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 words, then looked at Pierre, speaking them again.
The little boy’s face lit up as he ran to George, holding out the worm. “Ver!”
George glanced at Flora. “Did he just say worm?”
“He did.” Flora shuddered slightly. “Nasty little things that they are. I’m so glad to have a man around to deal with all this disgusting boy stuff. I’d forgotten that boys like playing in mud, and with bugs and all those other horrible creatures.”
“Ver. Worm,” George said, touching the worm. Pierre grinned and repeated his words.
She let out a long sigh. “But he’s such a little dear, I can’t really deny him, now, can I? Still, why can’t small boys like things such as dolls and lace?”
Looking up from examining the worm Pierre had presented to him, George smiled. “I’m sure many a mother has asked that question. Have you asked the other ladies for their advice on less disgusting ways of occupying Pierre?”
Flora looked in the direction of the cluster of tents where most of the women were congregated. “Most of them are put out that I’m in charge of Pierre’s care. I suppose I could ask Rose, but I hate to bother her, since she’s already done more than enough to help me.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. None of them, including Rose, speak French, so they really can’t communicate with him. When they try, he runs and hides in my skirts. It’s not my fault that I had a French nanny growing up.”
She sighed again, and an expression of sadness crossed her face. “I suppose it is my fault, in a way. I spent years acting superior because I’d had a French nanny and I was fluent in the language. Why would they be kindly disposed to me now?”
The resignation in her voice twisted George’s stomach. “Maybe because we all do things we regret as children.”
He’d liked to have told her that even though she’d given him a horrible nickname, one that he’d found humiliating, he knew she wasn’t that same little girl anymore. He wanted to tell her about all their childhood escapades, and how he regretted his own meanness toward her. But he wasn’t ready for the world to know that George Bellingham
