Bribing the Blacksmith Read online

  “You look like a man with a lot on his mind,” Otto observed as he walked into the forge, carrying a couple of chains.

  “I have a lot on my mind, and you’re to blame for all of it,” Hans replied. He stood up and held out his hand. “What have you brought me?”

  Otto held his arm out and away. “You don’t get these until you tell me what’s going on.”

  “Mariah. Miss Redding,” he clarified when he saw that his friend didn’t know who he meant.

  “Ah. So, you’ve been thinking about what I said.” Otto chuckled. “I make a lot of sense, don’t I?”

  “Not usually, but this time, you do.” Hans shook his head. “I just kissed her, Otto. She’s getting ready to go on a picnic with some other man, and I couldn’t stand the thought of it, and I grabbed her and I kissed her.”

  Otto nodded, a grin on his face. “Did she slap you?”

  “No, sir, she did not. She clung to me like a burr on a blanket. And now she’s getting ready to leave.”

  “She’s still going on the picnic? Are you sure that kiss was as good as you say it was?”

  “It was better.” Hans ran his fingers through his hair again. “I’m hoping that she’s only going because the boys are looking forward to it so much. That would be a good reason, right?”

  “Right. Or maybe she doesn’t want to hurt this man’s feelings. What was his name?”

  “Um, McCormick, I think.”

  Otto chuckled. “I just rented a small buggy out to a Mr. McCormick. Sorry—if I’d known what it was for, I would have refused.”

  “No, don’t worry about it. If Mariah wants to ride off into the sunset with this other fellow, she has every right to.” Hans paused. “And if I happen to ride off in the exact same direction and bring her back, I think that’s perfectly fair.”

  “Oh, perfectly,” Otto said. He held out his chains. “I’ve got some weak links here, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Of course not.” Hans took them and laid them on his table. “It’ll keep me occupied while Mariah’s out.”

  Otto shook his head. “I’ll look forward to a full report.”

  “As soon as I have one to give you.”

  When Otto left, Hans bent to his work, examining the chain. Then he paused and listened—it sounded like Mr. McCormick had arrived for Mariah and the boys. He did truly hope they had a good time. He just also hoped that Mariah could still feel his lips on hers—he was bound to be haunted by the feel of her hands on his collar the rest of the day.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mr. McCormick handed Mariah up into the buggy, then gave each of the boys a boost. Then he climbed in himself, and with a flick of the reins, they were off.

  “Where are we going?” Mariah asked.

  “There’s a beautiful little wooded spot just outside of town that has a creek running through it and some fallen logs that will make perfect benches,” he replied. “I discovered it while I was out riding around the other day. I’m new to the area, and I like to go exploring whenever I’m in a different place.”

  He was new to the area? A flash of panic leaped through Mariah’s stomach. He wasn’t the man who had tried to abduct her from the train station, was he? She pulled in a deep breath. No. Mr. McCormick was the wrong height, and her abductor had seemed broader in the chest. She forced herself to calm down. “Where did you come from, Mr. McCormick?”

  “Denver. I’m an architect by trade, and I was asked to come out here and make some suggestions for the rebuilding of Creede. This place has sure been through a lot, but I can foresee a great future for it. Stores of all kinds, people coming here from everywhere—well, who wouldn’t want to live in Colorado?” He flung his left arm wide while his right hand maintained a grip on the reins. “I’m excited to be a part of it.”

  “Have you met with many business owners so far?” she asked.

  “Five, and I have more appointments next week. I don’t know as that they’ve all decided to use my ideas, but it’s rather flattering that they’d even be considered. There’s a Mrs. Jennings who wants to open a haberdashery, and we spent a good hour discussing the possibilities. I think she’ll do well—she has a good business head on her shoulders.”

  Mariah felt herself relaxing even more as they drove. He was a legitimate businessman—she was sure of it now—and she commanded her stomach to stop flipping around like jelly.

  After a few more minutes of driving, they reached the little grove he’d been talking about, and he handed them all down, including a nice, big picnic basket. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like to eat, so I asked Mrs. Jackson to put together a variety,” he said as he set the basket near the fallen logs. “I made sure she included some gingersnaps,” he told the boys with a wink.

  The meal was delicious, the company was charming, and the boys enjoyed running around in the trees after they’d eaten. Mariah wished she could fully invest herself in the moment, but she couldn’t. All she could do was think about Hans, and she realized with a chuckle that had been his plan all along. He wanted her thinking about him, and he was getting his way.

  Mr. McCormick looked at her curiously, and she realized that she had laughed aloud. “Aren’t the boys cute?” she asked, trying to make an excuse for her behavior. “They make me laugh all the time with their antics.”

  “They are,” he agreed. “I can see why you’re so taken with them. They’re quite lucky to have you.”

  “No, I’m lucky to have them,” she replied. “They’ve filled a hole for me that I didn’t even know I had.”

  Mr. McCormick sat back and regarded her. “And their uncle?” he asked.

  Mariah swallowed. “I’m getting to know their uncle more a bit each day, although that’s been a little bit of a challenge. He’s not as open as most people.”

  Mr. McCormick nodded. “Miss Redding, I’ll be frank with you. I don’t know how long I’m in town—I could be here another month, I could move here permanently, or I could be called back to Denver on another job. My plans have no permanence. I find you beautiful and fascinating, and I’d like to get to know you better while I’m here. I had planned to ask if that would be agreeable to you, but I sense that your feelings are drifting in another direction.” He nodded to the boys, but she knew that he also included Hans in that equation.

  “You’re right,” she said, giving him a smile. “You’re right, but I didn’t even know it until about an hour ago. I hope I haven’t misled you in any way—that wasn’t my intention.”

  “Not at all. I understand that things can change. I’m glad that we’ve given the boys a chance to experience some wilderness for a few minutes at least.”

  “Thank you for bringing us, and for the delicious lunch. You’ve really been too kind,” she told him.

  He placed his hand on hers, gave it the smallest squeeze, and then let go. “It was my pleasure.”

  ***

  Hans was standing outside the forge chatting with someone Mariah hadn’t met when Mr. McCormick delivered her and the boys back home. Mr. McCormick helped them down and wished them well, then drove the buggy off to the livery to return it. Mariah felt bad for the trouble and expense he’d gone through on her behalf, but was relieved to feel that they had parted as friends.

  The man Hans was speaking with walked away, leaving Hans standing there alone. He met her gaze with a little smile, and she walked up to him, her hands on her hips. “You’re looking a little smug this afternoon, Mr. Jensen,” she said in a low voice. “I do hope you’re happy with yourself.”

  “Happy? Whatever do you mean?”

  “You know full well what I mean.” She glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “The entire time I was gone, I couldn’t stop thinking about . . . you know what.”

  “Oh? And what was that?” He reached out and gently tugged on a little piece of hair that had fallen loose from her bun. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She glanced down at his lips. That was a bad idea—now
he was looking at hers, and they were standing on the side of the street with people bustling around them, and kissing right then would be scandalous, but she’d gotten used to scandal and had decided it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

  “I . . . think it’s time for me to start supper,” she said when the tension was so thick, she couldn’t breathe. Changing the subject was good. “Boys, you can help me roll the pie dough.”

  “Hooray! Pie!” Peter jumped up from his spot on the porch steps. Mariah laughed. That boy would have to be watched or he’d eat nothing but sweets morning, noon, and night. She’d been providing them, though, so she was just as much to blame as anyone.

  Just as they were all about to enter the house, Preston let out a cry and began to run toward the street.

  “Preston!” Mariah picked up her skirt and began to follow him. Where on earth was he going? He darted between people, around people, behind people—she couldn’t keep up. “Preston!” she called out again, terror rising in her chest as she saw him running between horses. He hadn’t learned anything from the near miss with Mr. McCormick—he was putting himself in danger yet again.

  She redoubled her speed, pushing past men and women who weren’t moving out of her way quickly enough. Up ahead, she saw that the stagecoach was unloading, and that seemed to be where Preston was heading. What could he want with the stagecoach?

  Just as he neared it, he ran beneath the hooves of one of the horses, and the animal reared back. It came down heavily on its front legs. Mariah reached out, grabbed Preston’s arm, and pulled him out of the way just as he surely would have been crushed. She pulled him tightly to her and collapsed on the side of the road, sobbing, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs.

  “Mama! Mama!” Preston called out, struggling against her grip.

  Peter and Hans dashed up to them just then. “Are you all right?” Hans asked, his eyes darting from one to the other.

  “Uncle Hans, Preston thinks that’s our mama,” Peter said, pointing to a woman who had gotten off the stagecoach and was now claiming one of the bags that was being lowered from the roof.

  Hans straightened slowly, his eyes focused on the woman. “Oh, no,” he whispered. Then he stooped back down. “Preston, I’m sorry, but that’s not your mama.”

  The boy wouldn’t be convinced. Tears streamed down his face as he continued to struggle against Mariah’s arms.

  “May I?” Hans asked, and Mariah willingly let him take the boy. She watched as he led Preston over to the woman. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but she could guess that Hans was introducing himself and giving Preston the chance to see that she was, in fact, a stranger.

  “We never got to say goodbye or nothin’,” Peter said. Mariah had almost forgotten he was standing there by her shoulder. “They were just gone one day. The sheriff came and told us. Preston was too little to understand. He thinks they’re gonna come back.”

  “Oh, Peter.” Mariah reached around him and gave him a big hug. “You’ve been such a brave big brother. I bet you miss them too.”

  A single tear ran down his cheek, but he quickly wiped it away. “I do, but I know they’re not coming back.”

  “And do you know that it’s all right to cry about it? You don’t have to be brave for Preston every single minute. You can have all the feelings you need to have.”

  His lower lip quivered. He didn’t reply, but his grip around her neck tightened.

  Hans came walking back, Preston in his arms. The boy was sobbing as though his heart had just been ripped from his chest. “Mama,” he wailed. Mariah held out her arms, and Hans lowered the boy into them. She held him in her lap and rocked back and forth until his sobs had faded into a whimper.

  “That very nice lady was kind enough to talk with us for a minute and let Preston see that she wasn’t his mother,” Hans said, his voice soft. “And I think we have a boy who is finally starting to understand.”

  Mariah squeezed him just a little closer. She hadn’t missed at all how Hans had used the word “we,” and she loved it. She wanted to be in their lives. She wanted to do whatever she could to help ease this transition for this family. She wanted to cuddle these boys and be held by that man and even wash the blankets, her most dreaded housekeeping task ever. She wanted all of it so badly that she thought she’d explode from the wanting of it.

  When she looked up at Hans, she could see that he wanted it too.

  “Would you like to get off the ground now, Miss Redding?” he asked, and she nodded.

  “I think that would be very nice. Thank you.”

  ***

  Hans and Mariah gathered the boys together in the front room and they talked for a long time. Peter shared more stories about his parents, and Hans related some of his own memories from growing up with the boys’ mother. Mariah loved watching his eyes come alive as he remembered those days. She wished she could somehow see him as a little boy, but she suspected he was a lot like Peter, so maybe she was getting that chance after all.

  Mariah smoothed Preston’s hair back from his forehead and just held him close. He’d always been such a sober child, and now he seemed even more withdrawn. She didn’t know how to reach him. Finally, after Hans had read the children a story from the Bible, she asked if she could see the book. It had some nicely illustrated pictures inside, and she thought Preston might like to look at them.

  She turned the pages for him slowly as he studied each one. She wasn’t paying much attention to it, though, her hands working automatically. She was listening to another of Peter’s stories when suddenly, Preston sat bolt upright in her arms, and she almost dropped both him and the Bible.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked him.

  Peter was at his side in a flash. “Look,” Preston said, jabbing the page with his index finger. “Mama!”

  Mariah looked where he was pointing. The page showed a chorus of angels gathering to sing the praises of the newborn Jesus, and one of them was a beautiful young woman with light-colored hair and a sweet smile.

  “Does she look like your mama, Preston?” she asked. The boy nodded and clutched the book to his chest.

  “See?” Peter said to his brother. “I’ve been telling you all along—Mama’s with the angels.”

  Mariah glanced up and saw Hans wiping a tear off his cheek. Preston finally had a look of peace on his face—he finally understood where his mama was, and he seemed to be all right with the idea.

  She swallowed a few times before she was able to speak. “Peter, could you go into the kitchen and get my bag from the table for me?”

  He nodded, and when he came back, she pulled out some paper and a pencil.

  “Preston, how would you like your very own picture to carry around with you wherever you go?”

  His eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly.

  She took the Bible and placed it flat on the small table at her elbow. Preston slid off her lap so he could watch more easily, and that was perfectly all right with her because she needed the elbow room. She laid the paper over the picture in the Bible and traced it as best as she could. The lines that didn’t show through the paper, she just filled in, using what few artistic skills she’d picked up from Mrs. Browning’s art class so many years before. When she was done, she handed it to Preston, and he beamed, hugging it to his chest.

  “Would you like one too, Peter?” she asked the older boy.

  He seemed to think about it, then shook his head. “No, I think that needs to be special for him,” he said. “But I’ll tell ya if I change my mind.”

  Mariah gathered him close. “You’re a very special boy, Peter,” she told him.

  Several minutes later, Hans came downstairs after tucking the boys in for the night. He walked slowly, and she could tell he was weary. He sank back into his chair and sighed.

  “What a day.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “I now understand why God sends children as infants. It takes time to work up to handling stuff like that.” He pointed upward
as if to indicate what they’d just been through.

  “And you got two at a time. You’re doing remarkably well,” she told him. She slid her things back into her bag and stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hans. Sleep well.”

  She’d thought he was tired, but he was on his feet in a flash. “You’re leaving?”

  “Well, the boys are in bed and the dishes are done. What else do you need me for?”

  “There’s a little matter we need to discuss.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “I have a friend named Reverend Bing. He’s a pretty nice fellow, but he has certain beliefs about certain things, and I have a sneaking suspicion that if he were to find out that I kissed you this morning, he’d say something about us getting married.”

  Her heart gave an extra thud, but she kept her face straight. “What would he say if he found out that I kissed you back?”

  “He’d probably insist that we hold the wedding right away, especially since you’re here in the house with me every day. Unsupervised.”

  “Doesn’t he think the boys are enough supervision?”

  “No. A real chaperone is over four feet tall.”

  “Hmm. What do you recommend we do, then?”

  He took a step closer. “I think we should probably listen to the reverend.”

  “You do, do you?”

  He reached out and snaked an arm around her waist. “Definitely. Because you’re an unmarried woman in my house, and I’m not to be trusted.”

  “You’re not?” She could barely speak.

  “No, I’m not.” He pulled her close and kissed her again.

  “You are most definitely not to be trusted,” she said when he finally let her go.

  “I’ll go talk to the reverend in the morning,” he replied. “Now get out of here, Miss Redding.”

  She grinned as she walked out the front door. Definitely, definitely not to be trusted.