15

Jed sat forward in his rocking chair, palms covering his face, and then he sat back, dropping his hands. The fire in the wood stove waned, and Jed contemplated adding another log. A spark from the burning wood snapped loudly.

Griffin emerged from the bedroom. “They’re both sleeping finally. In your bed. I’ll move Thomas to the floor next to me so he doesn’t roll onto Josiah while he’s sleeping.”

“I’ll sleep in the chair tonight.”

Griffin didn’t move. “Think Josiah’s gonna be all right?”

“The fever is from fighting infection.”

“Thomas wants me to ask if he could stay home from school until Josiah goes back.”

Jed waited for the heaviness in his chest to subside.

“You know this ain’t your fault.”

Yes, it is.

“Those Reifstack boys would’ve found them sooner or later. If not walking home, somewhere else.”

“Do you think they’re happy?”

“Do I think who’s happy?” After a long silence, he spoke again. “The boys?”

Jed rocked in the chair, waiting for Griffin to speak.

“Orphans done gave up on being happy, Mr. Green. They’re dry. Warm. And their tummies aren’t empty. Probably better than they imagined.” Griffin sat in a chair across from Jed and stared at him. “Thomas wants to be glued to wherever you are. And Josiah wants to be glued to Thomas. Seems like you three are pretty stuck with each other.”

Jed brushed the calluses on his hands.

“You’re sorry you took us in, ain’t you? You can send us back. Happened to me. Twice.” Griffin seemed indifferent.

“I’m not thinking that at all.”

“Then what’re you mopin’ about?”

“What about you?” Jed ignored his question. “You doing all right?”

Griffin stood and patted Jed on the shoulder. “I’ve been a lot worse.”

~*~

Two long weeks had passed since the fight, and Thomas and Josiah weren’t back at school.

Grace snapped the book shut in the middle of Patrick’s oral reading.

He paused, and the others looked up.

“Let’s do something different,” Grace told them. “Follow me.” She marched them outside and down a nearby path toward a clearing. The children scattered throughout the meadow but stayed within close enough range that Grace could see them. She directed them to use their empty lunch pails to find the Texas wildflowers and grasses they read about in the books that Grace had found on the shelves earlier in the week.

Minnie returned with a handful of bluebonnets and a clump of false purple thistle. “These are my favorite colors.”

“Very pretty. Those two species are in the books. Do you remember their names?”

Minnie shook her head.

“You can look them up as soon as we return. That will be a good project for you.”

“Can I get more?” Minnie asked.

“Sure. But just one or two of each variety, so others can grow.”

“This is fun. Mr. Hennessy never let us do this before.” She scampered off.

A small yellow sea of bitterweed grew in between a cluster of rocks. Grace knelt down and picked a sprig of the common wildflower.

Patrick handed her a long stalk with red flowers, one of the few tall species to bloom in the fall. “I think this is butterfly weed. It said in the book that bees and butterflies like it, and I just saw a black butterfly about.”

Two of the girls screamed. Cora was running and Minnie chased Leisel across the meadow. Cora wiggled and danced about. “Leisel put a grasshopper down my back.”

Grace pulled the waist of Cora’s bodice so that the insect would slide down. “Is it gone now?”

“I think so.”

“It’s not funny!” Minnie declared when the other children laughed.

Leisel cupped his hands and crept behind Minnie, but she turned before he could do anything. She tried to push him, but Leisel moved out of her reach. He taunted her as he ran backward, but then his foot slipped and his legs gave out beneath him. He fell onto the ground, and Minnie fell on him. She pummeled the boy with both fists.

Grace pushed Minnie off to the side.

Blood trickled from Leisel’s nose.

Grace bent over him. “Leisel, are you all right?”

He rolled, covered his nose, and then stood.

Some of the children snickered.

Leisel ran toward his home.

Grace pulled Minnie up. “Picking flowers was fun, but now it’s over because of fighting.”

“But Leisel—”

Grace interrupted Minnie. “I know what Leisel did. And I’m sorry that happened to you and Cora. His behavior will not go unpunished,”—she paused—“but you and I will have a talk later about better ways to respond. Let’s head on back now.”

The class protested.

“We will walk back as a group. Without speaking. You may pick and gather as we return.”

“I’m sorry I ruined our special outing.” Minnie was near tears. “But I’m not sorry I punched Leisel in the face.”

“I’m glad you’re our teacher, Miss Cantrell,” said Aster May, one of the older girls. The girl handed her a small, orange-yellow flower with a dark brown center. “Coreopsis. It’s in one of the pamphlets we read yesterday. Also called tickseed because the seeds are small and look like tiny bugs the size of a tick. I can help the others identify theirs if you want me to.”

The children ran ahead as they neared the schoolhouse.

Commotion rang from inside and someone spoke, not one of her students.

“Sit in your seats, please,” Grace commanded.

Grace immediately recognized the long hair and gentle curls. Joy, her sister, turned, and Grace ran toward her. Joy embraced her, and they both laughed until Grace started to tear up.

“Look at you. A schoolteacher. Picking wildflowers. The class just told me.” Joy looked at the students. “My sister loves flowers. We always had a full vase somewhere in our house.”

“I haven’t seen you at church.”

“Yes.” Joy looked down. “The ranch is farther out than I realized. We only make it to church about once a month. But one of the ranch hands leads us in a sermon and singing every Sunday. Mr. Jameson needed some supplies this afternoon, so I came along with Maria, the cook.”

“You look great.” Grace wanted to ask about her new husband but couldn’t in front of the children. Her sister must’ve read her thoughts, a skill they’d developed over years. Something was terribly wrong. Joy’s face fell and she sniffled before finding her voice.

“I got your letter. I had every intention of writing back, but they’ve kept me so busy on the ranch. And I need to talk to you about Mercy.” She looked around at each of the children “But anyway, which one is Josiah?”

”He and his brother haven’t came for almost two weeks,” Minnie said. “They got in a fight.”

There was a tinge of pain behind Joy’s smile toward the little girl.

And Joy probably saw the pain in Grace’s own expression.

~*~

Jed tucked the dollar bills and coins into a pocket. First time in three days cash had been slipped into his hands. With the shop empty he could start on the next project.

“How can you stand listening to them?” Griffin’s jaw tightened.

“Who?”

“Who?” Griffin opened one hand. “Those two old varmints who hung over the railing bickering. Only ones in the shop all morning. They went at it for more than an hour.”

Oh, those men. Dorsey Crump and Eldridge Macon argued all the time.

“I just tune them out.”

Griffin raised his brows.

Jed placed the tool in the hardy hole and stuck the center of an iron rod in the fire. “Watch now. I’ll show you how to cut a piece. You’ll be doing this someday to make chain links.”

The sound of hooves and the whinny of a horse filtered through the stuffy air.

“Can’t we ever get a break?” Griffin grumbled.

Two men walked into the shop, both grumbling about the heat and waiting for a break in the weather.

Buster Crowley had walked with a gimp for fifteen years, but a frown never seemed to reach his face. Even when he complained, his smile stretched wide.

Willard Jeffries entered behind him, hands in his deep pockets. The lapel of his jacket was ironed smooth and crisp. He worked hard making sure those who worked for him worked harder.

“Hey there, Mr. Jed. You got that dinner bell ready for me?” Buster always spoke loud.

“Sure do.” Griffin pulled it off the shelf and handed it to him.

Buster dug in his pockets. “How much I owe you there?”

Griffin held out his palm. “Forty-five cents.”

Buster placed a coin on the railing. “There’s that quarter I was looking for.” He fished around and dropped two other coins.

Jed took the iron out of the coals and placed the orange glow on the tip of the hardy tool. He pounded a few swift blows to indent the rod.

“Is that forty-five?” Buster asked.

“Need you a nickel more.” Griffin took a nickel from Buster’s palm. “That’ll do it.” He handed Buster the dinner bell.

“Well, thank you both. My wife’s been getting onto me about getting one. She hollers at me to come to the house and my hearing is getting so bad I can’t always hear her.” His jolly laugh rolled like music as he turned to exit. “Maybe this’ll work.”

Jed finished the cut with another strike. He rested one of the rods on the face of the anvil and handed the other to Griffin who immediately rested it up against the back wall with the other similar pieces. Jed nodded to the customer left in the shop. “Mr. Jeffries.”

“You can call me Willard. This here is a friendly visit.”

Jed looked at Griffin and gestured toward the bellows.

Mr. Jeffries’s gaze shifted to Jed. “Heard you made a visit to the farm to see Abner a while back.”

Jed brushed the dust and debris from the anvil.

“Said you were right upset that day.” Willard Jeffries shifted his weight. “Look, I don’t know what happened or if the Reifstack boys were involved.”

“They were,” Griffin interjected.

Jed lifted an opened palm to silence Griffin.

Jeffries’s eyebrows narrowed as he stared at Griffin. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“This is my new apprentice. His name is Griffin,” Jed said as he straightened. “I believe Abner’s boys were responsible. And for another encounter at the festival before that.”

The wealthy landowner stepped back and gave a condescending smile. “I get what you’re saying, Jed. But young boys do foolish things. This here is no reason for you to lose business. And I have employed you with a tremendous amount of work over the years.”

“So, your concern is for me?” Jed asked. “There’s not enough work to make me turn a blind eye to meanness toward someone who belongs to me.”

“I’m not asking you to do that. Just that you let this go and I’ll see to it that nothing like this happens again.” Jeffries gave a fake smile. “If it does, you can shoot poor old Abner if you want.”

“What is it you want fixed?” Jed asked.

“What makes you think I’m needing something? Maybe I just want to smooth things over.”

Jed took the iron rod and shifted it into his other hand.

Jeffries opened both palms. “I’m a busy man. Been meaning to get out here and talk to you, Jed, I swear.”

Jed stuck the iron in the coals.

“Abner said something about the plow for the oxen,” Jeffries admitted. He dug into his pocket and pulled out several dollar bills. “I’ll pay you cash. In advance.”

Before Jed could react, Griffin reached out and snatched the money. “This doesn’t make up for bruises, a broken nose, and a fear of walking to school by yourself.”

Jeffries pulled out another bill and slapped it down on the railing.

It’d been a while since Jed had seen a ten-dollar bill in cash.

“I’ll have one of my other workers haul it over to you within the next two or three days. You let me know if Reifstack bothers you again.” He left.

Jed dug that piece of iron into the coals to finish the last few links in a chain. “You ready?”

Griffin reached to pump the handle.

Jed shook his head. “I’ve got the bellows this time.”

“All right. What am I doing?” Griffin asked.

Jed inclined his head toward the table. “Grab the second hammer from the end.” He pulled a new stake and laid the tip on the center of the anvil. He pointed. “Pound here.”

The gold flecks in Griffin’s hazel eyes twinkled. He reached for the hammer and raised his arm high.

Jed grabbed Griffin’s forearm. “Not so tight.” Jed shoved the stake back into the center of the coals. His hand circled Griffin’s wrist. “Don’t tense your muscles. No need to hold it tight. The hammer isn’t going to fall out of your hand.”

Griffin loosened his grip.

And for the first time Jed saw a minuscule amount of humility radiate from him. “Your shoulders will give out before your seven years are up. Let the weight of the hammer do the work.” Jed removed the stake.

Griffin pounded, and the strike fell solid.

“Breathe,” Jed told him.

Griffin inhaled and then exhaled as he pounded.

“Doing well. Just remember to relax.”

Jed worked Griffin for the next hour. The boy seemed to have the flow inside him as he worked. He would learn that strength and muscle had a purpose for more than just fighting.

Griffin made his last set of strikes, and Jed ran his fingers along Griffin’s first piece of work. He handed it to Griffin and inclined his head toward the barrel of water. Griffin dipped the tip of his new fire poker into the water. It sizzled, and his cheeks flushed with pride.

Jed prayed Griffin would always remember this moment. That each strike of the hammer would be an act of service, a method of devotion. Not just the thud of iron on iron.

“What do I do with it now?” Griffin asked.

“Hang it on a nail on the post. I sell one or two a week.”

Griffin found a place for it along the wall. And when he turned, Jed saw the inklings of a sincere smile. One of pride, not arrogance.

“Can I—”

“Not today. I’ve got to get through this order within the next day or so.”

Griffin’s smile faded, but he nodded. His gaze was drawn toward the door.

“Well, hello.” Hail Talbert stood in the entrance, his smile wide and haughty.

In general, nobody ever bothered Jed, but this particular man grated on his nerves.

“Little chillier than normal this morning. But I guess you wouldn’t mind that with the forge and all.”

“What can I do for you?” Jed asked, ignoring his condescending attitude.

“Well, I thought I’d come see about getting me some new candelabras.”

Jed pointed to the shelf. “There’s a good set over here.”

Talbert took one step forward. He looked down at the floor. His polished shoes shone, completely dust-free.

Jed unlocked the gate from the work area, lifted the ornate candleholder, and handed it to him.

Hail Talbert examined it. “You do a right fine job, Jedidiah. Think this would make a new bride happy?”

“You’re asking the wrong person. But it’s the best you’ll find unless you want to order from the catalog in the General Mercantile. And I’m not sure if it’ll be any better.”

“I got a lady who cooks for me a few times a week. And then there’s Hawkins place, so I never pay no mind to this kind of stuff.”

“Why don’t you ask the lady what she wants? If I had a picture, I could go by that.”

Talbert returned the piece to the shelf and stepped toward the railing. He spread his arms over the wood and leaned forward, highlighting the smoothness in his hands and the skin around his fingernails. This man never used a speck of muscle or grit to get anything done. Perhaps some would find that admirable.

But Jed didn’t. Hard work made a boy into a man. Worked his soul. His spirit.

“Thing is, I haven’t proposed yet.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “Word has it that Mr. Hennessy may return before the term ends to take over the schoolhouse. And if so, the lovely Miss Cantrell will be available for courting sooner than expected.”

Something stabbed the center of Jed’s chest. He wasn’t sure if it felt hot or cold, only that it pierced and stung.

“And I don’t see how a woman in her situation, unmarried with nothing to her name besides the clothes on her back, could refuse an offer from someone such as myself. Do you?”

Daydreams of her pretty face had been hard enough, now the image of her belonging to somebody else, especially this man, left him rigid.

“In fact, I think she’s kind of sweet on me.” Talbert chuckled, and when Jed didn’t follow along, his smile slowly faded. “You don’t know anyone else who’d be interested in pursuing the young lady, do you?”

Jed reopened the gate and stepped back inside. He stoked the coals, ignoring Griffin. “You let me know what you want to do about the candleholders.”

Talbert paused, the smirk on his face more magnified. “Oh, I’ll be sure to keep you posted.” He lifted his hat. “You have a fine business.” Talbert left, a spring in his step.

Veins that carried blood to Jed’s heart seemed filled with molten lead. He gripped the wood rail tight.

“Relax.” Griffin patted him firmly on his upper back. “Your shoulders will done give out before you can get in the runnin’ for that pretty schoolmistress.”

~*~

Grace moved the half-empty cup of tea away from the edge of the bedside table. She tucked the quilt around Edith’s shoulders, then smoothed her silvery gray curls. The old woman didn’t flinch. Short, fine eyelashes lay against pale, wrinkled skin. Grace kissed her gently on her temple. Edith could sleep a little while longer.

Usually by the time Grace returned from the schoolhouse, Edith had awakened from her afternoon nap. But this week had been especially hard for some reason. She looked more tired, moved slower, and spoke less.

A soft knock sounded on the door. Or perhaps that was the autumn wind again jarring the threshold as it whipped across the Texas plain.

Grace moved to the front door and recognized Minnie’s sweet face pressed against the glass. She opened the door.

Erastus Littleberry stood in front of her, Minnie off to the side, her face downcast.

“Minnie. What brings you here?”

Erastus removed his hat and pressed it against his chest. His shirt collar lay crumpled around his neck. A plump belly stuck out between his suspenders. He must’ve recently washed his face, for a layer of fine dirt lay in contrast underneath his jawline.

“Uncle says you might not be our teacher after the fall term. That true?” Minnie asked.

“Well, we’re not sure yet. Mrs. Beauregard said that was a possibility.”

Erastus jutted his right hand toward her. “Brought you some beans. Delivered a load to the boardinghouse and then to the Dillard’s estate. Her hired help cans ’em every year. Thought I’d bring you what’s left.”

A farm wagon, half loaded with string beans, sat in the yard.

“Where’d you like me to put ’em?”

~*~

Jed smoothed the hair from his forehead and put on his hat.

Griffin rapped his knuckles lightly on the opened door. “They say they still won’t go.”

Jed tore off his hat and threw it onto the bed.

“I told Josiah he could ride piggyback, but he won’t budge. Thomas don’t wanna go without him, but I’m sure one of us can persuade him.”

Tension crept into Jed’s shoulders from lack of sleep and constant aggravation. He had been short with the boys last night after supper.

“You want me—”

“No.” Jed ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll figure something out. Thought they’d get tired of doing chores all day by this time. It’s been two weeks.”

“Well, I can throw Josiah over my shoulder. Thomas’ll follow.”

“Don’t blame them for being scared.” Jed grabbed his hat again. “But I got the Children’s Aid Society to also worry about.”

“How’re they gonna know they ain’t in school?”

“No idea. But I gotta figure something out.”

“Nobody’s gonna jump them if I’m with ’em.”

Jed patted Griffin on the side of his arm. “I got this. But thank you.”

“Should I get the fire going in the forge?”

“Yes,” Jed looked at him squarely. “But don’t do anything else. You’ll start pounding when I get back. And not before.”

He grabbed a dried biscuit from the kitchen table and opened the front door, trusting Griffin would close it for him. The morning sun shone bright behind a crystal blue sky. He rounded the corner of the house and found the boys.

Josiah sat with his shoulders against the garden shed. His arms were folded as if he anticipated a struggle and wasn’t about to give in.

Thomas sat on an overturned log next to him and twisted blue stem into a knot.

“If you’re not going to school again, you’re going to have even more chores.”

Thomas looked at Josiah and then up to Jed.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” Jed asked.

Josiah’s shoulders lifted and lowered.

God, help me here.

Thomas crept closer to Josiah, his eyes on his face.

Josiah turned away from him.

“Thomas, do you want to go to school?” Jed asked.

Thomas struggled with how to answer.

“Go on.” Jed inclined his head toward the house. “Griffin will walk with you. Tell him he needs to come see me first.”

Thomas looked at Josiah.

“Don’t worry about Josiah. I’ll see to it that he’s all right.”

Thomas walked around the corner to the shop.

Josiah found a stick and dug it into the dirt.

He’s like you. Kind, but afraid. What he needs to learn, you do as well.

Jed’s feet felt lighter but his chest heavier. He sat on the log and faced Josiah. “You will go with Griffin to pick up Thomas after school. And you will stay for an hour or so and work on your reading and writing with Miss Cantrell. I’ll send word with Griffin to ask her today.”

Josiah pulled on some grasses.

Jed’s patience began to wane. “You know I could just throw you over my shoulder and take you there.”

“Only if you go with me.”

“What?”

“You go with me. You don’t know reading, either. So, I’m not going,” the boy said with conviction.

A blacksmith had no reason to learn to read. And Miss Cantrell would see him as a fool.

“Please.” Josiah moved to his knees in front of him. “Please, Mr. Green.”

Jed couldn’t believe what a six-year-old boy and the Holy Spirit had just convinced him to do.