The Blacksmith’s Bravery

by Susan Page Davis

  “That’s better,” Bill said.

  “How do you use your whip, if you need both hands to drive?” Apphia asked.

  Vashti determined not to look at her again so Bill wouldn’t scold her. “You answer that, Bill.”

  He chuckled. “Good stage drivers don’t use the whip much. It’s more for show when you’re setting out or for times when the horses need to be reminded to keep the pace up. If you’re driving through mud, for instance, or if you see outlaws coming up on you. Then you take the reins in one hand, loose enough so the horses can get their heads down and run, and you crack the whip with the other.”

  “Oh my.”

  Vashti figured she’d get a talking-to about outlaws later from Apphia.

  Bill watched Vashti in silence for several seconds as she moved her hands and let the weights in and out slowly. “You practice for two hours every day, and by snow melt, mebbe you’ll be ready to drive one of Griff’s sixes.”

  “Two hours a day?” Apphia stared at him. “She’d get charley horses in her hands.”

  “When I’m driving, I’ll hold the lines longer than that at a stretch,” Vashti said.

  Bill nodded. “Yes, ma’am. She needs strong fingers and springy wrists. Can’t have those without working ’em.”

  Vashti smiled up at her mentor. “Thank you so much, Bill. I’ll practice every day, and I promise that next spring I won’t embarrass you and overset my coach.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I expect you’ll make me proud. You’ve got a sight of determination, young lady.”

  “She can come over and practice anytime she wants,” Apphia said, “but I’m afraid she’ll get cold.”

  “I’ll be fine.” In her mind, Vashti was dashing along the Nampa road behind a team of six matched bays. She moved her hands slightly as they galloped, and tucked up the near leader’s rein a bit.

  “I heard the boss is moving,” Bill said.

  “What?” She lowered her hands and swung around to stare at him. “Your team’s running away.”

  “Very funny. What’s that you said about Mr. Bane?”

  “He’s going to rent the old Dooley place, next to the jailhouse.”

  “Really?” Vashti looked over at Apphia.

  Bill gathered up his tools. “Reckon I’d better get over to the boardinghouse. If you’re late for supper there, you’re apt to miss out on the pudding.”

  When he’d left the stable, Vashti carefully wound the lines around a stick Bill had attached to her wagon seat for a brake handle. She gathered her skirts and climbed down. “Miz Benton, do you know anything about why Mr. Bane is moving?”

  “I expect it’s for the boy.”

  “Then all the work the ladies did at his little house was wasted.”

  “Why do you say that?” Apphia put her arm around Vashti.

  “My dear, what you and the other women did was a nice gesture. I understand why you didn’t tell me until it was over.”

  Vashti hung her head. “We figured you’d say we oughtn’t to do it without his permission.”

  “I probably would have. Griffin is a very private man, and if his room was as filthy as you say it was, then I suspect he was embarrassed to know a group of ladies had been in there.”

  “He never said anything to me about it afterward.”

  “No, but the whole plan could have gone awry. It might have made him angry.”

  Vashti nodded slowly.

  Apphia smiled. “You should rejoice and thank the Lord that Griffin accepted your gesture for what it was—an honest effort by a group of friends to help him. And it accomplished just what you hoped—he’s got the boy living with him now.”

  “Yes.” Vashti frowned. “I suppose moving over to Mr. Dooley’s would be good for them. They’d have more space.”

  “That’s right. Justin can have his own chamber.”

  “And that little room behind the smithy was drafty and cold the day we were there. The nearest water is over beyond the livery, at the well where they draw it for the horses—”

  Apphia pulled her toward the door. “Come, dear. I’m cold. Let’s have a cup of tea together. I think what you did was admirable, and it made Griffin consider how he could better take care of Justin. That’s what you hoped, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. I suppose they’ll be much more comfortable at the Dooleys’ old place.” Vashti looked back at her new rack. “God is good, isn’t He,

  Miz Benton?”

  “Yes, dear. He’s very good.”

  CHAPTER 14

  With the first heavy snow in December, Griffin quit sending the stagecoach to Silver City. Enough mines were operating that their outfits kept the road from Fergus to Nampa rolled and packed down, which made for good sleighing, and the stages kept running through to Boise. Vashti, however, was out of a job until spring.

  It was just as well. Griffin spent entirely too much time fretting when she took to the road with Johnny. He told himself it was the responsibility weighing on him, not her determination or her sparkling eyes.

  On Christmas Eve, he and Justin fed the horses and buttoned down the livery for the night. In the morning, they could feed the stock and ride on out to Ethan’s without having to worry about keeping a stage schedule or shoeing mules.

  They’d developed an evening routine where Justin measured out the oats and Griffin threw the hay down from the loft. When the snow was deep, most of the horses stayed in the barn, though Griffin had taken four stagecoach teams to Nampa and left them there with Jeremiah Gayle for the winter. Come spring, he’d bring them back up to Fergus. He’d given Marty a month off, but even so, his workload seemed a lot easier. Part of that was due to Justin’s help. The boy had lost some of his sullenness, especially while working around the horses.

  Ethan’s invitation to the ranch for the holiday had surprised Griffin, considering Ethan and Trudy had family close by. Hiram and Libby would join them for dinner as well. In response to the gesture, he’d stopped at the emporium the day before and picked up a box of ribbon candy to take to Trudy.

  “Are we picking up Mrs. Adams in the morning?” Justin asked as he shut the grain bin.

  “Yes. I’ll harness two of the horses to the sled.”

  “Can I ride Red?”

  Griffin eyed him in surprise. “I guess so.” He walked over to the wall where he kept brushes and hoof picks. “How’d you like to brush the colt tonight?”

  “You mean it?” Justin’s eyes fairly glowed in the lantern light.

  “Sure. Just speak to him soft-like, and don’t do anything sudden.”

  Justin took the brush from him and went to the colt’s stall. “Hey, fella. I’m coming in.” He touched the colt’s flank while standing to the side, as Griffin had taught him to.

  Griffin smiled to himself. That boy could make a good hand with horses by next summer. He strolled over and leaned on the divider between the colt and Red. “That’s right. Everything nice and easy. And remember, I still don’t want you going in the stall with him when I’m not around.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “You brush him all over every night, and next week I’ll have you picking up his feet.”

  “What for?”

  Griffin chuckled. “So he’ll let you.”

  Justin looked quizzically over his shoulder.

  “You have to get a colt used to everything,” Griffin said. “If you rub him all over, he gets used to being touched. Then he won’t jump when a rein or a piece of rope touches him. You want him to be calm. And you practice picking up his feet and putting them down easy, so he won’t mind you doing it when you need to.”

  “Think he’ll ever be calm?” Justin asked, stroking the colt’s spotted withers with the soft brush. “He’s always jumping around and kicking and bucking in the corral.”

  “That’s because he’s young. He needs to learn that it’s all right to play around when he’s out to pasture, but when it’s time for work, we get down to business.”

 
Justin paused his strokes. “I never thought about horses needing to learn to work.”

  “They do, just like people. They learn that when the bridle goes on, that means you don’t run and jump however you feel like it. You stay quiet and do what your master tells you. And you have fun together.”

  Justin began brushing the colt’s mane. “You think they like it when people ride them?”

  “Some of them do. When I get on Pepper, I can feel him pulling, ready to go.”

  Justin nodded. “I think Champ will make a good saddle horse.”

  “Champ?” Griffin asked.

  The boy swung around and faced him. “That’s what I call him in my head. Does he have another name?”

  “No. No, Champ’s a good name.”

  Justin smiled.

  Justin rode ahead on Red while Griffin drove the sleigh placidly down the road. Libby sat beside him, mostly covered by a woolen quilt, cradling a large basket on her lap.

  “Your nephew was very polite this morning,” she said.

  “He’s progressing,” Griffin replied.

  “Have you heard anything from his mother?”

  “I telegraphed her when Justin arrived, to tell her he’d gotten here safe, and we had one letter after that. To be frank, she seemed relieved to have Justin off her hands.”

  “That’s too bad.” Libby threw Griffin a smile. “It might be the best thing for you, though, and I think Justin will benefit from being with you.”

  “I hope you’re right, ma’am.”

  Libby had long been known as the most beautiful woman in town, and Griffin had always felt intimidated in her presence, especially since her husband died. All the single men in Fergus had watched her, but none he knew of had dared to approach her in the first two years of her widowhood. Then, all of a sudden, Hiram Dooley was courting her. How that had come about, Griffin couldn’t quite fathom. Hiram spoke so little, he couldn’t imagine how the two of them passed the time when they were alone. In fact, Hiram would have been the last man in Fergus he’d have put money on to win Libby’s hand. Maybe Hiram knew something he didn’t.

  “Will you send him to school during the winter term?” Libby asked.

  Griffin jerked his head up, startled. “I hadn’t thought about it. He reads and ciphers better than I do.”

  “He might do well with more education.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shrugged. “Doctors and lawyers start somewhere, Mr. Bane. Many have humble beginnings. Do you know what interests your nephew?”

  “Can’t say as I do.”

  “Maybe you should ask him.”

  Griffin felt he’d been mildly rebuked—but she was right. Justin had been with him more than a month, and he didn’t know how the boy had spent his free time back in Pennsylvania or what he aspired to do when he was grown. Griffin had worried about keeping him away from a life of crime but hadn’t considered how to keep him occupied.

  By the time he turned in at the lane to the Chapman ranch, Justin had far outdistanced them, and he was unsaddling Red in Ethan’s barn when Griffin drew the sled up in front of the ranch house.

  “Welcome,” Trudy called from the porch. Ethan and Hiram stood with her.

  Hiram came down the steps and offered Libby his hand. She took it and climbed out of the sled, smiling all over.

  “Drive right to the barn, Griff,” said Ethan. “I’ll come help you unhitch.”

  The McDade boys were helping Justin hang up his tack and stable Red.

  “Thought those boys only worked for you in summer,” Griffin said to Ethan.

  “I kept them on this fall. I’ve been running a lot more cattle since Trudy and I got married. They’re doing my chores today and going home tomorrow to have a late Christmas with their folks. I’m giving them a couple of weeks off.”

  “Hey, boss,” Johnny McDade called, “is it all right if Justin comes over to the bunkhouse until dinnertime?”

  Ethan looked at Griffin and arched his eyebrows.

  “I guess so,” Griffin said.

  “Sure,” Ethan told Johnny. “Just come when Mrs. Chapman rings the dinner bell.” They put Griffin’s team away and hung up the harness. As they walked back toward the house, Ethan said, “They’re high-spirited boys, but they’re good workers.”

  Griffin sat down with his hosts in the big sitting room for a few minutes. Trudy wanted all the town gossip.

  “You’ll have to get the news from Libby,” Griffin told her. “I don’t exactly hear all the rumors.”

  Libby and Hiram sat off to one side, talking in low tones, holding hands, and smiling a lot. Ethan and Griffin discussed Ethan’s ranching and sheriffing, and Griffin’s smithing and stage coaching.

  After about twenty minutes, Trudy jumped up. “I’d better go see if that goose is done.”

  Libby rose, too, still smiling at Hiram. “Let me help you, Trudy.”

  The two women disappeared through an archway. The savory smells increased, and Griffin’s stomach rumbled.

  “You got yourself a good one there, Hi,” Ethan said.

  “I know it.” Hiram came over and sat down where Trudy had been. “So how are you and Justin doing at the old house?”

  Griffin ran a hand across his beard. “Not too bad. It’s a sight better than my little place.”

  Hiram nodded. “Glad it’s working out for you.”

  Griffin still couldn’t believe the change that had come over Hiram these past few months. “When are you and Libby going to tie the knot?”

  “As soon as Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton come back and pay her for the store.”

  They talked for a while longer, until Libby came and told them dinner was ready.

  “Is Trudy going to ring the bell for the boys?” Ethan asked.

  “I can mosey out there and tell them,” Griffin offered. He was curious as to how Justin was getting along with the McDades. He’d only met the boys once or twice at church. Both were older than Justin and seemed much more mature.

  “Hold on. I’ll go with you.” Ethan handed Griffin his coat and hat and grabbed his own from pegs near the front door.

  They ambled across the barnyard, talking about the chance of more snow. Ethan opened the bunkhouse door and stepped inside.

  “Well, boys, dinner’s about ready.”

  Griffin followed him. Justin had been seated with his back to the door, but he jumped up and whirled around with as guilty a face as Griffin had ever seen.

  “All right, boss,” Spin McDade said, shoving his chair back and throwing down a hand of cards.

  “You boys playing poker?” Ethan sounded slightly scandalized.

  “Just having fun,” Johnny said with a shrug. “We don’t usually get someone else to take a hand with.”

  Griffin frowned but decided to say nothing. He didn’t want to embarrass Ethan by making a fuss, and anyway, he’d played his share of poker games. Evelyn probably wouldn’t approve, but she’d given Justin’s care entirely over to him.

  “You’re not taking Justin for every penny he’s got, are you?” Ethan threw Griff an apologetic glance.

  “I don’t have any money, sir,” Justin said. “We’re playing for matchsticks.” His face flushed, and he had trouble meeting Ethan’s gaze.

  “Aha. Well, come on and get washed up.”

  The boys ran ahead of them to the house.

  “Sorry about that,” Ethan said as he and Griffin followed.

  Griffin shrugged. “His mother probably wouldn’t like it, but they were just passing time. How old are those boys?”

  “Spin’s almost twenty. Johnny’s seventeen. I never thought—”

  Griffin held one hand up. “If they’d been in the Nugget playing, that’d be one thing.”

  “I always tell them to watch themselves in town. They know I won’t put up with any nonsense. I can’t. I mean, I’m the sheriff.”

  “I know,” Griffin said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Ethan stamped his feet to get rid
of the snow before climbing the steps. “Did you get Justin a present?”

  “Yup. I’m giving him a bridle for the spotted colt he’s going to help me train. And a pocketknife.”

  “Nice gifts for a boy that age.”

  “What’d you get Trudy?”

  “A dress from New York. I had Libby pick it out and order it. Trudy will probably say it’s too fine for her to wear.”

  “What’ll you do if she won’t wear it?”

  “Oh, I think she will, though she might hang it up and look at it for a while first.” Ethan chuckled. “And I got her something else she’ll like real well.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A sweet, tooled leather scabbard to go on her saddle.”

  “Oh yeah, she’ll like that. I guess Hiram’s giving Libby the palomino today.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Griffin half wished for a moment that he had a special lady to give things to. It would be kind of fun to order something fancy from back East for someone pretty. He had a fleeting vision of putting a sparkly chain around the neck of an auburn-haired girl with green eyes. He shook his head as they entered the house. That would only mean spending more money, and he’d had enough trouble getting Christmas gifts for Justin. Besides, he had no intention of getting tangled up with a woman anytime soon—even one as pretty and spunky as Vashti Edwards.

  At the Spur & Saddle, Christmas Day overflowed with visitors. Terrence Thistle had declared it a holiday for his wife, Rilla, at the Fennel House. Consequently, all the boarders walked down the street for dinner. Dr. Kincaid and Isabel Fennel also came to enjoy Augie’s lavish ham dinner, as did Charles and Orissa Walker. Vashti and Goldie helped the Moores serve ten for dinner and then sat down together at three in the afternoon to celebrate with their own small “family.”

  Augie came from the kitchen carrying a covered dish. “I held back a sweet potato apiece.”

  “Oh good!” Goldie jumped up and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I thought sure the guests had gotten them all, and I wanted one something fierce.”