by Peterson, Tracie; Davis, Mary; Hake, Kelly Eileen; Stengl, Jill; Warren, Susan May
Dread thudded in Rosalind’s heart. Surely Da wouldn’t tell her she must choose a husband and move on? Aye, most lasses wed long before their nineteenth year, but couldn’t he see that it wasn’t the right time for her?
“You are a beauty, just like your mother.” Da’s sudden smile brought a welcome rush of relief. “But with that beauty comes danger. A lovely lass without the protection of a husband can be a target for evil men.”
“Da!” Rosalind burst out, desperate to stop his flow of words. “I know everyone expects me to make my choice soon, but I can’t! Not when all I’ve ever known is this small piece of the world and the familiar faces on it! The railroad will give me the opportunity to see a bit more, meet new people, afore I settle down. Would you deny me that chance?”
“Nay, Rosey-mine, I wouldn’t. Your ma and Delana cherish hopes that you’ll choose to wed Brent. Nay, don’t speak now.” He held up one massive hand as though to ward off her alarm. “ ’Tis your choice to make, daughter, but to my way of thinking, Brent ’tisn’t the man for you. If he were, you would hae settled on him long ago.”
Rosalind nodded, half-ashamed at the admission she’d be letting down her mother but half-relieved that her father understood and accepted her decision.
“I’ll hae no part in shoving my lassie out of our home and into the arms of a man she doesn’t love as deeply as I cherish your ma. And, were I to be completely honest, I don’t know what we’d do wi’out you.” Her father’s grin made Rosalind’s own smile falter.
Here, then, was the heart of the matter. Da knew she longed to explore the opportunities the railroad would bring, but he was reminding her of her responsibilities here at home. She helped Ma with the garden, cooking, housework, and sewing when she wasn’t taking meals to Da or watching over Luke. If she followed her own dreams, she’d be leaving her family behind—and they needed her. Rosalind struggled against the sense of confinement pressing in upon her. She’d never abandon them, no matter what it cost her. She opened her mouth to assure her father that he could rely on her.
“What I mean to say is that we love you dearly, Rosey-mine, and I mean to warn you about the changes the railroad will bring.” Her father’s serious expression bore into her.
“Oh, I already know much of what to expect.” Her enthusiasm rushed to the tip of her tongue. “ ’Twill bring many people—farmers, traders, railroad officials, and more—to our small town. The number of families will swell, and our ability to send goods and receive modern niceties will increase dramatically. Should we want to visit Fort Benton or Virginia City, ’twill take naught but a fraction of the time we’d spend on horseback to arrive there and journey back. New friends, adventures just a ride away, and shorter waits for everything! The railroad is a marvel, Da. ’Twill change everything.” And I can hardly wait!
“ ’Tis glad I am to hear you’ve been thinking on the matter so seriously.” Da nodded his approval. “Is that all you have to say on it, or will you be able to tell me of some o’ the drawbacks the railroad brings along with all that shining opportunity?”
“Drawbacks?” Rosalind felt her brow crease as she considered this. “I suppose ’twill be awkward meeting new people and drawing them into our small community, but we’ll all be the better for it, Da. And along wi’ the opportunity will come more work for you—the more people, the more demand for your smithy, I know. I wouldna like to see you o’erworked.” She gave him a stern glance.
“Nor would I,” he agreed, a grin teasing the corners of his lips. “Though the work and pay will bring benefits as well—medicine for Luke, some of those newfangled laundry contraptions for your mam, delicious treats for us to sample at the general store…” He paused until he caught his daughter’s eye. “And fine, fancy young men to turn a pretty lass’s head.”
“Oh, Da.” Rosalind tried to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks.
“Now, you wouldna be trying to tell your old da the thought hadna crossed your mind?” His teasing made the blush deepen.
“I—” Rosalind’s response was mercifully cut short by an interruption.
A tall, burly man stood in the entryway, powerful shoulders blocking out much of the day’s light. Even though Rosalind couldn’t see his shadowed features, she knew this wasn’t one of her neighbors. It seemed as though the railroad—and the changes to come—had arrived.
Ewan blinked, trying to adjust his vision to the dimness inside the smithy. Slowly, he began to take note of the way things were set up. He liked what he saw.
The stone forge stood about forty inches high and forty inches square—large enough for big work and deep enough for the fire to most efficiently use the air from the great leather and wood bellows. He’d seen from the outside of the structure that the forge’s chimney boasted a brick hood to carry out smoke and fine ash.
The anvil and slag tub stood close enough at hand to be immediately useful, but with a good, clear working space around them. The front and sides of the forge held racks and rings to hold hammers, tongs, chisels, files, and other tools. This in and of itself was not unusual; the fact that the tools had been put in their proper place immediately after use was. Most blacksmiths heaped their tools on the lip of the forge, having to quickly dig out the needed implement from beneath several of its fellows before continuing work.
Altogether, it was a well-built, well-stocked, and well-kept smithy far above and beyond what he’d expected to find in the depths of the Montana wilderness. Ewan tamped down an unexpected spurt of longing. It had been a long time since he’d worked in an honest smithy, instead lugging a cast-iron patent forge from work site to work site. The only advantage of a patent forge, in Ewan’s opinion, was the mobility so highly prized by the railroad.
“Will you be needing anything now?” The resident blacksmith, a tall man who spoke with the lilt of home, stepped in front of Ewan.
Ewan shook himself free of the unbidden memories before speaking. “Perhaps.” He looked around frankly, nodding in admiration, before continuing. “I’m Ewan Gailbraith, and I work wi’ Montana Central as their head blacksmith. I step in to help wi’ a bit o’ the work of farrier and wheelwright.” Ewan allowed his syllables to boast of his own Irish heritage. “We had some men decide to stay back at Benton, and I find myself a bit shorthanded as we make our way toward your town.”
At the approval Ewan demonstrated for the smithy’s workshop, the man seemed to thaw a bit.
“Now, then, that’s a shame.” The smith’s eyes held a spark of interest. He gave an assessing look in return for Ewan’s own appraisal.
“We’re miles away from here, and the company will be moving t’ make camp in this area any day now.” Ewan noted the flicker of unease that crossed the older man’s features as he quickly glanced over his shoulder to the corner of the shop.
It didn’t take much to see what concerned the man. A lovely lass stood in the corner, her demure pose belied by the avid interest on her face as she listened to their conversation. Within the darkness of the smithy, the colors of her braided hair and lively eyes were shadowed, but there was no hiding her lithesome shape and obvious intelligence. Ewan caught himself before his glance could become rude and resolutely returned his focus to the blacksmith.
“ ’Tis good to know when we can expect the chaos ahead.” The blacksmith thrust his hand toward Ewan. “Arthur MacLean, blacksmith of Saddleback.”
“I’d a suspicion.” Ewan grinned and returned the man’s firm grip as he pumped his hand in welcome.
“This is my daughter, Rosalind.” Arthur gestured toward the lass, and she stepped forward with lively grace.
“ ’Tis grand to meet you, Mr. Gailbraith.”
Ewan noted a pair of bright blue eyes framed by a riot of fiery curls. “And you, Miss MacLean.” Intensely aware of her father’s scrutiny, Ewan greeted her with all the formality a wary papa could require, even as he tried to hide his astonishment. Why had no one seen fit to warn him or the other supervisors that this small, out-of-the
-way settlement held at least one pretty, unmarried female? This would greatly complicate things, as the workers saw precious few women along the work trail.
“Now that you’ve been introduced to Mr. Gailbraith, run home and tell your mam to be expecting a guest for dinner.” Arthur MacLean folded his arms across his massive chest. “For now, he and I have some business to discuss.”
Ewan refused to give in to the urge to watch Rosalind MacLean leave the smithy. He waited in silence until he could be sure the girl was out of earshot.
“Mr. MacLean,” Ewan spoke before her father had the chance, “before we discuss smithy business, I would like to have a word about your daughter.” He waited for the man’s leery nod. Obviously, Arthur MacLean was a man who liked to have all the facts before he made a judgment. That boded well.
Ewan searched for words to put the matter delicately. Finding none, he plunged forward. “In large cities, men who so choose may find…companionship. However, it has been long days since we were at such a place. Lonely, less-than-civilized men will be descending upon your town by the dozens, and I will plainly tell you that I have fears concerning the well-being of your daughter.”
“As do I.” The man uncrossed his arms and rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ve another young lass or two in the area, as well. The only men they’ve ever known, they’ve grown up with. This is a small town filled wi’ friends and extended family. None of the girls has any notion of how to handle strange men.”
“I’m certain that you are able to protect your own, sir, but I hope that I may trust you t’ warn the others of your community t’ be diligent about watching o’er the misses.” Ewan gave the man a meaningful glance. “I’ll give the men a stern talking-to and set up what measures I can.”
“I’ll be taking your word on that, Mr. Gailbraith.”
“Please, call me Ewan.”
“Ewan. And you’re to call me Arthur.” MacLean gave a decisive nod. “Now that we’ve reached an agreement concerning what I deem the most important matter we could discuss, let’s get down to business.”
“Mam!” Rosalind rushed into the house. “Da sent me to tell you we’ll be having a guest for dinner!”
“A guest?” Luke piped the question first.
“Aye. A Mr. Gailbraith, smith for the railroad. He came to Da’s shop just now. He was still there when I left.” Rosalind rushed about, tidying the flowers in a cracked mug, polishing a spot on the ornate metalwork of the stove grate, whisking dishes onto the table. “I’ll pop in a batch of biscuits from the dough I made this morning. They should be finished in time.”
“Such a flurry,” Mam marveled as she stirred the stew. “Is there aught you should be telling your mam before this important visitor walks through our door?”
“He’s come to offer Da work, I think.” Rosalind slid the biscuits into the bread oven. “And he brings news that the railroad men will be here any day!”
“I see.”
Rosalind stilled as Grandmam caught her by the wrist and addressed her brother. “Luke, would you please go to the springhouse and fetch some butter and milk?” Once he was out of sight, she turned her sharp gaze upon her granddaughter.
Mam was the one who spoke up. “Rose, there’s something we’d been meaning to speak wi’ you about. ’Tis a delicate matter, but the time has come upon us sooner than expected.” Mam had the same long look Da had worn scant minutes ago.
“Yes, Mam?” Rosalind wondered if it had to do with the same topic. I hope it doesn’t. Lord, I’m not ready to tell her my decision against Brent.
“From all your talk, I know you are thinking that the railroad will bring many wondrous things—and so it shall. Yet the men who will build the rail line may not be so very wondrous, daughter.” Mam paused meaningfully. “You’ve been sheltered here, surrounded only by friends and family. Now, strangers will begin to arrive in our midst—men who may not be as honorable or God-fearing as those you know. You must hae a care, Rose, not to become enamored wi’ them or fall prey to any unscrupulous tricks. Be wary of these strangers, and guard your heart and mind, as well as your physical self. Do you understand me, Rose?”
“Aye, Mam.” Rose nodded faintly. “Such dark thoughts about our fellow men, though! It puts a caution into my heart to hear you, who I’ve never heard say a harsh word over any soul, warn me so.”
“See that you take heed. From now on, you are not to walk anywhere on your lonesome. You will hae your father, brother, myself, or someone known and trusted by us in your company at all times.”
“Mam!” Rosalind couldn’t stop the dismayed cry. I already take Luke wi’ me almost everywhere I go, and I’m always at the house or the smithy. The only moments I hae for my own thoughts and dreams seem to be while I’m traveling from one place to another. I didn’t think they could clip my wings any further! Oh, heavenly Father, I don’t see how I’m to bear it!
“I know ’tis a sacrifice on your part, made necessary through no fault of your own, dear.” Mam rubbed her hand down Rosalind’s back. “Lovely young women usually learn to take such precautions at a far earlier age. You’ve had more freedom here than most.”
Freedom? I’ve lived in the same small area my entire life! Until now my whole world consisted solely of Saddleback. Now, at my first opportunity to see anything different, I’m pulled ever closer to the bosom of my family. She paused, trying to see it from their view. Da warned me. Mam and Grandmam did the same….
Lord, is this Your way? Parents protect their children, and though I feel I’m no longer a child, I know that they ask these things for what they deem my own good. Your Word tells me to honor my father and mother, and so I shall.
“I’ll not go anywhere unescorted, Mam.” The very words seemed to constrict her, but Rosalind knew that to struggle against her parents’ wishes would only make them tie her still more tightly.
“I’m glad to see you being so sensible, Rose. ’Tis a sign of your maturity. Someday, not too far off, you’ll hae a home of your own, and our little chats will be about how to rear your little ones.” Mam, stirring the pot once again, had her back turned to Rosalind and so could not notice her daughter’s expression of worry. She kept speaking. “If this man is a smith, he’ll have a hearty appetite. Best see if you can slip in one more batch of biscuits, dear.”
Rosalind smoothed back the irrepressible wisps of curls around her face before pulling the fragrant golden biscuits from the oven.
“Smells wonderful.” Da’s voice preceded him and Mr. Gailbraith, giving them last-minute warning.
“It does indeed,” Mr. Gailbraith agreed, taking off his hat as he entered.
“Ewan Gailbraith, this is Kaitlin, my bonny bride.” Da put a loving arm around his wife’s waist. “And her mam, Gilda Banning. This is my son, Luke, and you’ve already met my daughter.”
“ ’Tis pleased I am to make your acquaintance, Mrs. MacLean, Mrs. Banning.” He gave a slight bow to Mam and Grandmam. Then, turning in Rosalind’s direction, he nodded his head and said, “Good to see you again, Miss MacLean.” With a smile, he greeted Luke, pumping his hand heartily.
Rosalind busied herself, refusing to show any undue interest in the man now sitting at their table. The light of day revealed his hair to be deepest ebony, and his smiling eyes glinted a good Irish green. A strong jaw squared his face and framed a ready smile. All in all, he was even more handsome than she’d supposed. This, then, was the first stranger in their midst.
He doesn’t seem dangerous at all. There is something in him, aside from his broad shoulders and arms made thick from hard work, to remind me of Da. Perhaps this is the reason Mam warned me—I do not make a practice of seeing darkness in another. I know nothing of this man yet would be liable to trust him already. His very ease of manner and handsome appearance must make him every bit as dangerous as Mam fears these men may be. Now that I’ve been warned, I’ll be sure to watch myself around him. For all I know, he’s a threat.
Chapter 3
Miss Rosalind MacLean, Ewan decided, was a serious threat to his peace of mind. Standing near the window with the sunshine pouring a golden blessing upon her fiery locks and creamy skin, she delighted his eye and dismayed his heart. What red-blooded man among his workers would be able to resist such a siren? The light blue skirts of her dress swayed gently as she brought a basket of perfectly baked biscuits to the table.
No, no, no. Please, Lord, tell me she didn’t bake those biscuits. Show me that she burns any morsel of food she tries to prepare. When she speaks, let her be missing a few teeth. At the very least, let her be clumsy enough to knock things over! When she gracefully set the hot biscuits down and gave him a soft smile full of perfect teeth, Ewan despaired. It took him a few moments to regroup with a few more cheery thoughts.
Perhaps she laughs like a donkey, eats with poor manners, or displays signs of becoming a nag. Maybe she isn’t usually so clean as today or is content t’ shirk her chores. She could have harsh words for others or be one o’ those babbling women who causes men to shudder. There are still numerous off-putting faults she may possess to discourage suitors.
One half hour, one blessing, two bowls of stew, and three lighter-than-air biscuits later, Ewan leaned back. He watched as Rosalind MacLean graciously cleared the table, leaving a bewitching scent of roses and the silvery chime of her laughter as she passed. She’d been respectful to her parents, kind to her brother, welcoming yet reserved toward him, and maintained neither silence nor continuous chatter. Ewan stifled a groan, masking his discomfort by patting his almost-too-full stomach.
“ ’Twas a delicious dinner, and I’m much obliged t’ you all. I haven’t eaten a meal so grand in ages.”
“Will you be leaving, then, so soon?” Arthur sounded genuinely disappointed.
“I’ve work to attend to, and I’d not want to be holdin’ anyone else from theirs.” Ewan eyed what seemed a veritable mountain of dirty dishes.