Groom by Arrangement

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.