Groom by Arrangement

by Rhonda Gibson

  Jackson gently pulled the boy back and looked him in the eyes once more. “Where is your pa, Peter?”

  She continued to wait with bated breath. Would Peter tell him? Both she and Sally had tried to get the child to tell them where his pa was.

  “I don’t know.” He dropped his head back onto his small chest.

  Eliza released the oxygen in her lungs. She’d thought maybe Jackson could get through to the little boy.

  Jackson gently raised his chin. “You really don’t know?” he asked.

  “I really, really don’t. Pa left me just outside of town and said to come and ask the blacksmith to teach me, and then he left.” Peter’s chin quivered.

  Jackson pulled the little boy into his strong arms. “When was this, Peter?”

  The little boy wrapped his arms around Jackson’s neck. “I don’t know. A long time ago.”

  He hugged the small body close to his chest. “Well, then I guess you will just have to stay with me. ’Course, I’ll have to get us a house.” Jackson pulled out of the little boy’s embrace. “It might take a while, though. Do you mind staying with Mrs. Kelly?”

  Peter smiled. “Really? I can come live with you when you get a house?”

  “Sure can.” Jackson ruffled the child’s hair.

  “Then I reckon I can live with Eliza until then. She’s a nice lady.”

  “Yes, she is.” Jackson picked the boy up and placed him on the floor.

  Eliza slipped out of the shop. She didn’t want Jackson to know she’d been eavesdropping on their conversation. After several long minutes, she reentered.

  “Eliza!” Peter called. He started to run to her but then looked to where Jackson stood beside the anvil and slowed to a walk. “Guess what?” he asked, walking as fast as his short legs would carry him.

  She smiled at his desire to run and his willingness to obey Jackson. “What?”

  He stopped right in front of her. “I’m going to live with Jackson.”

  “Oh?” Eliza looked at Jackson. This was information she already knew, but she didn’t want to spoil the little boy’s pleasure in telling her.

  “Yep. He said as soon as we can get our own house, I can live with him and he’ll be my new pa.” Peter smiled up at her. His big green eyes sparkled with joy. “And you can be my ma!”

  Eliza didn’t know how to answer the boy. She looked to Jackson, who, with studied interest was beating a piece of iron on the anvil. He seemed to either not have heard them or was deliberately ignoring them. She looked down into Peter’s hopeful face. “But what about your parents? Won’t they be sad if you call us Ma and Pa?”

  “My Pa left me here. He said I was to find a better life. And Ma went to live with Jesus when I was born, so I don’t reckon she’d mind. Pa said sometimes he could hear her singing with the angels, but I never heard her. You sing real pretty, though.” Peter grinned up at her.

  Jackson walked over to them. His gaze met Eliza’s. “Maybe we can be Ma and Pa to him, at least until Seth decides what we should do.” His blue eyes met and held her own.

  A huff behind them caught Eliza’s attention. She turned to see Mrs. Walker standing in the doorway. “Playing house now, are we?” She didn’t wait for an answer but turned on her heels with the pan she’d brought for Jackson to repair.

  Eliza sighed and chose to ignore the woman. Mrs. Walker and her husband owned one of the general stores in town. She and her friends were the local gossips. They’d been horrible to Rebecca when she’d first arrived as a mail-order bride, and even though they were trying to change, it was a long process for them. She could only imagine what the talk of the town would be by afternoon teatime.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” she assured a frowning Jackson and Peter. “I’ve made lunch if you two would like to come eat.” She studied both of the males in front of her. One appeared oblivious to the awkwardness of the situation they found themselves in and the other ready to fight.

  Jackson’s eyes were glued to the empty doorway. A scowl covered his handsome features. What must he think? She tried to get his attention by clearing her throat.

  “I’ll have to pass on lunch,” he said absently. “I need to get some work done around here.”

  “I’m hungry, Eliza.” Peter grabbed her hand and held on. “Can I call you Ma now?”

  Once more Eliza felt at a loss as to how to respond. She didn’t know how Seth would feel about the boy being homeless and what liberties she and Jackson would be permitted. Could she simply adopt him? Did Jackson plan on adopting the boy? His earnest eyes looked up at her.

  She remembered Jackson’s earlier words and decided to humor them both. “Yes. I don’t see why not.” After all, Seth had allowed Rebecca to adopt Janie after her parents had been murdered last year. As for Jackson adopting Peter, she would have to tell him her plans and then see what his were. But, not until Seth gave his approval.

  “Yay! I have a new ma and pa.” The little boy hung on to her arm and jumped up and down.

  Her gaze moved to Jackson once more. A soft smile touched his eyes and mouth as he looked down at the excited boy. Charlie had had that same look; it meant the man was hungry for a child. Eliza wondered if all men wanted children of their own someday. If so, she knew Jackson could never consider her for a wife. Not that he’d ever acted as if he were interested.

  She sighed and told Peter, “Go get your lunch pail, and I’ll put an afternoon treat in it for you and Jackson while you eat lunch.” If Jackson wanted the little boy, too, they were going to have a problem because Eliza knew she would never give Peter up.

  * * *

  Over the next couple of days, Jackson fell into a routine with Eliza and Peter. He arrived at the shop early and Peter came in a little later. Eliza picked the boy up each day around noon and returned him midafternoon. Jackson made sure Peter went straight back to Eliza after work.

  “Pa, Ma says you should come for supper tonight. She’s making chicken potpie. I think that sounds good, don’t you?”

  Jackson smiled down at the boy. “Sure do.”

  He and Eliza hadn’t spent time together since she’d taken over the Tuckers’ house, and he found that he was looking forward to having dinner with her and the boy. Jackson handed Peter a small bucket. “See that box over there?” he asked Peter.

  “Yes, Pa.”

  “Your job this afternoon is to fill it with coal. Do you think you can do that?” He ruffled the boy’s hair, something he’d gotten into the habit of doing.

  Peter nodded. He didn’t look nearly as cheerful as he had when he’d come back from lunch. Jackson suspected that the newness of working in the smithy had worn off for the little boy.

  Bart Hamilton came into the shop. He was a small man with a big nose. “Afternoon, Jackson.” His wife, Judith, had him doing repairs to their house. He’d already been in once for a bag of nails.

  Jackson answered, “Afternoon, Bart.”

  “Do you have another sack of nails I can buy? Judith’s nagging me about putting shutters on her windows. You’d think the woman was rich or something.” He chuckled.

  Jackson walked over to a shelf and pulled down a sack of nails. He’d made up several bags over the past couple of days and was glad to see these sell. “Sure do. How’s the family?”

  Bart dug in his pocket to pay for the nails. “Doing good, although Judith seems to think Millie’s coming down with something. The girl hasn’t had much of an appetite the last few days.”

  He took the money. “Millie took care of Mrs. Kelly’s shop before it burned, didn’t she?” Jackson asked, trying to put people and names together. He felt sure Eliza had called the girl Millie.

  “Yes, it’s a shame about her house. I’m thankful Millie wasn’t there when it happened.” Bart shook his head. “Judith says if she hadn’t chan
ged her mind about letting her spend the night, she might have been.”

  Jackson had to agree; things might have turned out much worse. “Well, I hope she gets to feeling better soon.”

  “I think she has allergy problems, so I’m sure she’ll be right as rain in no time.” Bart took the nails. He stood watching Peter haul coal in. “Have you found out who he belongs to?” Bart asked.

  “No, as soon as Seth gets back we’ll see what he has to say about the boy.” Jackson picked up a couple of pieces of metal to make hinges out of.

  Bart nodded. “I guess I should be getting back.” He started toward the door, then turned around and came back. “Normally, I wouldn’t say anything, but I just want you to know that most folks aren’t paying attention to what the gossips are saying about you and Mrs. Kelly.”

  “And what are they saying?” Jackson asked, not liking the thought of anyone speaking ill of Eliza.

  Bart’s neck began to turn red. “Oh, you know, about you two coming into town alone, and then Mrs. Walker has voiced her opinion that you and Mrs. Kelly have been playing house and—” he looked pointedly at Peter “—other stuff. Just talk.”

  Jackson frowned. “There is nothing to talk about.”

  Bart immediately agreed with him. “Oh, I’m sure there isn’t but you know how some women can be.”

  He didn’t, and Jackson was sure he didn’t really want to find out. “Are they trying to ruin Mrs. Kelly’s reputation? Who are these women?” His voice had hardened and he saw Bart flinch away.

  “I’ve already said too much. Just thought you should know most of us aren’t paying them a lick of attention. Thanks for the nails.” The man practically ran from the smithy.

  What was wrong with those women? Didn’t they have enough to do without talking about other people? As he pounded on the hot metal, he wondered if he should tell Eliza what Bart had said. No, that would just be stirring the pot. She’d lived in this town long enough to know how the people were.

  Peter smiled over at him every so often. He carried coal in and out of the shop with the small bucket Jackson had made him. The idea had come for the smaller tools when he’d realized Peter was smaller than he’d been when he’d started working in the smithy. He was also four years younger.

  The little boy wiped his brow and walked over toward him. “Are you ready for a break?” he asked, sitting down on a small stool.

  Jackson grinned at him. “You go ahead and rest. I’ve got to finish this hinge for Mr. James.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment filled his young voice. Peter stood. His small shoulders slumped as he began walking back toward the coal bin.

  Jackson laid the hammer and metal down. “I guess I could use a little break.”

  Peter hurried back to his stool and sat down. “I’m sure looking forward to Ma’s potpie. I think my tummy is touching my backbone.” He grinned up at Jackson.

  “You sit right there, I’ll be back in a moment.” Jackson went to his room and found the two cookies Mrs. Velarde had given him at lunch. She ran the diner and always gave him a little extra on his plate or offered a dessert to go. More than once in the past two days he wondered if she felt he needed more food because of his size.

  Folks here didn’t react to his build like they had in North Carolina. Or maybe he just wasn’t as sensitive to their reactions. Most everyone in Cottonwood Springs smiled and nodded when he passed them on the sidewalks. They treated him like everyone else, and he liked that. The folks in North Carolina had ducked their heads and rarely smiled in his direction. He assumed it was because of his size.

  He returned to Peter and handed him the cookies. “Think these will fill the space until supper?”

  Peter’s eyes grew even bigger in his little face. “Sure will, thanks!” He bit into the sugary treat and sighed. “My aunt made cookies like this,” he said around the next bite.

  “Where does she live?” Jackson asked, settling down on a barrel.

  Peter swallowed. “In heaven.” His voice sounded sad. “She died a few weeks ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” And Jackson was. He felt the boy had lost all his family in such a short time.

  “That’s all right—I have a new ma and pa now.” Peter shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth and chewed happily.

  A new ma and pa.

  Jackson still couldn’t believe he’d agreed to be the boy’s father. But he’d done so for the same reason he’d not wanted to take the boy on as his apprentice. Peter was too young to be an apprentice and too young to be without a pa. He planned on traveling to Silverton when his year was up here in Cottonwood Springs. Would the boy be devastated? Or would he want to come with him and leave Eliza behind? And hadn’t he promised the boy a house? He’d not even looked for one.

  If they did leave, what about Eliza? Every day she grew closer and closer to the boy. Could he hurt Eliza by taking Peter away?

  Chapter Eight

  Jackson scraped the mud off his boots and then Peter’s before entering Eliza’s home. When he stepped into the doorway Jackson stopped.

  Peter ran past him, yelling, “Ma! We’re home!” He ran through the sitting room toward the kitchen.

  When did she have time to do all this and take care of a little boy? His gaze moved about the room in wonder. Last time he’d seen this space, it had been bare. Today, it housed clotheslines along the walls with dresses, hats, scarves and other items hanging from them. In the center of the room were tables. Two held bolts of fabric in different colors. One held baskets with what looked like thread, needles and notations in them. A display of ribbons and basic hats filled two other tables.

  Lastly, he noticed that she’d set up a sewing machine and he could see a half-sewn garment on it.

  “What do you think? Too much?” Eliza stood in the entryway, studying his face. “Rebecca and I set it up, and I think it will work for a temporary shop. Of course, in my other store, I only sold ready-made dresses and hats, but now I don’t have time to make them all myself. Rebecca thought I should open up a sewing shop instead. You know, just sell the sewing goods to the ladies so they can make their own dresses, and I can make up special orders. What do you think?”

  Jackson smiled. She’d asked the same question twice without much of a breather in between. “I like it.”

  He heard her exhale of breath. Had she been holding it in anticipation of his approval? If so, that was something new for Jackson to experience. Most women didn’t care what he thought.

  Peter ran up behind her. “Ma, I washed my hands and set the table.”

  “Thank you, Peter.” She placed her hand on Peter’s thin shoulder, and they turned to walk back to the dining area.

  Jackson followed and was surprised to see she’d changed that room, as well. The dining table now sat beside the window. She’d placed a sideboard next to the table and hot dishes of food waited to be served. A pretty bouquet of flowers decorated the center, giving it a homey look that he appreciated.

  Eliza pointed to the head of the table. “Jackson, you sit over there. Peter here. And I’ll sit here.” She walked over to the sideboard as they took their seats. “How was your day, Peter?”

  Peter snuck a look at him and flushed red. “It was good.”

  She placed a plate of steaming food in front of him. “What did you do?”

  The boy rolled his eyes. “Man stuff.”

  Jackson looked out the window to keep from laughing. This side of the house faced an apple orchard that was just starting to bloom. He listened to Eliza continue her line of questioning and Peter’s short answers. The woman could sure hound a guy when she wanted answers. He smiled.

  No sooner had the thought crossed his mind that he was glad it was Peter and not him that was the focus of her questioning when she asked, “And how was your day, Jackson?”


  He liked the way his name rolled off her tongue. It sounded warm and almost loving. Jackson sputtered at the thought. “Good.”

  She placed a plate of food in front of him that smelled wonderful. He couldn’t wait to try her crust. It looked buttery and flaky.

  “And what did you do today?” Eliza returned to the sideboard for her own plate.

  Jackson shared a grin with Peter and said, “Man stuff.”

  She took her place at the table and smiled sweetly at both of them. “I see. Well, I did woman stuff today. I went over to Rebecca’s shortly after you men left and had tea. That’s when she and I put our heads together and came up with the idea to make my shop into a sewing store. Jackson, will you say grace, please?”

  Jackson nodded and said a quick prayer. Since that first night when he couldn’t sleep and had read his Bible and prayed, he’d been more consistent in his devotion time with the Lord. It had gotten easier to voice the requests on his heart, and just now his prayer must not have sounded too awkward because as soon as he finished Eliza continued as if nothing was amiss.

  “We went to the general stores first. Mrs. Miller had lots of fabric and notations. Thankfully I have a running line of credit with her and was able to get all her stock. Now, Mrs. Walker, that’s another story. She told me that she had a business to run, too, so I could just forget buying all her goods. She said something about not selling to the likes of me. I wonder what has gotten into her?” Eliza took a bite of potpie and stared out the window as if contemplating Mrs. Walker’s behavior.

  So Mrs. Walker had taken a personal jab at Eliza. Surely she had understood what the woman meant by her unkind words. He thought about going over there first thing in the morning and setting the woman straight. But what would that accomplish?

  “Some folks are just mean, Ma.” Peter took a drink of milk.

  The old saying “out of the mouths of babes” came to mind. How many times had he been misjudged in the past because of his size? Or rumors that others had spread? All because of meanness. “He’s right, you know.”