Heart of Gold (23 page)

Jack turned toward Matthew. “The driver still at the stables?”

“Yeah, Clint’s still there. He’ll leave on the return trip in about an hour.”

“Then I’ll go talk to him now.”

Matthew nodded to Dr. Featherhill before following Jack out the door. They both stopped on the boardwalk.

“Did you come to the same conclusion I did?” Jack asked.

“You mean robbing the stage on its way into town instead of out of it?”

“Doesn’t add up.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Jack Dickson looked up at the sky. “There was another murder near Idaho City. A Confederate shot a Unionist for singing ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic’ and refusing to stop when he was told.”

“Not much reason to kill a man.”

Jack removed his hat and wiped his shirtsleeve across his forehead. As he set the hat back on his head, he said, “I’m sworn to uphold the law, and whether the men in these mountains like it or not, the law of this territory is set by the Union.”

“I’ve got no quarrel with that, Jack.”

“I know, Matt. I just wish there were more like you.” He tugged down on the brim of his hat. “I’d best go talk to your driver.”

Matthew remained on the boardwalk, watching as the sheriff headed toward the Wells, Fargo stables. There was more trouble coming, just like Jack said. Matthew could feel it in his bones.

After Joe bid Shannon a good day at the door of the parsonage, she left her shopping with Sun Jie and went to the church to tell her father what had happened in town. As she’d expected he would, he declared his intention to go to pray for the wounded man and to offer whatever assistance might be needed. Shannon went with him.

Tagging along had little to do with concern for the victim, however. The truth was she wanted to see Matthew again. All the way home, even with Mr. Burkette walking at her side, it had been Matthew whose face she’d seen in her mind. It had been her father’s voice she’d heard in her head:
“The heart wants what it wants, Shannon
.”

She hadn’t thought she could befriend a Yankee, and yet she had become a friend to Alice and to Alice’s son. As for Matthew . . . Well, she truly believed she’d come to feel something more for him than friendship. It seemed impossible that she could care for someone who didn’t love the South as much as she did, but there it was. She did care.

Her father would say they could be friends with any Yankee.

Those who trusted in Christ were all the same in the Lord’s eyes, all part of God’s family, grafted into the vine. Her father would say war could not divide them because they were brothers and sisters in the faith.

But when she thought of Matthew, it most certainly wasn’t as a brother.

Heat climbed up her neck to flood her cheeks.

Thankfully, she and her father arrived at the doctor’s office at that moment. Dr. Featherhill welcomed them, then took her father to see the patient in the examination room, leaving Shannon to cool her heels in the front office. She was still standing near the window when the door opened and a man wearing a badge entered.

When he saw her, he removed his hat. “Good afternoon, miss.” He looked around the small office area. “Is the doctor here?”

“He’s in the back with my father. With Reverend Adair.”

“Ah. Good to hear the patient’s up to having visitors. I’m Sheriff

Dickson. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Adair.”

“And yours, Sheriff.”

The door opened again. This time she didn’t need an introduction.

“The heart wants what it wants, Shannon
.”

Matthew’s smile was fleeting, but she felt its force all the same.

Sheriff Dickson said, “The doctor’s in the back with the reverend.”

“The patient must be doing better.”

“Seems so.”

“That’s good.” Matthew looked at Shannon again. “I guess you heard what happened.”

“I didn’t have to hear. I was there.”

“You were? I didn’t see you.”

“I went to the store to purchase some groceries and was on my way home when the stagecoach came into town. I’m glad the passenger will be all right.”

Matthew motioned toward the chairs near the desk. “Would you care to sit while we wait?”

She complied, hoping he would choose to sit in the chair next to her. But he didn’t. Instead he moved toward the door to the examination room, then walked back to lean his shoulder against the wall near the entrance.

The sheriff took a couple of steps toward her. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you or your father before today, Miss Adair. Wish it was under different circumstances.”

“You’re most kind, Sheriff Dickson.”

Matthew pushed off the wall and crossed the room to sit where Shannon had hoped he would moments before. “Been over to see Ginny today?”

It seemed rude, the way he changed the subject and pulled her gaze away from the sheriff. Not only that, his voice had a gruff edge to it.

“Not yet,” she answered. “But I did receive some good news. Mr. Burkette has found a sidesaddle for me. He hopes to have it next week.”

His brows drew a little closer together. He didn’t look like he thought it good news at all. Which is why his next words were so unexpected. “After you get it, maybe you could go riding with Todd and me.”

She forgot his scowl and the rough edge to his voice. It mattered only that he’d asked her to go riding with him. And unlike Joe Burkette’s invitation, she had no desire to refuse Matthew.

“Thank you, Mr. Dubois.” She felt the heat returning to her cheeks. “I should like to.”

21

Shannon looked up from the book she was reading to see that her father had fallen asleep in his chair. Poor dear. Sundays never failed to leave him exhausted. Not wanting to wake him, she set her book aside, rose, and left the parlor, slipping out the front door and closing it behind her.

The day was warm, almost hot. Thankfully, the nights were still cool. There were other things to be thankful for as well. Church attendance had grown a little each week, and on this last Sunday in June, three new families—recent arrivals from California—had come to the service. And except for the occasional fistfight in one of the saloons, Grand Coeur had remained a relatively peaceful place.

At this moment the town seemed to be slumbering like her father, but she had no delusions. Many of the inhabitants of Grand Coeur held little reverence for Sundays. There would be plenty of noise coming from the saloons as the day grew long. But for now all appeared at rest.

But Shannon didn’t feel like resting. A walk would suit her much better.

She heard the sound of hoofbeats on the road and turned to see who was coming down Gold Hill Road. When the rider came into view, she felt a sharp disappointment, only then realizing she’d hoped it would be Matthew on his tall dapple gray. Instead she recognized Joe Burkette.

When he saw her, he waved an arm as he nudged his horse into a trot and steered him toward the parsonage. “Miss Adair,” he called as he drew closer. “I was hoping I would find you at home.”

“You almost missed me, Mr. Burkette. I’m going for a walk.”

“It’s a fine day for it.” He reined in and dismounted. “Please allow me to join you.”

He was persistent. She could say that about him. And she couldn’t think of a reason to refuse. So she nodded.

Joe tied his horse to the rail of the porch, then offered his hand to assist her down the few steps to the ground. Afterward he motioned for her to proceed, allowing her to determine the direction they would go.

Shannon lifted the hem of her skirt and walked up the hillside between the parsonage and the church building. When she reached Canyon Road, Joe at her side, she chose to go left, following the road into the mountains. Turning right would have led her toward the Dubois home. Would she have turned that way if she’d been alone?

Oh, she wished she could stop herself from thinking such things.

Determined to do so, she looked at her escort. “I didn’t see you in church this morning, Mr. Burkette.”

“I’m flattered you noticed.” He smiled and winked at her.

Winked? The impertinence of the man. She looked straight ahead and quickened her pace.

“Have I upset you, Miss Adair?”

“Not at all.”

“But I believe I have.”

You flatter yourself, sir
, she wanted to say. Only that was unfair. He had upset her. She didn’t want him winking at her. It was rude and . . . and suggested something between them that didn’t exist.

“Miss Adair, please.” His hand closed around her upper arm and drew her to a stop. “Whatever I did, I offer you my sincerest apology.”

Perhaps she was overreacting. Things were different in the West. Rules of etiquette were not so strictly observed in a place like Grand Coeur. Was a wink such a terrible breach? It wasn’t his fault her heart continued to pull her in another direction—a direction she wasn’t convinced she should go.

An old memory came suddenly to mind. She and her mother had been together in Shannon’s bedroom, Adelyn Adair brushing her hair as they prepared to attend a ball. The conversation had turned to some of the young men who were vying for Shannon’s favor.
“It is the character of a man that matters, Shannon. Remember, it is not so much what a man has as what he is on the inside. Do not be influenced by mere magnetism. You will rue it if you are
.”

Six months later her mother had passed away, and the sting of missing her almost overwhelmed Shannon. How she wished she could turn to her mother now for much-needed advice.

“Miss Adair?”

She blinked, shoving away the memory into a deep corner of her heart. “Your apology is accepted, Mr. Burkette. And please, don’t trouble yourself. Let us walk.” To show that she held no hard feelings, she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm as they continued along the road.

After church, at Alice’s insistence, Matthew and Todd went for a ride on their horses. When they returned, they put the two geldings into the corral beside the stable and tossed hay into the manger. Matthew was pumping water into the trough when Jack Dickson strode into view.

“Matt,” he said with a nod.

“Jack.”

“You busy? Hate to intrude on your Sunday.”

“It’s all right. We’re finished here.”

“Uncle Matt,” Todd said quietly, “I’m gonna go see what Ma’s doin’.”

“Okay.” He watched as the boy ran to the house and disappeared inside.

Jack glanced toward the corral. “Couple of fine horses you got there. Got them from Lawrence Crawford, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

The sheriff bumped his hat up on his forehead with the knuckles of his right hand. “I wanted to talk to you about the trouble yesterday.

Stopped by Washburn’s place, but he wasn’t at home.”

Matthew motioned toward the house. “Let’s have a seat and you can tell me what’s on your mind.”

They crossed the yard in silence, neither speaking until they’d settled onto the veranda chairs.

“Matt,” Jack began, “you’re a sharp thinker. You got good instincts.” He leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. “My gut tells me that robbery yesterday wasn’t a bungled job by some amateur thieves. It was something more. What do you think?”