Rhonda Gibson - Groom by Arrangement

“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.