Heart of Gold (6 page)

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.”

Her husband? Shannon felt her eyes widen. Was it usual for the Oriental girls to be married at such a young age? What would her father have to say about that?

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.