“The boardinghouse wouldn’t let me keep Nugget there with me. Called it improper. I can’t afford the hotel. We’ve been staying in a tent outside of camp, but it’s no place for a little girl. I’ve been working in the mines to send money to my aunt so she’ll keep the others a little longer.”
And, from the letter he’d just received, probably not much longer if Daniel didn’t stop his antics. It wasn’t Daniel’s fault, not really. But living with all those girls, and not having a man’s guidance...
Joseph let out a deep breath. “Sir, I know you get all sorts of people on your doorstep, but I need to find my father. You’re my last hope of finding him. People say there isn’t a miner in these parts you don’t know.”
The preacher rubbed his stubbled jaw. “What’d you say his name was?”
“William Earl Stone.” He exhaled, then said, “The lady at Miss Betty’s called him Bad Billy.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the reason for his pa’s moniker, not with the way the woman had winked when she’d called him that. One more reason to hate the man.
The preacher closed his eyes for a moment, then sighed. “I didn’t recognize the full name, but at mention of Bad Billy, I know who you’re talking about.”
What kind of man had his pa become, that even the preacher had that disgusted look in his eyes?
Joseph swallowed. “Can you tell me where to find him?”
“I’m sorry, son. Your father died nearly six months ago.”
Dead. So Joseph had spent everything he had on a fool’s errand. He should be comforted to know that the reason the money had stopped was that his pa had died. But comfort wouldn’t feed his family or keep them out of the orphanage.
Joseph stood and extended his hand. “Thank you, sir, for your time. I appreciate your assistance.”
The preacher didn’t take it. He looked up at him with cornflower-blue eyes that inappropriately reminded Joseph of Annabelle.
“Sit back down, young man. You have a problem, and informing you of the sad news of your father’s passing doesn’t solve it. I can’t in good conscience let you leave until we’ve got a better solution for your family.”
A man who’d spent years caring for a family in place of an absent father didn’t weep. But in the face of the past few weeks, combined with the news that it had all been for nothing, this man’s kindness made him want to do so.
Preacher Lassiter stood. “It seems to me that as your father’s son, you’d be next of kin. Therefore, I think it fitting that I give you some papers your father entrusted me with. I recognize you from a picture he showed me.”
Hopefully those papers would lead to the source of the money his pa had been sending. It hadn’t been much, but maybe, just maybe, it would be a start. One of the men he’d sat next to on the train had talked about places out West that still needed settling. He could take advantage of the Homestead Act. Sure, it wouldn’t be the farm they’d lost, but it would be enough. Farming was good, honest work, and certainly more rewarding than all the time Joseph had spent in the mines.
For the first time since coming out here, Joseph felt hopeful that maybe things would finally be all right.
“I appreciate that, Preacher. Anything you can do is a blessing.”
The preacher smiled at him. “Call me Frank.” He pulled a key out of his pocket and walked past him. “I’ve got his things in a safe I keep in the other room, so I’ll be right back.”
It had to be a good sign that his pa’s papers were important enough to be kept in a safe. Maybe his snake of a father had done right by his family after all.
Joseph looked up to see a portrait of Jesus staring him down. He gave a long sigh. It had been wrong of him to be so disrespectful of his pa. Someday, he’d be able to ask forgiveness for it. Right now, though, he couldn’t be sorry. Not with all the mouths he had to provide for. And the fact that his pa was the very reason they were in this predicament.
Was it wrong to reserve his forgiveness and apologies until after he knew his family was safe?
Probably so. But it had been a long time since Joseph had been to church. Not since his pa left and one of the women in their old church had said something to his ma about her husband never coming back. After that, Ma hadn’t wanted to be around the mean, spiteful women, and Joseph had too much work to do to argue.
The door opened again, and Frank returned, carrying a stack of papers. “Your father had interests in a number of mines. I grubstaked him on a few of his projects.”
It didn’t seem very pastorly for a man of God to give out money for prospecting. “Why?”
He smiled, again reminding Joseph of Annabelle. “Because a man has a certain level of pride. It’s easier to ask for money if you think you’re giving someone something in return. So I give the miners what they need, and they give me a ten percent ownership in their mines. It eases their pride knowing that they’re not taking a handout.”
Frank’s grin turned a bit mischievous. “I’ve never had a single mine pan out, but boy, wouldn’t that be something.”
“It sounds like gambling.” On one hand, it was nice that the preacher was willing to give money to miners in need, but how was he helping those men? How many of the men taking money from the preacher had families back home who could’ve used that money?
“Now you sound like my daughter.” Frank sat back in his chair. “I see it as an investment in these men’s dreams. When I was a boy, I wanted nothing more than to be a preacher. But my family came from money, and such things weren’t done. So I followed their plan and found myself rich and miserable. When I told my wife I was leaving the family firm to become a preacher, she asked me what had taken so long.”
The peace flitting across Frank’s face stirred envy unlike any Joseph had ever experienced. What would it be like to give everything up to follow your dreams? Of course, it had been so long since Joseph had dared dream anything, he wasn’t sure what that would be.
“So here I am, spreading God’s word in an ungodly town. And if I find a man whose dreams I can encourage, I do. I call it an investment. I suppose the difference between my investments and gambling is that I don’t expect a return. At least not here on earth.”
So nonchalant about being able to give it all away. “Doesn’t the church object to you spending their money on such a foolish endeavor?”
Another grin. “I don’t use the church’s money. The money I invest comes straight out of my personal income. It irks poor Annabelle to no end that I help the miners, but they’ve got to have someone who believes in them.”
Maybe. But he’d have to agree with Annabelle that he’d be better off not funding such schemes. “How much was Pa in to you for?”
Frank chuckled. “Again, it was not a loan. I gave him money freely. But that’s not the right question. The question is, how much will you be able to get from his mines?”
With that, Frank sorted through the papers. “I have here papers for five different mining claims. As far as I know, not one has panned out.” He looked up at Joseph. “However, about a week before he died, your father was anxious about the Mary May. He came to me and asked if I could keep his papers safe.”
“Did someone kill him?”
Frank shrugged. “Hard to tell. He fell down a ravine. Did he fall or was he pushed? No one knows. And no one really