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  HEART OF GOLD

  “Robin Lee Hatcher is one of my favorite authors, and Heart of Gold was another can’t-put-it-down story. I loved it and am sure you will too.”

  — FRANCINE RIVERS, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF REDEEMING LOVE

  “You can never go wrong with a romance by Robin Lee Hatcher. She has a gift for finding the heart of a story, bringing her characters to life and making a reader care. She has done it beautifully in Heart of Gold. Her hero and heroine were as real to me as good friend. Though they had challenges, they dealt with the things that kept them apart with wisdom and honesty, carried along by a gripping story that was impossible to put down.”

  — MARY CONNEALY, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF OUT OF CONTROL

  “Robin Lee Hatcher has done it again! Heart of Gold is an incredible story of deep conviction and spiritual growth, all blended with romance and a touch of sassy heroine thrown in for good measure. I could hardly put it down and found myself longing for more when the story drew to an end.”

  —TRACIE PETERSON, BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF THE SONG OF ALASKA AND STRIKING A MATCH SERIES

  “Thoroughly enjoyable and sprinkled with delightful sigh-worthy moments, Heart of Gold explores what it means to not only love from the heart, but to see others—and love them—with the heart of Christ.”

  —TAMERA ALEXANDER, BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF THE INHERITANCE AND A LASTING IMPRESSION

  HEART OF GOLD

  ROBIN LEE HATCHER

  © 2012 by Robin Lee Hatcher

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.

  Thomas Nelson, Inc., books may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Scripture is taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Scripture noted NLT is taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, © 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Hatcher, Robin Lee.

  Heart of gold / Robin Lee Hatcher.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-1-59554-488-9 (trade paper)

  I. Title.

  PS3558.A73574H43 2012

  813’.54--dc23

  2011044566

  Printed in the United States of America

  12 13 14 15 16 17 QG 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Fire tests the purity of silver and gold,

  but the Lord tests the heart.

  —PROVERBS 17:3 NLT

  Contents

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  Epilogue

  A Note to Readers

  Reading Group Guide

  About the Author

  Prologue

  JANUARY 1864

  Covington House, Virginia

  “Am I doing the right thing, Adelyn? Is this truly God’s will for us?”

  Delaney Adair didn’t believe his dearly departed wife could hear his words or read his thoughts in heaven. Nothing in Scripture led him to believe she could. But it always seemed to clear his head when he “talked” with her this way, the same way they had talked over everything— matters large and matters small—throughout their marriage. Especially matters pertaining to their daughter.

  “Shannon has grown even more beautiful than you remember her. She has a good heart. She likes to help others. But she is also quick to judge, even more so since the war began. I fear her pride will be her downfall. Perhaps I’ve spoiled her.” He shook his head. “No, I know I’ve spoiled her.”

  Would his daughter forgive him for taking her away from Covington House, away from her friends and neighbors?

  We’ll have a new life in Grand Coeur. Shannon will make new friends. And there won’t be so many reminders of a past that is gone for good. For her . . . or for me.

  Despite the number of years that had passed since Adelyn’s death, Delaney felt the loss of his wife afresh. How he missed her. How blessed he’d been in his choice of helpmeet. He’d married not only the woman he loved but an heiress. Adelyn, the daughter of a wealthy planter whose family’s roots went deep into the Virginia soil, could have had her pick of a hundred young men in Southern society. That she’d chosen Delaney Adair, a second-generation American of modest means with a desire to serve God, still amazed him.

  He let his gaze roam the room, remembering how lively and happy their home had been. Parties and barbecues and balls and hunts. Adelyn had been a perfect hostess, and she’d loved others, no matter their status, without discrimination or hesitation. Such a charitable heart. Such a perfect minister’s wife.

  I wish I knew what you would say to Shannon if you were here now, Adelyn. How would you counsel and guide her? How would you help her to make better choices? How can I help her learn to trust God with her future and to follow His will in humility?

  “Yes, I have spoiled her. May God make up for my shortfalls and soften her heart toward others.” He drew in a breath and closed his eyes. “Tender her heart, Lord. May she not be so quick to judge. May she not be so determined to stumble over a stool in her path that isn’t really there. Fill her heart with love and let her know love in return. Take us safely across this country to our new home, and help us both to make a difference for Thy kingdom. Nevertheless, may Thy will be done. In Christ’s name. Amen.”

  1

  MAY 1864

  Shannon Adair leaned close to the door as the stagecoach slowed, trying to catch her first glimpse of Grand Coeur, wanting it to be more than she had any right to hope it would be. She’d said good-bye to everything and everyone she loved in order to come with her father to the Idaho Territory. She was both scared and excited now that the dirty, bone-jarring, difficult, and sometimes treacherous journey was at an end.

  The coach jerked to a stop, and the driver called down, “Grand Coeur, folks.”

  Shannon glanced toward her father, seated across from her.

  The good reverend gave her a weary smile. “We are here at last.”

  “So it would seem.”

  The door opened, and the driver offered his hand. “Let me help you down, miss.”

  “Thank you.” Shannon placed her gloved fingers in the palm of his hand. “You are ever so kind.”

  The driver bent the brim of his dust-covered hat with his free hand, acknowledging her comment.

  Once out of the coach, she turned a slow circle, taking in her
surroundings.

  Her stomach plummeted. This was Grand Coeur? Merciful heavens! It was not better than she’d hoped. It was worse than she’d feared.

  The street they were on was lined on both sides by unpainted wooden buildings of various shapes and sizes. The boardwalks in front of the buildings were uneven, sometimes nonexistent. And the hillsides that surrounded the valley had been stripped clean of trees, undoubtedly for the wood used to throw up this ugly, sprawling gold-mining town of more than five thousand souls.

  “Oh, Father,” she whispered. “Whatever shall we do here?”

  “Don’t look so despairing, Shannon.”

  She turned to find her father had disembarked from the coach and now stood nearby.

  “We knew it would be different from home,” he said. “And we are needed here.”

  More than they’d been needed in the war-torn South, where he’d ministered to his flock and she’d been able to help nurse the injured?

  As if he’d heard her unspoken question, he said, “I have always tried to answer God’s call, even when I don’t understand it completely. Would you have me do differently now?”

  “No, Father.”

  The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She would have him do differently. She would have him decide to go back to Virginia, to recognize that God wanted him to be there to help rebuild when the war was over. When the South no longer had to fight for its existence, the Confederacy would need men like her father. He was a natural leader with a head for governing and a heart for the kingdom of heaven. He was strong in his faith and able to forgive and show others the grace of God.

  What on earth made him believe the Lord wanted him in such a place as this?

  “Reverend Adair?” a voice called.

  Shannon and her father turned in unison to see a rotund man in a black suit hastening toward them.

  “Are you Delaney Adair?”

  “Yes, sir. I am.”

  The man stopped in front of them and thrust out his hand. When her father took it, the man gave it a hearty shake. “We’ve been watching for you on every stage for the past week. Welcome. Welcome. We’re glad you’ve come. I’m Henry Rutherford.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rutherford. May I introduce my daughter, Miss Shannon Adair.”

  “How do you do, miss?” Henry bowed in her direction.

  She decided a simple smile and nod of her head would need to suffice. If she opened her mouth, she was certain she would say something disparaging about Grand Coeur.

  “My wife’s got the parsonage all ready for you. ’Course, it probably isn’t what you’re used to. Kinda small and plain. But we hope you’ll be comfortable there, you and your daughter.”

  “I’m sure we will be,” her father replied.

  Shannon wasn’t at all sure.

  “I’ve got some men with me to help with your luggage.” Henry turned and waved his helpers forward. The three men were a rough-looking bunch, with scruffy beards and weathered faces. Their trousers, held up by suspenders, were well-worn, as were the dirt-encrusted boots on their feet. The sleeves of their loose-fitting shirts had been rolled up to their elbows, revealing dark skin on their arms. Miners, she supposed, who spent every hour of daylight panning for gold in the streams and rivers somewhere nearby. At least that’s how she’d been told it was done.

  Shannon’s father identified their trunks and one small crate, then he took hold of her arm at the elbow and the two of them followed Henry Rutherford down a narrow side street.

  She saw the church first. Built on the hillside, its steeple piercing the blue sky, the house of worship had white clapboard siding, giving it an air of elegance in comparison to the mostly unpainted buildings in the town. There was even a round stained-glass window over the entrance.

  Perhaps Grand Coeur was not completely uncivilized if the citizens had taken the time to build such a church.

  Her moment of hope crumbled the instant Mr. Rutherford pointed out the parsonage. It was little more than a shack. Crude, cramped, and completely unsuitable.

  Oh, Father. You cannot mean for us to live here.

  Matthew Dubois opened the door of the Wells, Fargo & Company express office and stepped inside. At the far end of the spacious room, William Washburn looked up from the open ledger on the desk. The instant he recognized Matthew, he grinned.

  “Well, I’ll be hanged. Is that you, Matt?”

  “It’s me, Bill.”

  “You’re not the new agent they sent?”

  “I am.”

  William rose and came to meet him in the center of the office, giving his hand a hearty shake. “You tellin’ me you’re givin’ up drivin’ for the company?”

  “Only temporarily.”

  William cocked an eyebrow.

  “My sister’s ailing and needs a place to stay—Alice and her son— until she’s back on her feet. They don’t have any family but me. She lost her husband in the first year of the war.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Right sorry.”

  Matthew acknowledged William’s sympathy with a nod.

  “Can’t say Grand Coeur is the best place to bring a woman and young boy, but I reckon you already knew that.”

  Matthew nodded a second time. Over the years, he’d seen the ugly underbelly of more than one mining town between San Francisco and the Canadian border. He’d known Grand Coeur would be no better. But this was where his employer had sent him, so this was where he and his sister and nephew would live.

  “Alice with you?”

  “No. I don’t expect her and the boy until the end of the week.”

  “The company told me they wanted a house for the new agent. Couldn’t figure out why the spare room upstairs wouldn’t do, but I guess it’s ’cause of the family.”

  The comment needed no response from Matthew.

  “Might as well show you the place.” William turned toward the door leading into a back room. “Ray?”

  A few moments later, a young clerk appeared in the doorway. “Yessir? ”

  “Mind things. I’ll be back directly.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Come on, Matt. I’ll show you where you’ll be living.”

  The two men went outside. The Wells, Fargo coach was no longer in sight. Matthew’s replacement driver had already taken it to the station to harness fresh horses for the journey back down to Boise City.

  William motioned toward the east. “We’ll go thisaway.”

  Matthew fell into step beside him.

  “Your sister and nephew ought to be comfortable. The house is away from the center of the town. Up there on the hillside.” He pointed as they turned a corner. “Bit quieter in the evenings, if you know what I mean.”

  He knew. The saloons did great business at night in a place like Grand Coeur, and the center of town could get rowdy. Better to keep his sister—an attractive widow in ill health—away from the eyes of men starved for female attention.

  The street they were on carried them up the steep hillside. Up ahead and to his left, he saw a white church complete with steeple. Off to the right were a half dozen two-story homes. Doubtless the residences of the town’s more prosperous citizens. And, surprisingly, it was to one of these houses that William took him.

  “Bill, you don’t mean this for us.”

  “I do, indeed.” He took a key from his pocket.

  “I won’t be able to afford the rent.”

  “Yes, you will. The fellow who built it was killed ’fore he could move in. Company got the house, furnishings and all, for next to nothin’. Not sure how or why. Only know they’re rentin’ it to you for a song. Now I know who they sent, I reckon I know why they’re doin’ it. They don’t want to lose you when the time comes for you to start drivin’ again.”

  Matthew took pride in the job he did. He was one of the top drivers in the country. Maybe the top driver. If a freight company wanted their stage to get where it was going and get there on time with the cargo safe and secure, Matthe
w Dubois was their man. He could only hope he wouldn’t be gone from the job so long that Wells, Fargo forgot they felt that way about him.

  William opened the door and the two men entered the house. It wasn’t unusually large. Nothing like the palatial homes of many of those who’d made their fortunes in gold and silver around the West. But it was more spacious than any place he’d lived before.

  The downstairs had a front parlor, a small dining room, and a kitchen with cupboards, a butler’s pantry, and a large stove. Upstairs there were three bedrooms and an honest-to-goodness plunger closet. He’d heard about such things. Just never thought he’d live to see one.

  It ought to please Alice.

  It would be nice to please his sister. He hadn’t done much of that when they were younger. He’d been too stubborn and selfish back then, too determined to have a life of his own that didn’t include watching after his baby sister.

  If their mother was looking down from heaven, she had to be mighty disappointed by the choices he’d made in the years since her death. Maybe looking after Alice and her son, Todd, would make up for some of those poor choices.

  Besides, he supposed a few months living in this house and working in the Wells, Fargo office wouldn’t be too bad. He wasn’t much for being in one place for long. He preferred wide-open spaces to towns with people packed in like cookies in a tin. But Alice would be strong and healthy before long. Then he’d be back on a coach, holding the reins of a team of horses racing along a narrow road, dust flying up behind him in a cloud.

  The parsonage was clean. Shannon could say that for it. Mrs. Rutherford and the other respectable women of Grand Coeur had done their part to welcome the new minister in this way. And the house wasn’t quite the shack she’d thought at first, although everything inside was most assuredly rustic and plain. The wooden floors had no rugs. The sofa and beds—donations from members of the congregation, no doubt—were lumpy. And the stove? Oh, mercy! The stove. How was she to prepare a proper meal on it? She was not the most accomplished cook, and until they found a servant who could— Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked hard to keep them from falling.