Heart of Gold (20 page)

The two women sat on the veranda on a Wednesday afternoon, both of them looking across the yard toward the small barn and corral. Todd was in view, brushing Dusty. The tall dappled gray that Matthew had purchased for himself stood in the shade of the barn, flicking at flies with his tail.

“I believe I’ve at last convinced Father to go look at Mr. Crawford’s horses,” Shannon said into the companionable silence. “I can’t stop thinking or talking about that bay mare.”

Alice swallowed a smile. How perfect. Perhaps the three of them— Matthew, Shannon, and Todd—would take rides together. Horses were a shared interest, and a shared interest was a good thing in a marriage and a family. They already shared faith in Christ, and both Matthew and Shannon were fond of Todd.

“Father says the price for the mare must be reasonable or he’ll have to say no.” Shannon sighed. “You’d think after three years of sacrificing that I wouldn’t mind so much when I can’t have what I want. Before the war . . .” She fell silent.

Alice looked at Shannon. “I know you’d like to buy that mare a great deal. I’ll pray Mr. Crawford will set an unusually reasonable price for her.”

“Thank you.” Shannon met her gaze. “I never thought it could happen, you know.”

“What couldn’t happen?”

“Us becoming friends.”

“Oh. That.” Alice smiled. “Some things are simply meant to be.”

“But we are so different, you and I.”

“Not so very different. Not really.”

Shannon’s expression was thoughtful for a time before she answered, “No. I suppose you’re right. Not so very different after all.”

“Hey, Ma!” Todd called. “Look at me.”

Her gaze returned to her son, and she was surprised to find him astride his horse, bareback. She felt a flutter of alarm in her chest, but she forced it to quiet. She mustn’t be overprotective. She didn’t want to make him afraid. The gelding was a calm animal. Her brother had assured her of that.

“Be careful,” she called back to him.

“I will.” He lay forward, hugging the horse’s neck, his face hidden in the mane.

Alice felt a tiny catch in her chest. She wanted to remember every detail of this moment, of the way her son looked just now, the sun gilding his dark hair.

“He’s a good boy, Alice.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You need not fear for him or his future.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t. Not really.”

A little longer, Lord. Please give me a little longer. Just until I’m sure .
. .

Raised, angry voices from the boardwalk outside drew Matthew to the window of the Wells, Fargo office. Across the street, outside of the saloon near the corner of Jefferson and Main, five men were gathered around a sixth, a man much smaller than the others. As they shouted, they gestured with their arms. One tapped the holster strapped to his thigh. Another shoved the one in the middle.

“There’s trouble,” he said to William as he moved toward the door. When he stepped outside, he saw something he hadn’t noticed before. Against the encircled man’s blue shirt hung a long, jet-black queue.

“We don’t want your kind here,” one of the men said loudly. “You need to get out.” He swore, calling the man a derogatory name.

The Chinaman didn’t look at the men. He kept his gaze downcast, whether out of fear or subservience or habit Matthew didn’t know.

More people had gathered on the boardwalks by this time, but no one moved in the direction of the disturbance. Matthew wondered if anyone had gone for the sheriff. Maybe he should— One of the assailants grabbed the black queue and pulled it upward, yanking the man two steps backward. The rest of the gang of thugs laughed. An ugly sound. Matthew drew a deep breath as he headed across the street. No time to go for Jack. If something wasn’t done, this could turn deadly.

“You men have a problem?” he asked as he stopped near the hitching post.

They were a rough lot. Miners, from the look of them, but not very ambitious ones or they wouldn’t be in town at this hour of the day.

Their faces were unshaven, their clothes covered in dust and dirt.

“What if ’n we do?” one of them—the largest of the group—snarled back at Matthew.

“Well, you see . . .” He stepped onto the boardwalk. “I was looking for my friend there. Need him to run an errand for the express office.”

“Your friend?” The fellow’s lip curled in derision.

The Chinaman lifted his gaze toward Matthew. Matthew didn’t see fear and hoped what he saw instead was intelligence because they might both need to be quick thinking.

“He helps out sometimes,” he added, his eyes returning to the larger man.

“We don’t want his kind on this side of town, takin’ our gold, takin’ our jobs.”

“Look.” Matthew took a couple of steps closer, almost in reach of the Chinaman. Maybe he could just take him by the arm and lead him out of danger. “We don’t want any trouble. The express office has work that needs done, and some of it isn’t the sort of work any of you would be willing to do. So we hired this fella.”

Was every lie a sin? He hoped not. All he wanted to do was avert a shooting or a lynching, and that’s what this felt like it could become.

“You know what I think?” a second man said, a growl in his voice. “I think this ain’t none of your business.”

The next thing Matthew knew, someone shoved him. Then his left arm was grabbed. He threw a punch with his right, connecting with the man’s jaw. Someone else slammed a fist into Matthew’s midsection. Shouts erupted as he went down, taking one of the assailants with him. More punches were thrown before they rolled off the boardwalk and into the street. The hitching post stopped them from going too far. The other man raised up far enough to land a punch to Matthew’s face. One, then a second. First to a corner of his mouth, next to his right eye. Pain shot to the top of his head and down his spine. He tasted blood and dust. His vision blurred.

“Break it up! That’s enough. Break it up!”

Matthew’d never been so glad to hear Jack’s voice before— although it was tempting to hit the man in the street with him one last time before they drew apart.

“Get back there.”

Matthew got to his feet.

“Go on, folks. The show’s over.”

Matthew touched his mouth. His fingertips came away red. His head throbbed. To make matters worse, his eye was already beginning to swell shut.

“Matt, go back to the office,” Jack said in a low voice. “My deputy and I can deal with this. I’ll talk to you later.”

Matthew gestured toward the Chinaman in the blue shirt. “He wasn’t doing anything. You need to let him go.”

Jack nodded. “He’ll be fine. Go on. In fact, you probably should see the doctor. That cut above your eye might need a stitch or two.”

“You sure? About him, I mean.”

“I’m sure. I’ll come see you later.”

The pain behind his eye was bad enough now, he decided not to argue. He would trust Jack to sort things out.

Shannon was seated in the parlor, working on her embroidery while Alice napped on the settee and Todd played in his room upstairs.

When she heard the front door open, her gaze darted to the clock on the mantel. It wasn’t yet four o’clock. Much too early for Matthew to be home.

And yet it was Matthew who appeared in the doorway a few moments later—although he didn’t look much like himself. His right eye had swollen shut. The skin was red and painful looking. It looked as if he had a cut above his eyebrow too. His lips were puffy and cracked.

“Mr. Dubois,” she said softly, setting aside her sewing. “What on earth?”

“It’s nothing.”

Putting her finger to her lips and glancing toward the settee, she rose and walked across the parlor. “It isn’t ‘nothing.’ That’s obvious.

Come with me.”

Briskly she headed for the kitchen. Matthew followed right behind. Once there, she told him to sit in a chair, then went to retrieve some basic medical supplies. When she returned, she found Sun Ling studying the wound above his eye.

“He need stitches,” Sun Ling said to Shannon.

“I know.”

Matthew said, “I tried to see Dr. Featherhill on my way home. He wasn’t in his office.”

“No matter. I can stitch it.”

“You?” Perhaps he raised his left eyebrow in surprise, but she couldn’t be sure.

As with all female volunteers helping in wartime hospitals—and a few who served courageously on the battlefields—Shannon’s eagerness to help care for the sick and wounded had been met with great resistance at the outbreak of hostilities. Many people thought women were a nuisance in the wards. Well-meaning, perhaps, but still just in the way of the doctors. Some feared the more delicate ladies would lose their moral stature. Even some of the wounded tried to object to a woman—one who wasn’t a wife or mother or sister—caring for them. Shannon had learned to ignore objections, no matter from which quarter the complaints came.

“Sit still while I wash your eye and see how bad it is,” she said, using her sternest voice.

Sun Ling delivered a bowl of warm water and a cloth, setting them both on the table near Matthew’s left elbow.

“Thank you, Sun Ling.” Shannon took up the cloth, dipped it in the water, and began to cleanse Matthew’s wounds. When he winced and drew back, she said, “Hold still, Mr. Dubois. If you do this with the cleansing, what will you do when there is a needle in my hand?”

“It hurts.”

“Of course it hurts. And it’s going to hurt more before it gets better. What did you do, sir? Let a horse kick you in the head?”

“No.” He tried to smile but the expression was more odd than amused, given the swollen nature of his mouth. “But it felt like it.”

She continued washing.

“There was a fight across from the express office. I got in the middle of it.”

“Fisticuffs on Main Street?” She
tsk-tsked
softly. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

He winced again as she moved to the corner of his mouth. “Me too. But there was a little guy about to get beat up”—his good eye flicked toward Sun Ling—“and I reckoned somebody ought to step in and help him.”

He didn’t say the words as if bragging, as if wanting to be congratulated for doing something good to help another. She found herself liking him a great deal for it. She lightened her touch as she leaned a little closer, trying to be more careful.

His gaze met hers, and the kitchen seemed to tip to one side. Her breath caught in her throat as she straightened away from him. She felt too warm all of a sudden. Surely it was because Sun Ling was using the stove to cook supper.

“Are you going to take those stitches now?” Matthew asked in a low voice.

She swallowed. “Yes.” The word cracked. She cleared her throat and added, “Yes, I’m going to do it now.”

19

The next day, leaving her patient and Todd under the watchful eye of Sun Ling, Shannon and her father visited the Crawford ranch.

“Thank the Lord for such a beautiful afternoon,” the reverend said, his eyes lifted heavenward.

He was right, of course. It was a beautiful day. The air was warm, the fresh scent of pine surrounding them as the buggy carried them south from Grand Coeur on their way to the Crawford ranch. It surprised Shannon a little, the way she felt about the passing countryside. She hadn’t thought any of it nearly as pretty on the day the stage had delivered them into town over a month before. She’d found only things to criticize then.