Danica Favorite - An Unlikely Mother

Peanut shook his head slowly. “You are one odd gent. We been thinking a lot about where you come from, why you have fancy manners, and now, come to find, you can even read. What are you doing here?”

George had expected this question. And hated that he had to mislead another person. Peanut was a good man, a hard worker, and it seemed unfair to deceive him. But George still didn’t have the answers he needed.

“Like everyone else here. Trying to build a better life for myself. My family hit on some hard times, and I’m doing what I can to make things better.”

All true. But at Peanut’s sympathetic nod, George couldn’t help but feel like a fraud.

“I s’pose we’ve all been there. You know Reg? He was some fancy lord back in England until his father gambled it all away. He don’t talk about it much, but I know he’d give just about anything to strike it rich and restore his family’s good name.”

George nodded. He’d heard Reg’s story before, and at times, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d end up the same way.

Then Peanut looked down at the little boy, smiling as he pulled a piece of candy out of his pocket. “I been saving this for a special occasion, and I think this might be it. A boy, missing his daddy, well, that sounds to me like good use of my treat.”

He held it out to Pierre, who looked up at Flora. As she translated Peanut’s words, Pierre’s eyes lit up.

“Merci, monsieur,” he said, smiling. Then Flora bent down and whispered in his ear again.

Pierre nodded, then looked at Peanut. “Thank you, sir.”

“Sir...” Peanut waved his hand. “You get on now. Teaching that boy to act like a gent. Miss Montgomery, ’cause of you, this boy just might have a chance at a better life, instead of wasting away in one of these mines.”

Flora blushed again, and as George considered the man’s words, he realized that they were likely true. Once Pierre got to be a little older, he’d probably be helping in the mine, making pennies a day. At least that seemed to be the way for many of the boys he saw here. That didn’t seem to be much of a life for a child. Perhaps, once George got to the bottom of the bad dealings here, he could also find a way to help his miners better themselves.

Working with Pastor Lassiter had opened George’s eyes to a lot of things that were wrong at the mine. Not just in terms of the odd explosions and dwindling money, but even the fact that many of these men couldn’t read well enough to know whether or not they’d been cheated. Suddenly, what had seemed like a simple issue had grown more complicated.

Peanut turned his attention back on George. “I can’t imagine the boy’s father not coming forward, not with everyone here knowing you’ve been looking for him. But I’m friends with the night watchman, Stumpy, and I think he can get you into the office. I’m sure that no-account Dougherty hasn’t been any help.”

George shook his head. “No, he told me that personnel issues were confidential, and he couldn’t give me any information.”

Peanut made a disgusting noise. “You’d think a man would do more to help a boy.”

One of the reasons George didn’t like the mine manager. He could understand the desire to keep certain personnel records private, but Dougherty had literally shut the door in George’s face and told him he couldn’t give him any information. Had George been in charge, he would have done whatever he could to help. Not just because this was the closest mine to where Pierre had been found, and therefore the most likely place where his father worked, but because it was the right thing to do. All of the other neighboring mines, including ones several miles from here and completely out of the way, had joined in the effort to find Pierre’s father.

So what, really, was going on?

George smiled at his friend. “Well, I appreciate you being able to get me into the office so I can take a look. I just don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

But if someone did get in trouble, George would find a way to secretly make it right. This was still his mine, after all, and while it seemed like the most expedient thing to do would be to let Dougherty go, George couldn’t rightly say that would fix the problem. He didn’t have enough information.

Right now, with no real evidence, he wasn’t acting on anything. Still, it would be nice to have some answers. Thankfully, Peanut was willing to have his friend help him get them.

* * *

Flora was touched by George’s discussion with Peanut. Clearly the men cared about what happened to a little boy who’d lost his father. George could have easily left Pierre with her and gone about his business, but when he wasn’t working in the mine, he was spending time with them and doing what he could to help Pierre. And, based on this conversation, George spent a good amount of time while he was working trying to find answers about Pierre’s father, too.

As they walked back to the camp, the men discussed their plan to get into the office later that night. It amazed Flora how naturally Pierre grabbed both Flora’s and George’s hands and walked between the two of them. While the men talked, Flora and Pierre sang a few of the songs they both knew. Flora had forgotten how much a simple tune meant to her, and how song lifted people’s spirits. She’d sung in many of the finest parlors in Leadville, even sometimes in Denver when they’d go to visit her aunt, but here, in the midst of God’s creation, the joy of music made her heart feel even lighter.

As they sang the final verse of “Au clair de la lune,” Pierre looked up at her with longing. The poor little boy missed his family dreadfully, and though Flora tried her best to make him comfortable, sometimes it seemed like her heart would break for him. How a man could simply abandon a child like Pierre, she didn’t know. But based on what Peanut said, and the responses of others, Flora could only think that something dreadful must have happened to Pierre’s father.

She smiled at the boy. Sometimes she wondered if he thought the same. But, of course, she would not discuss her fears with him. Having learned her lesson by openly speculating about everything with everyone, she now worked very hard to keep her opinions to herself. They didn’t know what had happened to Pierre’s father, and though Flora could not imagine him willingly leaving his son, she wouldn’t invite trouble to where it didn’t exist.

As they reentered the camp, Pierre let go of George’s hand, moving closer to the edge of Flora’s skirts. She looked in the direction of the cabin the ministry used and understood why. Sarah Crowley was headed their way, and the expression on her face said that she had a bee in her bonnet.

“Hello, Sarah.” Flora greeted her warmly, as though she hadn’t done anything wrong. Which was true—as far as Flora knew, she hadn’t.

“I wondered when you’d get back from your lollygagging. You’re supposed to help get firewood tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” Flora said calmly. “I thought I was on the schedule for tomorrow. Pastor Lassiter knew we were taking Pierre through the mine area to see if Pierre recognized anyone, or anyone recognized him.”

She kept her tone modulated, pleasant, trying not to match Sarah’s irritation.

“Maureen got sick. Had you been here, you’d know that. It’s about time you pulled your weight.”

Rose came around the corner and noticed them speaking. Flora hated that Rose always had to step in and take up for her, especially since it only seemed to make people like Sarah angrier.

“I apologize.” Flora gave her a sympathetic look. “Hopefully we’ll find Pierre’s father soon.”

“Was your expedition successful?” Rose asked as she joined them.