Joe Burkette, Shannon decided, had much to recommend him. Besides his Southern heritage, his looks, his age, and having all his limbs, he owned a profitable livery business and was ambitious for more. He was certainly most generous with his compliments and so very attentive.
And yet after they started back for Grand Coeur, Shannon found her thoughts turning to someone quite different from her escort. She and Joe had passed the Dubois house on their way out of town, and she’d wondered then how Matthew was faring today. The question had lingered throughout the drive into the mountains and the walk around Joe’s mining claim. It lingered still: how was Matthew doing?
A twinge of guilt reminded her that there were two other people she should be concerned about: Alice and Todd. But naturally she hoped Alice was better and that Todd was dealing well with his mother’s illness. It was just that Matthew— “Miss Adair, I believe you’ve become bored with me.”
She blinked, pulled abruptly to the present.
Joe was grinning, his head cocked to one side. “My feelings are quite crushed.”
“I find that hard to believe, sir. Surely I could not wound you so easily.”
His grin faded. “You’re wrong, dear Shannon. I think you have the capacity to wound a man with a careless glance.”
Although she laughed and waved away his words—including his rather presumptuous use of her given name—she suddenly wished they were back in town and she was no longer in his company. Which made no sense whatsoever. Hadn’t she been listing his qualifications as a suitor just moments before?
“It’s good that you aren’t infected with gold fever,” he said, the hint of a smile returning to his lips.
“Why is that, sir?”
“Because it’s ruined many a good man. They taste a little success, find a little gold, and it takes over their lives. They become consumed by it.”
“But you’re hunting for gold.”
“Only in passing, Miss Adair. It’s the tradesmen in the gold camps who grow wealthy, not the miners themselves. At least not the majority of them. I would venture to say that Chinaman, Wu Lok, has stashed away a small fortune in the past two years.”
“The man who owns the mercantile on Lewis Street? Sun Jie’s husband?”
“Yeah, that’s who I mean. Is he married? Afraid I didn’t know that. Not that it matters.” Joe clucked to the horse and slapped the reins against the gelding’s rump.
Was Joe right about Wu Lok? Was he among the wealthiest in town? For some reason it bothered her that Joe had singled him out.
As if hearing her thoughts, her companion continued, “I get angry, thinking of all the gold and silver coming out of places like Grand Coeur, and most of it going into the Union coffers or making foreigners wealthy. Lincoln created this territory just so the Yankees could claim as much of the gold as possible. If I could find enough in that claim of mine, I’d use it to help the Confederacy win the war.” He drew a deep breath and let it out before adding, “And even then it would take a miracle.”
She heard the discouragement in his voice. “You think the Yankees are going to defeat us, don’t you?”
“Miss Adair, the North has more guns and cannons and ammunition, more money, more men, more horses, more food, more of just about everything. The Confederacy has right on their side and not much else.”
Do we have right on our side?
She stiffened at the unexpected thought and looked away so Joe wouldn’t see the confusion in her eyes. When her father, in the first year of the war, had refused to join other Southern ministers in declaring that Almighty God was on the side of the Confederacy, she’d been angry with him and embarrassed for him. How could he not say it? How could he not believe it? Wasn’t a great deal of the Old Testament about war and the side that God was on? Surely God had to be on the side of the Confederacy.
She could still see her father shaking his head. She could still hear him saying, “If only it were always simple to know the will of God, Shannon. Have you considered that He is on the side of humanity and is more concerned with the war in our hearts than in who is victorious on the battlefields?”
Her head was beginning to hurt. She disliked feeling uncertain. She used to be so confident of her own opinions. When had that changed?
Matthew sat at his sister’s bedside, watching while she sipped a cup of broth. She was eating for his sake more than her own, and he knew it.
It surprised him, the depth of his feelings for his sister. He’d given her only passing thoughts through the years, had sent her only the occasional letter. But now . . . now he knew he would miss her when she was gone—and not just because he dreaded being the guardian of his nephew.
“Shannon told me there’s to be a dance on the Fourth of July,” Alice said as she placed the cup on the tray. “Did you know that?”
“Heard something about it.”
“You should ask her to go with you, Matt.”
“I’m not much of a dancer.”
“That isn’t true. I remember Ma teaching you how.” She smiled and closed her eyes. “She would push the table and chairs aside and Pa would play his fiddle while the two of you danced around the center of the room.”
He did remember. He remembered far more than he’d realized. Perhaps it was being with his sister again that made it all so vivid in his mind: the exciting adventure of the journey west on the Oregon Trail the year he was eleven, helping his father build their house out of logs in Oregon, carving the soil behind a team of oxen and a plow, harvesting the first crops, learning to shoot his pa’s rifle and bagging his first deer, watching for Indians when news of danger reached them, family church on Sunday mornings until a minister came to the area. And the dancing. He remembered the dancing in their log house.
He shook his head. “That was a long time ago, Alice. I’ve forgotten everything Ma taught me.”
His sister looked at him again, her expression sobering. “You need to ask Shannon to the dance before someone else does. She’s out with that Mr. Burkette today. He may have already asked her.”
The dislike Matthew felt for the livery owner was sharp.
“Shannon’s so good with Todd. You should see them together while you’re at work. I believe she loves him already.”
“Alice—”
“It won’t be much longer, Matt. You can’t wait. There isn’t enough time left.”
He didn’t have to ask what she meant.
Her voice now soft and wispy, Alice sounded far away, as if she already had one foot in another world. “I need to know Todd’ll be all right after I’m gone.”
“Okay. I’ll ask her to the dance. I give you my word. I’ll ask her the next time I see her.” Feeling his throat tightening up, he rose and took the tray downstairs.
Joe Burkette had taken Shannon for a buggy ride. Matthew wouldn’t be able to do the same without a horse. And he should own a horse. He’d be here for the next few months at the very least. It made sense to own a horse. Plus there was a small shed and corral on this property. Plenty of room for a horse or two. There wouldn’t be the expense of stabling an animal.
Which brought his thoughts right back to Burkette.
He really didn’t like the man. Something not quite trustworthy about his eyes or the set of his mouth or something. He was surprised the reverend hadn’t thought the same thing.
From outside came Todd’s shout. “Bring it here, Nugget. Bring it here.”
Matthew moved to the open kitchen door and around the veranda to where he could see boy and dog playing in the yard. Nugget, it was clear, had no concept of the game of fetch. He attacked the stick his master had thrown, growling and barking and jumping about but never picking it up and carrying it to Todd.
“I believe she loves him already.”
A sad smile curved his mouth as he remembered Shannon at the supper table the previous night. Alice was right. She did seem to be fond of the boy. And she’d taken pity on Matthew, too, entertaining him and Todd with amusing stories, taking their minds off the invalid upstairs for nearly an hour. He’d been surprised by the compassion she’d shown, although he supposed he shouldn’t have been after the way she’d cared for Alice for the better part of two weeks. For certain the young woman with hair the color of burgundy wine and eyes the same green as the forest surrounding Grand Coeur wasn’t the hothouse flower he’d once thought her.