Tad's Treasure (Grandma's Wedding Quilts Book 12)

by Shanna Hatfield

  “No. I have several matters I’ve put off and want to get them taken care of today. I would have asked Maggie to watch Nate, but she’s busy working on gowns for Bella Packwood’s upcoming wedding.” Posey pinned her hat back on, kissed Nate on his cheek, then tugged on the gloves she’d removed earlier. “You mind Uncle Tad, Nate, and be a good boy while I’m gone.”

  “Okay, Mama! I’ll be good and help Uncle Tad. I’m a good helper!”

  Tad chuckled and tweaked Nate’s nose then set the boy down from the counter. “Why don’t you run into the back and get your apron on, son?”

  “Okay!” Nate yelled then raced into the workroom.

  “It’s so nice of you to make him feel so welcome and special, Tad.” Posey placed a hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze.

  Even through the fabric of his sleeve and the leather of her glove, he could feel the warmth down to his bones. “Nate is a special boy. You know I care about him a great deal, Posey. Never hesitate to leave him here. You both are always welcome. Always.”

  She tossed him a sassy grin over her shoulder as she opened the door. “You might not say that after watching Nate for the next several hours. If you need to leave or have a problem, I’ll either be at the attorney’s office, the bank, or the mercantile.”

  Frown lines creased Tad’s brow as he followed her outside. “Are you sure you don’t need me to go with you, Posey. Is everything okay? Why are you…”

  She fisted a hand on one hip and stared at him. “Tad Palmer! If you ever want me to speak to you again you will cease treating me as if I’m some helpless female incapable of handling her own affairs. I appreciate you keeping Nate, but if you’re going to act like an unduly protective cavedweller, I’ll just take him with me.”

  Tad grinned, amused by her rising temper. “Now, Posey, just calm down. I didn’t mean to imply I thought you were helpless, I just wanted to offer my help if you need it.”

  “Well, I don’t.” She huffed, then calmed slightly. “But it is kind of you to offer. Thank you. I’ll be on my way. Remember, if you have any problems with Nate, just…”

  “We’ll be fine. I’m not the one who lost him a few weeks ago, now am I?” Tad knew his words goaded her.

  She’d started down the boardwalk but stopped and turned around, glaring at him. “I didn’t lose him, he ran off. There’s a difference, and I’ll thank you to never, ever mention that to me again.”

  She spun around and marched away, her footsteps echoing loudly on the wooden walk.

  Energized by their sparring and amused by how easily he ruffled her feathers, Tad returned inside the shop. Nate struggled to tie the strings on the back of a little leather apron Tad had made for the boy to wear when he stayed at the shop with him.

  “Here, son, let me do it.” Tad lifted up Nate and stood him on top of the front counter. Nate watched over his shoulder as Tad smoothed the straps and then tied the string at his waist. “There you are. All set to work.”

  “What can I work on, Uncle Tad? Huh? Can I work on some leather? Can I?” Nate wiggled with excitement.

  Tad leaned forward and lifted the boy over one brawny shoulder and carried him to the backroom while Nate giggled.

  “Uncle Tad?” Nate asked as Tad set him down on the workbench.

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you the strongest man in the world?”

  Tad grinned. “No, Nate. I’m not. There are many, many men much stronger than I am. Why?”

  The boy shrugged and picked up a scrap piece of leather, rubbing it between his thumb and finger. “I dunno. It’s just you’re so strong and you take good care of us. I think Mama likes those things.” The boy pointed to the muscles visible beneath the cloth of Tad’s shirt.

  Tad glanced down at his chest and then his arms. “Likes what?”

  Nate reached out and poked the curve of muscle at Tad’s shoulder. “Those. She watches them when you work at our house. Will I have those someday?”

  Well, well. That was an interesting tidbit. Tad didn’t rightly care if Nate turned his shop inside out and backwards. Any mess the boy made would be worth it just to discover Posey watched his muscles while he worked. If even a five-year-old noticed her interest in him, what else had Tad missed?

  Did Posey really care for him as she would a man that piqued her interest, not one she looked at as a brother?

  What would he do about it if she did? Could he betray John’s memory and all the man’s friendship meant to him by admitting he loved Posey?

  Torn between what his heart wanted and what he felt he owed his friend, Tad set to work on a saddle Tully Barrett special-ordered.

  He gave Nate a scrap piece of leather and a dull-edged knife then convinced the boy he’d be a big help in smoothing the leather by rubbing it with the knife.

  An hour later, Tad bent over a piece of leather he skived. He felt warm breath on his hand and glanced up to find Nate intently watching his every move.

  “Whatcha doing, Uncle Tad?”

  Tad continued working, but shifted so Nate could get a better view of the way he cut the leather. “This is called skiving, Nate.”

  “What’s that do?” the little boy asked, inquisitive as he observed Tad’s movements.

  “Skiving is how I reduce the thickness of leather, especially in areas that will be bent or folded. It has to be pliable without becoming weak.”

  “What’s pliable mean, Uncle Tad?” Nate held his hands together, as though he didn’t trust himself not to reach out and touch something.

  “Pliable?” Tad asked.

  Nate nodded and continued watching.

  “Pliable means that something bends or moves easily. It yields to the forces around it.”

  “Oh,” Nate said, absorbing the explanation. The boy stared across the room and pointed to the candy jar. “Like licorice! Is it pliable, Uncle Tad?”

  “That’s right, Nater. You’ve got the idea.”

  “Do you think I could have some pliable licorice?” the boy asked.

  Tad laughed. “You are a schemer, Nate Jacobs. And the answer to your question is not right now. We’ll eat lunch soon. Then, if you still want some later, you can have a piece.”

  “Okay,” Nate said, without any argument.

  The bell rang above the door, so Tad set down his tools, lifted Nate down and the two of them went to greet his customer. After Tad helped Ian McGregor choose a new pair of gloves and sold the man a pair of hobbles, he and Nate went upstairs to his living quarters to eat lunch.

  Tad fried bacon and eggs then toasted a few slices of bread and made them both sandwiches. A can of peaches and glasses of milk rounded out their meal.

  “You cook good, Uncle Tad,” Nate said as he bit into a piece of crispy bacon. “Mama cooks good, too. I like good food.”

  Tad nodded in agreement. “So do I, Nater.” He leaned closer to the little boy and dropped his voice conspiratorially. “I’ll tell you a secret, though.”

  Nate’s eyes rounded and he stared at Tad. “What kind of secret?”

  “Well, when I was growing up, I didn’t know how to cook anything. Neither did my mother nor my sister. To this day, I don’t think Gloria could fry an egg if she had to.”

  “Really? Does your dad cook for them?” Nate took another bite of his sandwich.

  “No, my father doesn’t cook either. They have people who cook for them, although Gloria’s husband might be able to cook. I haven’t actually asked him. He’s a talented composer, though.”

  Nate’s little forehead wrinkled in thought. “What’s a poser?”

  “A composer?”

  Nate nodded and took a gulp of his milk. “Yeah. What’s that?”

  “A composer writes music. You’ve seen the music the pianist at church plays, haven’t you, or the music I sometimes use when I fiddle?”

  “Yep!”

  “Well, those lines and dots on the paper are notes and someone with far more talent than I could hope to possess arranges them in a way that makes
music.”

  “Oh, that’s neat, Uncle Tad.” Nate reached across the table and patted his hand. “But you do good stuff, too. You make the nicest, bestest saddles. Everyone says so. Mama said peoples come from all over just to buy your saddles. When I grow up, I’m gonna make saddles with you. Will that be okay, Uncle Tad? That way, I’ll get to see you every day and we can have bacon for lunch all the time!”

  Tad chuckled and ruffled Nate’s unruly hair. “I think that’s a grand idea, Nater.”

  Lunch continued with a lively discussion about Spot and Agnes, the vegetables sprouting in Posey’s garden, and the pony Nate decided he wanted.

  Tad figured the boy got into enough trouble without adding a pony to the mix, but eventually he needed to learn to ride. He’d offered several times to give Nate lessons, but Posey always refused.

  An accomplished rider in her own right, Tad assumed Posey would teach Nate to ride when she felt her son was ready, or when she was ready to allow him the freedom and responsibility it would offer.

  He finished his sandwiches and peaches, and then leaned back in his chair, drinking his milk. Nate bit down on a piece of particularly crispy bacon and screamed.

  Tad thumped the glass on the table with such force, the glass tipped over and the remaining milk pooled across the surface.

  In a blink, he was on his knees next to Nate’s chair, the boy’s arms held in his hands as he searched his face, trying to divine what caused him pain. “What’s wrong, son? What happened? What hurts?”

  “My tooth,” Nate whimpered. Tad grabbed a dish towel and held it in front of Nate’s mouth while the boy spit into it. A little white tooth shone from amid pieces of bacon.

  Tad grinned and held the tooth in his fingers. “Well, Nater, you just lost your first tooth.”

  The boy’s eyes widened and he looked frightened as he stuck a finger in his mouth, touching the space in the bottom front where his tooth used to be.

  “Will all my teeth fall out? Will I look like Mr. Bentley?” Panic edged the boy’s voice as he turned teary eyes to Tad.

  He pulled the youngster into a hug then set him back on his chair. “Didn’t your mama tell you about baby teeth and big boy teeth?”

  Nate shook his head, fingering the gap in his teeth again. Tad pulled his finger away and held a rag to the spot on the youngster’s gums that slightly bled.

  “All the teeth you have right now are what we call baby teeth, Nate. And for the next few years all those teeth with fall out, one at a time, and new teeth will come in to take their place. When you get all done, you’ll have big boy teeth, like mine.” Tad smiled broadly so Nate could see all his large, even teeth.

  “Will mine look like yours and Mama’s?”

  “Most likely,” Tad said, thinking of the white pearl-like teeth that made up Posey’s lovely smile.

  “Can I show Mama my tooth?” Nate asked, taking the little tooth off Tad’s palm and looking at it.

  “You sure can. I think we should put it in something so it doesn’t get lost before she comes back.” Tad stood and dug around until he found a small jar. He set the tooth inside and fastened on the lid, so Nate didn’t accidentally lose it. He had an idea Posey would want to keep the little tooth until she was old and gray. He was pretty sure she’d never forgive him if he lost it on his watch.

  Once Nate calmed down and decided it was a great thing to have lost his tooth, he and Tad returned downstairs. While Tad continued skiving leather, Nate took the broom and swept it around the floor in the workroom. There wasn’t anything there he could damage with his wild sweeping motions. Tad kept one eye on the boy and one on his work as he awaited Posey’s arrival.

  At precisely half past one, the bell above the door jingled. Tad and Nate rushed to the front of the store and almost collided with Posey as she made her way toward the back.

  A look of fury rode her face and she held herself stiffly as she glared at Tad.

  With no idea what he’d done to raise her ire, he snatched the jar with the tooth off the front counter and shoved it into her hands.

  She stared at it then Nate started jabbering about losing his tooth in his bacon and it being the best lunch he ever had and Tad being a great cook.

  “You lost your tooth? Your first tooth?” Posey bent down and tugged on Nate’s chin until he opened his mouth, showing off the gap where his tooth had once been.

  She looked from Nate to Tad with tears glistening in her eyes. “He lost his first tooth and I wasn’t even here to see it.” She stood and closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, gathering her composure before she smiled at Nate. “It’s very exciting, isn’t it, baby?”

  “Oh, yes, Mama. And Tad said sometimes you get a coin under your pillow in exchange for your tooth from magical fairies. Do you think there will be magical fairies at our house, Mama?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to see, won’t we, sweetheart. Run get your cap, baby, and we’ll head home. I’m sure Agnes misses you.” Posey waited until Nate scampered into the workroom before turning to Tad with an unsettling mixture of gratitude and anger.

  “I can tell you’re mad about something, but I don’t know what I’ve done, so you’ll have to explain it to me,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  “We’ll speak of it another day.” Posey placed a hand on his arm.

  The warmth of it made tingles zoom all the way to his head and toes at the slight contact. He nodded in agreement, uncertain he could speak with his thoughts all in a jumble, most of them wondering what she’d do if he pulled her to him and kissed her. With irritation lending color to her cheeks and a flame to her eyes, he found her nearly irresistible.

  Given her current agitated state, though, he decided it best not to test her patience further.

  “Thank you for taking such good care of Nate, Tad. I appreciate you watching him, and for making losing his tooth something fun. I’ll be sure to slip a coin or two beneath his pillow.”

  “Do you need some coins? I can give you…” He started to dig into his pocket, but she squeezed his arm.

  “That isn’t necessary, Tad. I’ll handle it, just as I thought I’d been handling things all along.”

  Baffled by her cryptic statement, Tad wisely kept his questions to himself and walked Posey and Nate out when the boy raced back into the room with his cap and a picture he’d drawn on a piece of paper Tad used to sketch out patterns.

  “What did you draw, baby?” Posey asked, bending down to look at his drawing when they stepped outside.

  “It’s you and me and Agnes and Spot and the kitties and Tad. It’s my family. All the people I love.” Nate beamed at Posey as he pointed out each blob in his picture. Tad had noticed various sizes of shapes and thought one might have resembled the goat, but had no idea what the little boy drew.

  Tad hunkered down and placed a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “I’m sure happy you include me as part of your family, Nater. I love you, son.”

  “I love you, too, Uncle Tad. Thank you for letting me stay with you and for saving my tooth.” Nate hugged him back then turned to his mother. “I almost ate it, Mama! It was crunchy like my bacon.”

  “My goodness!” she said. “We best hurry right home so you can show it to Agnes and Spot.”

  “Yep!” Nate giggled as Tad swung him up on the wagon seat.

  Rather than give Posey a hand, Tad swung her up, much as he had Nate, trying not to laugh at the shocked expression on her face.

  She reached up to right her hat that listed to one side then straightened her skirts before pinning him with a scowl, clearly disconcerted. “Thank you, Mr. Palmer. Good day.”

  Amused by her discombobulated state, he chuckled as she snapped the reins and drove away, taking his heart with her.

  Chapter Eight

  A week passed before Posey worked up the nerve to confront Tad about the matter that had left her so infuriated the day Nate lost his tooth.

  If it hadn’t been for that, she might have lambasted Tad the moment
she set foot in his shop. As it was, after taking Nate home and talking all about what to expect as he lost his baby teeth, she was no longer in the mood to ream Tad’s ears.

  However, the longer she put off having a discussion with the man, the more her stomach churned and anxiety gnawed at her. Avoidance wouldn’t make the need to talk to him go away, so she took Nate into town with her, begged Maggie to keep an eye on him, and marched over to the saddle shop.

  When she walked inside, the sheriff and Tad laughed over a joke one of them must have told. At her appearance, they both sobered and turned her way.

  Tully doffed his hat and Tad politely tipped his head to her.

  “Afternoon, Posey,” Tad said, smiling at her. After her cool response to him following church services Sunday, he probably wondered why she’d come to see him. “What brings you into town?” He glanced around her, expecting her son to race inside at any moment. “Where’s Nate?”

  “He’s visiting Maggie right now,” Posey said, avoiding looking at Tad as her gaze swept around his shop.

  Mindful of the sudden tension lingering in the air, Tully cleared his throat. “Well, I reckon I’ll head over there and check on him. With Maggie, she’s liable to stick him in a dress and pin ribbons in his hair if we aren’t careful,” he teased and then turned back to Tad. “The saddle looks good. I can’t wait to try it out as soon as you finish it.”

  “I’ll have it ready in a few days, Tully,” Tad said, absently watching Posey’s every move.

  Tully studied them both a moment before snickering softly and wandering out the door.

  Tad moved around the counter and stood in front of Posey.

  Unsettled by his proximity and the enticing, manly scent of him, she took a step back and bumped into one of the display saddles.

  “Careful, Posey Jo,” Tad said in a low, husky voice, reaching out a hand and pulling her forward.