That evening, Christy went to her bedroom and closed the door. It was a beautiful night, warm and perfumed with flowers. A full moon lit her room like a golden lamp. She looked out the window and sighed. Mr. Halliday was right. Such beauty!
She walked to her bed and slipped her hand under her mattress. The key was there, just where she’d left it.
Slowly, Christy unlocked her trunk. She opened the jewelry box. The gold inside looked dull in the moonlight. How could a handful of rocks hold such power? The power to make grown men fight and young girls cry. The power to split families and change lives forever.
Where had it come from, and why was it here? Was it just “plumb lucky,” as Ruby Mae had said? Or did this gold belong to someone . . . perhaps someone right here in Cutter Gap?
Again she went over her conversation with Mr. Halliday that afternoon by the shed. “I fear I’ve rather complicated lives here,” he’d said. What had he meant by that?
He’d talked today of having been paid in gold. And he’d taken photographs near the very creek where Ruby Mae and her friends had found the nuggets.
Suddenly, she remembered the white piece of cloth Ruby Mae had been holding when Christy and Doctor MacNeill had confronted Lundy. It had looked like a handkerchief.
Like one of Mr. Halliday’s handkerchiefs.
But why, if the gold belonged to him and he’d lost it, hadn’t he told them the truth?
And could it be that Ruby Mae had the same suspicions?
Christy put away the gold. She locked her trunk and hid the key. Then she pulled out her diary and began to write.
What if my instincts are right? What if the gold that filled the girls with such hope—and this community with such anger—really belongs to Mr. Halliday? He’s such a kind man. I doubt he’ll ever be able to bring himself to say anything. But if Ruby Mae and the other girls know this gold isn’t just the result of luck . . . If they know that their gold really belongs to someone else, and that they’re taking advantage of his kindness, they’ll never be able to live with themselves. The question is, am I right? And if I am, how can I find a way to reach the girls before Mr. Halliday leaves forever?
“Lots of children missin’ today,” Clara commented on Monday morning as she took her seat next to Ruby Mae and Bessie.
“Out gold-huntin’,” Bessie said. “Pa said everybody from here to Asheville’s heard about it by now. Said he wished he had some pickaxes and shovels to sell.”
“At least Lundy ain’t here,” Ruby Mae muttered. “Probably scared to show his face.” She turned to check the door. “Mountie O’Teale come yet?”
“Why are you so all-fired interested in Mountie all of a sudden?” Bessie asked.
“No reason.”
The girls watched as more children took their seats.
“Am I crazy,” Clara whispered, “or are we sittin’ all by ourselves? How come everybody else is off in other rows?”
Bessie scanned the room. “You’d think we had the pox!”
“They’re just treatin’ us like royalty, is all,” Ruby Mae said.
A few minutes later, Mountie entered the schoolroom. Ruby Mae leapt from her seat and pulled the little girl aside.
“I got something to show you,” Ruby Mae said excitedly.
“Don’t care,” Mountie said softly. “I know I ain’t no princess, but that’s all right. ’Cause I got my ’magination. Teacher said.”
Ruby Mae pulled a slip of paper from the pocket of her dress. “Here. This is to help your imagination. For when it gets tuckered out and needs some help rememberin’.”
Mountie stared at the little piece of paper. Her mouth worked, but no sound came out. “I-it’s my dolly!” she whispered.
“Mr. Halliday let me cut her out of the catalog.”
“Can I keep hold of this for a little while?”
“You can keep it, Mountie. It’s for you to have.” Ruby Mae looked away. “I know she ain’t a real dolly, but she’s easier to carry.”
“Th-thank you, Ruby Mae!” Mountie whispered.
Ruby Mae had never seen Mountie grin so wide. “Shucks, Mountie. Ain’t nothin’ much,” she muttered. Quickly she ran back to her seat.
“What was that about?” Bessie asked.
“Nothin’. Just ’cause we’re princesses don’t mean I can’t talk to the common folk, do it?”
“Don’t get all riled,” Bessie said. “You ain’t mad at me ’cause our pas was beatin’ up on each other in church, are you?”
“Naw,” Ruby Mae gave a short laugh. “You mad at me?”
Bessie giggled. “Naw. Can’t help it if’n the grownups act like kids. It’s a good thing we can act proper-like.”
Ruby Mae glanced back over her shoulder. Mountie was hugging the little piece of paper to her chest as if it were a real doll. “Yep,” Ruby Mae said softly. “It’s a good thing we can act proper-like.”