an apologetic smile. “He’s tired. It’s been a long journey.”

  “Well, let’s get you out of this coach and up to the house. Then you both can rest.”

  This time when he offered a hand to his sister, she took it. He helped her disembark. Todd hopped down without aid, quickly taking his mother’s free hand.

  Matthew was about to ask the driver to take Alice’s things inside the office for him to retrieve later, but William—who’d come outside—was one step ahead of him.

  “You go on, Matt,” his friend said from the boardwalk. “I’ll make sure everything gets up to the house for you.”

  “Thanks, Bill.”

  As he guided Alice away from the coach, she asked, “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  “You can meet Bill later. Right now you need to lie down and rest.

  And you probably need something to eat as well.”

  “I’m not hungry. I won’t be until the world stops rolling.”

  Come to think of it, she did look a bit green about the gills. Maybe that was the reason for her sickly appearance. He’d been driving coaches for so long he paid no attention to the rocking and swaying. Obviously his sister was not like him in that regard.

  He shortened his stride, letting her set the pace as they left the main street of Grand Coeur and climbed the hillside toward the home they were to share. For a matter of weeks or for a number of months?

  He wasn’t so sure which.

  A knot formed in his stomach. He’d been nineteen years old the last time he’d stayed in one place longer than two or three weeks. He’d had a streak of wanderlust from the time he was a boy, and driving a coach for Wells, Fargo had been the perfect job for him. The company opened up new offices all the time. Wherever there was a new gold or silver strike. Wherever a town sprang up in the Rockies or in the deserts of the Southwest or along the Pacific Coast. And every time a new office opened, a new route was created. Over the past thirteen years, he’d seen just about every corner of the country west of the Mississippi River.

  “How much farther?” Alice asked, bringing his roaming thoughts back to her.

  He motioned with his head. “Not much. That’s the house up there. Do you need to stop and rest a bit?”

  “
No.” She shook her head. “I can make it that far.”

  Despite her refusal, Matthew stopped anyway. He put his right arm around her back at the waist and gripped her left forearm with his left hand. Then they continued the climb up the hillside.

  What exactly is wrong with her?

  He should have asked when she first wrote to him, but her letter hadn’t made it sound like anything serious. Just that she’d been ill and needed time to recuperate. She’d been alone since the death of her husband, just her and Todd, no other family. She hadn’t wanted to impose any longer on friends and neighbors in the small Wisconsin town where she’d lived with her husband until he went off to war.

  Matthew feared his lack of curiosity—not to mention his lack of true concern—showed a serious flaw in his character. He hadn’t been much of a brother to Alice up to now. Maybe he’d be able to atone for some of that while Alice and Todd were in Grand Coeur. He’d help her build up her strength, then he’d make sure she and the boy got settled wherever she wanted before he went back to driving a stage.

  It seemed a good and reasonable plan for now.

  Delaney walked along the forest path, hands behind his back.

  “Adelyn, I am more certain than ever this is where God called us to be. But how do I help Shannon find her way in this new place? I fear she is as determined as ever to change my mind, to have me return with her to Virginia. She seems unwilling to care about others who were not raised the way she was raised.” He shook his head. “If you’d seen her with that stagecoach driver earlier this week. Is it arrogance I see in her eyes? Does she believe herself so much better than others simply because she was born in Virginia, born into privilege? I hope not, for if so, I have failed her completely. Perhaps it’s a good thing that the war has taken so much of the money we had before.”

  It was true. The Lord worked in mysterious ways. No wonder the

  Bible told Christians to thank God in all things. Mere mortals couldn’t see the end from the beginning as the Almighty could.

  If she had something to do, Adelyn. Like the nursing she did back in Virginia. I wasn’t sure I approved completely when she first began working in the hospital, but it seemed so much what God called His children to do in Isaiah 61. Binding up the brokenhearted, giving comfort to the afflicted. She was a good nurse. Perhaps God will open another door I cannot imagine, for I certainly never imagined that one.

  “Thy will, not ours, be done, Lord. Thy will and not ours.”

  When Alice awoke, the light coming through the bedroom window had begun to weaken. It must be near suppertime.

  She pushed herself up against the pillows at her back and let her gaze roam over the room. It was nothing like she’d expected. Larger than the home Edward had built before they were married.

  Edward.

  Would it ever cease to hurt to think about him?

  Yes. Yes, it would cease. It would cease because it wouldn’t be long before she joined him in heaven. She had come to Idaho Territory to die. But before she could let go of her ties to this earthly life, she had to make certain her son would be all right. She had to make certain he had a home with someone who would love him.

  She prayed to God she would find that someone in her brother.

  Matthew was the only family Todd would have left when she passed over.

  Alice closed her eyes and pictured her brother again. She had been as amazed at the changes she’d found in him as he was in her. The tall, stick-thin boy had become a tall, broad-shouldered man. While he’d held her with tender care as they climbed the hill to this house, there had been strength in his arms.

  Sadly, her brother was a stranger to her in many ways. The letters they’d exchanged over the past eleven years had been few and far between. He was a poor correspondent, and she little better. Now she needed to know him, needed to know that he was the kind of man who could love her son.

  Pain sliced through her abdomen. A pain that was familiar to her by this time. A cancer, the doctor had told her. A growing tumor. One that couldn’t be stopped.

  Let me have long enough, Lord. Let me make certain Todd will be all right. Please.

  4

  Back home in Virginia, Shannon had known all of the fine families who were members of her father’s congregation. She had gone to school with many of the daughters. She had been courted by some of the sons. And of course she had become engaged to Benjamin Bluecher Hood, the handsomest young man in the county. But here in Grand Coeur, she knew no one, save for the Wells, Fargo stagecoach driver and the gentleman who’d met them upon their arrival.

  As she sat in the chair near the small pump organ, she watched people coming into the sanctuary, wondering who they were and what had brought them to this town. The vast majority were men—and not the sort one would deem gentlemen. They were a rough-hewn lot, many with scraggly beards that begged for a trim. The few women who passed through the church doors wore plain, everyday dresses.

  But who was she to judge? Her own dress could hardly pass for the latest fashion. Not after three years of war and the blockades that had closed the Southern harbors.

  Shannon closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, a wave of homesickness washing over her. She hadn’t known it would be this hard to be away from Virginia, that it would hurt this much, that she would feel so alone.

  “Shannon,” her father said softly.

  She opened her eyes and saw him tip his head toward the organ.

  She quickly moved to the bench and waited for his signal, as she’d done hundreds of times before.

  “Welcome.” Her father spread his arms wide, as if to embrace every member of his new congregation. “Please stand with me and sing ‘Rock of Ages.’”

  At her father’s slight nod, Shannon began to play. The organ was new, just as everything else in the church was, and it played beautifully.

  She was thankful for that, for it drowned out the off-key voices that peppered the sanctuary. Father liked to remind her that the Lord loved a joyful noise raised in praise equally as much as He loved a song that was pitch-perfect.

  At the close of the hymn, she returned to the nearby chair, took up her Bible, and placed it on her lap.

  Her father’s sermon that morning was on the importance of trusting in the Lord no matter the storms that buffeted His children. Shannon tried to listen, tried to take his teaching to heart, but her thoughts insisted upon wandering as her gaze scanned the motley congregation before her.

  She stopped when she recognized Matthew Dubois in the last pew. It surprised her, seeing him there, a woman and boy by his side. Then she remembered his sister and her son had been expected. That must be them. Yes, there was some resemblance between Matthew and the younger woman, although the sister exhibited none of Matthew’s robust health. Even from where she sat Shannon could see that. What was wrong with her? What treatments had the doctors prescribed? Perhaps if she consulted one of her books on nursing—

  Her father’s voice raised to emphasize a point, and it pulled Shannon’s attention back where it belonged. Thank goodness she hadn’t missed his cue for the closing hymn.

  Matthew hadn’t been keen on coming to church that morning. Not because he didn’t want to be there, but because he’d thought Alice should stay in bed and recover from her journey. But his sister had been adamant. She’d wanted the family to attend service together, the three of them.

  Family. It was almost a foreign term to him. Had been since his parents died the year he was twenty-one and Alice fifteen. That was the same year he’d started working for the express company in San Francisco. His sister had been in the care of neighbors in Oregon, so he hadn’t worried about her. He’d sent money to see that she had what she needed. And he’d meant to go back to see her. Soon. Someday. But someday had never come. Just over a year later, sixteen-year-old Alice had married Edward Jackson and moved with her new husband to Wisconsin. After that, there’d been no point in Matthew going back to Oregon, no point in settling down in any one
place. That’s how he’d lived for more than a decade.

  But his first week in Grand Coeur hadn’t been all that bad. He’d kept busy, learning again the duties of an express agent from William Washburn. In the evenings, he’d readied the house for his sister and nephew’s arrival. He’d even convinced himself that he might not mind staying in one place as much as he’d thought. Not for a couple of months. Surely that was all it would take to restore Alice to good health.

  The congregation rose to sing a final hymn, Shannon Adair once more playing the organ.

  A smile crept onto his lips. Miss Adair was an accomplished young woman and very easy on the eyes. No argument there. But if her nose was stuck any higher in the air when she looked at him and others, she’d be in danger of tipping over backward.

  With the closing prayer said, Reverend Adair walked down the center aisle of the church and waited by the exit to shake hands. His daughter remained at the organ, playing some familiar hymns.

  Matthew stepped into the aisle and offered his arm to Alice. She slipped her hand into the crook and allowed him to guide her toward the door, Todd on her other side.

  “Pleasure to see you again, Mr. Dubois,” the reverend said, shaking his free right hand. “And this must be your sister.”

  “Yes. Reverend, may I introduce Alice Jackson and her son, Todd.”

  “How do you do, Mrs. Jackson?”

  “Good day, Reverend. I enjoyed your sermon a great deal. I shall endeavor to put it into practice.”

  “God bless you. Would that many in the congregation do so.”

  “Was that your daughter playing the organ?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “I hope to get to meet her and tell her how well she plays. I’ve always envied those with musical abilities.”

  “I’ll make certain the two of you are introduced soon. Like you, she is new to Grand Coeur. I know she will welcome the opportunity to make a friend close to her own age.”