pretty girls he knew wouldn’t have taken the time to be nice to a young child, let alone someone as ill-kept as Nugget. Not that he had much experience with pretty girls. The only woman who’d paid him any notice, Margaret Anderson, had thrown him over for Walter Blankenship because, in her words, “Walter didn’t have any brats to care for.” Probably for the best. If Margaret hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of helping him care for the siblings he had back home, how could he have expected her to have anything to do with a child of Nugget’s background?
Not that he’d put Miss Annabelle Lassiter in the same category. Sure, they were both pretty, but Annabelle’s blue eyes were more like the sky on a cloudless day, unlike Margaret’s—
He had no business thinking about any girl’s eyes, especially not a preacher’s daughter’s. And especially not when he had a family to provide for and a father to find.
The preacher didn’t speak until they were seated at a desk in his office. Joseph respected that. The other miners had told him that Preacher Lassiter was a good man who treated all with respect.
“What can I do for you, son?”
Son. Not in a condescending way, but in a way that sounded like he actually cared. In a way that made him wish his own father was more...fatherly. And not a low-down snake who’d put him in this predicament.
Joseph swallowed the lump in his throat. “I need help. My father, William Earl Stone, came here several years ago in search of silver. I need to find him.”
His chest burned with the humiliation of what he’d encountered searching for his pa. “When I made inquiries about him, I was directed to Miss Betty’s.” Hopefully his face wasn’t too red at the mention of the place, especially in front of a man of the cloth. But Preacher Lassiter didn’t look like the mention of a house of ill repute bothered him.
“When I got there, they gave me Nugget. Said she was my pa’s, and to give her to him because her ma was dead.”
It still rankled to know his pa had reduced himself to visiting those women. At least his ma wasn’t around to witness his pa’s betrayal. Joseph swallowed the bile that rose up every time he thought about his poor ma, waiting for news of a man who had to have betrayed her the minute he arrived in town. Oh, he didn’t doubt that Nugget was his sister. She had the look of his sister Mary, waiting back at home for a pa not worthy of her regard.
Preacher Lassiter leaned forward on his desk. “What do you want me to do? Find a home for the little girl?”
“No!” The word burst out of his mouth. Much as he hated to admit it, Nugget was kin, and she was an innocent child who didn’t deserve the life she had.
Joseph leaned back against the chair. “I don’t know what to do. Ma died nearly four months ago. Pa stopped sending money shortly before her death, and I just know Ma died of a broken heart because the bank told her they were going to take the farm.”
No expression crossed the preacher’s face; at least none Joseph could discern. “I’ve got five sisters and a brother staying with an aunt in Ohio. We’ve got no place to go. Aunt Ina is threatening to send them all to an orphanage. I’ve been working hard to make up for what Pa used to send, but it’s not enough. When Ma got sick, the doctor was so expensive. I couldn’t afford it all and we lost the farm.”
Joseph’s gut ached at having to share so much of his personal business with this man.
He looked the preacher in the eye, straightening in his chair. “I’m not asking for me. I know how to make it on my own. I’ve been doing it since I was a boy. But I’ve got to do better for my brother and sisters. I need to find my pa and get the money he’s been denying us so I can keep them out of an orphanage.”
The last word squeaked out of him—a painful reality he didn’t want to face. Especially now that he had another sister to consider. How could he be responsible for sending seven kids to an orphanage?
“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
