Free Heart of Gold by Robin Lee Hatcher Page A

a prostitute would call out to a man wearing the collar of a clergyman, might she not be just as bold with a decent young woman? He might want to limit Shannon’s exposure to those in town. Only how was he to do that? His daughter was not the sort to want to be closed away day after day. He supposed it was good she had her nursing duties to keep her occupied.
    Grant me continued wisdom as a father, Lord. Help Shannon become all that You want her to be .
    He stopped and looked behind him at the length of the street. God had called him to this town. He had called him here as His servant, to bring His word and His love to a fallen humanity. At first his flock would be believers, most of them merchants and their wives. A few would be miners and some with less respectable jobs. But wouldn’t it be something if the pews of the church began to fill with the broken and forgotten? With men and women to whom Jesus would say, “Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.”
    He clasped his hands behind his back as he turned again and began to pray afresh.

9
    On Saturday afternoon, as soon as Matthew returned from work, Shannon went into town to do some shopping for the Adair household. However, before she reached the mercantile, a window display caught her eye. A dress shop, and in the window was a beautiful carriage dress of tartan glacé. The bodice was cut low and square. The full skirt was gored and slightly trained, belled by the crinolines underneath.
    It seemed ages since she’d seen anything so pretty as that dress, and the deep green and blue colors would be perfect with her complexion. Her practiced eye caught the subtle changes to the pattern from the dresses she’d worn for several years. Fashion hadn’t stood still just because the Union and Confederacy were at war. Dress designers had been busy in France and England and other places in the world.
    She entered the shop, her heart beating faster than usual. A small bell above the door announced her arrival.
    A tall, thin woman pushed aside the curtain that divided the shop from what Shannon assumed to be a workroom in the back. Her appearance was austere, her attire an unrelieved black from head to toe. “Good afternoon,” she said. “How may I help you?”
    “The dress in the window. It’s lovely.”
    “Yes. The very latest from England.” She showed a quick smile, then asked, “Would you like to try it on?”
    What would her father say if she came home with a new dress?
    Before the war he wouldn’t have given it a great deal of thought. Now? He might think it an unnecessary expense. Rightly so, she supposed. But could it hurt to try it on? Just a peek. She needn’t buy it simply because she looked at it in the mirror.
    “You must be the new minister’s daughter,” the woman said. “I’m Mrs. Treehorn. This is my shop.”
    “I’m Miss Adair.”
    “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Adair.” She motioned toward the back of the shop. “I don’t believe the dress will require much in the way of alterations. You look to be the right size. Let’s see if I’m right.”
    Less than an hour later, Shannon stepped onto the boardwalk outside the shop, the owner of a glossy tartan dress in the latest style. Mrs. Treehorn had promised it would be delivered to the parsonage on Monday afternoon. That would give her just enough time to prepare her father for the bill.
    Shannon would begin by telling him she’d met a woman who was recently widowed, her husband killed in an accident while panning for gold in the mountains to the north of Grand Coeur. So tragic. Mrs.
    Gladys Treehorn’s only way to support herself and her adolescent children was with her sewing, and while most of her customers were men buying woolen shirts and pants, it pleased her to be able to make dresses for the women of the town, few in number though they might be. Surely Shannon’s father would approve of her helping the widow by purchasing one of those dresses.
    She must hope the good