An Accidental Husband

Eliza Kelly thought her humiliation was complete when she identified the wrong train passenger as her mail-order groom. She was only trying to tell Jackson Hart that the madcap scheme was not her idea. But now that the stormy-eyed blacksmith has decided to stay, rumors are flying. And Jackson does the gallant thing—he offers the lovely widow a marriage of convenience.

Though he came to New Mexico to find his father, Jackson wonders if Eliza’s mistake was his good fortune. Between caring for an orphaned youngster and protecting Eliza, Jackson feels whole again. If only he can persuade Eliza to marry him, her reputation will be saved...and so will their long-buried dreams of forging a real family.

Jackson had never asked a woman to marry him before. Come to think of it, he really hadn’t asked her. He’d simply made a statement.

From the shocked look on her face, Eliza hadn’t expected the suggestion, either. After several moments of silence, he wondered if Eliza Kelly had been turned speechless.

“Get married? You and me? Why?” She sputtered the words. “What would motivate you to ask me to marry you? Well, you really didn’t ask, you suggested. But still, why?”

His lips twitched. So much for speechless. “Yes, get married and yes, you and me.”

Again she asked, “Why?”

Jackson sat down on the porch and patted the wood beside him. When she sat, he turned to her. “Look, I know what the ladies are saying. I’ve put your reputation in danger and I want to make things right.”

She offered him a smile. “Look, Jackson. I’m sure your heart is in the right place, but I can’t be a good wife to you.”

RHONDA GIBSON

lives in New Mexico with her husband, James. She has two children and two beautiful grandchildren. Reading is something she has enjoyed her whole life, and writing stemmed from that love. When she isn’t writing or reading, she enjoys gardening, beading and playing with her dog, Sheba. You can visit her at www.rhondagibson.net, where she enjoys chatting with readers and friends online. Rhonda hopes her writing will entertain, encourage and bring others closer to God.

Groom by Arrangement

Rhonda Gibson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Behold, the former things are come to pass,

and new things do I declare.

—Isaiah 42:9a

Thank you, Tamela Hancock Murray

for being my friend and my agent. You are a blessing.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Spring 1886

Durango, Colorado

Eliza Kelly’s worse fear had just been confirmed.

She couldn’t believe she was standing on the train platform waiting for a mail-order groom. One she hadn’t ordered!

With shaking fingers, Eliza opened the envelope and pulled out the slip of paper inside. Once more, her eyes scanned the letter that explained how her best friend, Hannah Young, had ordered the expected groom.

My dear friend Eliza,

I know this will come as a shock to you, but I have been writing as you to a Mr. Miles Thatcher. He posted a mail-order bride ad in the same newspaper as my own prospective groom, Mr. Westland. After reading his ad, I answered as you.

Eliza, I think you will like Mr. Thatcher. He will be arriving on the two o’clock train this afternoon.

Before you close your mind to the possibility of being a mail-order bride, know that I’ve prayed about this and feel I did the right thing in answering Mr. Thatcher’s advertisement. Granted I should have told you. For not doing so, I apologize now.

After you read his letters, you can decide if he is a man that you will enjoy spending the rest of your life with. If you decide to send him away, I promise to never do this again.

I’ll write once I get to Granite, Texas. I’m looking forward to hearing how you and Mr. Thatcher get along.

Sincerely,

Your friend Hannah

Emotions sliced through her like sharp scissors through cloth. How could Hannah do this to her? Anger at her friend’s impulsiveness demanded an answer that wasn’t forthcoming. She caught her lower lip between her teeth. What if Mr. Thatcher arrived and refused to return to wherever he came from?

She stuffed the note from Hannah back inside the envelope with Mr. Thatcher’s letters. Eliza had read them all so many times she almost had them memorized.

The two o’clock train squealed to a noisy stop. Eliza closed her eyes, said a quick prayer of deliverance and slowly counted to ten.

* * *

Jackson Hart lifted his head from the table and held it in his hands for several long seconds, waiting for the sound of grinding breaks to stop pulsating through his brain. He felt as if someone had taken a hatchet to his skull.

Keeping his eyes closed, he did a quick check of his pockets. As expected, they were empty. Whoever had taken advantage of him being alone in the train car and hit him over the head, knocking him out, had also robbed him.

“Sir, we’ve arrived in Durango.”

Jackson looked up at the porter. He rubbed the back of his head and winced. A knot the size of a goose egg pulsated against his skull, but when he pulled his fingers away there wasn’t any blood coating them. He was thankful for that and that he’d had the good sense to hide half of his money in his luggage.

He nodded to the young man and stood. “Who do I report a robbery to?”

Ten minutes later, Jackson stepped from the train. He moved off to the side of the platform and tried to ignore the sounds around him as he waited for his bag. It seemed to take forever before the porter lugged his belongings toward him. Taking pity on the young man, Jackson met him halfway and picked up the luggage. It held a few of his favorite tools, clothes and his Bible. Not to mention half the money he’d planned to use to get started in Silverton, Colorado. Again Jackson thanked the Lord that it hadn’t been with him at the time of the robbery.

“Sorry for the delay, Mr. Hart. I stopped and reported what happened to you to Special Agent Wilson. He says to assure you he will be looking out for future passengers and if the thief is caught, he’ll make sure you are notified.”

Jackson nodded. The action cost him as pain sliced through his skull. The porter hurried away and disappeared from sight. He closed his eyes to narrow slits, trying to shut out the piercing sun and willing the pain to subside. He’d planned to rest a couple of nights in Durango before traveling the fifty miles to Silverton. Now he didn’t have enough funds for the train and would have to secure employment of some kind here until he could move on. Jackson sighed. His search for his father would have to wait a little longer.

“Oh, Mr. Thatcher!”

Jackson cracked his eyes and looked to where the high-pitched call came from. He envied Mr. Thatcher as the lovely woman hurried toward him. A wisp of brown hair escaped from her hat; her brown eyes shone but didn’t match the smile on her lips. She was waving as if afraid Mr. Thatcher wouldn’t notice her. Jackson turned to see who she was frantically waving at.

Seeing no one, Jackson turned back around to find her standing directly in front of him. The silly bluebird on her hat bobbed just below his chin. He tilted his head and looked into her coffee-colored eyes. The woman slipped to the side of him and tucked her arm in his. She began to pull him down the dirt street.

Was the woman insane? What did she think she was doing? Jackson felt like digging his boots into the dirt, but he’d already noticed the attention she was getting from bystanders. His temples throbbed; maybe it would be better to let her get wherever they were going and then tell her she’d made a mistake.

“Come along, Mr. Thatcher. I am Eliza Kelly. I am a little tired and would really like to get back to the boardinghouse and get this situation taken care of, immediately. I know none of this is your fault, but I am exhausted because we were up so early yesterday to make the trip here from Cottonwood Springs, then this morning Hannah had to be at the train station by seven, and that’s when she told me about you. My stomach has been in knots all afternoon. At one point I thought I’d be sick. I still can’t believe Hannah would do such a thing.”

He marveled at the fact that she didn’t even take a breath as she continued walking and talking. That the woman had the courage to pull him along also amazed him. Most women took one look at his bulk and turned the other way.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I have made arrangements for you to stay at Mrs. Hattie’s boardinghouse until we can smooth out this mess. Hannah didn’t mean any harm in what she did, but well, I’m afraid she put us both in a very bad situation. You see, I am a widow.” She stopped and glanced over at him. A puzzled look crossed her pretty features before she pressed on. “But she probably wrote you that already, at least I hope she did. Anyway, I have asked Mrs. Hattie to make us a nice pot of tea so that we might discuss the situation.”

The woman talked faster than anyone he’d ever had the pleasure to meet. Her brown eyes sparkled, or maybe he was still seeing stars from the knock to the head, as she chattered on about Hannah and letters. The scent of vanilla filled his nostrils as he inhaled her fragrance.

When she took a deep breath, he decided now was the time to tell her she was mistaken, that he wasn’t Mr. Thatcher. “I...”

“Now, let’s not discuss it out here on the street.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I would hate for the town to find out that you were brought here under false pretenses. Of course, I’m sure Hannah didn’t mean for it to happen like that.” She paused and her voice returned to normal. “Well, maybe she did. Although, I want you to know that she did apologize to me and promised never to do such a thing again.”

Jackson felt as if his brains were swimming in a sea of words. Curiosity caused him to ask, “What did she do?” He noted that they’d arrived at a two-story house with blue shutters. The sign on the front lawn stated they were at Mrs. Hattie’s Boardinghouse.

Eliza reached forward and pulled the door open. Once they’d entered and she’d closed the door behind them, Eliza said, “She answered your mail-order bride advertisement. Only you didn’t know it was her—you thought it was me.”

He allowed himself to be tugged into a sitting room. The furniture was a little worn, but everything looked clean and in its rightful place. Her last words sunk in, and Jackson pulled his arm free of her. He’d not placed any mail-order bride ad and had no intention of marrying Mrs. Kelly or her friend Hannah. Just when he opened his mouth to say so she interrupted again.

“Oh, I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?” Before he could agree or disagree, she continued. “Sit right there.” She indicated a rocking chair by the front window. “And I’ll go get the tea.” Her skirts made a soft swishing sound as she hurried away.

Did the woman ever stop talking? Jackson watched her disappear down a short hallway before he eased into the chair and took a deep breath. The smells of baking bread filled the air and his stomach growled in response.

What had he gotten himself into? He was in a strange town, without enough money to make it to Silverton, with a fast-talking woman who didn’t make sense. He rested his aching head in his hands and sighed.

“It’s not that bad,” Eliza said as she reentered the room. “I know you were expecting to get married today but—”

“What?” Jackson raised his head and looked at the woman. The sudden action sent new pain through his temples, and he groaned aloud. She’d taken off the silly bird hat, and dark brown hair curled about her face. A very pretty face. He still had no intention of getting married. As soon as she settled down, Jackson planned on telling her so in the nicest way he knew how.

He’d not be ruled by another woman.

“I am sorry, Mr. Thatcher.” She continued forward with a tea serving tray extended before her. “Since I didn’t write the letters, I would think you’d understand that I can’t marry you. I know this has to be a disappointment to you.”

Jackson held up his hand to silence her incisive chatter and tell her he was far from disappointed. He was surprised when the action worked. She placed the tea set and sandwiches on the table in front of him and waited.

The calluses on his hands scratched his cheeks as he ran them over his face. He shut his eyes for a brief moment to gather his thoughts and figure out a way to break the news to her. If only his head would stop hurting.

Jackson sighed and looked her in the eyes. “You have the wrong man.”

She picked up the teakettle and opened her mouth to speak.

He quickly raised his hand again to stop the flood of words that he was sure would be forthcoming. “My name is Jackson Hart, and I’m a blacksmith headed to Silverton, Colorado. I’m not your Mr. Thatcher.”

The metal teakettle slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. Hot tea splashed his legs and boots.

Chapter Two

Eliza placed a finger against the throbbing pulse in her neck and felt the color drain from her face. Her stomach did a flopping thing, and her hands shook. For the second time today, she felt as if she were going to be sick. Her mind frantically worked to make sense of his words. If he wasn’t Mr. Miles Thatcher, then who was he?

It abruptly dawned on her that she’d dragged a complete stranger into Mrs. Hattie’s boardinghouse.

Her gaze moved to his boots and pant legs. A dark stain ran down his limbs, and liquid pooled at his feet. “I am so sorry. You must think me a complete fool.” She picked up the teapot and saw a crack across the bottom. “Oh, I’ve ruined Mrs. Hattie’s teapot, your boots and pants. What more can I ruin today?”

Hattie hurried from the kitchen, carrying a dishcloth. “Are you all right?” she asked Eliza. Her eyes swept the room and landed on Jackson and the pool of tea he now stood in.

Tears sprung to Eliza’s eyes. “I’m fine, but I’ve made quite a mess of things.” A sob tore from her lips as she covered her face to hide her shame.

His clear deep voice echoed the statement she’d said to him earlier. “It’s not that bad, Mrs. Kelly.” When she uncovered her face, he continued. “I can take the pot to the nearest blacksmith and he’ll fix it up. Boots can be wiped off and pants washed, so see? No harm done.”

Hattie patted her shoulder. “He’s right. I have another teakettle and we can clean up this spill in no time.”

No harm done? Who was he kidding? She’d dragged him from the train station and rambled on about being a mail-order bride. And to make matters worse, she had no idea where the real Mr. Thatcher was or what he looked like.

She studied the man before her. How could she have mistaken him for a scholar? He was big, taller than her by at least a foot. Large sinewy hands and brawny arms marked him as a man who was used to physical labor. Guarded cobalt-blue eyes stared back at her. Fresh flames of heat licked up her neck and into her cheeks.

Eliza jumped to her feet. “I have to find the real Mr. Thatcher. I’m so sorry to have caused this inconvenience, Mr. Hart. If you will excuse me.” Hoping she hadn’t sounded as breathless as he made her feel, she hurried from the room and scooped her hat from the kitchen table. She took a couple of deep breaths before returning to the main room.

Eliza didn’t want to face Jackson Hart again but knew she’d have to go back through the main sitting room to exit the house. She exhaled and slowly walked back the way she’d come.

Hattie was wiping up the mess, and Jackson Hart still stood where he’d been a few moments ago. A bewildered expression rested on his handsome face. He held his hat in his hands and stared down at the mess she’d made.

She hurried across the room and yanked the door open to escape. Her shoes pounded the wooden sidewalk. It wasn’t until she was halfway to the train station that Eliza and her heartbeat slowed down.

Eliza stopped and tried to picture the train station as it had appeared when she’d dragged Mr. Hart away. She closed her eyes and focused, recreating the memory in her mind. Jackson Hart had been standing beside the platform with a pained expression on his face. She’d thought he looked lost. Her gaze had scanned the train yard. Seeing no other passengers emerge from the train, she’d assumed he was Miles Thatcher.

She sighed and opened her eyes. Maybe Mr. Thatcher had changed his mind and hadn’t come. Or maybe she hadn’t waited long enough for him to have exited from the train. What if he was lost and searching for her? He could be anywhere, she thought.

“He’s probably long gone by now.”

Eliza jumped at the sound of Jackson’s voice so close to her elbow. How long had he been standing behind her? Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she turned to face him.

“You’re probably right.” The cracked teakettle dangled from his hand, and she reached for it. “I’ll take that to the blacksmith. I’m the one who broke it. I should be the one to get it fixed.”

He shook his head. “I’ll take it—I have business there, anyway.”

Nerves prickled up her arms and into her hairline. She felt as nervous as a fly trapped in a spider’s web. Only she’d created this web. No, on second thought, Hannah had. The first chance she got, Eliza intended to write her friend and tell her what a mess she’d gotten her into.

Eliza nodded and turned away from him. She decided to return to the boardinghouse. “I can’t believe the day I’ve had,” she grumbled under her breath.

“Me, either,” Jackson agreed as he turned to walk toward Main Street.

Eliza watched him leave and for a brief moment wondered what it would have been like to get to know Jackson. His wide shoulders swayed as he walked away. He was a handsome man, but handsome or not, Eliza knew he wasn’t for her. No man was. She shook the sad thought off and hurried back to the boardinghouse, praying tomorrow would be a better day.

* * *

The next morning, Eliza smoothed the quilt over her legs. She wasn’t ready to get up and face the world this morning. She’d not seen Mr. Hart any more the day before, and she felt grateful.

How could Hannah have done such a thing as to order her a mail-order groom? It dawned on Eliza that she’d never shared her deepest secret with her friend. Hannah had no idea that Eliza was barren and could never marry a man who wanted children. Mr. Thatcher’s

letter had been clear that he wanted not one, but a houseful.

Eliza sighed and got up. As she dressed, she thought of Jackson Hart and wondered what had happened to him. Had he returned and collected his bag or was he staying on at the boardinghouse? She hadn’t dared ask Mrs. Hattie the night before.

Heat filled her face once more as she reviewed the events of the previous day. She’d hurried back to the boardinghouse, pleaded a headache and gone to her room early. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she’d skipped dinner.

The grandfather clock ticked off the hour downstairs. She counted along with it and when the chiming stopped Eliza grabbed her bag and began stuffing clothes inside. She was late. Seth Billings, her friend Rebecca’s husband, would be waiting for her, and he’d said he wanted an early start back to Cottonwood Springs.

She looked around the room to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind and then hurried to the kitchen. U.S. Marshal Seth Billings, Jackson Hart and Mrs. Hattie sat at the table drinking coffee.

Aware of their gazes upon her, Eliza focused on Seth. “I am so sorry, Seth, I overslept.” Eliza held her bag with both hands and waited for him to stand.

Seth motioned for her to take the fourth chair at the table. “Please sit down, Eliza. I need to talk to you.”

What did the U.S. Marshal want to talk about? She knew he was in a hurry to get back to Rebecca and his girls. Eliza looked to Jackson Hart; his focus seemed to be on something in the bottom of his cup.

Had he filed a complaint against her for dragging him from the train station? Why else would Seth be acting so formal? Heat filled her face. Eliza wasn’t sure if it was from the anger she felt toward Jackson Hart or if it was because of her embarrassment at having Seth learn what she’d done the day before.

Mrs. Hattie smiled and nodded to the chair. “Can I get you a cup of coffee or tea, dear?”

Eliza slid into the chair and lowered her bag to the floor. “No thanks. I’m sure that Seth is about ready to head home.” She turned her attention to Seth. Her stomach took that moment to grumble noisily.

Mrs. Hattie’s laughed softly. “I’ll go fix you some breakfast and a strong pot of tea.” She pushed away from the table and walked to the kitchen.

Seth took a deep breath. “Eliza, I can’t leave Durango just yet. The trial I’m here for is being held over, there’s nothing I can do but stay.”

Her mind worked frantically. She needed to get back to her dress shop. Millie Hamilton was seventeen years old and had only agreed to watch the store for a week. They were expected home today. Would the girl be able to watch her shop for a few more days?

She caught Jackson sneaking a peak at her over his mug. Eliza felt as if she’d made a fool of herself enough for one visit to Durango. All she wanted right now was to go home and try to forget Jackson Hart and Miles Thatcher ever existed.

His blue eyes drilled into hers. She took a deep breath and dismissed him. Eliza returned her focus to the marshal. “I understand, Seth. I’ll rent a wagon and horse from the livery.”

Seth’s gaze bore into hers. “No, you won’t.”

She knew that stubborn look and opened her mouth to protest. “I need to get back to Cottonwood Springs, Seth. I have a store to run.”

He nodded. “I’m aware of that, Eliza. I’ve made arrangements to have you escorted home today.”

Eliza felt she knew the answer before she asked. “Who shall be escorting me?”

Seth took a drink and his eyes moved to Jackson Hart. He lowered the cup once more. “Mr. Hart has agreed to accompany you.”

Just as she feared.

Seth held up his hand to stop her from protesting. “I know he’s a stranger to you, Eliza, but I met and worked with Jackson a couple of years ago and trust me when I tell you, he’s a good man. You’ll be perfectly safe with Jackson as your escort.”

Eliza swallowed hard. A full day with Jackson Hart. Hadn’t she suffered enough embarrassment in the presence of this man? “Seth, I’m sure Mr. Hart has his own business to attend to.”

Seth placed his mug on the table. “Mr. Hart and I have already established a fee, and he’s agreed to take you. The matter is settled, Eliza.” He paused and gave her a grave look. “Unless you want to spend another week, maybe two, here in Durango.”

Eliza wanted to stomp her foot and demand to be allowed to return home alone. She was an adult. What was to stop her from leaving on her own?

A plan began to form in her mind. She could agree to stay and then simply change her mind and head home later in the morning. The thought of traveling alone both excited and scared her.

She felt Seth studying her. Eliza raised her head and tried not to look guilty. Her gaze met his.

“Don’t even think about it, Eliza Kelly. If I have to track you down and find you halfway home...” He let the threat hang in the air between them.

What would he do? Throw her in jail? Eliza saw his jaw harden. Possibly. Her heart sank, and she realized she couldn’t have lied to him, anyway. That wouldn’t have been the right thing for her to do. Instead, Eliza had a choice to make, spend her day with Jackson or stay in Durango for who knew how long.

She glanced across the table at the blacksmith and caught Jackson’s grin just before he hid it behind his cup of coffee. Today he wore a blue shirt that brought the rich blue color out of his eyes. Eyes that seemed to twinkle at her predicament. His short brown hair looked wet, as if he’d just taken a bath. Strong hands held the cup.

Seth cleared his throat. Eliza swung her gaze back to him. “Well, seeing as I really don’t have a choice, I suppose Mr. Hart can escort me today.”

Mrs. Hattie set a small plate before her with a piece of toast and egg upon it. “Here, eat this while you wait for Mr. Hart to get the wagon ready,” she instructed. “I’ll bring you a hot cup of tea to go with it, too. You have a long day of travel ahead of you, so eat up.”

Jackson pushed his chair back. “It shouldn’t take more than five minutes. As soon as the wagon is ready, I’ll return to collect you and your things, Mrs. Kelly.” He left the room.

“Seth, I’m not sure about this. What do we know about Jackson Hart?” Eliza spread strawberry jam onto the slice of toast.

He leaned toward her. “Are you afraid of Jackson, Eliza? Because if you are, just say the word and I’ll fire him now.” His brown eyes searched hers.

She trusted Seth with her life. If he thought Jackson was reliable, then that was good enough for her. Eliza didn’t really know why she was protesting so much, other than the fact that she’d completely embarrassed herself with the man the day before. “No, I’m not afraid of him. I just don’t know him.”

Mrs. Hattie snorted and set a teacup beside Eliza’s plate. “And yet yesterday you dragged him back here as husband material.”

“I did not! I brought him here to tell him there had been a mistake,” Eliza protested, dropping the toast back on its plate and crossing her arms over her chest. If Mrs. Hattie thought she’d intended to marry Mr. Hart, what must he think? She tried to remember if she’d told him differently.

She had. Eliza replayed the conversation in her mind and was sure of it.

Hattie slipped back into her chair. “I’m sorry, child. I didn’t mean any harm in my teasing.”

“Hannah really put you in an awkward position, didn’t she?” Seth said.

Eliza turned to look at him. How did he know what Hannah had done? Had Jackson told him?

Seth continued. “Rebecca tried to talk her out of it, but that woman can be stubborn.” He finished drinking the coffee from his cup.

Her hands fell to her side. “Rebecca knew?” Disbelief and hurt filled her voice. Rebecca Billings was supposed to be her best friend, too.

He looked up and understanding crossed his face. “I...” Seth sighed. “Yes, she did. Hannah’s been talking about it for weeks. I’m surprised they were able to keep the secret from you.”

Eliza felt betrayed. She looked down at the toast and egg, no longer hungry. How could they have done this to her? And why did they think she needed a new husband?

Both of them knew of her love for her deceased husband, Charlie. Her inner voice defended them. But he died five years ago and you never shared with your friends his unhappiness at never having fathered a child.

“Anyway, I think you will be safe with Mr. Hart.” Seth pushed away from the table and headed for the door. “I’ll see you outside, ladies.” And with that he left the room.

Hattie cleared her throat. She reached out and took one of Eliza’s cold hands. “I heard Mr. Hart promise Seth he’d take care of you and make sure you got home safe. So I believe you will be secure and protected with him around.”

“I’m sure I will be.” Eliza picked up the toast and took a bite. The sweet strawberry jam would have tasted wonderful if she hadn’t been so upset with her friends. Plus, it didn’t help that the butterflies in her stomach were determined to make her day miserable.

If only Hannah hadn’t sent for Miles Thatcher, she would never have met Jackson Hart. Was God at work here?

Chapter Three

Jackson finished hitching up the wagon and took a deep breath. He’d agreed to take Eliza Kelly to Cottonwood Springs for two reasons: one, he needed the money and two, the marshal had said the blacksmith there was leaving town and required a journeyman to run his business.

Seth had told him that Eliza’s husband was dead and that he’d been watching out for her ever since they’d met. Why he’d promise to protect Eliza on the trip home and to watch out for her until Seth Billings’s return to Cottonwood Springs was another matter. One Jackson didn’t want to study too hard.

He pulled the wagon in front of the house and waited beside the horses as Mrs. Hattie handed Eliza a picnic basket. Jackson listened as they said their goodbyes and hugged. He saw Seth push away from the side of the house and wondered again why the marshal had taken such a liking to him.

“Now try to rest on the trip home. And keep your hat on since that sun can be brutal,” Mrs. Hattie said as she patted Eliza’s back.

“I will. Thanks for everything.”

Jackson took the basket from her and set it behind the seat. Seth handed him Eliza’s bag, and he put it beside the basket. Then he turned to help Eliza up.

Seth beat him to her, and Jackson watched as the marshal assisted the petite woman up onto the wagon. He dropped his hands from her tiny waist and said, “Tell Rebecca I’ll be home as soon as this trial is over.”

“I will, Seth,” Eliza promised. She smoothed down her pretty brown dress and straightened her back.

Today she wore a floppy straw hat with an orange-and-yellow scarf tied in a bow that wrapped around the crown. Jackson smiled as he realized that oversize hats seemed to be an obsession for Eliza Kelly.

“Ready?” he asked as he swung into the wagon and took the reins.

Eliza nodded and waved to her friends.

Jackson turned the team to head out of town. He wondered if she realized her emotions flickered across her face much like a hummingbird flutters from flower to flower. The thought startled him. He flicked the reins across the horses’ backs. The sooner he got Eliza Kelly home, the better he’d feel.

She grabbed his arm. “Wait! We have to go by Sally’s Dress Shop. I have cloth, ribbons and other sewing things to pick up.”

The warmth of her fingers seeped into the sleeve of his shirt. Jackson eased back on the reins and pulled the animals to a stop. He nodded and turned the horses around.

“Sally’s is over one street and up one block,” Eliza instructed in a soft voice.

Jackson enjoyed the soft singsong way she spoke this morning. The day before she’d sounded breathless and overexcited. He found himself grinning as he guided the horses to Sally’s. Maybe getting to know Eliza Kelly wouldn’t be so bad.

* * *

Earlier she’d noticed that Jackson had worn a dark brown coat, but he’d taken it off while loading the wagon. Her gaze moved to his shirtsleeves, which were rolled up to the elbows. Eliza had admired the muscles that worked in his arms as he loaded her supplies into the wagon.

She smiled her thanks as Jackson finished arranging the last of her purchases in the wagon bed and climbed aboard the wagon ready to go. The air smelled of the light rain they’d received earlier in the morning. She prayed they wouldn’t get caught in another spring rainstorm. The water could ruin several of her fabrics.

Once they were out of town, Eliza turned to him with what she hoped was an encouraging smile in place. “Seth tells me you are a journeyman. Have you been one long?” She picked up her sewing project, a small cloth doll, and began stitching on its little dress.

He gently slapped the reins over the horses’ backs. “A few years now.”

“Uh-huh.” Eliza admired the tall trees they passed under. Jackson Hart didn’t seem as if he was in a talkative mood. But she wanted to know more about him. She asked, “How does one become a journeyman? Didn’t you say you were a blacksmith? Is a blacksmith the same as a journeyman?” She pulled the little dress over the rag doll’s head and tied the string around its neck.

“Journeymen travel from place to place helping other blacksmiths. So, yes, they are blacksmiths. And most blacksmiths start out as apprentices.”

Eliza placed the doll back on the bench. When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to say anything else, she looked at him. Large muscles bulged in his arms as he held the reins. “So, you’ve been traveling around? Were you very young when you became an apprentice?” she asked.

“I was ten.” He kept his gaze trained straight ahead.

“I see.” She wanted to ask more questions. Like how long had he apprenticed. And had he ever trained anyone else to be a blacksmith? But from the set of his jaw, Eliza decided she might be annoying him.

Since he wasn’t in a talkative mood and was looking straight ahead, she took the opportunity to study him. He was a big man with wide shoulders. As she thought about it, Eliza realized that Jackson Hart was probably the biggest man she’d ever met. The blacksmith in Cottonwood Springs, Dan Tucker, wasn’t as big as Jackson. He had muscles but not like Jackson.

Jackson had sandy-brown hair, cobalt-blue eyes and a cleft in his chin that she couldn’t seem to pull her gaze away from. His face seemed chiseled and strong. She decided she liked that in a man. Her eyes traveled up to his, and she found him staring back at her.

Eliza ignored the heated sensation that took over her face and said, “I was just thinking. If you are going to live in Cottonwood Springs, I should tell you a little about the people who live there.”

When he didn’t answer or say he wasn’t planning on living in Cottonwood Springs, Eliza took that as her cue that he was interested. She talked nonstop for the next few hours. Oh, she didn’t gossip about the townspeople; she simply told him that Mr. and Mrs. Miller owned one general store and Mrs. Walker and her husband owned another. Mrs. Velarde owned the diner; Mr. Browning ran the livery. And the list of businesses continued.

She told him that Dr. Clark had been the town doctor ever since she’d moved to Cottonwood Springs over five years ago. Then she’d continued by telling him about the circuit preacher, Reverend Griffin, who came through town once or twice a month unless the weather was bad. If the reverend wasn’t in town, then the local men took turns leading service.

Jackson nodded in all the right places. She decided he must have been interested in what she was saying. As soon as she finished with who lived in town, Eliza filled him in on who owned the local farms and ranches.

After a while, Eliza noted that rain seemed to be falling in the distance. Once more she worried about her fabrics and sent a swift prayer heavenward to keep the rain at bay at least until they got home.

Eliza picked up the doll. Jackson’s gaze fluttered to the toy, and she thought his eyes had been curious. Without him asking, Eliza began to tell him about the doll and the Parker family. “Little Bessie Parker is having her fourth birthday next week. Her pa died last spring and her ma has been having a hard time of it so I’m giving her ma, Georgia, this doll to give to Bessie.” She smoothed out the little dolls dress and then sat it back on the bench beside her. “I think she’ll like it.”

He grinned at her. “I believe you are right.”

Something in the grin tickled her tummy. In just a short amount of time she’d gotten used to looking into his stormy-blue eyes. She shook her head at such foolish thoughts. Eliza looked up into the sky, pretending his smile hadn’t affected her in any way.

Two colorful arches filled the heavens. “Look! Mr. Hart! A double rainbow.” She turned from the spectacular view and looked over at him. “You know what it means?” Eliza didn’t give him time to answer. “I love rainbows and believe they are promises. Promises from God that He will never destroy the entire world again by flooding. And I believe they are also a sign that no matter what we go through, He will be there for us. Those are the promises I hold fast to.”

* * *

Her awe-filled voice touched his heart. She was a widow who still believed in promises from God. He’d met a few widows in his life and the ones he’d met were bitter about the loss of their husbands. But Eliza Kelly didn’t strike him as a bitter woman. That was one of the things he liked about her. At that thought, Jackson turned from the rainbows and the pretty woman beside him.

Silence hung between them. The birds chirping in the trees and the sound of the horses’ hooves clomping through the mud were the only sounds filling the air.

Jackson felt her studying his profile and fought the urge to squirm. He lowered his hat to shade his eyes. Her brown gaze moved over his face and down his shoulder and continued until she came to his boots. Then he watched from the corner of his eye as she examined herself.

Eliza removed her sun hat. Her hands went to her hair. She released it from the knot she’d piled on top of her head. Next her fingers combed the locks until they hung shiny and soft about her shoulders. Then she began braiding it. He surreptitiously watched as she twisted the braid into a crown on the top of her head.

Realizing she must be preparing to enter town, he returned his focus to the road ahead. After a few minutes, the strong scent of smoke touched his nostrils.

Jackson’s gaze searched the tree line and surrounding area for the source of the smell. He searched the sky for signs of it in the air. Nothing.

“Smells like something is on fire,” Eliza said, raising her nose into the air.

It amazed him that she’d just seemed to notice. Had her mind been focused elsewhere or was Eliza Kelly one of those women who were unaware of their surroundings? He realized she was staring at him and decided to answer. “Yes, but I don’t detect the smoke. Do you see it?”

She’d replaced her hat. Eliza shook her head. “No, could be it’s an old fire. We’re getting closer to town. Maybe someone is burning his trash.”

Jackson saw the homestead Seth had said was standing just outside Cottonwood Springs. He could hear the river gurgling on each side of him and smiled, enjoying the soothing sound. “Maybe so.”

The wagon began the slow climb up the hill. “We’ll be home in just a few minutes,” Eliza told him. Excitement filled her voice at the prospect.

Home. The word sounded promising. Would he find a home in Cottonwood Springs? Or would it just be another town that he’d pass through? For years he’d been searching for his father who had abandoned him and his mother when he was a child. But the hope of finding his father and a home was simply that, a hope. Jackson only wanted to know why his father had left. Was that too much to ask?

Jackson took a deep breath to clear his mind. The acrid smell of smoke seemed stronger. His gaze moved to Eliza once more. He wondered if he and Eliza would become friends once they arrived in Cottonwood Springs or if she would go on with her life and forget all about him.

He found himself hoping she wouldn’t forget about him. Eliza Kelly had made him feel liked today. She’d shared about her hometown and friends as if she thought they’d be friends, too.

Eliza chose that moment to look over at him and give him a dazzling smile. Her smile disarmed him for a moment. It seemed as if all her wholesomeness was in that grin. He found his lips spreading and returning the smile. For a brief moment he wished he was Miles Thatcher and that they were two people in love, returning to their home in Cottonwood Springs. She faced forward once more and the spell was broken.

Jackson shook his head to clear it. It was only a dream. He had faced the truth a long time ago; no woman would ever love him.

His own mother despised him, mainly because he was a reminder that his father had deserted them. If his own mother didn’t love him, then Jackson felt sure no woman could.

They topped the hill, and he found himself looking down on the town below. Eliza gasped beside him. He turned to see shock on her face. His gaze followed hers.

A recent fire had claimed one of the businesses in the valley below. Smoke still drifted up into the air from the ruins. He turned to look at Eliza again. Tears rolled down her pale cheeks, and he knew without being told that the burned building was her dress shop.

Jackson stopped the team and tied the reins down. He reached across and pulled Eliza into his arms. Her tears wet his shoulder as they fell like rain. He looked at the town below and wondered what she would do now.

As if to confirm his thoughts, she cried, “Oh, Mr. Hart, what am I going to do?” She sniffled and then pulled a frilly white handkerchief from her sleeve. In defeat Eliza rested her head on his chest once more. A huge sigh lifted her shoulders, and then her body went still.

He knew with the words he was about to utter that he’d open a part of himself that he’d managed to protect for a long time. “I don’t know what you’ll do, but if you need me, I’m here. You are not alone.” Jackson had felt that sense of hopelessness all his life and could not stand to let Eliza endure it alone.

She straightened away from him and looked deeply into his eyes. Eliza took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She nodded and tried to offer him a wobbly smile. He studied every expression that crossed her features. Right now insecurity and fear fought with determination and acceptance.

“Thank you. I guess we should go down and see what happened.” She scooted over and twisted forward on the seat.

Jackson knew at that moment he would keep his promise to Seth. He would protect and care for Eliza for as long as she’d allow him to. By his own vow, he’d be there for her for as long as she needed him.

* * *

Eliza’s emotions were all over the place. She felt shocked that her home and business had burned to the ground, scared because she had no idea what she’d do now and confused as to why God would allow this to happen.

“Where do you want to go first? Home or to the store?”

Jackson asked as he guided the wagon down the hill.

She tried to control the shake in her voice. “The store was my home.” The pungent scent of burnt wood filled her nostrils and coated her tongue.

He nodded as if she’d told him where to go. The strong jaw she’d admired moments before was clenched, and his hands gripped the reins so tight that his knuckles were turning white.

What must he be thinking? Surely he didn’t think she’d want him to take her in. Jackson had said he’d be there for her, but surely he didn’t expect her to take him up on the kind offer.

Eliza would have laughed at the thought if her situation weren’t so bleak. When the wagon came to a stop in front of her store, she rose to get down.

For a big man, Jackson was fast. Before she could climb from the wagon, he stood beside it, waiting to help her down. He placed both big hands around her waist and lowered her to the ground.

He held her for just a moment longer than necessary and looked deeply into her eyes. Did he see the fear? The helplessness she felt?

“This too shall pass,” Jackson reminded her before releasing her and stepping away. A fresh tear slid unbidden down her cheek.

“Oh, Eliza! I am so sorry.”

Eliza turned to see Rebecca Billings hurrying to her. Her friend grabbed her and hugged her close. “We tried to save it, but, well, it was late last night and...” Her words drifted away on the afternoon breeze much like Eliza’s hope for ever having another shop.

“I’m sorry,” Rebecca offered again. She released her hold on Eliza and stepped back.

Others began gathering about them and presented their condolences, as well. Her gaze searched the crowd for Millie Hamilton. The girl was nowhere in sight. Fear and sorrow warred within her as Eliza continued to search the girl out.

“Rebecca, is Millie all right? Did she get out in time?” Eliza heard the panic in her voice begin to rise. She sent up a silent prayer. Lord, please don’t let her be hurt or worse. It would all be her fault.

Rebecca rubbed Eliza’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “Calm yourself, Eliza. Millie is fine. She wasn’t here when the fire started.”

Eliza exhaled and silently thanked the Lord. She would never have forgiven herself if something had happened to the seventeen-year-old girl.

Dan Tucker, the blacksmith, and his wife, Sally, stepped forward. Sally gathered Eliza’s hands in her own. The woman’s warm palms felt comforting. “Eliza, Dan and I talked about it last night and we have decided that you should use our house while yours is being replaced. We’re leaving in a couple of days to visit my parents until the baby comes. I don’t like the thought of our house standing empty. So, if that would be all right with you, we sure would be grateful.” She squeezed Eliza’s hands before releasing them and moving back to her husband’s side.

Eliza felt a sob begin to choke her at the Tuckers’ kindness. She swallowed the lump. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer.” Tears clouded her vision.

From the corner of her eye, Eliza watched as a short man in a brown suit stepped away from the growing crowd of people steadily pouring from storefronts and homes. She was surprised when he called her name. “Eliza Kelly?”

She nodded, wondering who he could be and how he knew her. Eliza rubbed the tears from her eyes so she could see him more clearly.

He walked up to her with a big grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m Miles Thatcher.” He swept a dark brown derby-type hat with short red feathers sticking out of the band on the side off his head, revealing light brown, thinning hair.

Inwardly Eliza groaned. Her mail-order groom was the last complication she needed right now. She didn’t know what to say, and even if she did, Eliza knew she didn’t want to say anything in front of her friends and neighbors.

“I realize you’ve had quite a shock, but I’ve been waiting for you and I don’t plan on waiting any longer.” He stepped even closer. “Since we are to be wed, I would like to discuss a few matters with you.”

What he planned to do Eliza had no idea, but she felt Jackson move up to stand next to her. She welcomed his presence much like a freezing man welcomed a fur-lined coat.

His baritone voice stopped Miles Thatcher. “I’m afraid your business with Mrs. Kelly will have to wait, Mr. Thatcher.” Jackson crossed his arms over his wide chest as if daring the other man to press the issue.

She wanted to hug Jackson. Thankfully, he seemed to understand that Mr. Thatcher was the last person she wanted to deal with at this moment. Eliza dismissed the little man by turning her gaze back to Rebecca.

With the loss of her home and shop, Eliza felt as if the weight of the world had been placed on her shoulders. The look in Rebecca’s eyes said she understood.

Rebecca took her hand and pulled slightly. “You’ve had quite a shock. Let’s go to my house for a hot cup of tea.”

The nasal voice of Miles Thatcher caused Eliza to pause. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Billings. Your wife has been most gracious in your absence.”

She turned around to see who he was speaking to. Eliza found him extending his hand out to Jackson and waiting for the other man to respond. Poor Mr. Hart, this was the second time in two days that he’d been mistaken for another man.

Jackson took the extended hand and gave it a firm shake. His voice carried a sharp edge to it. “I’m Jackson Hart. The marshal is still in Durango.” He released Miles’s hand.

A hard glint entered the scholar’s eyes. “It was my understanding that Mr. Billings would be escorting my future bride home. Isn’t that correct, Mrs. Billings?”

Eliza felt the change in Rebecca’s composure as the scholar turned his attention on her. Dislike seemed to radiate from her friend.

With her back straight and her shoulders squared, Rebecca’s voice hardened to match her accuser’s. “I can assure you, Mr. Thatcher, that is the truth as I knew it at the time. My husband’s plans must have changed.”

“I can see that,” he snarled back at her. His beady green eyes riveted back onto Jackson, reminding her of a snake about to strike out again. “What is going on here?”

Eliza sighed. She’d have to deal with Miles Thatcher now, but she didn’t want a public viewing of their situation. “Mr. Thatcher, if you would be so kind as to come with us to the Billingses’ home, we’ll explain everything.”

He stomped his foot and crossed his arms over his narrow chest much like Jackson had done a few moments earlier, only instead of looking like a force to be reckoned with, Miles Thatcher resembled an angry child. “I will not have this postponed, madam. I want to know who this man is and what he is to you.” His voice dripped poison.

The crowd around them gasped at the underlining implication. Eliza couldn’t believe her ears. Her gaze searched out Jackson’s. His blue eyes locked with hers. Then, without taking his gaze from Eliza, he stepped so close to Miles that their noses were almost touching. His jaw clenched as he answered the man. “I told you, my name is Jackson Hart. What I am or am not to this woman is none of your business.”

Eliza felt flames of embarrassment lick up her neck and into her face. She wanted to crawl into a hole and never return. Now the whole town was curious as to who he was and what his business was with her. She saw several of the older ladies standing off to one side. Their heads were together, and the whispering had commenced.

Miles’s thin face paled as if he’d just realized the danger he’d put himself in by confronting her in public. His shoulders squared and he lifted his head. In a steady voice he announced, “Mrs. Kelly, under the circumstances, I cannot marry a fallen woman.”

Chapter Four

If he lived to be a hundred, Jackson would never forget the gasps of surprise arising from the gathered group of people. He advanced on the little man once more. How dare he defile Eliza’s reputation in such a manner!

“Mr. Hart, wait.” Eliza’s cool voice stopped him in midstep. He looked at her face and saw rage in her molten-brown eyes.

He stepped away from the man when all he wanted to do was give him a good shake. Jackson watched in amazement as Eliza’s shoulders straightened, her chin came even farther up and she took a step toward Miles Thatcher.

“I’ll have you know, I have not now or ever planned on marrying you. I didn’t write those letters, and I am not obligated to stand behind any promises that might or might not have been made in them. Mr. Thatcher, I think your business here is done. I suggest you leave town the same way you arrived.” With that Eliza scooped up her skirt and walked away. Rebecca Billings trotted along after her.

Jackson glared at the little man with the beady eyes. “I suggest you do as the lady says,” he growled low in his throat.

Miles jumped back and lifted his head before turning around and walking away in the opposite direction.

He was thankful Eliza had mistaken him for the little man. Jackson had to wonder, if the circumstances had been different, would she have married Miles Thatcher? No, he didn’t believe she would have. He’d been proud of the way she’d stood up to her mail-order groom.

“Mr. Hart, please bring the wagon to the Billingses’.” Eliza called over her shoulder. Jackson nodded; he tried to ignore the soft quiver in her voice.

The rest of the crowd began to return to their shops and homes. He noticed an older group of women whispering to one another and heard the word shameful hissed by one of them as they left.

“Better do as Eliza says—she’s in a mood now.” Jackson recognized the man who spoke as the one who’d just offered his home to Eliza. He wore a leather apron, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up.

“I suppose you’re right.” Jackson grabbed the horses’ halter and proceeded to pull them in the same direction the women were headed. He knew without introductions that the man was Dan Tucker, the blacksmith. His leather apron and bulging biceps gave away his occupation.

When Dan fell into step beside him, Jackson silently prayed this was God’s way of bringing them together.

“Name is Dan Tucker,” the big man offered.

“Jackson Hart.” He stopped the horses and extended his hand. “And you are just the man I wanted to see.”

“Looking for a blacksmith, are ya?” Dan cocked a blond eyebrow at Jackson.

“Not just any blacksmith—you.” Jackson continued pulling the horses in the direction Eliza and Rebecca were headed. He watched the marshal’s wife lead Eliza into the house; she turned and pointed toward the barn.

Jackson waved and nodded that he understood. She smiled and entered the house. He felt sure Rebecca Billings would have lots of questions for Eliza regarding him.

Dan walked along beside him. He rubbed his chin and asked, “What do ya need me for?”

“The marshal suggested you are in need of a journeyman to watch over the shop while you and the missus travel back east.” Jackson entered the barn. The sweet fragrance of hay greeted him. He began to unharness the team, allowing Dan time to mull over his words. He took one mare and led her to a stall while Dan did the same with the other.

Dan handed him a brush. “So, Seth sent you my way.” He began grooming the horse he’d taken charge over.

“Yes, sir. He did.”

A warm chuckle erupted from the blacksmith. “Now, don’t start calling me sir. Just call me Dan. You’ll find if you stick around that most folks here go by first names. We’re more laid-back than city folks.”

“All right.” Jackson worked the sides of the mare with the brush. “Dan, the truth of the matter is, I need a job and Seth thought you could use me.”

Dan placed his brush on a bale of hay and turned to face Jackson. “Seeing how Seth is the one making the recommendation, I think you’d be perfect for the job.” He leaned against the stall door. “Would you be able to stay on a year?”

Jackson thought about Eliza Kelly. If he stayed on for that long he’d be able to help her get her shop rebuilt and save enough money to go to Silverton. He hoped his father would stay there long enough for him to catch up. Jackson nodded. “I figure I could.”

“I can only offer you two dollars a day and the use of a room off the smithy while we’re gone.” Dan leaned on the side of the horse. His blond eyebrow was cocked once more as he waited for Jackson’s answer.

Jackson saw a sack of oats sitting against the barn wall. He walked over and filled two buckets. Two dollars a day was fair pay, especially since Dan was willing to let him use the room, too. He gave the horses the oats and dusted off his hands. “I think it’s only fair to tell you that Seth and I are not close friends.”

Dan laughed. “Seth Billings is a good judge of character. He trusted you to escort Eliza Kelly home, and you did just that. I also saw the way you defended the little lady, and that made me like you even more. Plus, it didn’t hurt that you just confessed you weren’t a close friend of our marshal. So if you want the job, it’s yours.” Dan pushed away from the stall and stepped closer to Jackson.

Jackson extended his hand. “I’ll work hard.”

“I believe you will,” Dan answered as they shook hands.

He started to walk out of the barn but stopped halfway through the door. “Come on over once you get Eliza settled. I reckon the poor woman is going to have a rough time of it for a while.” He shook his head and walked out.

Jackson thought about Eliza as he secured the wagon. What was she going to do? Would she take the Tuckers up on their offer of a home? His gaze moved over the fabric and boxes of supplies she’d bought for her store. He thought about driving them over to the Tuckers’ home, but she hadn’t agreed to stay at their place. The supplies might be all right overnight in the barn, but he didn’t think they should be left out in the barn much longer than that. Tomorrow he’d ask if she wanted them moved someplace else.

Jackson pulled his bag and Eliza’s from behind the seat. He saw the little doll she’d worked on earlier in the day and gently placed it inside Eliza’s bag. The woman was precious; her consideration for others touched his heart. He wondered if her community realized what a jewel they had.

He took his time walking toward Rebecca and Seth’s house. His gaze moved about what he could see of the town. It seemed as if everyone had returned to their businesses and homes.

Thankfully, he didn’t see Miles Thatcher anywhere about. He’d already decided that if he did see the little man again, he’d make sure Miles left town. Even if he had to tie him to the saddle. He pushed the thought away and prayed the little man hadn’t damaged Eliza’s standing in town.

Jackson sighed. Cottonwood Springs was to be his home for a full year. He prayed he’d fit in here better than he had in other small towns. It seemed odd that Miles Thatcher was the man who was supposed to have moved here and now he found himself taking the little man’s place.

As he reached the side of the house, Eliza’s voice came through the open window. Jackson stopped and leaned against the building. He tilted his head to the side to hear her better. She sounded both sad and desperate. He rubbed the stubble on his chin as he listened.

“What am I going to do? I can’t stay here. Now don’t interrupt, you know it’s true. You have the baby, Janie, Seth and Ruthann plus yourself living here in a three-bedroom house. There is no room for me. Not that I’m blaming you, I just can’t ask you to add another person to the mix.” She didn’t give Rebecca time to answer. “I am so glad Millie had already gone home when it happened, but I’d love to know how the fire started. Did Millie say?”

Rebecca’s soothing voice floated to him. “You can stay here until the Tuckers leave town and then take them up on their offer of using their house until yours is rebuilt.”

Eliza’s miserable sigh drifted to him. “What about Seth?”

Loneliness filled Rebecca’s voice as she answered, “What about him? He’s in Durango for who knows how long. You and I both know those trials can last weeks.”

Eliza’s voice lost all sounds of desperation as she reassured her, “I’m sorry, Rebecca. I know you miss him.”

She’d seemed to have put her own concerns to the side to comfort her friend. Jackson wondered if Eliza was always this giving to others.

“Oh, you stop that!” Rebecca giggled. “I’m supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around.”

Sadness reentered Eliza’s voice. “What am I going to do about the business? I don’t have enough funds in the bank to rebuild. I bought a few supplies in Durango but didn’t buy buttons. I should have bought buttons.”

Rebecca chuckled. “Only you would think about buttons at a time like this, Eliza.”

Eliza’s soft twinkling laugh joined her friend’s. “I do tend to have a liking for them, don’t I?” Her voice sobered and she said, “It doesn’t matter now, does it? What am I going to do, Rebecca?”

Jackson wanted to help but didn’t know what he could do. The thought that the Bible spoke of helping widows troubled him. It was his duty to help Eliza Kelly. He frowned as he tried to figure out how. If only Miles Thatcher had been a decent man, he could have married Eliza and she’d have a home again.

He frowned, not liking that thought at all.

Why had her friend Hannah ventured outside the community to find them husbands? Earlier in the day, Eliza had explained that Cottonwood Springs had a new schoolteacher because Hannah had been accused of being fresh with one of her students. Hannah had been mortified that the residents of the town would believe such a lie and had decided to become a mail-order bride. But why had she searched for a husband for Eliza, too? Weren’t there any eligible men in the area to marry?

Rebecca’s voice reached his ears again. “We’ll figure out something. Now as soon as your Mr. Hart brings us your bag, we’ll get you into a hot bath and tonight you can sleep in my room with me.”

“All right but you didn’t answer my question.”

One of the ladies blew her nose. Jackson suspected it was Eliza.

Rebecca laughed. “Which question? You ask them and then speed along until I forget what you asked.”

Jackson almost chuckled. He was glad he wasn’t the only one who had problems keeping up with Eliza’s train of thought.

A huff filled the air before Eliza repeated her question. “Did Millie know what started the fire?”

“No, but since both the sheriff and Seth are out of town, Reverend Griffin did a little snooping around and found a half-smoked cigar behind your house. The men are speculating that some of the local boys might have snuck back there for a smoke. And Mr. Walker confirmed that several of the nasty things were missing from a new shipment he’d gotten in his last order.”

Eliza asked the question Jackson was thinking. “If there was only one cigar behind my house, why do they think a group of boys were smoking back there? I mean, that doesn’t make sense, does it? No, I would think they would have found more cigars. Maybe it was just one boy, sneaking a smoke.”

Rebecca added, “Maybe the other boys took theirs with them. Anyway, Seth will figure it out when he gets home.” Rebecca’s voice took on a motherly tone as she soothed. “Come on now, drink your tea and I’ll go out to the barn and check on your Mr. Hart.”

“He’s not mine.”

Rebecca giggled. “If you say so.”

Jackson pushed away from the wall and headed toward the front of the house. He didn’t want the women to know he was eavesdropping on their conversation. Now that he thought about it, it really wasn’t a nice thing to do.

After delivering Eliza’s bag and assuring Rebecca that the animals were settled in, Jackson walked to the smithy. Rebecca Billings had called him Eliza’s Mr. Hart. He shook his head. Women said the strangest things, but he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be married to Eliza and be her Mr. Hart. He pushed the thought away. She seemed like a sweet woman, but he didn’t delude himself into thinking she’d ever care about him. And why should she? He wasn’t loveable and didn’t deserve her care. He didn’t enjoy his feelings of protection where Eliza was concerned. Would he become too attached to her if he stayed here?

Jackson pushed the worrisome thought away and focused on the small town as he walked. New trees had been planted along Main Street in front of the newspaper office and the doctor’s office. Several of the stores had flowerpots sitting in front of them with fresh green shoots coming up. Soon there would be colorful flowers in them.

The wind blew from the opposite end of town, bringing with it the scent of sawdust from the sawmill and the burnt odor of Eliza’s shop. How was Eliza going to refinance her store?

He didn’t have far to go to find the smithy. Dan’s home was right behind the druggist. The livery sat beside that, and the smithy was across the street from the livery. He took a deep breath and entered the smithy. The smell of heated metal filled his nostrils. Comfort eased over his taunt shoulders. His eyes began adjusting to the dimmer light. This felt like home.

Home. Jackson’s thoughts returned to Eliza and the fact that she didn’t have a home or the money to restart her business or build a new house. Upon reflection, he realized that he’d come into town and gotten a job and roof over his head in a matter of hours. She’d come into town and realized within minutes that she was homeless and without a job. It didn’t seem quite fair.

He released the air in his lungs and silently prayed. Lord, please rebuild Eliza’s life. And, Father, if I am to be part of her restoration, help me to do and say the right things. Amen.

The thought entered his mind: What if God asked him to do more for Eliza than he wanted?

Chapter Five

Eliza looked about the spacious sitting room. She held her bag tightly in her hands, aware that all her belongings were in the bag.

“Please sit, Eliza. I made a pot of tea. I remember how much you enjoy tea.” Sally Tucker indicated a rocking chair across from where she sat on the sofa.

After sitting, Eliza placed her bag beside the chair at her feet. “Thank you,” she muttered, wishing she could be anywhere else.

Rebecca had promised this would be easy—that Sally was a friend—but it wasn’t easy. Taking charity from others was never easy. Now Eliza understood why some women shunned her help when she offered them new dresses to replace their worn-out ones. It had been shame at needing such things.

She looked up to find Sally’s pale blue eyes full of compassion. Sally wore a yellow day dress with black ribbons around the top and skirt. A row of black buttons lined the front of her blouse; her rounded tummy caused the buttons to gather slightly. Eliza had the urge to tell her that she could let the ribbon out slightly to give her baby more room to grow.

Sally handed her a cup of tea. “Help yourself to cream and sugar,” she offered.

“It’s fine, thank you.” Eliza took a sip of the tea. She felt awkward and little beads of perspiration formed on the back of her neck.

Sally added both sugar and cream to her cup. “Dan and I appreciate you taking care of the house for us, Eliza. I was so unhappy to leave it, but now, knowing you are here puts my fears to rest.”

Did Sally really think she was helping them and not the other way around? Or was she just being kind? Eliza swallowed. “It is I who should be thanking you.”

“Nonsense.” She smiled at Eliza. “It’s nice to have friends who can help each other out. You’ve been there for us several times. Remember when Dan burned his leg? You made him a brace to help keep his pant legs from touching the raw flesh. And then there was the time I needed to bake a cake for the church social and I was short on cash that week, you stepped right in and gave me a cake to take.”

Eliza opened her mouth to speak, but Sally held up a hand to silence her. “There were other times, too, but I think I’ve made my point. You are a good friend, Eliza. We all feel lucky to have you. So please don’t feel uncomfortable about using our home while we are gone.”

“You really feel that way?” Eliza wanted to believe that she was being a help and not a charity case.

Sally nodded. “Of course.”

Eliza felt a smile pull at her lips. “I’m glad.”

“Didn’t you arrive with a wagonload of supplies?” Sally asked, setting her cup back down on the table.

Reminded of the material, threads and other notations, Eliza nodded. “Yes, but I’m not sure what I’m going to do with them now,” she confessed.

Sally scooted forward on the sofa, and her eyes sparkled. “I have an idea.”

Eliza tilted her head sideways and studied the other woman. “Oh?”

“This room is the main sitting room. There is a smaller one in the back of the house that Dan and I use when not entertaining. I was thinking that you might be able to turn this one into a small shop. It wouldn’t be as fine as the one you had, but I think it would make a nice storefront, if you wanted to use it as such.” She looked down at her stomach and spread the material over it.

Eliza looked about the room. It would be nice. A large window faced the road, and she could have a sign made to hang in it, announcing she had hats and dresses for sale. She began to envision how to display her goods. Her gaze moved back to Sally. “Are you sure you and Dan wouldn’t mind?”

The young woman’s face broke out into a wide grin. “We’d love it. Last night I thought of it, and he said if you agreed, he’d have Mr. Hart help him move the furniture from this room to one of the back bedrooms. We’ve already moved the stuff that was in there against one wall, so now there is plenty of room for this furniture.”

Tears filled Eliza’s eyes at her friends’ kindness. She’d have wanted to do just what they proposed but wouldn’t have done so without their permission. “Oh, thank you. If I can open my shop here, I’ll be able to save the money to rebuild.” Eliza jumped to her feet. “We can put my supplies in that corner until I can start making dresses. Oh, but I don’t have a sewing machine.” She felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Once more she was reminded of just how much she’d lost in the fire. Everything.

“You can use mine,” Sally offered.

Eliza dropped back down into her chair. “I didn’t know you had a sewing machine.”

Pink colored Sally’s cheeks as she confessed, “Dan bought it for me as a wedding present, but I have no idea how to use it.”

Once more Eliza felt her face break into a smile. “I’ll teach you when you come home.”

Sally clapped her hands. “That would be wonderful. We’ll start with baby clothes. I still can’t believe I’m going to have a baby.” Her eyes sparkled with joy.

Eliza felt a moment of remorse. She’d never have a baby and wondered what it would feel like. Charlie had wanted children, but after three years of marriage, they’d not had any. He had said it didn’t matter but she’d seen him watching children playing and knew that she’d disappointed him. She never wanted to see such deep disappointment in a man’s eyes again. Thankfully, she hadn’t been obliged to tell Miles Thatcher that she could never have children; she’d been saved from him turning away from her. Deep in her heart, Eliza believed no man could love a barren woman.

* * *

Jackson carried the small table toward the back of the house to the spare bedroom where they’d carried all the other heavy furniture. His back was tired, but the joy on Eliza’s face would be worth it. He still marveled that the Tuckers were so free with their home and business.

“Why don’t you stay and have dinner with us, Jackson?” Dan offered, slapping him on the back.

“Sounds good.” Jackson followed Dan into the dining room. The Tucker home was bigger on the inside than it looked from the road. So far he’d seen the main sitting room, three bedrooms and a dining room, and he knew there was a kitchen somewhere because the warm smells of pot roast filled the house.

“Smells good, too,” Dan said, taking a seat at the square table. “Sally’s the best cook in town.”

Jackson smiled. “I’m sure she is.” He sat down at the other end of the table.

Sally entered the dining room, carrying a large platter of meat. “Have you men washed up?” She eyed Dan.

He wiped his hands on his pants and nodded.

“With soap and water?” she asked, placing the meat on the table.

Jackson hid the grin that twitched at his lips. Dan reminded him of a boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

“Come on, Jackson. She won’t believe us until she can smell the soap.” Dan’s chair scraped against the hardwood floor.

“Dinner will be ready when you get back,” Sally called after them.

Jackson couldn’t help but envy the warmth between the couple. Dan Tucker loved his wife, and she returned that love. It was in their eyes and voices every time they were together. He wondered if his parents had ever felt that way toward each other. If so, he’d never witnessed it.

His father had left long before he could even walk. For years Jackson questioned why his pa had left them. Was it because he was so unlovable, as his mother had said? This was one of the questions he planned on asking John Hart, if he ever caught up to him.

Where had those thoughts crept up from? Jackson finished washing his hands and they returned to the dining room. He was sure Dan had been talking the whole time, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall a word the other man had said.

The table was set, and steaming bowls of potatoes, green beans and fresh rolls blended with the aroma of pot roast. How long had it been since he’d sat at such a fine dinner table? Too long.

“What’s on your mind this evening, Jackson?” Dan asked.

Jackson looked up. “Not much.” He hoped he hadn’t insulted his host with his quiet nature.

Dan nodded. “I’ve been trying to think if there is anything else I need to tell you before we leave tomorrow.”

“Did you mention Peter?” Sally took a seat next to Dan.

Dan looked surprised. “I’d plumb forgotten about the boy. Let’s say grace and then I’ll fill you in, Jackson.”

Jackson listened as Dan offered thanks. Not only did he bless the food, but he asked for travel mercies, as well. Sally added her amen at the end of the prayer. Jackson joined in. “Amen.”

A soft knock sounded on the front door. “Excuse me.” Sally stood. “That will be Eliza Kelly. I invited her to dinner, as well.”

“Give me a couple of minutes with Jackson, honey.” Dan reached for the green beans and began filling his plate.

Sally nodded. “You better talk fast. I don’t want my dinner to get cold.” Her smile took the sting out of the words.

Dan grinned back at his wife and watched her sashay toward the front of the house. Then he turned his attention back to Jackson. “This afternoon, Peter arrived at the smithy asking if I needed an apprentice. I told him no, and he started to cry.”

“He started to cry?” Jackson almost dropped his fork.

Dan nodded. “Yep. Boy is six years old and has no place else to go.”

“So where is he now?” Jackson asked, wondering how anyone could turn out a six-year-old child.

“In the front sitting room with Sally and Eliza. I sent him to Eliza this afternoon, until I could ask you if you will apprentice the boy.” Dan served himself a hunk of meat.

Jackson frowned. “Where’s the boy’s family?”

“Don’t know. He won’t say. He’s not a local. I figured if you’d agree to apprentice him, when Seth gets back into town he can find the boy’s parents. Until then, I can’t just turn him out.” Dan plopped a big spoonful of potatoes onto his plate. “So what do you say? Will you take him on?”

Take on a small boy? Was he kidding? From the serious expression and the hiked-up eyebrow, Jackson assumed not. “There isn’t enough room for me and the boy in the small room off the smithy.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean keep him with you in the room. I meant will you train him? At least until his parents can be found. He’ll be living here with Eliza and working with you during the day. She’s agreed to feed him and make sure he’s taken care of.” Dan added a couple of hot rolls to his plate.

Jackson took a deep breath. “I suppose I can do that.”

“Good.” Dan pushed away from the table. “I’ll go tell the women to come in now.”

Every moment in Cottonwood Springs brought on new responsibilities. Jackson groaned. What had he gotten himself into?

Chapter Six

Eliza was in love.

Peter, with his big green eyes, blond hair and dimples, had melted her heart the moment she’d met him. He didn’t talk much, but an easy smile covered his face as he explored everything around him.

She held his hand as they entered the Tuckers’ dining room. Jackson sat at the table looking as if he’d eaten persimmons. His pinched face and stiff jaw said he wasn’t happy about the arrangement he’d made with Dan.

Both Dan and Sally ignored his sour face and sat down at the table. Eliza placed Peter beside her and smiled at Jackson. His frown dissolved for a moment and he offered her a lopsided grin.

She hadn’t seen him all day and felt her heart do a little flutter. What was it about the man that made her feel like a silly schoolgirl?

Turning away from the handsome man, Eliza focused on her plate. “This looks and smells wonderful, Sally,” she complimented her friend as she took her place at the table.

“It’s my ma’s recipe. I can’t wait to see her again and tell her about the baby.” She picked up the potatoes and passed them to Eliza.

Eliza noticed Jackson focused on his meal and didn’t say much. “You haven’t told them you are coming?” she asked, taking a sip of iced tea.

Dan answered for his wife. “They know we are coming, just not about the baby.”

“Oh, I see. Do you have room in your bags for a couple of baby blankets I’ve made up for you?” Eliza dished food onto Peter’s plate.

Surprise filled Sally’s face. She smiled and replied, “I do. Thank you, Eliza. How did you know I’d need them?”

“Every mother needs blankets. I make them all the time to give to the young mothers in the area. And they don’t take long to whip up. Last night I borrowed Rebecca’s sewing machine and made up a couple for you to take.”

Sally continued to smile at her. “You have the kindest heart, Eliza. Thank you.”

Embarrassed at the compliment, Eliza turned to Peter. The little boy’s big eyes stared at Jackson. He titled his head sideways and tried to see into Jackson’s face.

Dan must have noticed, too, because he said, “Peter, I’d like you to meet Mr. Hart. He’s going to teach you how to be a blacksmith.”

“Really?” Peter’s small voice asked in awe.

Dan laughed. “Really.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Peter held out his hand.

For a moment, Eliza wasn’t sure how Jackson would react. She almost sighed when he reached across the table and took the small hand into his own. “Nice to meet you, too, Peter. Just call me Jackson.”

“All right, Jackson.”

The little boy continued to stare at Jackson for the remainder of the meal. Eliza noticed he seemed to ignore the rest of the adults as the conversation flowed around him. Jackson paid no attention to the little boy’s stares. He answered questions when asked and every once in a while would ask a question of Dan regarding the smithy.

She leaned over and whispered in Peter’s ear, “Peter, it’s not nice to stare.”

Peter turned his attention to his food and occasionally peeked up at Jackson. He muttered the word sorry before shoving a spoonful of meat into his mouth.

Eliza could imagine the boy was in awe of Jackson’s size. She’d noticed that he towered over Dan, and his arms were twice as large. His chest and his shoulders were wide, yet he had a flat stomach. Muscles seemed to ripple when he moved. Yes, Jackson Hart was a big man and a handsome man and, from her experiences, a kind man.

“Miss Eliza, I thought you said it wasn’t nice to stare.” Peter’s young voice pulled her from her observation.

Everyone looked at her. She felt heat ignite in her face. Eliza jerked her eyes to her food and whispered, “It’s not, Peter. Now eat your food.” Eliza wished the floor would open up and swallow her. No lady stared at a man like she’d been doing.

* * *

Later that night, Jackson smiled up at the ceiling. The pretty pink in Eliza’s cheeks had blessed his heart. Peter didn’t really understand what he’d done to embarrass his new friend, but he knew to leave well enough alone.

After supper he’d helped Dan load their wagon and then said good-night. He’d watched Eliza and Peter say their goodbyes to the Tuckers and then head toward Rebecca Billings’s home.

To ensure they made it there safely, Jackson had followed them. He’d stayed well enough behind that they’d been unaware of his presence. Once they were inside the house, he returned to his room and climbed between the cool sheets on his bed.

When Dan had said they had a small room off the smithy, he’d expected just that, a small room similar to a woodshed. It turned out his room was twelve-by-twelve and had a small potbelly stove in one corner. His bed, a side table and washbasin sat beside the stove.

On the opposite wall, Sally had arranged a writing desk and a large chair with a fluffy cushion for him. She’d managed to place a small bookshelf beside the chair and had filled it with several books.

A window allowed light to flow in during the day. Yes, his room was as good as any hotel room. Only it was cheery and clean.

He hadn’t realized how close the smithy and the Tucker home were. If they were much closer, his room would be part of the house. Jackson wondered how Eliza felt about him living so close. He realized she’d said very few words to him tonight.

Jackson missed her constant chatter. Was she trying to be a good example for Peter? Or did she just feel as if she no longer had to talk to him? Then he remembered that the boy had embarrassed her; perhaps that was the cause of her silence.

He turned over on his side and thumped his pillow. Jackson reminded himself that he needed to get some sleep. A blacksmith worked from sunup to sundown.

The night continued with him getting very little sleep. After several hours, Jackson pushed the covers back and lit a kerosene lantern. He flopped into the big chair and picked up the Bible. He became lost in the story of Joseph and the hardships he’d endured in his young life. Yet God never left him, and everything he put his hand to prospered. A tiny thread of hope wove its way into his heart. He was no Joseph, but if God was no respecter of persons, then God could and would do the same for Jackson Hart. He just needed to get his life in line with God’s plans for him.

After a few hours of reading, he walked back to the bed. Jackson did something he’d not done in a long time. He knelt and prayed, first thanking the Lord for not abandoning him, then promising to do his best to follow the Lord’s guidance in his life. He climbed into bed and closed his eyes. His last thoughts were of Eliza.

The next morning, Peter ran into the shop. He carried a lunch pail and apple. “I’m here, Jackson.”

Jackson had just started working on a new ladle for Mrs. Harper. Seth had told him the woman would be by in the afternoon to pick it up. “I see that.”

Peter’s blond hair stood on end this morning. His green eyes scanned the blacksmith shop. “Whatcha want me to do first?” he asked.

“You can put your lunch pail over on that bench and then grab that short-handled broom and start sweeping.” Jackson watched the door for Eliza. When she didn’t arrive, he sighed.

He turned his attention back to the ladle. To make the ladle’s scoop, he heated one end of the rod and formed a lump. Then he held the rod upright with the hot end against the anvil. Jackson took his frustrations out on the metal by pounding the cold end with a hammer to upset the hot end.

“Whatcha doing that for?” Peter asked.

“I’m making a ladle. When I pound the cold end like this it forces the hot end to thicken.”

“Oh. I forgot Miss Eliza said to tell you she’ll be by later to see how we’re doin’.” Peter swung the broom. He seemed to be unaware that he was missing the floor as he stared at the heated metal.

“Thanks for telling me. Now move over there and sweep.” Jackson pointed to the far side of the room. He didn’t want the boy to get curious about the fire. As soon as he finished the ladle, he’d have to show Peter the smithy and tell him what to avoid. He’d also tell him what his jobs were.

Peter moved to the other side of the room. His small shoulders and arms worked as he swept at the floor. Jackson wondered where his family was and why he didn’t want to talk about them.

He pounded out the ladle’s handle. As he pulverized the rod, he rotated it to make sure the handle would be the same thickness all the way around. His thoughts returned to Eliza’s message. She was going to stop in and check on them. Did she think he’d harm the boy?

Jackson had to flatten the upset end of the rod. He pounded the lump with the face of his hammer until it flattened into a round shape. He then forged the round part into a scoop. As he worked, his thoughts continued to focus on Eliza. How was she spending her morning? Would she be setting up her dress shop? Sewing?

Without much thought to what he was doing, Jackson heated the flattened end of the rod again and used the peen end of his hammer to make a curved dent in it. He continued to hit the scoop with the peen until it was totally rounded. When the spoon was fully shaped, he smoothed the ladle’s handle with a file.

“Jackson? How much longer do I have to sweep?” Peter called from the other side of the room.

“Until the whole shop is clean,” he answered. Jackson grinned as the boy began sweeping again. He knew Peter would be sick of sweeping before the day was over, but that was a big part of what Peter would be doing. Sweeping built arm muscles and taught discipline. The first few years every apprentice learned by cleaning and watching.

He continued to work on the kitchen ladle. Heating the straight end of the rod and then hammering it around the horn of the anvil, Jackson created a finger-size loop. Once it was just the way he wanted it, he began hardening the ladle by plunging it first into the fire and then cold water. He did this several times until the iron was strong and durable.

Once it was cool enough, he held it up for inspection.

“That turned out mighty nice,” Peter said.

Jackson turned to study the boy. Peter had moved so silently that he hadn’t realized the boy was right behind him until he spoke. “Thank you.”

He hung the ladle on a nail by the door and then motioned for Peter to join him. They moved to a quiet corner of the smithy. Jackson picked the little boy up and set him on a barrel. “Peter, you can’t be sneaking up behind me like that. You could have been hurt if I had swung around real sudden like.”

Peter nodded. His bottom lip came out, and he clamped his top one over it.

“And another thing, big boys don’t pout.” He eyed the boy.

Peter released his lower lip. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I just wanted to watch.”

“You can watch by standing in front of me, not behind. Do we understand one another?” Jackson didn’t enjoy scolding the boy, but it was for his own good. The last thing he wanted was for the child to be hurt.

Peter nodded. “Yep, stand in front of you, not behind.”

Jackson ruffled his hair. “Very good. Now before we do anything else I want you to look around.”

“All right.” Peter made a big show of rotating his head and looking about the smithy.

“Do you see the fire pit?”

Peter moved his head to look at the fire pit and nodded.

“That is called a forge. It’s very hot and very dangerous. I don’t want you getting too close to it.” Jackson waited for the little boy to nod again. “Good, now look over there on the big stump.”

Peter’s gaze followed Jackson’s pointing finger. “What’s that big thing on top of it?” he asked.

“That is an anvil. See how close it is to the forge?”

“Yep.”

Jackson waited until the boy looked up at him again. “Never run or walk between the anvil and the forge. You can trip and fall into the fire. As a rule, you are never to run in the smithy. There are sharp pieces of metal in here, and you have to be very careful not to get cut.” As he talked he wondered at the wisdom of having a child so young in the blacksmith shop. From his experience most apprentices were closer to the age of ten, not six.

“I’ll be careful, Jackson. My pa taught me to be a good boy. He said I should listen to grown-ups so that I don’t get hurt.” His eyes moistened and he dropped his head.

Did the boy mean grown-ups would hurt him? Or that they were giving good advice? Jackson continued to study Peter as he swung his feet and avoided looking at him. He cleared his throat. Peter looked up.

Jackson felt his heart open for the boy, and he knew he’d never let anyone or anything hurt the child. Earlier he’d questioned his decision to apprentice the little boy, and now he was thankful that he’d decided to do just that.

“I have only one more thing to say to you, young man, and I expect you to listen.” He waited for the child’s response.

Big green eyes studied his face, and then Peter nodded and answered, “All right.”

Jackson moved to stand directly in front of the little boy. He placed his hands on each side of Peter and leaned down until they were eye level. “I will never hurt you, and if I can prevent it, neither will anyone else. If you get scared or think a grown-up is going to harm you, you come tell me.”

Peter stared him in the eyes. His green ones filled with tears and then he flung his arms around Jackson’s neck and hugged him tight. In a small voice he asked, “Does that mean you are going to be my new pa?”

Chapter Seven

Eliza stood in the doorway watching and listening. She’d heard the sincerity in Jackson’s voice as he’d promised the boy his protection. She held her breath as she waited for him to answer Peter’s plea to be his new pa.

Jackson gently pulled the boy back and looked him in the eyes once more. “Where is your pa, Peter?”

She continued to wait with bated breath. Would Peter tell him? Both she and Sally had tried to get the child to tell them where his pa was.

“I don’t know.” He dropped his head back onto his small chest.

Eliza released the oxygen in her lungs. She’d thought maybe Jackson could get through to the little boy.

Jackson gently raised his chin. “You really don’t know?” he asked.

“I really, really don’t. Pa left me just outside of town and said to come and ask the blacksmith to teach me, and then he left.” Peter’s chin quivered.

Jackson pulled the little boy into his strong arms. “When was this, Peter?”

The little boy wrapped his arms around Jackson’s neck. “I don’t know. A long time ago.”

He hugged the small body close to his chest. “Well, then I guess you will just have to stay with me. ’Course, I’ll have to get us a house.” Jackson pulled out of the little boy’s embrace. “It might take a while, though. Do you mind staying with Mrs. Kelly?”

Peter smiled. “Really? I can come live with you when you get a house?”

“Sure can.” Jackson ruffled the child’s hair.

“Then I reckon I can live with Eliza until then. She’s a nice lady.”

“Yes, she is.” Jackson picked the boy up and placed him on the floor.

Eliza slipped out of the shop. She didn’t want Jackson to know she’d been eavesdropping on their conversation. After several long minutes, she reentered.

“Eliza!” Peter called. He started to run to her but then looked to where Jackson stood beside the anvil and slowed to a walk. “Guess what?” he asked, walking as fast as his short legs would carry him.

She smiled at his desire to run and his willingness to obey Jackson. “What?”

He stopped right in front of her. “I’m going to live with Jackson.”

“Oh?” Eliza looked at Jackson. This was information she already knew, but she didn’t want to spoil the little boy’s pleasure in telling her.

“Yep. He said as soon as we can get our own house, I can live with him and he’ll be my new pa.” Peter smiled up at her. His big green eyes sparkled with joy. “And you can be my ma!”

Eliza didn’t know how to answer the boy. She looked to Jackson, who, with studied interest was beating a piece of iron on the anvil. He seemed to either not have heard them or was deliberately ignoring them. She looked down into Peter’s hopeful face. “But what about your parents? Won’t they be sad if you call us Ma and Pa?”

“My Pa left me here. He said I was to find a better life. And Ma went to live with Jesus when I was born, so I don’t reckon she’d mind. Pa said sometimes he could hear her singing with the angels, but I never heard her. You sing real pretty, though.” Peter grinned up at her.

Jackson walked over to them. His gaze met Eliza’s. “Maybe we can be Ma and Pa to him, at least until Seth decides what we should do.” His blue eyes met and held her own.

A huff behind them caught Eliza’s attention. She turned to see Mrs. Walker standing in the doorway. “Playing house now, are we?” She didn’t wait for an answer but turned on her heels with the pan she’d brought for Jackson to repair.

Eliza sighed and chose to ignore the woman. Mrs. Walker and her husband owned one of the general stores in town. She and her friends were the local gossips. They’d been horrible to Rebecca when she’d first arrived as a mail-order bride, and even though they were trying to change, it was a long process for them. She could only imagine what the talk of the town would be by afternoon teatime.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she assured a frowning Jackson and Peter. “I’ve made lunch if you two would like to come eat.” She studied both of the males in front of her. One appeared oblivious to the awkwardness of the situation they found themselves in and the other ready to fight.

Jackson’s eyes were glued to the empty doorway. A scowl covered his handsome features. What must he think? She tried to get his attention by clearing her throat.

“I’ll have to pass on lunch,” he said absently. “I need to get some work done around here.”

“I’m hungry, Eliza.” Peter grabbed her hand and held on. “Can I call you Ma now?”

Once more Eliza felt at a loss as to how to respond. She didn’t know how Seth would feel about the boy being homeless and what liberties she and Jackson would be permitted. Could she simply adopt him? Did Jackson plan on adopting the boy? His earnest eyes looked up at her.

She remembered Jackson’s earlier words and decided to humor them both. “Yes. I don’t see why not.” After all, Seth had allowed Rebecca to adopt Janie after her parents had been murdered last year. As for Jackson adopting Peter, she would have to tell him her plans and then see what his were. But, not until Seth gave his approval.

“Yay! I have a new ma and pa.” The little boy hung on to her arm and jumped up and down.

Her gaze moved to Jackson once more. A soft smile touched his eyes and mouth as he looked down at the excited boy. Charlie had had that same look; it meant the man was hungry for a child. Eliza wondered if all men wanted children of their own someday. If so, she knew Jackson could never consider her for a wife. Not that he’d ever acted as if he were interested.

She sighed and told Peter, “Go get your lunch pail, and I’ll put an afternoon treat in it for you and Jackson while you eat lunch.” If Jackson wanted the little boy, too, they were going to have a problem because Eliza knew she would never give Peter up.

* * *

Over the next couple of days, Jackson fell into a routine with Eliza and Peter. He arrived at the shop early and Peter came in a little later. Eliza picked the boy up each day around noon and returned him midafternoon. Jackson made sure Peter went straight back to Eliza after work.

“Pa, Ma says you should come for supper tonight. She’s making chicken potpie. I think that sounds good, don’t you?”

Jackson smiled down at the boy. “Sure do.”

He and Eliza hadn’t spent time together since she’d taken over the Tuckers’ house, and he found that he was looking forward to having dinner with her and the boy. Jackson handed Peter a small bucket. “See that box over there?” he asked Peter.

“Yes, Pa.”

“Your job this afternoon is to fill it with coal. Do you think you can do that?” He ruffled the boy’s hair, something he’d gotten into the habit of doing.

Peter nodded. He didn’t look nearly as cheerful as he had when he’d come back from lunch. Jackson suspected that the newness of working in the smithy had worn off for the little boy.

Bart Hamilton came into the shop. He was a small man with a big nose. “Afternoon, Jackson.” His wife, Judith, had him doing repairs to their house. He’d already been in once for a bag of nails.

Jackson answered, “Afternoon, Bart.”

“Do you have another sack of nails I can buy? Judith’s nagging me about putting shutters on her windows. You’d think the woman was rich or something.” He chuckled.

Jackson walked over to a shelf and pulled down a sack of nails. He’d made up several bags over the past couple of days and was glad to see these sell. “Sure do. How’s the family?”

Bart dug in his pocket to pay for the nails. “Doing good, although Judith seems to think Millie’s coming down with something. The girl hasn’t had much of an appetite the last few days.”

He took the money. “Millie took care of Mrs. Kelly’s shop before it burned, didn’t she?” Jackson asked, trying to put people and names together. He felt sure Eliza had called the girl Millie.

“Yes, it’s a shame about her house. I’m thankful Millie wasn’t there when it happened.” Bart shook his head. “Judith says if she hadn’t changed her mind about letting her spend the night, she might have been.”

Jackson had to agree; things might have turned out much worse. “Well, I hope she gets to feeling better soon.”