Heart of Gold (4 page)

My dearest friend, you cannot comprehend what that was like. Hundreds of miles in the confines of a carriage that is suspended on leather straps, rocking and swaying as three pairs of horses pull it as fast as they can. Every ten to fifteen miles, there was a station where we stopped and the horses were changed for fresh ones. Sometimes we were able to have a meal, but the food was barely passable anywhere. A few times there was word of Indians attacking stages along the way. I tell you, I was more in fear for my life once we were west of the Mississippi River than I ever was with Yankees threatening us in Virginia. And the dust. I felt it coating my tongue and teeth, day after day.

I was never so glad as I was to reach the end of our journey, although Grand Coeur is not a place I should like to live for long. It is rough and dirty and the inhabitants are equally so. Father has not changed his opinion, however. He believes God has called him here to serve these men and women.

Of the latter, there are not many. Perhaps two or three hundred women out of more than five thousand men. And as you might expect, too few of those can be called ladies. I shall not write more in that regard. I’m sure you understand. Still, there are some respectable, married people who call Grand Coeur their home. Very few, but some.

Shannon paused and read what she had written thus far. How gloomy she sounded. Shouldn’t she try to offer some cheer to her friend? Katie Davis and her widowed mother hadn’t had an easy time of it, and until the Confederacy ran the Union Army out of Virginia once and for all, things would not improve for the Davises or their neighbors.

She drew in a deep breath and continued writing.

All is not terrible here, Katie dear. I would not have you think so. There is beauty in these mountains, and Father has a fine church in which to serve. The people of the congregation used skilled craftsmen to build it. Our home is small but comfortable enough for two people.

I am not at all sure what I will do with my time now that we are here. There is no proper society. How I wish you and your mother could have come with us. It would be good to know that you are safe and well fed. Of course, you would like Grand Coeur no more than I do. Still, I wish my dearest friend was with me. Never in our lives have we been so far apart.

I already miss helping Dr. Crenshaw at the hospital. You know how much I admire Miss Nightingale and all she has done in the cause of nursing. I wonder if the day will come when nurses are no longer expected to be male or, if female, married women with gray hair. I should never have been allowed to do the things I did if not for the desperate situation brought about by war.

How will I be of use to anyone in this place? Father does not wish me to wander too far from the most acceptable areas of Grand Coeur, and I know I shall find that terribly confining. I shall have to change his mind slowly, but change it I shall. You know how stubborn I can be. Not the best of character attributes for a minister’s daughter.

I was informed by a Wells, Fargo agent that their mail service between the West and the East has not met with much interruption over the past year or two. But he could not make any promise regarding letters going into the South. So I will pray that God will find a miraculous way for this letter to reach you. I send it with my love.

Your devoted friend,
Shannon Adair

3

The first few days of living in the small parsonage and trying to buy the things she and her father needed did nothing to improve Shannon’s poor opinion of Grand Coeur. It was dirty and noisy. In the cool spring mornings a haze of smoke from woodstoves blanketed the mountain valley, and when it rained—as it had three days ago—the streets turned to a sea of mud. Worst of all, there were few people of quality with whom she might associate in this dreadful place. She felt trapped, like a wild animal in a cage.

Her father, on the other hand, seemed happier and more alive than he had in a long while. Last evening, seeing her disgruntled mood, he’d said, “‘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.’ We are those laborers, my child.”

Shannon thought it patently unfair that he should use Scripture to chastise her. There was no way for her to respond except in agreement.

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.”