Heart of Gold

Contents Contents Dedication Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Thank you for Reading! Guide Contents Start of Content We all have hearts of gold, if only we dig deeply enough. Prologue Gold Country, California 1884 The serenity Ada felt as she stood in her yards of white silk, with the sun shining happily upon her face and the fragrance of sweet tea roses filling the air was incomparable. On this cool, spring morning she was surrounded by love and hope. Behind her sat her family: her father whose smile had shone as bright as the sun when he walked her up the aisle, her mother who had helped Ada pin lavender roses amongst her curls and coils of blonde hair, her brother Silas who had nearly ruined her wedding dress by letting a muddy-pawed dog into the house, and her youngest brother Bronn who would much rather be out in his bare feet with his frog gig. Behind them were neighbors, friends, and employees. Before her stood old Pastor Brown whose Sunday school sermons had made him a second father not just to her little brothers, but to all the children of the town. Beside her now and forever more stood Jeremiah McGregor, the man who had stolen her heart. His handsome face appeared red and agitated this morning and Ada could not help but smile to watch him fidget with his buttons. Her lack of wedding nerves was more than made up for by his. She remembered him as he was just a few days ago, sneaking up to her in town, and leading her off behind an old vegetable shed, kissing her and teasing her that one day he might give her back just the tiniest corner of her heart. On that occasion, he was his usual self, all lop-sided grins and swaggering confidence. His fingers visibly trembled as he held out her ring. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love; and with all that I am and all that Chapter One Gold Country, California 1885 “Bid on her pie, Callum. Bid ten dollars on her pie.” Callum withheld any outward evidence of pain as Malick gripped his left forearm just above his amputated hand. He looked to Malick’s daughter, Ada Jackson, who stood at the front of the classroom she had once commanded. In her small fingers she held an apple pie, its crust baked to a deep, golden tone. A wisp of fine, pale hair touched her eyelashes and she blinked hard in irritation. Her black, cotton bodice rose and fell with her agitated breath. “Bid,” her father urgently commanded again, lifting Callum’s arm by the sleeve as if to force him. “She will be embarrassed,” Callum whispered more quietly than his friend. “One apple pie baked by Miss Jackson. Would anyone like to start the bid?” asked Miss Clarence, the school mistress who had taken Ada’s place. Red-faced and wild-eyed, Malick looked to Callum. Callum waited a period which felt a minute but was only a couple of seconds. Malick had fore-warned him of Mrs. Jackson’s suspicions. It was she who had forced her daughter to bake the pie for the auction and she who worried that no bachelor would have the nerve to bid on it. After the murder of Jeremiah McGregor at the wedding last spring, Ada was not quite an unattached maid and not quite a widow. She was still called Miss Jackson and she never left her parents’ home. The ring that had fallen out of her groom’s hand never found it’s place on her finger and was instead placed in his hand when he was buried. Yet, she insisted on going about in widow’s weeds. The town really could not decide on her status, though the jealous busybodies, the bored gossips, and the lusty, young miners certainly enjoyed