Throat knotting, Leah clamped a hand over her mouth and nodded.
“Good.” His voice softened. “Seems it is possible to win an argument with you now and then.” He pulled her into his grip, and she buried her face against him, overcome with the gesture.
Besides Doc Bates, no man had shown any inclination to help sweet Mae—until Bo. It was the kindest, most considerate thing anyone had ever done for her family.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve trusted you. You know your own limits.”
“Yes, I do. But given time, I might could get used to a domineering fussbudget of a woman looking after me.”
Leah gave him a playful shove. “You’re incorrigible.”
With a laugh, he motioned her toward the chair as he leaned against the desk. However, with the growling of her stomach, she realized how late it must be. “We need to get home. I wasn’t sure whether to assume you were returning with us.”
He offered a tired smile. “I appreciate the hospitality, but I don’t want anyone saying I’ve sullied your reputation. Besides, Sheriff Yeldin turned the McCready boys over to their uncle earlier today. I don’t trust ’em.”
“I don’t like the idea of you staying alone tonight, but I appreciate you wanting to protect my honor.”
It took a moment for Bo to speak. “Ethan looks mighty irked that I told you about Mae’s braces.”
She turned to find Ethan glowering in their direction. “Oh, yes, he does. I’ll talk to him.”
“No. Leave him here with me. Reckon that’ll ease your mind some, and it’ll give me time to smooth things over with him.”
A smile sprouted. “That’s a fine idea.” Tomorrow was Sunday. She’d bring Ethan’s go-to-meeting clothes in the morning, and hopefully, she’d convince Bo to attend service as well.
“You want me to go to church with you?”
Through the haze of laudanum, Bo looked at Leah across the threshold. It was far too early for the swirl of anxiousness that settled in his belly.
“Yes.” She fluttered her eyelashes his way. “Didn’t you tell me before that you believe in God, Bo?”
“Ma taught me about Him.” He did believe, and he’d been praying more regular since he’d met Leah. But he’d not set foot in a church since his mother died.
“Then come with us.” Again, she employed the fluttering eyelashes.
He grasped for any logical reason to say no.
“They’re having a picnic dinner after service, Bo.” Ethan poured two cups of coffee from the pot on the stove.
“He’s right.” Leah smiled. “It’s always enjoyable when they do dinner on the grounds.”
Maybe for someone who liked people. But he’d spent his adult life avoiding them. The thought of facing the judgmental stares of Elverton’s residents in such a public place set his heart to pounding.
“I don’t know, Leah. Let me think on it.”
Disappointment glinted in her eyes, but she nodded. “Don’t think too long. Service starts in an hour.” She turned toward the smithy where her horse and wagon were parked.
He shut the door to find Ethan holding out a coffee cup to him. “You look like you could use this.”
He received it silently and sipped it, hoping to clear the cobwebs.
“Services don’t last too long,” Ethan explained as he washed up. They sing a couple songs, and Reverend Danby preaches. That’s all.”
“I don’t know, kid.” He took another drink. “Think I might just stay and rest.”
Ethan exchanged the washrag for the towel and dried his face. “C’mon, Bo. Please? You have to—”
“Why on earth do I have to?”
He replaced the towel and gave his fiery hair a couple quick swipes with Bo’s comb, then turned toward the bed where the clothes Leah brought waited. “It’d mean a lot to me if you did.” Ethan slipped into his tan shirt. “And don’t forget. My sisters are just outside. I guarantee they’re plotting how to convince you.”
Bo puffed out his cheeks with a frustrated breath. After a long silence, he finally shook his head. “Fine.” His stomach knotted. “I’ll come to the service, but no promises I’ll stay for the picnic.”
“Deal.”
Chapter 11
Breathe, Bo,” Leah whispered as they stood beside the wagon. Most parishioners had already gone inside, including Mae, Hope, and Ethan. Fewer to witness the near-panic in Bo’s eyes. “You’ll know a lot of these people.”
He fiddled with the sling, as if it choked him. “That’s what’s worrisome.”
“They’re good people.”
He drew a deep breath and blew it out. “Like I told you, folks in this town see me as an ill-tempered, stubborn cuss.”
“Since when did you start caring what people thought?”
“Since I met you.”
The whispered statement brought a knot of emotion to her throat.
Please, Father, give me something to calm him down. And please let the church be welcoming.
“Blast it all. They’re probably staring out, wondering why a man like me is about to darken the church door.”
She swallowed around the knot. “Some may think that. They’ll be the very same ones who gush over Mae to her face, only to gossip behind our backs. What do they matter, Bo? They won’t change my opinion of you.”
The words seemed to calm him some.
“Also, no one inside that building is perfect, so don’t think you’re unwelcome here because you’ve had hardships in your life. This is God’s house, and He welcomes everyone.”
He closed his eyes and breathed deep. His clenched jaw loosened, and his shoulders slowly uncoiled. “Thank you. That helps some.”
Leah smiled, captivated by his eyes. Perhaps it was the deep green of his shirt, or maybe the bright sun at just the right angle, but … Lord, I might never tire of looking at this man. She threaded her arm through his, praying he wouldn’t reject the small intimacy. When he didn’t, she leaned close. “Shall we?”
With his solemn nod, they walked toward the entrance. As they neared, Tom and Grace Peterson approached.
“Leah.” Mrs. Peterson met her at the staircase with a hug. “We haven’t seen you since your wagon broke down. How have you been?”
“Very well, thank you.” She nodded to Mr. Peterson, who gave her a fatherly peck on the cheek.
“I believe you both know Bowdrie Allen?” At their nods, she turned to Bo. “The Petersons are my nearest neighbors. They were the ones who gave me a ride home the day I first came to your shop.”
Recalling Tom Peterson’s warnings about Bo, Leah whispered a quick prayer.
“Allen.” A smile lit Mr. Peterson’s grizzled face. “Glad you’re joinin’ us.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Mr. Peterson continued. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but—” He nodded toward the sling. “You break it?”
Bo cleared his throat. “Cut it six ways to Sunday.”
Tom Peterson cringed in sympathy.
“It’ll be a couple months before it’s healed.”
“What about work?” Mrs. Peterson asked.
“Leah’s brother’s working in the smithy now, so I’m not shut down completely.”
“Ethan’s working for you. That’s good.” He shot an approving glance Leah’s way. “That brother of yours’ll learn a heap more practical skills working in a smithy than filling orders in a mercantile.”
Leah gave Bo’s arm a squeeze. “I agree. I’m forever grateful Bo hired him.”
Mr. Peterson unbuttoned his shirtsleeve and pushed it up. “See that scar?” He indicated a jagged line from elbow to wrist where the muscle was misshapen. When Bo nodded, the grizzled man turned up the stairs and motioned Bo to walk with him.
“Gored by a bull. Oh, it was nasty—and the pain? Hurt like the dickens.”
At the top step, the men disappeared inside.
“Well, now.” Mrs. Peterson looped her arm in Leah’s, her tone low and conspiratorial. “I’
ve been praying off and on for three years for Mr. Bowdrie Allen. Maybe, my dear, you are the answer to those prayers.”
Tom Peterson led Bo to several of the men prior to the start of service, among them Doc Bates, Sheriff Yeldin, and a few of Bo’s past customers. Each had been friendly and welcoming, though a few of the nearby women had met him with icy frowns, looking none too pleased at his attendance. With them, Bo reminded himself Leah said her opinion wouldn’t change.
God, I hope it never does. Having Leah and her kin in my life feels like a steady rain on dry, cracked earth—even if she did rope him into uncomfortable situations like going to dinner or attending church.
Or baring his soul.
When Reverend Isaiah Danby called the service to order, Bo took his place beside Leah on the bench at the back of the room.
He leaned close. “Hope you ain’t sittin’ back here because of me.”
She shook her head. “The reverend keeps that chair there for Mae.” She indicated a wooden armchair with padded back and seat, placed in the center of the wall between two benches. “From there, she can see the podium whether people are sitting or standing. And it’s easier for her to get in and out of the building.”
Getting out quicker suited him fine.
The service began with prayer and singing. After several verses of “The Old Rugged Cross,” which Bo knew none of the words to, Danby asked everyone to turn to Psalm Thirty-Two. Ethan passed a thick book to Leah, who flipped to the middle. When a weight settled on his left thigh, he found Leah’s book resting halfway on his lap. She smiled at him.
“Let them read it.” He nodded toward the younger Guthries.
“We have this Psalm memorized.” She nudged the book toward him, as if expecting him to take it.
He reluctantly did, though he put all of his attention on Danby’s reading.
Apparently following along, Leah reached over and turned the page, drawing his focus back to the book. When she tapped the upper left corner and smiled, her gaze expectant, Bo enveloped her hand with his own.
“Stop.” He hissed the whispered word.
Eyes clouding, she matched his tone. “What’s wrong?”
Shame spread in him like a tree’s roots. His chest tightened. Teeth clenched, he whispered again. “I can’t read.”
Eyes wide, she pulled back. “Oh Bo …”
He glared. He could imagine what she was thinking. An illiterate failure. A stupid blacksmith. Too dumb for anything more noble. Bo set his jaw and faced front, shaking.
A moment passed before she leaned nearer, but Bo shifted away with a discreet shake of his head. He swore silently. Thankfully, their whispered exchanges hadn’t attracted attention. Still, his heart pounded and the blasted sling felt as if it might choke him. He tugged at it and tried to inhale, only his lungs wouldn’t fill.
When next she made an advance, she reached for his hand—twining her fingers between his. He brushed away her touch, gripping the bench instead.
If only he’d insisted he stay home. He’d still be in his bed.
Leah discreetly slid the book from his lap and closed the cover.
That was it. He could take no more. Rocking to his feet, Bo slipped into the vestibule but stopped short at the unexpected sight of a family of four—husband, wife, and two daughters—in the space.
“Pardon,” he mumbled then snatched his Stetson from its peg and slipped outside.
Bo flew down the steps. He gulped several breaths and pulled at the sling. At Leah’s wagon, he extracted his injured arm from the offending material then crammed his hat on and turned toward the street.
“Excuse me,” a male voice called softly.
The man from the vestibule descended the steps, his raven-haired wife and two girls following.
“You wouldn’t be the town’s blacksmith, would you?”
Stress rooted him to the spot. “I would.”
The man glanced at his family with an odd expression then faced Bo again. “Is your name Bowdrie Charles Allen?”
If his chest had eased even a little, it tightened again. “What if it is?”
The other man hung his head, a sad smile on his lips. “Then I’d say I’m glad I’ve found you.”
Irritation blanketed him. “Mister, you got something to say, spit it out. What’s your business with me?”
“Bo.” The man’s voice grew thick. “It’s Reese.”
His insides turned cold. “Reese …”
“Your brother?” He stepped closer, brows arched as if willing him to remember.
“I know who you are.”
“I’ve been looking for you for eighteen years.”
“Have you now?” Doubtful.
“I went back to Texas, but I was told the Coopers had moved. I didn’t know where to find you. But ask Katie.” He nodded to the dark-haired woman standing at the base of the steps. “I’ve never stopped looking.”
Seeing Leah on the steps, he shook his head. “Is this why you wanted me to come to church? So you could spring this on me?”
Confusion etched her features. “Spring what? I don’t know what you mean. Who is this?”
“Bo.” Reese stepped nearer and lowered his voice. “I stopped by the blacksmith shop several times, but it was closed. Someone said you’d hurt your hand and wouldn’t be back until next week. But today we happened to pass each other in the church.” Reese settled a hand on Bo’s shoulder. “God wanted us to find each other.”
Fast as lightning, Bo grabbed his brother’s suitcoat and hauled him nose to nose, knocking his own hat off in the process. “You’re so proud of yourself, aren’t you?”
Eyes wide, Reese gripped Bo’s wrist, and Bo settled the back of his splinted hand against Reese’s chest.
“Bo, don’t hit him!” Leah shrieked.
Both little girls started crying.
“I don’t claim to know God very well, brother, but I’m betting He would say it’s wrong to sell your kin in the first place. Especially to the likes of Coop.”
“What do you mea—”
Bo slammed his skull hard into Reese’s face, dropping his elder brother to the ground.
“Don’t come near me again. I got nothing for you!”
Head buzzing, he scooped his hat from the dirt and stalked toward the street.
Chapter 12
Horror blanketed Leah as she stared at the downed man, the same one she’d seen outside Mrs. Casselroy’s boardinghouse days earlier. Why in heaven’s name had Bo attacked a man in front of his family? Had he been so angered by her mistake in the service he’d taken it out on a perfect stranger?
His wife and daughters rushed to his side.
“Please,” the woman pleaded. “Is there a doctor in this town?”
“No.” The man pawed the air, his hand settling on his wife’s shoulder. He attempted to sit up. “I’m all right.”
Only he toppled back into the dirt, blood soaking his beard and mustache.
Leah raced into the church and, rounding the vestibule wall, pinned Reverend Danby with a wide-eyed look. The preacher stopped.
“I’m sorry, Reverend.” She faced the direction of the Bates family. “Doc, you’re needed outside, please. Quickly.”
Doc lunged up, medical bag in hand, Mrs. Bates with him. Leah hurried to rejoin the family.
“Doc will be here momentarily.”
The door creaked open, but it was Ethan, not Doc, who exited. Following him, a couple others spilled outside, staring.
Her brother bounded down the stairs, but before he could insert himself into the scene, she pointed him toward the wagon. “Stay out of the way. Stand over there.”
“Where’s Bo?” he asked.
Leah’s stomach knotted. She must find him, but first—attend to the emergency. “He headed that way.” She waved toward the smithy. “Now, sit.”
“Make way!” Doc bellowed as he descended the stairs.
The crowd spilled down the steps like cascading water and surrounded t
he scene. Doc found a clear path to the man’s side and stripped off his coat to use as a pillow. “Do you know where you are, sir?”
From his place on the ground, the man blinked. “Elverton.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “California.”
Doc produced a handkerchief and pressed it against the injured man’s nostrils. “Hold this under your nose.” The fellow did as instructed. “Do you know what day it is?”
“Sunday.”
The doctor lifted the gentleman’s right eyelid then his left, taking a long look at each eye. “What’s your name, friend?”
“Reese Allen.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Leah’s heart stuttered.
“Bo’s brother.” Her stomach clenched so tight it hurt. This was the man who’d sold Bo into servitude to Coop….
The dark-haired woman approached her. “I’m Katie Allen. Are you Bo’s wife?”
Leah shook her head.
“His intended then?”
Mind spinning, Leah backed up. “Excuse me. I need to find him.”
She turned to tell Ethan where she was going, but the boy was gone.
“Please, wait.” Katie touched her arm.
On the street, Ethan darted out of view, headed toward the smithy at a full run.
“I have to go.” Leah stalked away.
Reaching the street, she turned toward Bo’s smithy.
Lord, please help. I need You.
They were the only words that would come as she grappled with all that had transpired. How had she not thought—or realized—that Bo couldn’t read? As she’d looked around his modest home, there’d not been a single book. He drew pictures, but she’d not seen him write. If Coop were half as cruel as Bo described, it made sense he’d not have educated Bo.
Her cheeks burned again at the memory of his expression painted with anger, hurt, and betrayal.
Lord, help.
She’d wounded him. Unintentionally, but she had.
But he’d hurt her too. Rejecting her attempts to soothe his raw feelings. Charging from the service and leaving her to look the fool. Far worse, he’d run into his brother, a man who’d truly betrayed him, and he accused her of orchestrating the run-in.
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