GOLD is the fourth book in Niedfeldt’s Lisenka series, but you don’t have to read the first three to love this adventure-packed story. This book, set in October of 1930 as the Great Depression deepens, spotlights three runaway kids, one of them only ten years old. Lisenka and her family reach out to these young hobos who resist help and run again. A stray golden retriever lopes into the book, pulling the characters together, but also adding conflict. Even when life feels desperate, Lisenka, her family, and friends learn that God does have a good plan for their lives. (Jeremiah 29:11) This book is based on historical situations, but is a work of fiction.

Here’s how GOLD begins:

-October 1930-

“Lis, watch me!” Seven-year-old Yurgi’s voice echoed through the open kitchen window. I stood on tiptoe and peeked out. As soon as he saw me, he waved and threw a stick, then raced across the yard, sliding to a stop. He grabbed the stick and tumbled around in the leaves, laughing.

“What are you doing?” I shouted.

“I’m playing with my dog, Blackie.” Yurgi rolled over and grinned at me. Crunchy leaves peppered his blonde hair and clung to his blue wool coat. I sighed, knowing his coat would have to be brushed off. And his head would need a good brushing too.

I yelled out the window again. “Quit making up stories! We don’t have a dog. I already asked Papa and he won’t allow it. He says we don’t even have enough food to feed us.”

“I know.” Yurgi’s mouth turned down in a pout. “But my pretend dog won’t eat much.” He grabbed his pretend Blackie in a big hug.

I shook my head and turned back to cooking supper. The setting sun had turned our kitchen to a golden glow.

“Lisenka! Lis! He-e-e-e-l-p!” Shrill screams shattered my peace.

My heart stopped, then it pounded in my chest. Yurgi! I froze, like my feet were stuck to the linoleum floor.

Alya, who had been studying her fourth-grade reader in the living room, charged into the kitchen, her eyes big. “What’s wrong with Yurgi?”

I blinked, took a deep breath, and grabbed Alya’s hand. We raced down the back steps and out the door. I caught a glimpse of a blue coat rolling on the ground beyond the chicken coop. Dusk was settling, so I squinted toward the tumbling blue. It was replaced by a rusty brown, then blue, then brown, tumbling over each other.

Yurgi was wrestling something, and it wasn’t a pretend dog. Blue was on top now.

“Yurgi, what are you doing?” I tore across the yard.

“Lis, help me!” Yurgi gasped for breath, straddling a boy. “He was trying to take my favorite chicken, Rosie. That’s stealing.” Yurgi huffed for breath.

The boy clung to one of Rosie’s legs. She squawked, flapped her wings, and pecked his hand, but he held on.

“We need this chicken,” The boy yelled, kicked, and squirmed. “We need it more than you.”