Authors: Beverly Jenkins
Heart of Gold
C O N T E N T S
To Regina (Sarita) Jackson.
Her work with EOYDC positively impacts the lives
of children every day. You rock, girl!
Autumn 1885
Kansas plainsâoutskirts of Henry Adams
I
lluminated like a specter by the light of the full moon, Neil July sat his horse and voiced his doubts. “I don't know why you're burying the gold way out here. You're never going to find it again.”
Griffin Blake tossed another shovelful of dirt from the hole he was digging. “Sure I will.”
“We're on the plains of Kansas. No trees. No landmarks. Nothing to remember where it is when we come back for it.”
Griffin paused. “We? This is
my
gold. I robbed that train.”
“Well, yeah,” Neil admitted a bit sheepishly, “but suppose Shafts and I need to bail you out of jail.”
Griff glanced over at the big Comanche sitting silently on his mount. Two Shafts was Neil's half brother. He rarely spoke and didn't now, so Griff resumed digging. The three outlaws had been good friends for years, but the Julys, known as the Terrible Twins, were the physical embodiment of the mythical trickster Coyote. Griff trusted them about as far as he could toss themâand considering Shafts's mountain-like size, that wasn't very far. “Since I'm not going to jail, you won't need bail. But if I come back and find this hole empty, I'm sending the Preacher to hunt you down.”
The Preacher was another mutual friend, but also a gun-toting, Bible-quoting bounty hunter, and the only one of his kind ever to apprehend the Julys and turn them over to the law. Granted, they escaped less than a day later, but the Preacher still wore the crown.
Griff dug down another three feet. Convinced that the hole was deep enough to guard his cache of purloined double eagles from predators both animal and human, he tossed the leather saddlebag inside. The bag also contained a newspaper account of the daring robbery, complete with an artist's likeness of Griff, who thought himself far more handsome than the sketched rendering. But what was a wanted man to do?
With the hole now refilled, Griff used the sole of his boot to push a few rocks into the soil to mark the spot.
Neil shook his head. “You're never going to find it.”
“Sure I will, and when I do, I'll buy you a drink.”
“Nope. It's going to be dug up a hundred years from now by some farmer putting in fence posts for a pigpen, and you'll have been dead for so long, all you'll be able to do is curse him from hell.”
Griff swung himself into the saddle. “Then I won't buy you a drink. Let's ride.”
And with a slap of the reins three of the most wanted outlaws on both sides of the Mississippi rode off into the night.
My Bonnie lies over the ocean.
My Bonnie lies over the sea.
My Bonnie lies over the ocean.
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me . . .
Traditional Scottish folk song
The present day
Henry Adams, Kansas
S
aturday was Zoey's favorite day of the week. There was no school, no getting up early to be there on time, and the day was entirely her own. Sometimes she jumped on her bike and rode over to the garage to help Amari and his dad work on cars, or she rode over to the rec to see what town matriarch Tamar July and friends Miss Marie and Miss Genevieve were up to. Or she hung out with her friend Devon, which was occurring less and less lately because he'd become a real pain in the butt. Usually her Saturdays were as idyllic as a ten-year-old kid could want, but this one was an exception. Her friend Crystal had run away from home last night. The seventeen-year-old had promised to text or call when she got wherever she was going, but hadn't, and Zoey was so worried that she'd tossed and turned all night, imagining any number of horrible outcomes. Crystal also made Zoey promise not to tell anyone, and so far she'd kept the promise, but the secret was weighing on her like an engine block around her neck. She was pretty sure Crystal's mom, Ms. Bernadine, was probably going crazy with worry, as would everyone else in Henry Adam once word got around. Being caught between her loyalty to Crystal and wanting to tell someone what she knew was a lot for someone her age to be carrying around.
After getting dressed, Zoey went downstairs for breakfast. The house was quiet and filled with morning shadows. Mama Roni was away on a concert swing through the West Coast but was due home later that day, and Zoey couldn't wait for her to return. She found Daddy Reg seated outside at the table on their big deck.
“Morning, Zo.”
“Hi, Daddy. How are you?”
He held up his mug. “My coffee and I are doing fine. How're you?”
She shrugged. “I'm okay.”
Something in her tone must've set off his inner dad alert because he looked at her real seriously. “You sure?”
“Yep,” she lied. “Mama Roni still coming home today?”
“As far as I know.”
“Good. I'm going to get me some cereal, then see if Amari and his dad will be working on the cars today.”
“Okay, but make sure you check in with me so I know where you are.”
She nodded and went inside. The kitchen's glass-door wall looked out onto the deck, so as she sat and had her cereal, she could see her dad's face. He looked really sad, and the reason behind that was also worrisome. Her parents weren't getting along. Mama Roni was a world-famous award-winning singer. Daddy Reg was a doctor. He was in the dumps because Mama Roni had been away from home a lot recently because of her career. Even though they'd built an awesome new recording studio in town so she'd be nearer, it didn't seem to make him any happier because he still missed her a lot. Zoey missed her too, but she and her mom had talked about it. Zoey understood that her mom's love of singing didn't mean she loved her daughter any less, and besides, Zoey knew how important the music was to her mom. Why it was so hard for Daddy Reg to understand that too was something Zoey had no answer for. When the adults did something the kids didn't get, Amari called it “grown folks business,” so she stayed out of it, and hoped they weren't thinking about a divorce.
Done with breakfast, she put her dishes in the dishwasher and stepped back outside to give her dad a parting hug and a kiss on his cheek.
“I'll be here working on charts, so make sure you check in,” he reminded her.
“I will.”
“Oh, and I have some really sad news.” He gently took her hands in his. “Crystal ran away last night, honey.”
Zoey swallowed.
“No one's heard from her, and Ms. Bernadine's really worried, so if she calls or texts, make sure you let me know. Okay?”
She nodded and left him sitting on the deck.
After grabbing her green Danica Patrick jacket, riding gloves, and helmet, she went to the garage to get her bike. She felt really bad about not volunteering that she'd talked to Crystal before she took off, but she justified her silence by telling herself her dad hadn't asked. The promise she'd made to keep her mouth shut was becoming a major dilemma because she prided herself on telling the truth. But the moment she pushed her bike out into the sun, the dilemma worsened. Sheriff Will Dalton's police car was parked out in front of Crystal's house. Guilt rose. She needed to talk to someone. Ideally it would be her mom, but with the time difference between Kansas and California, Zoey wasn't sure if she was awake, or at the airport, or what, so she went with her second choice. Walking her bike next door, she parked it and climbed the steps to the porch.
Devon answered the bell, and before she could ask after his brother Amari, he gushed excitedly, “Crystal ran away from home last night. She's in so much trouble. Sheriff Will's at her house right now, along with all the adults and my mom and dad.”
He reminded her of the gossipy old ladies at the church down in Miami, where she used to live. “Is Amari here?”
His eyes riveted on the patrol car, he answered with a question instead. “Where do you think she went?”
“I don't know. Where's Amari?”
“At Preston's. Crystal's going to have to paint Ms. Marie's fence a thousand times, I bet.”
Once upon a time, Zoey had loved Devon as much as breathing. They'd come to Henry Adams as the youngest of the town's five foster kids and done everything together, but last year his adoptive parents, Ms. Lily and Mr. Trent, took him down south to visit his grandmother's grave, and he hadn't been the same since. He no longer wore his perennial black suit and clip-on bow tie and had given up on being the town's preacher, but she was liking the new version less and less.
“You want to hang out later?” he asked.
Zoey didn't like lying to him, but . . . “Um, let me find out if Amari's going to be working on the cars today first.”
His face instantly soured. “I still don't get why you like doing that. All that oil and stuff is just nasty.”
Zoey's newly found joy in all things automotive had become a major sticking point in their relationship. In spite of him being raised by the fiercely independent Ms. Lily, Devon had issues with girls working on cars.
Rather than say something mean, she left the porch. “See you later.”
Amari was indeed at Preston's. The two teens were BFFs and in the house alone because Preston's adoptive parents, the colonel and Mrs. Payne, were in Florida for a marines reunion. “I need to talk to you guys,” she announced, taking a seat on one of the armchairs.