“Then I shall look forward to it.”
Matthew felt Alice’s grip tightening on his arm and sensed she was tiring even as they stood there. He bid the reverend a pleasant afternoon and escorted her down the steps. As he’d done the day before, he allowed her to set the pace as they walked toward home, and once again he was reminded that he hadn’t yet asked her for more details about her ailment. He needed to change that and would do so as soon as she was rested.
After a Sunday dinner of chicken potpie, Delaney Adair lay down to rest and was soon asleep. Not wishing to wake him, Shannon went outside onto the small porch and sat on one of two chairs placed there.
The day was pleasant, warm but not hot, and without the humidity that made one’s clothing stick to the skin. Shannon could appreciate that. And she supposed the surrounding hillsides would be pretty if they were still covered in trees. At least the tall pine growing by the corner of the house had been spared.
The church and parsonage were built on a hillside, giving Shannon a view of Grand Coeur. Not that it was a pleasant view. But the early morning haze of wood smoke had drifted away on a gentle breeze, and that was a blessing.
We aren’t leaving.
The thought caused her chest to tighten. Ever since their arrival the previous Monday, Shannon had clung to a fragile hope that her father would come to his senses and choose to return to Virginia. But it was futile to go on thinking that way. Father wouldn’t change his mind unless God changed it for him.
I could have stayed behind.
Yes, she was a grown woman. If she’d insisted on remaining in
Virginia, Father would have allowed it. He could have left her in the care of close, trusted friends. But to be separated from him by so great a distance? Especially in wartime? No, she had to be with him. He needed her.
It’s time I accept it. We’re here to stay. But perhaps when the war is over he’ll change his mind.
A movement out of the corner of her eye drew her gaze. About halfway between Shannon and the church she saw a boy on his hands and knees, looking underneath an uneven stack of lumber.
“Come here,” he said. “Come on.”
What on earth? She rose from the chair and moved to the corner of the porch.
“Come on.” He reached with one hand into an open space in the lumber. “I won’t hurt you. Come here.”
“Boy, what are you doing?”
He sat back on his heels and looked around. When he saw her, he got to his feet. “There’s a puppy under there.”
“A puppy? Are you sure?” She thought it far more likely it was a skunk or some other wild animal.
“I’m sure. I followed him here.”
She remembered where she’d seen the boy before. In church. He was Matthew Dubois’s nephew. “You had best go on home and leave it alone.”
The boy didn’t answer—nor did he move away from the lumber.
Shannon went down the three steps and walked toward him.
“What’s your name?”
“Todd. Todd Jackson.”
“Does your mother know you’re wandering about?”
His eyes narrowed as he shook his head, and Shannon saw a mixture of stubbornness and uncertainty in his gaze.
“If it’s a skunk, we will regret being this close,” she said. Merciful heavens! How she hoped it wasn’t a skunk.
“It ain’t a skunk.” He knelt on the ground again, sticking his rump into the air as he peered beneath the wood. “If my arm was longer, I could get him.”
It was against her better judgment, but she decided to join him on the ground. “Where is it?”
“See there. You can see his yellow coat.”
She lowered her cheek until it almost touched the ground. Yes. There it was. And there was just enough light for her to see the baby animal couldn’t be a skunk. It appeared to be yellow or maybe cream colored. Definitely not black-and-white. What else could it be besides a puppy? What sort of wild animals did they have in Idaho?
“Can you reach him?” Todd asked.
Stick her hand into that shadowy space? There could be spiders or a snake or— The sound of a throat clearing broke into her thoughts. “Maybe I should do that for you.”
She straightened at once.
Matthew stood off to the side of the lumber, wearing a crooked grin. He was laughing at her. And no wonder. Her rump had been stuck up in the air just as the boy’s had been. Heat rushed to her cheeks.
“Allow me,” he said, offering his hand.
She didn’t want to take it, but she did.
With a gentle pull, he lifted her to her feet. A moment later, he’d taken her place on his hands and knees. “What’re we looking for, Todd?”
“A puppy. See him? Right there.”
“Yes. I see him. Move over a bit.” He stuck his arm under the lumber, and a few moments later he withdrew it, a golden ball of fluff in hand. He gave it to the boy.
Todd’s face lit up. “Thanks, Uncle Matt.”
“You’re welcome, kid.” Matthew ruffled the boy’s hair, then stood, brushing off his trousers before straightening. “Thanks for helping him, Miss Adair.”
The warmth in her cheeks grew hotter still. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You tried. I appreciate that.” He glanced at the puppy, clutched close to Todd’s chest. “Do you know who it belongs to?”
“No. I’ve never seen it before.”
“Seems young to be running around by itself.” He looked up the hillside. “Its mother must be somewhere nearby. Todd, where’d you first see it?”
“By the house.”
“Our house?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, come on. We’d best see if we can find its owner. Must belong to one of our neighbors.”
That stubborn look returned to the boy’s face. “I wanna keep it.”
Shannon didn’t have a great deal of experience with children, but she was quite sure she had more experience than Matthew Dubois. She wondered how he would handle the matter, hoping—in that small, dark, rebellious, sinful corner of her heart—that he would fail miserably, if only because he’d laughed at her.
He dropped to one knee and looked the boy in the eyes. “What if this was your puppy and you’d lost it? Would you want someone else to keep it rather than try to find its rightful owner?”
Todd’s mouth pursed. That he wanted to say anything that would allow him to keep the puppy was crystal clear. But honesty won out. He shook his head.
Matthew stood. “Then let’s go find who lost him.” He looked at Shannon again, that crooked smile slipping back into place. “Thanks again for helping the boy.”
Odd. This time his silly grin didn’t make her angry . . . and she was almost sorry to watch him walk away.
5
Ruth Ann Rutherford’s appearance was remarkably like that of her husband— rotund build, ruddy complexion, bulbous nose. She also seemed to enjoy the sound of her own voice, for she chuckled at what she’d said even if others didn’t. It was Ruth Ann who brought the Adairs a housekeeper and cook.
“This is Sun Jie,” she said, motioning toward the petite Chinese woman who stood slightly behind her and to one side.
She was a tiny thing, perhaps five feet tall, though barely that. Her black hair was pulled back, tight to the skull, braided and captured at her nape. She was dressed in a kind of robe made of bright purple cloth, and beneath it her legs were encased in matching silk trousers. Somewhat like pantaloons, Shannon supposed, only meant to be seen rather than hidden beneath skirts and hoops and petticoats.
Shannon wondered how old she was. She looked to be no more than twelve or thirteen. Perhaps she would make a decent lady’s maid, but a cook?
Mrs. Rutherford continued on, “Sun Jie’s husband, Wu Lok, owns the mercantile at the corner of Lewis and Clark Streets. I think Henry sent you to do your shopping there last week. Don’t worry. She speaks pretty good English. Better than most of her kind, I’d say.”
Sun Jie bowed at the waist. When she straightened, her dark eyes met Shannon’s briefly before training once again on the floor.
“Sun Jie,” Ruth Ann said, “this is Miss Shannon Adair and her father, Reverend Adair.”
Again the girl bowed. “How do you do?” She spoke slowly but with precision.
“Sun Jie and her husband are converts to the Christian faith,” Ruth Ann added with a smile. “Otherwise I would never suggest that you hire her to care for your home. But she’s one you can trust.”
Shannon glanced at her father in time to see a flash of irritation in his eyes, but he subdued it so quickly she doubted Mrs. Rutherford could have recognized it. Shannon, on the other hand, was well attuned to his moods and his looks.
Her father motioned toward the chairs in the parlor. “Please, Mrs. Jie. Won’t you sit down so we can become acquainted?”
“They put their last names first, Reverend,” Ruth Ann said in a stage whisper, as if the young woman couldn’t hear her that way. “Easier to just call her Sun Jie.”
“Ah.” He smiled. “Well, I do thank you for bringing Sun Jie to meet with us, Mrs. Rutherford. I wouldn’t want to impose on any more of your time while we conduct the rest of the interview. Please give my regards to your husband. Both of you have been so kind and thoughtful to us. Shannon and I can’t thank you enough.”
As he spoke, he eased the woman toward the door until she found herself standing on the front porch and could do nothing except acknowledge his thanks and depart.
Shannon smiled as she turned toward Sun Jie. “Please. Do sit down so we can talk.”
The girl complied.
Until her arrival in Grand Coeur, Shannon had never seen anyone from China before, but she’d learned there were many Orientals in the gold camps. Her first thought had been that the color of their skin and the shape of their eyes were so different from those who’d peopled her world. But now, as she looked at Sun Jie, she forgot the differences and noticed only a delicate beauty.
“How old are you, Sun Jie?”
Without looking up she answered, “Twenty-three.”
“Twenty-three?” Shannon could scarcely believe it. Only two years younger than herself.
Her father returned and took the seat beside her. “Sun Jie, my daughter and I could ask you many questions, but why don’t you just tell us about yourself. Would that be all right?”
Sun Jie nodded.
“Why not begin with how you came to faith in Christ.”
Breaking for lunch, Matthew left the Wells, Fargo office and strode up the hillside toward the company house. Neither Alice nor Todd had been awake when he left for work that morning, and he was curious to see how the two of them fared.
Despite her lengthy nap Sunday afternoon, his sister hadn’t seemed any more rested by the time they sat down to supper. She’d tried to convince him that she should do the cooking, but he hadn’t let her. The point of her coming to Idaho, after all, was so she could regain her health. And the sooner that happened, the sooner he could be back to driving a coach.
When he rounded the corner onto Randolph Street, he saw his nephew playing with the pale-gold puppy in the small yard in front of the company house. This morning he’d asked a number of people in town if they knew where the pup belonged.
“Plenty of stray dogs hereabouts,” one man had answered. “Not like men’ve got time or place for pets.”
Looked like the pup had a new home.
Matthew’d had a dog as a boy. A black-and-white spaniel called Trip. Just like here, most farmers had little use for pets. A dog on a farm was expected to work almost as hard as its master. Run off critters that tried to break into the henhouse or kill a sheep. Help a man when he was hunting. That sort of thing. Trip had been the best.
When Todd saw his uncle striding up to the gate, he pulled the puppy into his arms, pressing him tight to his chest, clearly afraid Matthew was about to announce the pup’s true owner had been found.
“It’s okay,” he said, feeling sorry for the kid. “Looks like you can keep him.”
“I can?” His sudden grin looked a mile wide.
Funny how good that made Matthew feel. “How’s your ma?”
“She’s okay. She’s restin’.” Todd stood. “She helped me name the puppy.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“I’m callin’ him Nugget.”
“Good name.”
“It’s ’cause of his color. You know. Like gold.”
“Yeah, I got it.” He motioned toward the front door. “Let’s go fix something to eat. Your ma’s probably hungry.”
“I’m hungry too.”
“Makes three of us.”
Matthew found his sister reclining on the sofa in the parlor, a blanket covering her legs. Sunlight streamed through the large window, illuminating dust motes in the air.
Alice smiled when she saw him. “Is it that time already?”
“It is. Are you hungry? Todd is.”
“I could eat something.”
“Cold beef with cheese and some bread and butter sound okay?”
“Whatever’s easy.” She closed her eyes, as if exhausted by the brief conversation.
He left the parlor and went into the kitchen.
A doctor consultation was in order, he thought, as he prepared the meal for the three of them. He needed to know what to do for Alice. She hadn’t been forthcoming when he’d asked questions about her illness. His gut told him she needed more than simple rest, but he didn’t know what that might be. He’d hardly been sick a day in his life. A cold every now and again, but nothing that put him to bed. And he’d broken his left arm when he was a boy.
He wondered if Alice remembered that. She’d been pretty small when it happened.
Taking up the lunch tray, he carried it into the parlor and set it on the low table before the sofa. His sister looked at him, and there was something in her eyes that caused a twinge of alarm. She seemed . . . disconnected . . . departed. Then she gave him a small smile and he thought he must have imagined it.
“Eat up.” He took up some pillows to put behind her back. “You need your strength.”
He was going to contact the doctor before this day was out.
Shannon stood on the porch, watching Sun Jie make her way down the street toward the south side of Grand Coeur. That was where—Mrs. Rutherford had informed them in front of their new housekeeper— the area known as Chinatown was located.
She could almost hear her father preparing his sermon now. She’d recognized his annoyance with the woman’s condescending attitude.
Delaney Adair was a Southerner through and through. No man could say that he wasn’t. But he’d disagreed with many of his friends and neighbors back in Virginia on the issue of slavery and the supposed inferiority of the colored races. He believed, deep in his soul, that all men were the same—white, black, yellow, red. He believed they should all be free to live and serve God as He called them. While her father was in favor of a state’s right to govern, while she was certain he would support the Confederacy once the new nation was free of Yankee invaders, Delaney Adair would also press for the emancipation of the slaves. He even admired Abraham Lincoln for that very act.
Imagine. A Southern gentleman admitting that he admired President Lincoln. It had cost him a number of friends, but he’d stood firm in his belief. Shannon reluctantly admired him for his unwavering stance before popular opinion.
“God would not have us discriminate between the races,” her father had told her on more than one occasion. “He would not have us be another’s master. He would have us respect one another. Respect even our differences. Serve one another out of love.”
Yes, she admired her father above all men. But she often wished he would keep such thoughts to himself.
Shannon turned and ree
ntered the house. Her father was seated in one of the mismatched chairs, his Bible open on his lap, a pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose.
“It appears you won’t have many meals to prepare for your father after today,” he said.
“I like cooking for you.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead.
He chuckled. “When it suits your mood.”
She playfully slapped his shoulder.
But he turned serious again. “God has great work for us to do in Grand Coeur. There are men here from around the country, from around the world. ‘The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few; pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth labourers into his harvest.’ That’s why the Lord has called us to this territory, Shannon. We are the laborers He needs to bring in the harvest.”
She nodded, although she wasn’t convinced. At least when it came to her part in this master plan.
“Think of it, daughter. It isn’t just these miners who so desperately need Christ. Sun Jie and her husband are believers. Perhaps we can be of help in the conversion of more Chinese. The gospel is the good news to all. Not simply to those of European roots. How exciting this could be.”
It seemed to Shannon that she was there by default. God had called her father, and the Lord got her in the bargain.
“Yes, Father,” she answered softly. “It is exciting.”
She turned away, and her gaze fell upon the table near a window where she’d set out the cherished portraits and photographs brought from home. There were portraits of her grandparents and another of her mother that had been made the year before she died. There was a photograph of a number of young women of the county—good friends, all—taken in 1860, the year before the war began. What innocents they’d been. And there was a photograph of Benjamin, the man she was to have married. But the Yankees had killed him at the Battle of Malvern Hill, just one of more than twenty thousand gallant men of the Confederacy killed in that weeklong campaign in Virginia.
She crossed the room and took up the framed photograph. How handsome Benjamin had looked in his uniform, his black hair combed back, his mustache and goatee neatly trimmed.
Heart of Gold Page 4
