Blacksmith Brides

by Amanda Barratt

  “Somebody once told me that if things aren’t working to try a different approach.”

  “Wise advice.” Reese grinned.

  “Maybe if I’m hoping to change, I need to quit running every time things get difficult.”

  “That’s a shrewd assessment. Who told you that—about a different approach?”

  “Leah.”

  Reese gave him a hard look. “You’re convinced things are dead with her?”

  Bo removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “I asked her what I could do to fix things, and she said I couldn’t.” Tugging the hat back in place, he stared down the hill into town. “Feels pretty convincing to me.”

  “But since she said that, you risked your life to save her brother’s. Don’t you think that might change something?”

  “I didn’t pull Ethan out so’s I could win his sister’s heart back.” He nudged Diego down the hill toward town.

  Reese drew alongside. “I didn’t think you did. In fact, the way you speak of them, I’d say you’ve grown sweet on the whole family.”

  So true, but that had gotten him nothing but an aching, empty heart.

  Lord, how do I stay in town if there’s no chance with Leah and her kin?

  As they rode between the first buildings, people’s quiet conversations waned, and they slowed to watch them pass. Even a man driving a heavily loaded wagon in the opposite direction turned to look as he passed. He and Reese exchanged glances as the uncomfortable tightness he’d experienced in the church settled in his chest again.

  Bo tugged his hat low over his eyes. “Figured I’d be the talk of the town, but this is worse than I expected,” he grumbled under his breath.

  A block down, a young man with a dirt-streaked face and filthy clothes stepped off the boardwalk toward them. “Mr. Allen?”

  Both he and Reese slowed.

  “There’s a whole lot of people looking for you, sir.”

  Looking—for him? “Why’s that, kid?”

  His eyes widened. “You been missing since the fire. Sheriff Yeldin’s had people out searching for you.”

  “That explains the stares,” Reese whispered.

  He glanced around the street again then nodded to the young man. “Thank you. I’ll visit him directly.”

  When they drew up outside Yeldin’s office minutes later, the sheriff burst out, scowling.

  “Where in thunderation have you two been for the past four days?”

  He and Reese looked at each other. “Grass Valley,” they answered in unison.

  Utter consternation crossed the lawman’s face. “Get in my office.”

  They dismounted and entered, Bo feeling like a chastised pup.

  “You couldn’t have said something before you left—tell someone where you were going? Instead, you watch your place burn then decide to ride to Grass Valley on a whim?” He stabbed a finger in Reese’s direction. “And you. What married man tells his wife he’s leaving but doesn’t say where he’ll be or when he’s returning?”

  Bo’s hackles rose. “Leave Reese out of this. He told Katie we needed time to work through some things, and she trusted him enough to let him go without further explanation. Aside from that, I didn’t know I needed to explain myself. My comings and goings have never concerned anyone before.”

  “Your place never burned before either. Folks have been concerned, and as your friend, I’m chief among ’em. Are you all right?”

  He ducked his head. “Reckon so, for having lost everything. And … I’m sorry, Yeldin. I didn’t know my leaving would cause anyone worry.”

  “Didn’t know—I think you need to see something. C’mon.” He motioned them through the door but stopped. “Jess McCready, where are you?”

  Bo’s ears perked at the name. “Those boys makin’ trouble again?”

  Yeldin pulled the door closed. “I don’t know whether to tell you this or not.”

  “Tell me what?”

  He spoke in a confidential tone. “Leah, Hope, and Sal Harper all saw Burl McCready start that fire.”

  His insides turned cold. “Tell me you caught that little—”

  “Sean and Burl McCready have disappeared. They made a hasty getaway, if their shack at the McCready claim is any indication. I got a posse hunting Burl, but so far, he hasn’t turned up. I’ve only got Jess, and between what Hope, Leah, and the boy himself have said, I don’t think he lifted a finger in helping that good-for-nothing brother of his burn your place. In fact, I think his brother, and maybe his uncle, forced him to be an unwilling accomplice in a lot of things. But that kid doesn’t have the same temperament as the older McCready men.”

  Bo nodded thoughtfully. “Will you let me talk to him?”

  “Not if you’re gonna pounce on him. He’s a frightened little boy.”

  “Blast it all, Yeldin, I’ve been that frightened little boy. I ain’t gonna pounce.”

  Yeldin hesitated then pushed the door open. “I’m trusting you, Bo.”

  Inside, Bo scanned the room. The only place anyone might hide was under Yeldin’s desk, so he headed to it. Pulling the chair out, he sat and settled his elbows on his knees. There, Jess McCready peered out, face as pale as his white-blond hair.

  “Come on out, boy, so we can talk.”

  With his saucer-eyed gaze riveted on Bo, Jess shook his head.

  “Please?”

  Again, only a shake of the boy’s head.

  “All right. Then we’ll talk here. I understand it was your brother that lit up my place. Is that right?”

  Little Jess gulped but didn’t speak.

  “Listen here, boy. You and I have had our problems lately. The broken window, you and your brother messin’ with my tools, cursin’ in front of Miss Guthrie. But I’m thinkin’ maybe you did those things because your big brother told you to, or you were followin’ his example.”

  Jess nodded, the movement so small Bo almost missed it.

  “Three different people saw Burl set that fire, so I know it was him. Will you tell me, from your perspective, what happened?”

  The boy was silent so long, Bo figured he wouldn’t answer. Then … “Uncle Sean and Burl said we should get you back for lockin’ us in the jail. I didn’t know what they was plannin’ till after Burl stole some whiskey bottles from another miner. I kept telling him I didn’t think it was right, and I didn’t want to do it. But he said they wouldn’t lock me up on account of I was a kid. He made me go, tried to get me to throw the first bottle. When I wouldn’t, he shoved me down, set your place on fire, and ran off and left me.”

  Bo considered all Jess said. Then he said, “I believe you.”

  “You do?”

  “I do.” More importantly, he believed the boy didn’t share the same temperament as his uncle and older brother. “You make me two promises, and you and I will get along just fine.”

  The boy’s fear dissolved. “What promises?”

  “Promise me you’ll stop using those ugly words you were spoutin’ the other day. And—promise you’ll start respecting other people’s property—windows and tools and the like.”

  “I will, Mr. Allen.”

  Bo extended his left hand to the boy. “Then c’mon, kid. We’re about to take a ride.”

  Outside, the men mounted, and Yeldin pulled Jess up behind him then led the way to Bo’s property.

  Chapter 15

  With Ethan sleeping and her sisters catching a breath of fresh air, Leah curled in the corner chair. She balanced Mrs. Bates’s copy of Pride and Prejudice on her lap, yet every time she tried to delve into the opening line of the story, her mind drifted to the day Mae began reading it to her. The day her blouse sleeve twined so perfectly with Bo’s Henley on the clothesline.

  That day, it all had been a sign of things she dared not dream for. Today, it was the memory that mocked her unanswered hopes.

  She closed her eyes, her last haunting memory of Bo scrolling through her mind. The fire raged, devouring his smithy. He had promis
ed to get Ethan out, and she’d stood across the way, watching, praying until men pulled a small limp form from behind the door. In that instant, she’d run to see. As she’d neared, they unwrapped a sopping blanket from around Ethan’s listless body. He was so still. So small. Horror enveloped her. Was he—?

  No! A spate of coughing overtook him. He was alive! Thanks to Bo.

  She’d huddled next to Ethan, stayed by his side until a wagon rumbled up to ferry her brother to Doc’s office. As the men loaded his battered body into the wagon bed, Leah scanned the faces, looking for her brother’s rescuer and her hero. Only she couldn’t find him. Not until they rumbled past him seated on the edge of the boardwalk. Soot-covered. Shoulders slumped. A broken man watching his life burn. How she’d wanted to go to him, to cling to him and cry, but Ethan had needed her just then. And no one knew where Bo’d gone after that.

  Surely if Bo were going to return, he’d have made contact by now. Wouldn’t he, Lord?

  “Leah?” Ethan’s sleepy voice cut into her thoughts. “I’m thirsty.”

  She moved to the straight-backed chair beside his bed and, settling the book in her lap again, tipped a glass of water to his lips. “How’s that?”

  He swallowed. “Better.” Ethan settled back into his pillow, blinking up at the ceiling. “When’s Bo gonna come?”

  She pushed his unruly red locks off his forehead. “I don’t think he’s—”

  “Leah?” Hope’s shrill call stopped her short. “Leah!” The girl skidded into view, eyes wide.

  She lurched up, book tumbling open onto the bed. “What? Is it Mae?”

  Hope shook her head as Mae hobbled into view an instant behind her.

  Thank God. Not Mae. “What is it?”

  Both girls looked at each other then faced her, and in unison, spoke.

  “Bo’s back!”

  From half a block away he could see a beehive of activity swarmed around the charred remains of his smithy.

  “What is this?” Bo stared.

  Yeldin flung a hand toward the plot of land. “Ride on up there and see.”

  As he neared the action, everything stopped, and the men approached. Among them were area ranchers, miners, business owners, and total strangers—all falling in behind Sal Harper. Once he’d dismounted, they gathered around.

  “Where you been, Bo?” Harper asked.

  Heat crept through him at the memory of Yeldin’s stern rebuke. “Rode over Grass Valley way. The sheriff tells me I worried some of you. If that’s the truth, I’m sorry.” He took a long look at the men surrounding him then at the wagons standing at intervals around his property. “What’re you all doing?”

  “What do you think?” someone from the group called. “We can’t start rebuilding until the land’s clear.”

  “Rebuilding?”

  “The town met after the fire.” A stranger spoke. “By and large, the men agreed we’d work in teams to clear the debris.”

  Another man, a customer he’d had a few angry words with just after he’d opened shop spoke up. “We’ll rebuild your house first, then the smithy, so you can get back to work once your hand’s healed enough.”

  “We’re putting any tools and supplies over here as we find ’em, Mr. Allen.” The young man who’d stopped them on the street pointed to a collection of boxes and crates. “Figured you’d want to go through ’em, see if anything’s salvageable.”

  His lungs would only half fill. “I don’t understand. Why’re y’all doing this when I’ve been so—?”

  “It’s the neighborly thing,” one of the older men said. “That, and a bunch of us realized after church on Sunday that we ain’t done the best job reaching out to you. We’ll be changing that.”

  Bo rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. They were extending him kindness, even friendship, in spite of everything. “Thank you. Truly.” He looked around at the lot of them. “I wasn’t expecting any of this.”

  “We wouldn’t’ve done it if you were expecting it,” someone called from the back of the bunch, and a laugh rippled through the group.

  Reese sidled up and gave him a shove. “Does this help you answer that question I asked you?”

  Rather than address his brother directly, he offered a lopsided grin to the group. “Reckon I oughta introduce my brother, Reese. He and his wife and daughters are planning to settle here.”

  “Brother?” Sal Harper pinned him with a questioning glance. “Thought you didn’t have kin.”

  “I didn’t either, but I got proved wrong. I’ll have to tell you about it sometime.”

  “Will you tell me about it now?”

  Leah. Heart thudding, Bo turned.

  She stood a short distance off, breathing as if she’d run a mile.

  Lord, please—if there’s any way we might rebuild the trust I broke …

  “Reckon our break is over, men,” Harper called. “Let’s go. We’re burnin’ daylight.”

  She approached him almost timidly as the men filtered back to work. “You and your brother are speaking?”

  “More than.” He crammed his left hand into his pocket. “We’re healing.”

  For a moment, they faced each other. Then Leah launched herself into his arms. He caught her, pulled her close, and held on as if his entire life depended on it.

  Lord, please. Reese said You’d help me overcome my anger if I asked. I’m not asking. I’m begging. I don’t ever want to hurt those I love because of my anger again. Especially Leah. Show me how to change.

  She drew back all too soon for his taste, “I’m so happy for you both. I’d like to hear all about it, if you’re willing to share.”

  “There’s a whole lot I need to share with you. I don’t even know where to start.”

  “There much I need to say too, but—Ethan’s begging to see you. Would you come to Doc’s office and look in on him?”

  “Are Mae and Hope there too?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I paid the Grass Valley blacksmith to finish Mae’s leg braces, fix the damage I caused.” He patted the oddly shaped bedroll tied behind his saddle. “I thought everyone might want to be there when she gets ’em.”

  “They weren’t destroyed in the fire?”

  “Like I said—I got a lot to share. And if you think Ethan’s up to it, I’d like Reese and his family to come by and meet you all too.”

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  We’re gonna be late,” Ethan griped.

  “Usually you’re fussin’ at us to hurry up.” Jess McCready flopped on his bed in the corner.

  Bo rinsed his face and chest then grabbed the towel to dry. The boys were dressed in nice shirts, their hair combed. Ready to go, except—

  “Jess. Find a pair of pants that don’t have a hole in the knee.”

  “Sorry.” Cheeks flushing, he dug into the trunk at the foot of his bed.

  Ethan loosed a frustrated growl. “C’mon. It’s Leah’s birthday.”

  “We won’t be late.” Bo dried himself off. “I sent you both in to clean up a full twenty minutes before I closed up shop, just to keep us on time.”

  He replaced the towel and combed his hair then pulled on a red shirt. As he fastened the buttons, he flexed his right hand. The wounds had healed, and he’d kept use of the appendage, though his hand was still stiff and clumsy at times. Thankfully, he’d taught himself to do some blacksmithing skills left-handed as he’d healed.

  Bo tucked in his shirttails. “One of you dump the dirty wash water, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Both flew past him, laughing and shoving.

  “Careful, now! No messes.” Last thing they needed was to slosh water down their good clothes or across the floor.

  In the instant Ethan jerked the door open and Jess flung the water out, both boys went ramrod stiff.

  “What is the meaning of this?” an unfamiliar voice boomed.

  Bo hurried to the door. Outside stood a stately gentleman in a fine suit, now dripping from
chest to knees. Ire sparked in the man’s expression.

  “I am so sorry.” Bo fought to stifle his laughter. He reached for a clean towel hanging on the washstand then handed it to the man. “I assure you, that was an accident.”

  Fuming, the man snatched the towel, patted his face dry, then rubbed at his flabby midsection. His eyes widened, and he withdrew a pocket watch and held it to his ear.

  “That little brat ruined my watch.”

  “I’m sorry.” Bo spoke the words deliberately. “The boys didn’t realize anyone would be there. Now, may I help you?”

  “Are you Allen Bowdrie, the blacksmith?” He continued to rub at the water.

  “I’m the blacksmith, yes.” It wasn’t worth correcting him, given the circumstances. “What can I do for you?”

  “I have need of your services. Immediately.”

  “Tonight?”

  “That is the meaning of immediately, isn’t it? Without delay … at once.”

  “Reckon it is, Mr.—”

  “Richard Shenley, hotelier.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Shenley, I’m about to be late for an important evening appointment.”

  “I doubt whatever you’re doing is that important.”

  Irritation skittered down his spine. “Come back tomorrow, and I might be able to accommodate your needs on an immediate basis. But it’ll cost double my going rates.”

  “Double—” He tapped his foot. “That’s robbery.”

  “No, sir. That’s standard.”

  The man looked first at Ethan then Jess. “Are these your children?”

  Bo looped his arms around the boys’ shoulders. “They’re kin. What of ’em?”

  “The little one ruined a very expensive timepiece when he doused me with water. If you don’t want to be sued for the cost of its replacement, then I expect you’ll reopen your shop and take care of this work for me. Tonight.”

  The old familiar stir of anger began in Bo’s belly. “You expect that, do you?”

  “I demand it.”

  “Demand?” The urge to plant his fist in the man’s nose bubbled to the surface.

  “That is what I said.”

  Both boys stiffened as Bo pushed past them.