“Pierre tells me that you gave him something to eat, so now all we need to do is find the poor boy’s father. I told Pierre that his father is probably just as worried about him as Pierre is about his father.”
Once again, George was struck by Flora’s gentility and warmth. Though she addressed George, Pastor Lassiter and Rose, she kept smiling down at Pierre and giving him reassuring touches.
“I can’t imagine we have too many Frenchmen here,” Flora said. “Could you ask around to see where his father might be?”
Pastor Lassiter nodded slowly. “Of course. I haven’t run into anyone from France up here, which is why I’m grateful we have Flora to translate.”
“Me, too,” George added. “I know you’re not comfortable around little ones, but I only know a few words, and they aren’t very helpful.”
Once again, the smile George had grown to love so much filled Flora’s face. “Oh, I like little ones. I had a brief opportunity to be a nanny to the most darling little girl.” Her face darkened briefly, and she looked at Rose, but Rose smiled at her, chasing whatever clouded Flora’s thoughts away, and happiness returned to her face. “I just don’t know anything about babies.”
Pierre tugged at Flora’s skirt and she bent down to him, once again speaking French. Her words were melodic, almost like poetry. George could listen to her talk, even not knowing what she said, and remain enraptured for hours.
She turned her attention back to them and said, “I think Pierre is overwhelmed by all of this. Is there a quiet place where we can take him?”
“Of course.” Pastor Lassiter gestured toward the cabin. “Why don’t you and Pierre stay in the cabin until we can find his parents. Did he say anything about his mother?”
Flora asked the boy, whose expression became even more despondent as he answered. “She recently passed away. That’s why it was only him and his father.”
Pierre started to cry, and Flora hugged him close. “Apparently his father is all he had left,” she said, looking up at the others. “We simply must find him.”
The expression on her face made George want to cry himself. Though he hadn’t lost his father until adulthood, George couldn’t imagine what it would be like for this little boy, who’d already lost his mother, to also be missing his father.
“I know I’m new here,” George said, “but what can I do to help? Can we make signs?”
Pastor Lassiter shook his head. “Many of our miners can’t read, or don’t read English, so that would be futile. Besides—” he let out a long sigh “—it wouldn’t be unheard-of that the father simply left his child. There’s many a man who finds himself overwhelmed with the prospect of raising a child on his own, and without a relative to take over, sometimes he abandons him.”
“I won’t believe it,” Flora declared hotly. “Not Pierre. He’s too dear a boy.” She bent down to him, whispering something in French.
Amazing. She barely knew the boy, and already Flora protected him with the fierceness of a mother. Though George had sworn off chasing after the pampered young ladies of his class, he had to admit that were it not for his uncertain financial future, and the people counting on him, he might be willing to consider the idea of Flora Montgomery. Someone with such compassion was worth taking a look at.
George shook his head. What was he thinking? He had a mystery at his mine to solve, and now this child’s father to find. It was crazy to think that he could pursue a romantic relationship, even if he was free to do so.
“I can’t believe someone would simply abandon Pierre, either,” George said, smiling at Flora. “If you’ll be so good as to continue caring for him, I’ll do my part to find his father. I start work at the Pudgy Boy Mine tomorrow, but I’m at your disposal tonight. If we can’t find Pierre’s father, I’ll be sure to ask the men at the mine if they know him, and in my free time I’ll join in any effort to locate him. I know it’s a big place, but surely, with all of us working together, we’ll have Pierre reunited with his father in no time.”
The delight on Flora’s face was almost worth the time it would take away from George’s own investigation. Except...the two weren’t mutually exclusive. It would be a lot less suspicious if people saw George poking around, knowing he was looking for a missing man. Hopefully they’d find Pierre’s father soon, so the excuse might not last long, but at least for now, it would give George the ability to look around and ask questions and have a good reason for doing so.
“Wonderful,” Pastor Lassiter said. “Let’s get this boy settled with Flora in the cabin, and then I can show you around, introduce you to some of the other men, and we can come up with a plan for finding Pierre’s father.”
Pastor Lassiter clapped him on the back, and for a moment, George almost felt guilty for not being completely honest about who he was and why he was here. This was a man of God, after all, and it somehow seemed more wrong to maintain his charade. But how else was George supposed to get to the truth about the accidents at the mine? People had been hurt in two separate incidents, and George couldn’t countenance the idea of someone being killed.
He followed the pastor, Rose, Flora and Pierre to the cabin, watching how the little boy clung to Flora’s hand. What if something happened to Pierre’s father and George could have stopped it? As the mine owner, he was responsible. Suddenly his quest to find out what was happening at the mine and prevent further accidents became much more personal.
Pierre turned to look at George, and George gave the little boy a smile. Yes, he would help find Pierre’s father. But he would also make sure Pierre’s father continued to be safe when he worked.
Not only had the previous night’s search for Pierre’s father been a waste of time, but George had never experienced such a fruitless day at work. The mine manager who’d hired him wasn’t in, and George had spent the entire day hauling rock, backbreaking work that left little room for idle chatter.
Which wasn’t the answer he wanted to give Flora when she gave him that sweet smile as she asked how his day had been. Pierre played nearby, drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick.
“I’m afraid I don’t have much to report,” George said slowly, shading his eyes from the sun to watch the pastor approach.
“Sit for a spell,” Flora said, gesturing toward the log she sat upon. “I’d still like to hear how your day went, even if you didn’t have any success in locating Pierre’s father.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing that would interest you. We certainly didn’t discuss the latest fashions from Paris.” George grinned at her, and she smiled back.
“No, I don’t imagine you would have. The only thing I’m interested in from Paris right now is Pierre’s father.” Flora smiled as Pierre came running toward them, holding an earthworm he’d dug up.
Flora visibly cringed at the sight, especially as Pierre held the worm out to her. She’d never been one for anything creepy-crawly—worms, spiders, frogs, fish and even birds had always terrified her. As children, when she’d been particularly annoying, George would find a worm or insect to toss in her direction. Flora would go running into the house, crying to her mother about what a horrible boy that Pudgy Bellingham was. George couldn’t help but grin. Even though she’d teased him mercilessly, he’d own that he’d been just as bad at times.
George held out his hand to the little boy. “Can I see?” Then he looked over at Flora. “How do you ask him to let me see what he’s got?”
Relief washed over Flora’s face as she spoke to Pierre, then turned back to George. “You say, Qu’avez-vous?”
She spoke slowly, clearly. George repeated her