“If you’re gonna treat me like an invalid, always reminding me why I can’t or shouldn’t do things, I’ll thank you to return my socks so I can walk myself back to town.”
Shock and embarrassment roiled through her. Lord, I’ve overstepped. Just like always. She often smothered Mae with her helpfulness. Hope— and especially Ethan—complained about her mother-hen tendencies. What in heaven’s name made her think she could bring Bo Allen home and not strangle him with her care?
“I’m sorry. You said no mollycoddling, but that’s all I’m doing.” She rose and pushed in her chair. “I’ll let you eat in peace. Help yourself to more soup, if you’d like.” She swept past him toward the door.
“Leah, wait,” he called, his voice low. “I shouldn’t—”
She hurried through the front door and charged toward the tree-lined streambed that marked the far edge of their yard. The stream, nothing more than a dry bed at this time of year, would be a good place to hide. Weaving between the trees, she stepped down into the sandy creek bed.
Lord, why do I overwhelm everyone I care about?
The question didn’t require a divine answer. She was painfully aware.
She’d never asked to take Mama’s role when she passed, but Papa had needed help, and she was the oldest. When he also died, it fell to her to become Ma and Pa to her family. In those early days, they’d needed the reassurance that she was there, guiding and protecting, even if their parents no longer were. Then, when they’d nearly lost Mae, she’d poured out constant attention on her sister, anticipating her needs and thinking how to make her life easier. Meanwhile, she’d become bossy and strict with the youngers, both in attempting to keep them safe and to provide Mae a quiet environment to heal.
No wonder they balked at her overbearing ways. At some point, she’d taken up the unbearable burden to see her kin survive to adulthood and make something of their lives, as if their success or failure was her doing.
And she was treating Bo—a grown, capable, successful man—in the same way.
“Goodness, Lord, if I were him, I’d threaten to leave too,” she said, continuing her prayer in a whisper. “I’m a domineering, meddlesome fussbudget.”
Why couldn’t she be like Mrs. Bates—full of concern and grace, rather than nagging and cajoling.
“A domineering fussbudget?” Bo’s voice cut the silence.
She spun, heart thudding mercilessly at the sight of his huge form.
He stepped down into the streambed. “Is that really how you see yourself?”
“I smother everyone. Ask my family.” Her voice quavered. “Or look at how I’ve been treating you.”
“The problem’s not you.” He stepped nearer. “It’s that the person you’re trying to lavish that caring on ain’t used to such attentions. Don’t mean you did wrong.”
“No, you’re right about me. All I know how to do is mollycoddle. You have every right to be upset.”
“I’m not upset.” His voice was husky.
“Angry then.”
He shook his head. “Not angry.” Stepping closer still, he ran his fingertips along her jaw then cupped her cheek in his hand. His expression contorted as if something pained him. “Scared.”
At the vulnerable admission, she reached for his trembling hand, pressing it between her palm and her cheek.
His eyes clamped shut. “What you said at Doc’s this morning was spot on. I’ve used my hurt and fear to keep people away.” He shook his head. “Trust doesn’t come easy for me. Anyone I’ve ever trusted has died … or turned on me.”
“I don’t plan on doing either of those things, Bowdrie Allen. So maybe you could try trusting me?”
He dragged her to him and twined his fingers in her hair. “Blast it all, woman.” His thick words rumbled in his chest. “I been doin’ everything I can to push you away since you barged into my smithy. Ain’t none of it worked.”
Timidly, Leah wrapped her arms around his waist. “If Papa were alive, he would tell you—”
Bo’s splinted hand circled her back, and she melted against him, mind dulling to everything but the security of his embrace.
Lord, this feels good. Bo feels good. Dare she dream he might hold her like this forever?
“What would your pa say?”
She struggled to latch on to the thought again. “If what you’re doing isn’t working, try a different approach.”
“That’s what scares me.” The words, whispered softly against her hair, were nearly lost in the rustle of the trees. “But I want to trust you.”
She looked up at him. “I promise I won’t ever purposely hurt you, Bo.”
Despite the darkness, the emotion in his eyes was unmistakable. Her heart thudded as his gaze intensified. Bo hesitated for half a breath then pressed his lips to hers almost roughly, his fingers sinking deeper into her curls.
Startled by the suddenness of her first kiss, she went rigid, emotions surging.
Bo pulled away, grip loosening in her hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have done tha—”
“Yes.” She twined her fingers into his shirt, holding him in place. “You should have.”
Leah stared for the briefest instant then rose on her toes, seeking his lips. For a split-second, he too went rigid, then pulled her close again, returning the affection more gently this time. A full-body shiver overtook her, and her world turned topsy-turvy. She clung to him, aware only of his nearness, his strength, and the delicious tenderness of his lips.
When finally he broke the kiss, Leah leaned against him, completely unsure if she could trust her legs to hold her weight. She held him until her heart slowed to a more regular rhythm.
“We probably ought to go back inside,” he finally said.
“Should we?” It would ruin the moment….
“I’ve a compelling reason to say yes.”
Concern threaded through her. Was his hand hurting? Or perhaps the ether was still affecting him. “What reason?”
“My feet.”
“Your feet?” She pulled back to look.
“Yeah.” He wiggled his bare toes then maneuvered behind her. “They’re cold. Some domineering ol’ fussbudget absconded with my socks.”
Leah’s jaw dropped, and she spun to give him a playful swat. “Bowdrie Allen, you’re a beast!”
“I’ll start the forge.” Red scrambled from the wagon bench, smithy keys in hand, and headed to the door.
“Looks like he’s ready for work.” Bo smiled in Leah’s direction, glad for the kid’s enthusiasm.
“Are you sure you are?” Since their kiss, Leah’s brown eyes held a new level of concern. “Doc said to rest at least a day.”
“I’ll be fine.” He climbed down, thankful she’d suggested a sling. The wooden splint wasn’t quite so unwieldy tucked against his body. Hopefully by evening, he’d have a less cumbersome splint. If things went very well, they’d have a good start on their next project.
“What if you get tired? Or hungry? Or—”
“Leah …”
She hung her head. “I’m mollycoddling again.”
“You’re worrying, and I appreciate it.” Things had changed for him also, after admitting his fears. “Let me put your mind at ease. ‘mere.”
Confusion creased her brow, but she descended.
As they neared the corner of the smithy, Bo whistled sharply to Red. “Toss me the keys.”
Red did. Bo caught them then guided Leah behind the building.
“Where are we going?”
He unlocked the door of his small house.
“Take a look.” He pushed the door open.
“At?”
He stepped through the doorway. She stopped at the threshold. “There’s a bed, a stove in the corner, even food in the pantry. Check if you’d like. I can sleep if I need to, Red and I won’t starve, and I promise not to work us into the ground.”
She gave him a sheepish grin. “In other words, I’m overly concerned.”
“Just a little.” He scuffled nearer and tipped her chin up. “But thank you.” As foreign as it was, there was something pleasant, knowing someone cared.
When he traced his fingers along her jaw, Leah’s eyelashes fluttered. He drank in her porcelain skin and red-blond curls. Heaven’s sake, she was beautiful. His heart thudded with anticipation as he brushed her lips with his.
A sharp rap on the wall outside caused Leah to pull back. They both turned toward the sound, though Bo couldn’t see who was there.
“Morning, Miss Guthrie.”
Sal Harper’s grating voice set Bo’s teeth on edge.
“You’re lookin’ mighty fine this morning.”
“Mr. Harper.” Her face flushed crimson.
Bo stepped through the door between her and the butcher, every nerve primed. “You need something?”
Sal’s gaze flicked to the sling, concern in his expression. “We still fightin’, are we?”
“Depends on you. You abide by what I told you—show this woman and her kin respect—and we’ll be square.”
Harper nodded. “Then we’re square.”
Trouble was, after what he’d heard in the saloon, Bo didn’t trust him. “What can I do for you?”
“Just a neighborly visit to tell you a couple kids were hauntin’ around your place last night. Saw ’em from down the alley, jigglin’ door handles and such.” The butcher shrugged. “Thought you’d wanna know.”
He did. “The McCready kids?”
“Ain’t sure who they belong to, but they had the look of trouble. Older one, especially. Seen him skulkin’ about the town a few other nights too.”
Bo nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out. Thanks.”
Again, the man’s gaze flicked to the sling. “You hurt bad?”
“It’ll heal.” He wouldn’t tell Sal he might never use the injured hand again. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Miss Guthrie and I both have work to do.”
“All right then.” Harper waved and meandered off.
Once he was out of sight, Bo found Leah hiding inside the doorway.
She turned an apologetic expression his way. “I’m sorry. I know he’s your friend, but I never have liked him much.”
“After the other night, I got issues with him myself.”
“You’re not upset with me?” Hope permeated her expression.
“No.” He tugged her into his arms.
He bent again to kiss her, but the sudden distant clang of hammer against anvil drew him up short. “What on earth?” Bo strained to hear.
“What’s wrong?”
A second clang, then more.
“Red shouldn’t be hammering on anything yet. The forge hasn’t had time to get hot.”
Leah’s eyes widened, and they both scrambled outside and toward the front of the smithy. As they rounded the last corner and stepped into the building, Red tussled near the anvil with Burl McCready.
“Give it, you big oaf!” Red swiped the air, grabbing at one of Bo’s many hammers clenched in the bigger boy’s fist.
Bo charged into the smithy and rammed into the McCready boy’s back. Burl slumped over the anvil, and Bo lodged the elbow of his injured hand against the boy’s back. Lightning bolts coursed through his forearm and hand, but he gritted his teeth to fend them off.
“What’re you doing here, kid?” He jerked the hammer from Burl’s fist and handed it off to Red.
“Let me go!” Burl squirmed, his writhing further jostling Bo’s hand.
He leaned harder, pinning Burl more soundly. “Not until you state your business.”
Burl’s answer was a stream of foul words unfit for polite company.
“Let my brother go!” The squeakier voice came from behind him, and he turned as Leah snatched Jess McCready up by his arms.
While she struggled to hold the rambunctious boy, Bo dragged Burl toward Leah.
“Sit!” He swept Burl’s legs out from under him, forcing the young man onto his rump. Bo turned on Jess. “Sit, you little imp, or I’ll make you.”
Jess plummeted to the floor of his own accord but punctuated the action with his brother’s curses.
When the boy’s foul mouth didn’t stop, Bo hauled the kid from the floor by one arm. The action silenced the ruffian.
“There’s a lady present. Watch your mouth or I’ll knock some manners into you.” Bo gave him a single rough shake. “Understand?”
Jess tried to squirm free, to no avail.
Turning, he kicked Burl’s boot. “And you ought to be ashamed, teaching your little brother such words.”
The elder boy only glared.
“I hate you!” the younger brat squealed.
“After you broke my window, I’m not real fond of you either.” He released the boy, and Jess tumbled backward with a thump. “Sit, and don’t move.”
“Red?” Bo worked not to show how much his hand throbbed. “What’re these two doin’ in my smithy?”
A slight hesitation preceded Red’s answer. “They saw me setting up for the day and came to chat.”
“That all?”
“No, sir. Two things. One … when I wouldn’t leave with ’em, Burl started calling me names and throwing your tools. I tried to stop him, but, well, you saw.”
“And two?”
Red glared in Burl’s direction. “Think I’d rather be called Ethan, not Red.”
“Yes, sir, Ethan.” He turned back to the McCreadys. “Where’s your uncle?”
Both sat in sullen silence.
“Fine then. Leah, need you to drive us on over to Sheriff Yeldin’s office. It’s about time we all had a chat.”
Chapter 10
It was far later than usual when Leah arrived to collect Ethan and—she hoped—Bo. She stopped the wagon near the wide doorway and swung down. Inside, Ethan stood at the forge, Bo nowhere in sight.
She hurried in. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
Ethan turned and brought a finger to his lips. “Shhh.”
Leah crossed to him. “Why?” she whispered.
Her brother motioned toward the door. Beside the opening, Bo sat at a small desk, chair pushed back as he rested his head on his good arm. His injured hand rested on a stack of folded rags.
“He fell asleep about twenty minutes ago while I shut down the forge.”
Leah couldn’t help her amusement, though concern tempered her mirth. Bo hadn’t admitted it, but she’d caught a hint of pain in his eyes at the sheriff’s office earlier. “Did he rest today?”
“He sat with his hand propped up.” Ethan indicated a chair near the anvil.
Leah envisioned Bo straddling the seat with his elbow resting on the top rung of the chair’s back as he guided her brother’s efforts at the anvil.
“He told Doc Bates his hand hurt a bunch.”
“Doc came by?” Hopefully he’d not mentioned about her visit to his office, requesting he see their patient.
“Yeah. He changed Bo’s bandages and said he’s healing all right then helped Bo put on the new splint.”
“It’s done?” She hurried to see. The clunky wooden piece was gone. In its place, four small-gauge iron rods traced the bone structure in Bo’s hand. Each curled around Bo’s fingertips, down the back of his hand, and ended at the middle of his forearm. They’d been driven through several larger-gauge cross-pieces, which held them in alignment, and it was secured to his hand with strips of soft buckskin.
She returned to Ethan. “You made that?” she whispered.
“Bo measured everything, marked the holes.” He shrugged. “Even used his left hand to show me how hard to strike with the hammer.”
“But you got it done. I’m so proud of you. How long did it take?”
“We finished about midday then started on another project.”
“Are you about done tonight? I’m hoping dinner will be ready when we get home.”
“Let me finish shutting down the forge.”
He continued his task, and Leah drank in the sigh
t of her rapscallion brother taking pride in his work.
Lord, thank You—a thousand times over.
She went to Bo’s side and touched his shoulder. “Bo?”
After a second call, his eyelids fluttered open and his tired gaze fell on her. “I could get used to waking up to you.”
Oh my. Heat cascaded through her, and she pretended she’d not heard.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
Bo sat up and mopped his face. “How long was I asleep?”
“Ethan said about twenty minutes. I hear Doc stopped by?”
“Yeah. Says my hand’s healing good.”
“Is it hurting?”
“Aching something fierce.”
“Isn’t the laudanum Doc gave you helping?”
“Didn’t take any until a bit ago. A blacksmith shop ain’t the place to be when your mind’s dull. People get hurt that way.”
Leah folded her arms. “Bowdrie Allen, I don’t appreciate being lied to. At breakfast, you said you were well enough to come to the shop—and you promised to rest. If you were hurting that much, you didn’t need to be here.”
His jaw popping, he stood. “Woman, I didn’t lie. The pain was mild until Burl McCready required my attention. And I didn’t work. I sat. Ask your brother.”
“He’s told me. But was anything you did today so all-fired important that you suffered hours of pain for it?”
“I happen to think it was.” He lifted his splinted hand.
Her ire sparked. “Ethan says you were done with that around noon. Was your next project so necessary that it couldn’t wait?”
Bo stepped nearer, hazel eyes storming. “I don’t know. It felt plumb important to me, but you decide. Your brother was building a pair of leg braces to help your sister get around.”
Leg braces? All the air left her in a whoosh, as if she’d been gut-punched. With it, her anger fled as well.
“You told her?” Ethan yelped from across the shop. “You made me promise I wouldn’t say—”
“Hush, now!” Bo growled. “Finish shutting down that forge.”
Leah couldn’t look away from the man before her.
“You were helping Mae?” Her voice nearly squeaked.
“Trying.” Bo gave a curt nod. “After I hurt my hand, I asked Doc what could make Mae better. He said leg braces.” Another brief pause. “Now … in your estimation, is that worthy enough to endure some pain to get it done?”
Blacksmith Brides Page 33