Heart of Gold (24 page)

Matthew nodded. “The same.”

“And maybe it was no accident that guard who was supposed to be on the stage took sick at the last minute.”

That thought had crossed Matthew’s mind too.

“I’m riding down to Boise City in two or three days to talk to him.

I’d like you to come along with me.”

“Why me?”

“Because I trust you, and you might catch something I miss. You’ve been driving stagecoaches in and out of mining camps for Wells, Fargo a lot longer than I’ve been a sheriff.”

“All right. If you think I can help.”

“I do.” Jack stood. “I’ll let you know what day.”

Matthew rose from his chair. “Sounds good.”

Jack Dickson stepped off the porch and strode away.

22

Boise City was a bustling supply town, birthed near the intersection of the Oregon Trail and the main road connecting the Boise Basin and the Owyhee mining camps. Unlike Idaho City, the largest city in the Northwest, and other gold and silver towns in the mountains of the territory, the inhabitants of Boise City were, for the most part, strong supporters of the Union.

That was certainly true of Sumner Hill, the agent in charge of the Boise City Wells, Fargo office.

“I don’t know where Cantrell went from here,” he told Matthew and Jack when asked about the guard who should have been on the stage four days earlier, “but I reckon he’s up to no good, wherever he is.” He muttered an oath beneath his breath.

Matthew exchanged a look with Jack before asking, “What have you heard?”

“Nothing specific. Nothing we haven’t been expecting. You heard of the Red Fox? He’s been seen in this territory.”

“The Confederate captain, in Idaho?” The name was well-known in California. Captain Ingram headed up a band of guerrillas who were modeled after the notorious Quantrill’s Raiders. Bushwhackers, murderers, and thieves, in Matthew’s opinion, disguised as soldiers. “And you think Cantrell is one of his men?”

“Yeah. That’s what I think.”

Sheriff Dickson spoke up. “Where was he last seen?”

“Captain Ingram? In Silver City a few weeks ago. But nobody knows for sure where he is now.”

With all the gold coming out of the Boise Basin, Matthew would wager he knew where the captain and his men were. Somewhere in the mountains to the north, scouting out the best place and best way to get their hands on the treasure being shipped on the Wells, Fargo stagecoaches.

“The company’s hiring more men to guard the stages going in and out of the Idaho mining camps,” Sumner said. “And you can be sure I’ll know where their sympathies lie before they’re hired. Won’t make the same mistake I made with Cantrell.” He shook his head. “Never should’ve let that stage leave without a messenger riding guard.”

“Anybody can make a mistake,” Matthew replied—and then silently thanked God for sparing the passenger’s life.

With their questions answered, Matthew and Jack thanked Sumner Hill for his help and went outside. They paused on the boardwalk, watching the activity in the town.

After a while Jack said, “We need to find out where Captain Ingram is.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think he was behind that robbery attempt?”

Matthew shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of him attempting to hold up a stage that didn’t have plenty of treasure on board.”

Jack drew in a breath and let it out. “It feels like a test.”

A test. Yeah, that’s what it felt like. And it was Wells, Fargo they were testing. That made it personal for Matthew. He’d worked for the company for a lot of years. He felt a strong loyalty to Wells, Fargo, to the men who ran it, and to the ones who drove for them. He didn’t want to see a stage coming in or going out of Grand Coeur robbed on his watch. He didn’t want to see anyone else get shot either.

Jack looked at him. “Before we start back, I’d like to talk to the local sheriff. Want to join me?”

“I don’t imagine I can be of any help to you there. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll check out the general store. See if there’s anything I want to take back for my sister and nephew.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll meet you back here in an hour or so.”

Matthew waited until Jack mounted his horse and rode down the street toward the sheriff ’s office before he turned and walked to the large general store a block away.

He found a pretty shawl to buy for Alice. She would tell him it was a waste of money, but he didn’t care. He would buy it for her anyway. But what did a nine-year-old boy want when it came to toys or games? Todd and his mother had brought little with them from Wisconsin. Since Alice knew she was dying, she wouldn’t have left behind anything of importance. Which must mean they hadn’t owned much to begin with.

Lord, how little I knew about the life my own flesh and blood led before they came here
.

Well, he could hope to make up for some of that neglect by taking care of Todd to the best of his ability. He moved slowly down the aisle, checking the items on the shelves to his left and his right.

“May I help you, sir?”

He looked up to find a matronly woman in a dark-brown dress standing a few steps ahead of him. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’m looking for a gift for my nephew.”

“How old is the boy?”

“Nine.”

She nodded. “Are you looking for something practical like clothing or—”

“No. I want something fun.”

“Ah.” Her tone seemed disapproving. “Please follow me.” She turned and led the way to the end of the aisle, then turned left and walked to the far wall. “We have a number of items that boys enjoy. Here’s what you need for a game of battledore and shuttlecock.” She gestured toward each item as she spoke. “And over here we have some cloth balls. Boys can find many different ways to entertain themselves with balls. And of course the rolling hoops are quite popular with children.”

What should he choose? He’d spent most of his youth working the farm beside his father. There hadn’t been much time for play. But things were different for Todd. He couldn’t work beside his uncle, and while he now owned both a puppy and a horse, he couldn’t spend all of his time with the animals.

Matthew made a snap decision. “I’ll take one of each.”

The look on the woman’s face said she thought he was spoiling his nephew. She could be right. But there were few children in Grand Coeur, none close to Todd’s age, and no balls or hoops or rackets in the town’s general stores. Better to buy them while he was here. Who knew when he would come south into the valley next?

For a moment he wondered if he should look for something for Shannon. No. He supposed that wouldn’t be appropriate just yet, even though it seemed to him that this courtship was moving in the right direction. Better he wait.

He paid for the items, and as he carried them out of the store, he said a quick prayer that his horse wouldn’t be skittish about the hoop and battledores. At least the ball and shuttlecock could be stuffed into his saddlebags.

Shannon could scarcely believe it when her father brought the letter to the Dubois home. A letter from Virginia that had somehow avoided battlefields and enemy lines and found its way into a mail pouch bound for the Idaho Territory.

“You can tell me what it says when you come home,” her father told her.

After he spoke briefly to Alice, he left, and Shannon went out onto the veranda and sat in the shade to read the precious letter.

Dear Shannon
,

I pray this letter will find its way through the lines and to Idaho Territory. I have not heard from you yet. I do not know if that is because you have not written or because your letters have been unable to reach me.

Things in our county have grown much worse since your departure. The fighting has come almost to our front door more than once. Mother and I have been quite frightened by it. Our own soldiers have stripped our garden bare. And even if we had enough money, there is no food to buy.

You must have heard in your travels that General Jeb Stuart was mortally wounded at Yellow Tavern, Virginia. The news of President Abraham Lincoln’s nomination by the Republican party for a second term reached us. Young boys and old men swore and swaggered and promised to defeat Mr. Lincoln. Will we fight until there is not a man left alive or whole in all of Virginia?

I hope this letter finds you well, Shannon. Please pray for us. I sometimes wonder if we can make it through another month of fighting, and even those men who swear they will defeat Mr. Lincoln no longer boast they will do so before this summer is over. Perhaps that is because they are too tired and hungry to believe in that outcome.

Tell your father that Mother and I are praying for his work in Grand Coeur.

With great affection,
Katie Davis

Shannon wept, a tear splashing on the paper in her hands, causing the ink to smudge. Katie and her mother, hungry and in want. In physical danger with the war on their doorstep. How could God allow this to happen to the people she knew and loved? She longed to demand an answer from her father, but she knew what he would say. He would say that God worked in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform. He would say that man could not know the mind of God, for His thoughts were greater than their thoughts, His ways greater than their ways.

She didn’t want to hear that kind of answer. She wanted to help her friends and loved ones who were still in Virginia. But what could she do from Idaho? Nothing. She couldn’t even be certain her letters would ever reach them, if only to provide a few words of encouragement.

Her gaze went toward the church where her father was having another meeting about the Independence Day celebration. Didn’t it seem wrong to celebrate that particular holiday when their friends, who wanted independence from the Union, were in so much trouble? She almost wished she’d refused to go with Matthew.

Only . . . only she wanted to go with him.

Alice stood near the doorway to the kitchen, watching as Shannon read the letter a second time. Although her friend’s face was in profile, Alice could still tell she was upset by whatever the missive contained.

“Bad news?” she asked softly as she moved toward the open chair.

Shannon gave a humorless laugh. “Does any other kind come when people are at war?”

Ah, the war. “No. Even in victory, people die.”

“It’s from my friend Katie.” Shannon touched the paper in her lap. “Until Father brought me here, Katie and I lived near one another our entire lives. If only I could help her, but there is nothing I can do.” She shook her head. “Even if I was there, I wouldn’t be of any help to her, I’m afraid. Not with things as they are.”

“I’m sorry, Shannon.”

“I know.” She drew a deep breath and released it on a sigh. Then she looked toward the town. “Your brother should be back from Boise soon.”

“Yes. Before supper, he thought.”

“Do you suppose he and the sheriff will learn anything about the thieves?”

“I hope so,” Alice answered.

In the days since the robbery attempt, worry had weighed upon Matthew’s shoulders. He felt responsible in some strange way, as if he believed no one would have been shot if he’d held the reins. And he also feared more trouble would come.