Rhonda Gibson - Groom by Arrangement

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.”