Twenty One
Doc took a long while with Harry. His head needed stitches.
“That man has a mighty tough skull,” he said to Harriet after she finished milking the cow and walked out of the barn. “Good thing, too. A blow like that would have killed most men.” Doc looked around the place, at the temporarily exhausted mustang, the corrals and pastures. “Not a neighbor in miles. Way out here by his lonesome, he might have died from exposure.”
“See the dog?” Harriet said. “That’s Howler, a stray Harry adopted. I think he dragged that blanket across Harry. Based on the hair I saw on it, he then slept right beside Harry, maybe even on top of him, to keep him warm.”
“Likely saved his life while he waited for you to get here. That dog is a smart critter.”
“He didn’t wait for me to get here. I was riding by the river when Howler must have seen or heard me. He came running and barking. Once I heard the cow complaining and spotted a couple of vultures circling, I knew something was wrong.”
“Now I’m really impressed. Howler saved Harry. There is no doubt about that. And those stitches were necessary. Without your finding him and fetching me, his chances would have been slim to none.”
“And now that you’ve seen him?”
“Oh, he’ll heal just fine. But he’d best not try breaking any horses any time soon. He needs to take it slow.”
She nodded firmly. “I’ll see to that.”
Doc smiled. “You care about this man, don’t you, Harriet?”
She nodded. “He has asked me to marry, and I’ve accepted.”
“That’s wonderful.” Then Doc paused, questioning, “Does that mean we have to find another blacksmith?”
“No. Harry knows I love my trade and would never give up my father’s smithy.”
“I see. Sounds like he’s quite a man.”
“That he is. I never dreamed I’d be getting married.”
“Your mother and father would be pleased you’ve found someone with whom to share your life. You deserve happiness.”
A smile spread across Harriet’s face and she looked up to the sky. “I do hope they know. I think they’d have liked Harry.”
“I’m certain you’re right.”
Nodding, Doc asked, “Mind if I spread the word? You know the reactions of the town and how wild they can be. I will try to ensure they understand nothing is to change at the smithy. All right with you?”
Harriet consented. “Sure. It’ll be a change, having the news delivered accurately for once. Gossip mills can make a mess of things.”
“I understand.”
“I also have a favor to ask. Could you put up a sign on my blacksmith shop indicating I won’t be in today? I’ll stay here and be sure Harry is all right. If you could get someone to ride out to the Brown’s place and ask if Sue would mind coming out and caring for Harry, I’d be much obliged. I have to be proper, and I don’t want to stay here overnight. Besides, I have animals in the stables needing attention.”
“Animals are as demanding as my patients. I heard the cow bellowing when I rode in here. Sounds like she’s happy again.”
“Yes, and since the cow used to be Sue’s, she can attend to her each morning until Harry is steady on his feet.”
Once Doc was out of sight, Harriet hurried back to the house to check on Harry. He sprawled half stretched out on his bedroll atop a thick straw mattress on the big bed he’d built into one corner, where, as she’d once said she liked, the morning sun shone through the window. He had, she realized, built it there for her. He leaned back against a wall, his eyes closed. But they drifted open as soon as she closed the door.
He grabbed her hand and tugged her down to sit beside him. “What’d the doctor say?”
She smiled, enjoying the feel of his hard, warm fingers wrapped around her hand. “You’ll live.”
“Good. Now that I have someone for whom to live.”
“I told him we’ll be getting married. He’s going to send a lad out to ask Sue to come here for a couple of days. A married woman can tend to you but a fiancée mustn’t spend the night alone with her betrothed. I know little about such things, but tongues wagging will help neither of us.” She paused a moment. “I’m sure he’ll tell Otis, and soon the whole town will know you and I intend to marry.”
“I want the world to know we’re to be wed.”
“I don’t know about the world, but everyone in the area will know before sundown.”
He reached out and touched her cheek. “You sound worried.”
“Doc immediately assumed I’d be leaving the blacksmith shop, but I straightened him out on that. I sure don’t want to go through what I did when my father passed.”
“You won’t. I’ll see to it nobody expects your smithy to close down.
Why, I’m proud to be marrying a blacksmith. How many men can say such a thing?”
Harriet broke into laughter. “Not many, I dare say.”
“Doc will tell the full story. He seems a good man.
“Sue will be relieved to hear you’ve forgiven the two of us.”
Harriet nodded. “Yes. We’ve been best friends all of our lives. I’ve been miserable since blowing up at her like that. I do have a temper,” she warned him.
“As do I.”
“We ought to make a real pair then.”
“Nothing will be boring. Of that, I’m sure.”
~ * ~
Harry and Harriet, both seated on his big bed, had just finished the breakfast she’d cooked for them in the fireplace—soda-bread, beans and eggs—along with mugs of rich, creamy milk, followed by the same enamel mugs filled with coffee, when Harry cocked his head at the sound of a carriage approaching,
“Must be Sue, already,” he said, and tried to sit a little more erect. Harriet nodded and went to the door. Through the opening, Harry saw, not Sue, not Ben, but Abigail and her mother. Abigail glared at Harriet and elbowed her aside as she rushed through the door without invitation.
“Oh, my poor Harry!” she cried, perching at his side and touching the large white bandage Doc had wrapped around his head. “You’re hurt! I came as soon as I heard. The mean mustang should not have thrown my big man against that post. I simply could not bear to hear you had been injured. Mother and I have brought some of Mabel’s chicken soup to help you mend.” She took his hand in hers, leaning over him. “My poor, poor dear,” she continued cooing. “Mother, we must take him home with us as soon as he’s fit to travel. Why, I can’t have my Harry lying in this… this hovel. He needs a proper bed, nutritious food, and kind, loving nursing at the hands of a… good woman.”
Harry recoiled, snatched his hand free, feeling the nightmare snare tightening again. “I am not your big man, Abigail. I am not your anything. I am Harriet’s man. My heart belongs to her. I have asked her to marry me and she has accepted. Did the doctor forget to mention that?”
“I—I—that is, we—thought he was joking or that Otis had misunderstood,” she stuttered in disbelief, then swept a contemptuous gaze over Harriet. “How, how, how c-could you ch-choose her over me?”
“The ways of the heart are difficult to explain,” Harry said, not unkindly, but very firmly. “I admit I did you ill by sitting next to you in church. I only did it to make Harriet jealous, and for that, I apologize. I am deeply sorry if you misunderstood my action in any way. It was wrong of me.”
“You used me to make another jealous?” Her tone might have sounded like she was spitting nails, but Harry saw a distinct gleam of pleasure in her eyes over being viewed as one who could make other women jealous.
“Yes, and I as I’ve said, I am truly sorry. I beg your forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness?” she screeched. “That I cannot give you. What you did is reprehensible. Romance is not something with which to toy, Harry Barton. The heart is not a playground. I thought you admired me.”
“You have many charms, Abigail. Many a man admires you.”
“Then why not marry me instead of the blacksmith? Why, she is old!” she went on as if Harriet wasn’t even there.
That made Harry laugh. “I am the same age as Harriet.”
“But you are not old. Men don’t age as women do.”
“Doesn’t sound logical, Abigail. But it matters not. I love Harriet, and she is to be my wife. That’s the end of it.”
Abigail spun around and sputtered at Harriet, “How could you? I told you I wanted him. I asked you to help me get him. How dare you go behind my back like this, you, you… trollop.”
“That is enough.” Harry managed to struggle to his feet. “Harriet did nothing wrong. I loved her before I even saw you, miss.” He swayed and at once his strong Harriet was there to wrap an arm around his waist. He put his over her shoulders, using her for support. “You have no right to speak to my fiancée in such a manner, Abigail.”
“You… you cad!” she flung at him. She stormed out onto the porch and clung to the rail, with her back to them as she sobbed loudly. Didn’t sound sincere at all, Harry was certain.
Her mother shook her head sadly, handed the soup to Harriet, who set the bowl on the hearth. “I’m sorry about Abigail and her behavior. She has had few disappointments in life. She had a hankering for Harry, and doesn’t take rejection at all well. I’ll see to her.”
“Thank you for the chicken soup, ma’am,” Harry said.
“You’re quite welcome, Mr. Barton.” Together, he and Harriet followed the woman out through the door. “I bid you both good morning.”
Unfortunately, Abigail was not yet to be dismissed, her unabated fury evidenced by her flushed face, twisted mouth, and heaving breast. She should have had a head of steam rolling from her ears, Harry thought. When her mother tried to urge her down the steps and toward the carriage, she twisted free and came at Harriet with fingernails pointed, as though she were a cougar, ready to pounce on prey.
Harriet put her hands up in time to grab her without suffering so much as a scratch. Harry forced down the urge to cut loose with a belly-laugh as she held the girl, feet dangling and kicking wildly, uselessly, in the air, as she continued to storm incoherently.
“Abigail,” her mother admonished in a harsh tone. “Remember you are a lady.”
Harriet carefully set the girl on to her feet beside her mother, who wrapped a firm arm around her. With a sniff and a toss of her head, Abigail smoothed out her dress, primped her hair, and assumed a more ladylike demeanor. Once she’d gathered her composure, she stood poised, but still glared. “I believe you outsmarted me some way or other, blacksmith. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I had the affection of Harry Barton and you somehow took him away from me. I will learn to accept that fact. But, I’m afraid we can no longer be friends.”
Her mother steered her down the steps and out to the carriage. The older woman threw an apologetic look over her shoulder and drove off.
“I can’t believe that girl considered me to be her friend.” Harriet said, and helped Harry back to what was to become their home.