Heart of Gold (21 page)

“Look.” Her father pointed toward the hillside on the opposite side of the creek that followed the road.

It took her a few moments to see the deer drinking at the water’s edge. Camouflaged by the hillside, trees, and underbrush behind them, there were two spotted fawns, three doe, and a buck. The buck lifted his head to observe the Adairs pass, watchful but unalarmed.

Not so very long ago, there had been plenty of deer in her beloved

Virginia, but they’d disappeared after three years of war. Eaten, she supposed, by Union and Confederate soldiers alike. She hoped none of the deer she saw now would ever be shot, even though she rather enjoyed a venison steak. She would rather think of them living free in these mountains.

Living free. She wanted to live free too. Was that why God had brought them to Idaho Territory, so they might be free? Free of war. Free of talk of war. Free of death and want and sorrow and regret. Free of— “Is that the turnoff?” her father asked, drawing her attention to the road ahead.

“Yes, that’s it.”

He slowed the horse from a trot to a walk and guided him onto the narrow track that would take them to the Crawford ranch. Immediately she thought of the day last week when she and Matthew had followed this same road, Todd on the seat behind them, leaning forward with excitement when the ranch came into view. And thinking of those two, uncle and nephew, she realized she wished they were with her this time too.

Matthew had known she wanted the bay mare. She hadn’t said a word to him about it. Hadn’t entered the pasture to see the horse up close. Hadn’t paid more attention to her than to the two geldings Matthew purchased that day. So how had he guessed she hoped to buy the bay? How had he been able to read her wishes so well? Was it because they were becoming friends?

Friends .
. .

She was glad when the ranch house and barn came into view, for it helped focus her thoughts on the horse she wanted to buy and not on the man who was . . . who was becoming . . . her friend.

As had happened the previous week, Lawrence Crawford came out of the barn upon their arrival. His jaw was still shadowed with the stubble of a beard, and he wore what appeared to be the same flannel shirt and the same pair of coveralls. He also wore a friendly grin.

“Well, Miss Adair. Good to see you again.”

“Thank you, Mr. Crawford.”

“Come to buy a horse for yourself this time?”

She ignored his question. “I’d like you to meet my father, the Reverend Adair.”

“Reverend, eh?”

“Indeed, Mr. Crawford.” Her father offered the man his hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” They shook hands.

“My daughter tells me you have many fine horses for sale.”

“Glad she thinks so.” He motioned with his hand. “Why don’t you come have a look for yourself?”

Her father stepped down from the buggy, then helped Shannon do the same.

“That friend of your daughter’s, Mr. Dubois, he chose probably the finest of the horses I’ve had for sale. A big gray. But I reckon Miss Adair can find one she likes.”

Shannon imagined Matthew seated astride the big gray and felt something warm and wishful twist in her heart.

“That’s quite the black eye, Matt.” Jack leaned his forearms on the counter in the Wells, Fargo office.

Matthew grunted his acknowledgment. “Did you arrest the guy who gave it to me?”

“Sorry. Witnesses weren’t clear on who started the fight.”

“What do you mean? They accosted that man in the street. I stepped in to help. And I didn’t throw the first punch.”

“That may all be true, but there are some who say you did.”

He grunted a second time.

Jack straightened. “That isn’t why I came by. Wanted you to know they caught the suspected gunman in that shooting a couple of weeks ago up near Idaho City.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.” The sheriff rubbed the back of his neck. “I just wish it felt like I could relax now. But something keeps nagging at me. It seems like there’s more strangers in town lately.”

“Strangers?” That seemed an odd thing to say. Jack couldn’t know every man in these mountains, not even by sight alone. The gold camps were filled with strangers.

“I mean the men who obviously aren’t miners but who don’t seem to be here on business either.” Jack shrugged. “They make me nervous, especially if they’re from the South.”

“Not all Southerners are Confederate sympathizers.” As he spoke, Matthew thought specifically of Reverend Adair. On the other hand, the reverend’s daughter . . .

“Maybe not, but plenty of them are.” Jack took a step back from the counter. “Let’s just hope nothing happens to spoil the town’s celebration on the Fourth. Maybe with a bit of fun, some of the tension will die down.”

Or it could just make it worse
.

The sheriff turned and walked to the door, but he stopped there and looked behind him. “Hope your sister’s doing better.”

“She’s holdin’ her own.”

“Maybe I could call upon her.”

Matthew nodded. “If you want to, I’m sure she’d take pleasure in seeing you again.”

Delaney felt a catch in his heart as he watched Shannon stroke the neck of the mare while staring deeply into the horse’s eyes. He’d seen his wife do the very same thing more than once during their marriage.

He gave silent thanks to God that the war hadn’t ruined him financially as it had ruined others. He was not as wealthy as he once had been, but at least he could buy a horse for his daughter to enjoy.

Memories of the three of them—Delaney, Adelyn, and Shannon— riding together through the countryside surrounding Covington House filled his head. It seemed only yesterday. It seemed much too distant.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she, Father?”

He looked at Shannon again. “She’s a fine horse. Good conformation.” He turned toward Lawrence Crawford. “How does she go?”

“I can saddle her up if you want to try her. Afraid I don’t have a sidesaddle, though.”

Shannon answered before Delaney could. “I’m able to ride astride if I must.”

Crawford looked surprised at this bit of information.

Delaney said, “If you don’t mind, yes, please put a saddle on her.”

But he was certain his daughter had already made up her mind. They would return to Grand Coeur with the mare in tow.

The bay mare was hers!

Shannon felt far more excitement over the purchase than she’d anticipated. She’d loved riding from the time she was a little girl and had taken it for granted that she would always be able to walk to the stables and ride the horse of her choosing at a moment’s notice. The past three years—after the Confederacy had taken the last of the Adair horses for use by the army—had taught her that nothing in life was guaranteed.

“I’ll have to think of the perfect name for her,” she said as she looked over her shoulder at the mare. “Oh, Father, thank you for buying her for me.” She slipped her arm through his and gave it a squeeze, leaning her head on his shoulder at the same time.

He chuckled. “You’re quite welcome, my dear girl. It gives me pleasure that I could do this for you.” His voice took a more serious tone. “You’ve done without a great deal since the war began, and you’ve borne it without complaint.”

Shannon felt a tug of shame. Had she done without horses or new dresses or her favorite foods or leaving Virginia without complaint? No. Perhaps she hadn’t always put her feelings into words, but she’d complained in her thoughts and in the irritated looks she’d cast in her father’s direction and in the heavy sighs she’d breathed in his company.

“I don’t believe that’s true, Father, and neither do you. I don’t deserve your kind favor.”

“Ah, but that’s the very definition of grace, Shannon. Undeserved kindness and favor from God when what we rightly deserve is His judgment.” He looked at her with a patient smile. “If the Lord God Almighty can show grace to me, however much more do I need to show it to others? Including to you, my daughter.” He leaned close and kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m very blessed to have you with me. I know you might have chosen not to come to Idaho.”

She let her gaze move over the passing countryside. “It isn’t as bad as I thought at first.”

“I’m glad that’s what you’ve found.”

Half an hour later, she watched as the bay mare—now christened Ginny, short for Virginia—was untied from the back of the rented buggy by Joe Burkette. As he led the horse toward a stall inside the large barn, he said, “If I’d known you were in the market for a saddle horse, Reverend Adair, I could have shown you a few.” He jerked his head toward the corrals beyond the barn doors. “I’ve got some fine ones.”

“My daughter had her heart set on this particular mare,” her father replied.

Joe closed the stall door, then turned toward Shannon. “Then I understand. Who would not wish Miss Adair to have whatever she wants?”

Odd. She was certain he meant the words as a compliment. And yet they didn’t feel like one. Or perhaps she simply didn’t want anyone to give her a compliment other than one particular man with black hair and deep blue eyes.

“It would be a pity for such a pretty neck to get broken, Miss Adair
.”

“Well, you needn’t worry about your horse,” Joe said, intruding on her thoughts. “I’ll see that she has the best of care.”

“Thank you. And perhaps you could find a sidesaddle for me. I wasn’t able to bring mine with me.”

Joe gave his head a slow shake. “Not much call for a woman’s saddle in these parts, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’m obliged.”

He turned toward her father again. “Reverend, I understand you’ve been helping with the plans for the Independence Day celebration.”

“Yes, I have.”

“I trust you think it a suitable function for your daughter to attend?”

Her father glanced at her, then back at Joe. “Of course.”

“Then I would like your permission to escort her.”

It was Shannon who answered him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Burkette. I cannot accept your kind invitation.”

Surprise filled his eyes.

“I have accepted a previous one,” she added.

A flicker of annoyance replaced the surprise.

She could tell he wanted to inquire who’d asked her first. She was thankful he didn’t. For some reason she didn’t want him to know. Not because she was sorry she was going with Matthew. It had more to do with Joe’s demeanor or that look in his eye or . . . or something she couldn’t quite define.

“Well, Mr. Burkette,” her father said, breaking into the taut silence, “we must be on our way. I have work still to be done, and my daughter must return to Mrs. Jackson.”

Shannon sent a smile to Joe, hoping it looked genuine. “Please let me know when you find a saddle, Mr. Burkette.”

He gave a curt nod.

She slipped her hand into the crook of her father’s arm, and they walked out of the livery barn. When they’d cleared the doorway, she said, “Thank you again, Father. For buying Ginny.”

“I’m glad I could do it for you, Shannon.” He covered her hand with his free one. “I’m not unaware of the sacrifices you’ve made by coming with me to Idaho.”

She felt a second twinge of guilt for the times she’d complained, by words or by actions. “We were doing without in Virginia, too, because of the war.”