Agatha raised her chin and gave Kezia a long look. “If he gives you any grief, come get me. I’ll set him on his ear in short order.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kezia said, hiding a smile. It would serve Culver Daniels right if she turned Agatha’s temper and tongue loose on him. Rather than follow her inclination to run upstairs and hide until he left, she strode down the hall and found him waiting by the front door.
The sound of her footsteps drew his gaze in her direction. When he realized it was her walking toward him, he stood a little taller and appeared to hold his breath, as though he waited to see if she’d slap him across the face or some similar nonsense. Nervous fingers twirled his hat around and around in his hands. At this rate, he’d have the brim too misshapen to salvage in a matter of minutes.
Entertained by the thought of him wearing a deformed hat, she stuffed down her smile and schooled her features into a neutral expression. “Mr. Daniels. What brings you back here?”
“Well, Miss Mirga… er… Mrs. Mirga? I, um… I wanted to… that’s to say… I believe I owe you an…” Culver tugged at his collar, as though it had suddenly grown too tight. He cleared his throat and looked her square in the face.
The regret mingling with doubt in his eyes softened her heart even though she continued to stare at him, aloof.
“Yes?” she prompted, curious why he’d returned. She’d been so blistering mad at him earlier, she’d wanted to go to Mrs. Walters and beg her to tear up the marriage contract. The town was full of men. Surely, one of them would make a more suitable husband than the lunkheaded blacksmith.
Yet, thoughts of the light twinkling in his gorgeous green eyes and the breadth of his strong shoulders kept her from seeking out Mrs. Walters. He might have behaved like a cloddish dolt, but for reasons that defied explanation, he’d been the one to pique her interest. Just standing close to him made a swarm of butterflies take flight in her stomach.
She wondered if he was as nervous and uncertain as she felt. Finally taking pity on the man, she released her indifference and offered the slightest hint of a reassuring smile.
Culver cleared his throat again and continued destroying what had to be his best hat. Twirl and crush. Twirl and crush.
Kezia snatched it from his hands. At his startled look, she playfully plopped it on her head and placed a fist on her cocked hip. “Perhaps the best way to remove your foot from your mouth, Mr. Daniels, is to just get on with it.”
Sheepishly, he grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
He took a step closer to her and she breathed in the aroma she was quickly coming to think of as Culver’s alone — a blending of smoke, metal, horses, and all man.
Culver dug into his pocket and pulled out a small package wrapped in paper and twine. He held it out to her with far less confidence than he’d presented her with the hair clasp earlier in the day.
When he’d given her that special gift, her first Christmas gift, the day — and her future — held such promise. Then he’d acted so shocked and repulsed by Jem. Well, maybe not repulsed, but definitely unsettled and disconcerted. She’d taken offense before waiting to see what he’d say and stormed from the room.
In truth, she’d expected far worse than his stunned spluttering. What man wanted a woman with a baby? Especially when he had no idea the child existed. Purposefully avoiding the subject in her letter to Culver, she didn’t know how to explain her past to him. She’d decided to wait until she could discuss it in person.
Now, she concluded it might have been wise to at least mention that she was a widow. For all he knew, she could be any number of things that she wasn’t. What if he thought she was like the women who worked at the bordello?
Before she sank any deeper into her worries, Culver took a small step toward her, still holding out the package. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Mirga. The baby took me by surprise, but that isn’t an excuse for the things I said, the way I reacted. I hope you’ll accept my apology and this gift for your baby.”
Kezia took the package, feeling the weight in her hand. It made a slight noise as she untied the twine and removed the paper, revealing a small silver rattle. She’d seen them in shops in Denver, but never thought her daughter would own such a fine toy. The weight balanced to perfection, and the object itself was a thing of beauty, polished to a high shine and smooth to the touch. Gently shaking it, the toy made a light rattling noise that offered a melodic sound, like bells.
Impressed with the quality of the piece as well as the man who offered it as a gift, Kezia lifted her dark gaze to Culver’s. “Thank you. I didn’t realize the town carried baby items.”
“You’re welcome,” Culver said, clearly pleased she liked the rattle as he released his stiff posture. “We don’t have much in the way of things for a baby in town, but it was simple enough to make a rattle.”
Kezia glanced from the rattle to Culver. “You made this?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She turned it over and studied it again, admiring Culver’s talent. Hope fluttered in her chest. If he’d go to so much work to make something for Jemimah, perhaps he wasn’t an entirely lost cause as a potential husband. Grateful for his endeavors to make amends, she smiled. “It’s wonderful, Mr. Daniels. Thank you for going to such effort. Jem will love it.”
“Is that the baby’s name? Jem?” He shot her another shamefaced look. “I kind of missed hearing her name earlier.”
Kezia gave the rattle a light shake, filling the entry with the happy, tinkling sound. “Actually, her name is Jemimah, but I call her Jem.”
“Your little dove, I heard you mention that.” Culver gave her an inquisitive look. “Is that because she likes to coo?”
Kezia laughed and shook her head. “No. It’s because her name means dove.” She tossed him an impish grin. “Although she is good at cooing, too. Lately she’s been trying to talk, at least in her own language that I’ve yet to decipher.”
“Is that what she was doing earlier? It sounded like she was trying to say ‘ma.’”
She nodded. “Jem was. She just started saying that a week ago.” Kezia expelled a wistful sigh. “It won’t be long before she’s walking and talking and won’t be my little baby anymore.”
“Then I reckon you might like to have more children. Is that right?”
Heat filled her cheeks as she thought about Culver being the father of those children. Unable to speak, she merely nodded her head again.
As though he sensed her discomfited state, he cleared his throat again. “Do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me, Mrs. Mirga? I truly didn’t mean to offend you earlier. The baby was just such an unexpected surprise.”
“I forgive you, Mr. Daniels.” She studied him a moment, holding his bright green gaze with her own. “What about you, sir? Do you like children? Would you be interested in having a family someday?”
“I like kids well enough, I reckon. Never spent much time around them. I suppose it’s a natural thing to think about having them when one is planning to marry. Little Jemimah gives us a head start on everyone else in town.”
Pleased with his answer, she took a step closer to him. “So you’re still of a mind to marry me, even though I didn’t tell you about Jem or that I’m a widow?”
He reached out and cupped her cheek with a rough, callused hand. Kezia wasn’t prepared for the shock of his touch or how much she liked the hard texture of his hand against her soft skin.
The light she’d noticed earlier in Culver’s eyes flickered with warmth as he smiled at her. “I’m still of a mind to marry you, Mrs. Mirga, if you think you could put up with a man like me.”
“I think that might be possible,” she whispered, afraid to move, to end the sweet moment.
“Well, before you decide anything, I’d like to show you my shop. I’m not sure it’s a fit place for your baby, but maybe you could come see for yourself before any decisions are made.” Culver dropped his hand and stepped back.
Kezia released a long bre
ath. “That would be a good idea. When would you like me to come?”
“Whenever you’re ready. I could call for you later this afternoon or, if you’d rather wait, I could come back tomorrow.”
“If you give me a moment to check on Jemimah and pull on my cloak, I’d be happy to accompany you now.”
At his nod, Kezia gave him a dazzling smile then raced upstairs. She quietly stepped into the bedroom to find Jemimah awakening from her nap. Quickly attending to the baby’s needs, Kezia wrapped Jemimah in a warm blanket then slipped on her cloak and wrapped a scarf around her neck to block out the cold. It wasn’t until her hand bumped Culver’s hat that she realized she still wore it.
“Come on, Jem. Let’s go see what the blacksmith shop looks like. It might just end up being our home,” Kezia said in a singsong voice as she lifted the baby in her arms.
Jemimah gurgled and cooed, offering her mother a slobbery smile. Two little teeth had popped through on her bottom row of gums a week ago. Thank goodness, the baby hadn’t been teething the last few days. No man would eagerly endure that trial, even in exchange for a bride.
Kezia hurried back downstairs to find Culver patiently waiting in the entry for her. “Here’s your hat,” she said, holding it out to him.
He took it in one hand then reached out with one big finger to lightly brush it beneath Jemimah’s chin. “You’re a cute little thing, aren’t you, Jemimah?”
The baby looked at him with big, curious eyes then broke into another smile.
“And she’s just as charming as her mama,” he said, winking at Kezia.
Ignoring his flattery, Kezia shifted the baby beneath her cloak so she’d stay warm and tipped her head toward the door. “Shall we go?”
“We shall,” Culver said, swinging the door open and motioning for her to precede him.
Outside, he settled the hat on his head and tipped it back just a bit, studying her as they walked down the street together.
Kezia listened as he pointed out the businesses in town and introduced her to some of the men.
“That’s Liam Fulton’s store. He carries a good assortment of merchandise and what he doesn’t have, he can order,” Culver said, slowing his steps so she could peek in the window.
“I’m sure the women will be glad to know that,” Kezia said. She’d always dreamed of walking into a store and being able to purchase anything she wanted. Since she’d never had that luxury, it wasn’t one she’d ever miss. Culver had assured her in his letter that he made a good living as the blacksmith and livery owner. He probably did well enough to support a family, even if they didn’t live in luxury. Then again, it wouldn’t take much for him to be a better provider than her father and first husband.
Culver waved a hand in greeting to a handsome man across the street. “That’s Doc Deane. If you have any health problems, he’ll be able to take good care of you.”
Kezia was never sick and Jemimah had been remarkably healthy, too. However, it was a relief to know the town at least had a doctor.
Near the end of the street, a small, fussy man rushed outside, nearly running into Kezia. She stepped to the side to avoid colliding with him and bumped into Culver. He set a steadying hand against her back and glared at the bespectacled man. “Watch where you’re going, Percy. You could hurt someone rushing out the door like that. Where’s the fire?”
“There isn’t a fire,” the man said in a sneering tone. “But my uncle needs to know what’s going on with the reluctant brides. I’m sure he’ll be interested to find out that not a single one of you is wed. Why, he’ll…”
Culver placed a hand on Kezia’s elbow and ushered her to the end of the street.
“Who is that man?” she asked in a whisper.
“Percival Penworthy. He runs the land office, and likes to think he runs this town. His uncle works for the railroad. If twelve men marry before the deadline he set, he’s promised to bring the railroad through Noelle.”
Kezia glanced up at him. “And you are one of the twelve who got roped into taking a bride?”
Culver appeared to consider his answer before he responded. Finally, he nodded his head. “Yes, ma’am. I wasn’t looking to take a bride, but I’ll do what I can to help the town.” A grin toyed with the corners of his mouth, deepening the cleft in his chin. “And now that you’re here, the prospect of marrying seems much more… palatable.”
“Palatable?” Kezia shook her head, wondering if Culver’s thoughts always circled around to food. They crossed the street and stopped in front of the blacksmith shop and livery. A sign hanging on the front of the building stated:
Blacksmith & Livery
Wagon Repairs, Tools,
Boarding, Rentals, Tack Storage, and Shoeing
“It’s a nice building, Mr. Daniels,” Kezia said, admiring the solid structure.
He grinned and pulled the door open. “Please, come inside. One good thing about my place is that it’s always warm in the winter,” he said as he motioned for her to enter.
The smell of metal and smoke mingled with the scents of hay and horses as she stamped the snow from her boots and stepped inside. To her right was a doorway that led into the livery. To her left a doorway stood open to the blacksmith shop. Straight ahead, a wide walkway separated the two businesses. She assumed the door at the end of the walk must open to a storage area or personal quarters.
“What would you like to see first?” Culver asked as he closed the door and removed his hat, hanging it on a hook by the front door.
“The blacksmith shop,” Kezia said, smiling as she lifted the baby from beneath her cloak. Jemimah worked a hand free of her blanket cocoon and waved it in the air as she babbled in her own language.
Culver grinned at the baby. He held out his index finger and Jemimah latched onto it, chortling as she tugged on it and he made a funny face.
Kezia felt her heart thud to a stop then restart with a jolt as she watched the brawny man smile at her daughter. Her past, her experiences with wicked men, told her he was just trying to charm his way into her good graces. But something in her soul whispered for her to trust him, to give him a chance.
Unnerved by the thoughts tumbling through her head, Kezia moved into the blacksmith shop. She looked to the forge where coals glowed and then to a massive anvil. It rested on what appeared to be a steel drum. Smaller anvils were placed around with hammers lying on blocks next to them.
Tools. Everywhere she looked there were tools. Large and small, and every size in between, tools hung from the wall, lined workbenches, and even dangled from a rack attached to the center beam that braced the roof.
The thing that struck her, though, was not the varying assortment of tools, but the order of them. How could a man be so neat and tidy? She had no idea, but Culver must like to keep things organized and shipshape.
While that spoke well of his personality, she wondered if it was something of an obsession with him. Would he be that exacting with other aspects of his life? Would he expect her to be?
Kezia had always been more of a free spirit than one who adhered to rigid rules and dictates of order. How would she ever blend her world with Culver’s?
Pulling her thoughts back to the moment, she forced a smile as he showed her around his shop, clearly proud of the business he’d built in Noelle.
“What are these?” Kezia asked, pointing to a leather tool roll on top of a worktable. The small tools neatly tucked into it looked far too delicate for Culver to handle in his large hands.
“Those are some of my silversmith tools.” He held up a small hammer, tossed it into the air, and then caught it behind his back.
Kezia grinned while the baby bounced in her arms. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a showoff, Mr. Daniels.”
“No, ma’am,” he said, returning the hammer to its rightful spot. He gave her a long look. “Since we have agreed to wed, do you think you might call me Culver instead of Mr. Daniels?”
“Of course.” She smiled at him with genuine
warmth. “But only if you call me Kezia, or Zee. My friends all call me Zee.”
“I certainly hope we’ll be friends, Zee.” He gave her another studying glance. “More than friends.”
Although she didn’t blush easily, the tone of his voice and the look in his eye made heat sear her cheeks. Rather than let him see, she turned away and walked around his shop. There were so many sharp, dangerous looking objects and tools. How would Jem ever be safe in such a place?
Glancing down at her daughter, the little one kept her gaze glued on Culver, following his every move as she gnawed on her chubby fist.
Disturbed by how taken Jem seemed to be with the blacksmith, Kezia wondered what drew her daughter to him. Jemimah didn’t generally like men. She accepted women well enough, but most men made her cry when they got close to her. Yet, the baby seemed as enchanted with the burly blacksmith as her mother.
Kezia’s thoughts whirled through her head as she circled the shop and stopped in front of a case that held a variety of knives.
She recognized a few daggers and penknives, but the rest remained a mystery. “These are interesting,” she said as Culver moved beside her. “What is that one?” she asked, pointing to a knife with a curved tip.
Culver lifted it from the case and held it on the palm of his hand. “It’s a hawkbill, see the curve of the line, kind of like a beak.”
She nodded but didn’t touch it.
He returned it to the exact position where he’d picked it up from then lifted another. “This is a talon point. It always makes me think of a hawk’s talon.”
“Yes, I can see why it would.” She shifted Jem so the baby was farther away from the knives and less likely to reach out and grab one.
Culver pointed out a straight edge knife, a spear, and several others before he suddenly grew quiet. “I’m sure you’re not interested in this at all. Why don’t we go see the horses?”
“I’d like that,” Kezia said, following him out the blacksmith shop and into the livery. In spite of the cold outside, the stable felt warm with the body heat from the animals. A calico cat curled into a nest of hay and opened one blue eye as they neared it.
The Dove_The Second Day Page 4