They left, and Ty turned back to his forge. He used the bellows to fan the fire and grinned at the collection of implements waiting for repair. Hickory Corners had been without a blacksmith for months, and essential things had fallen into disrepair. Most of the men within a whole day’s ride had dropped by with items that needed urgent attention.
They needed him there. Aye, they did—and he’d been a bit of a rascal, inserting himself into the Larkins’ life and even daring to address Betsy so familiarly. She had better get used to it. He was here to stay, and he wanted her to need him, too.
A steady work pace soon resulted in several sound repairs. Ty set the items on a shelf and carefully kept them with the tags he made to remind him of the owners’ names. In a week or so, he’d know them all by name and recall what belonged to whom, but for now, the paper helped him remember names and faces.
The tiny cabin next to the smithy left much to be desired. He’d slept on a pallet of pine needles the past three nights because the iron bedstead needed joint work and the mattress had boasted a nest of field mice. Though he’d gotten rid of the creatures and knocked down the cobwebs, the place clearly hadn’t been inhabited for a long while. He’d lived in far worse. Having slept in the woodshed until his stepfather sold him into his apprenticeship, he still shuddered at being in small, dark places.
Thanks to Betsy’s fine cooking, he hadn’t had to fix a real meal for himself. Just as well, too. He still needed to visit the mercantile to lay in essential supplies. With the bartered goods or money he’d collect from the men who would claim their repaired goods, he’d be able to fill his larder and pick up staples on Friday. In the meantime, the loaf of bread, wheel of cheese, and apples he’d bought would take care of him … but he surely did long for sunset so he could go to Betsy’s big, happy home and sit at her table.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Betsy stood in the doorway with a quilt wrapped around herself for warmth and modesty. She gaped at Ty. His boyishly handsome, lopsided smile could melt a weaker woman’s heart, but she’d just about had enough of him and his early morning wake-up calls. In the past week, he’d arrived with the cock’s crow five times. Each time, he brought something he’d managed to hunt. To his credit, he diligently skinned and dressed everything. In addition to the buck, his tally rated as more than impressive: another deer, a full dozen snared rabbits, seven late-migrating ducks, and now, a sizable string of fish.
“You’ve gotten enough meat to see yourself well through winter,” she said as she tried not to let her teeth chatter.
“Not at all, Sunshine. I’m just getting started. Besides, when we butchered your pa’s sow so you could make the sausage, we agreed to share.”
She gave him a weak smile. Venison sausage tasted too gamy on its own. They’d had a two-day long commitment where Leonard Melvin and his son closed the livery and harness shop and came over to help Pa and Ty slaughter a sow and butcher the second deer.
Betsy called upon Virginia Alexander and Elsa to come help her grind the scraps of pork along with venison to flavor the sausage. They’d spent long, hot hours chopping, grinding, and seasoning meat, washing the tripe, and filling it before they hung the sausages in the smokehouse. Five households—four, if she didn’t count Tyson’s since Pa invited him to dine with them regularly—all came away with a generous supply. Part of her felt elated they’d have delicious food for the months to come; part of her was too tired to be glad about much of anything. She stared at the fish and compressed her lips.
“Your pa was already going out to milk the cows. He told me to bring these to you. We could have some for supper, and I’ll hang the rest in the smokehouse.” Ty glanced down and frowned.
She curled her cold, cold toes beneath the hem of her nightgown. It was hard to be gracious when he kept seeing her at her worst. “Go on to the smokehouse, and bring the rest back in a pail of water so they stay fresh for supper. I’ll get breakfast started.”
“You don’t need to feed me breakfast, Betsy. You’re already making supper every night.”
“You’re hunting it!”
“It’s the least I can do. My smokehouse is rotted clean through, so your pa is letting me use yours, and he’s loaned me wood ’til I can catch up on the repairs everyone needs. You folks take neighboring and hospitality far beyond the commonplace.”
Betsy clutched the quilt closer and shook her head. She glanced back at the far side of the cabin toward the boys’ bed when Will muttered in his sleep. She found it too hard to look Ty in the eye. “You don’t know the difference you’re making,” she whispered. “Pa’s so tired. You sharing your meat takes some of the burden off of him, and the way you shod Jenny and fixed the barn hinges—those things are easing his lot. It’s good, too, for Karl and Will to hear a man pray at the table again. Pa stopped praying the day my stepmama died. Bad enough he lost my mother, but losing Frieda when he had a whole passel of children hardened his heart.”
She bit her lip. Why am I babbling? This is so awkward. He didn’t need to know that about Pa.
“Betsy,” Ty said softly, “your pa’s a good man.”
“I know! Yes, I know this!”
He nodded. “Prayer and time. We’ll pray and give God time to work. Your pa will let go of the hurt and stop blaming God. In the meantime, I’ll come each Sunday so the boys will have a man to accompany them to church.”
“Then you must stay for Sunday supper.”
He winked. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Something in the way he smiled and winked sent the telltale tingle of a blush straight to her cheeks. And he thinks we’re acting more than neighborly? “I’ll … um, we’ll see you for supper, then.” She took the pail from him.
“That thought’s enough to make me wish the day away.” Ty nodded and left.
As he paced off, Betsy realized the warmth in her heart had made her forget about her cold toes. She hastily shut the door and choked back a sob. She couldn’t allow herself these feelings. She needed to mind her obligations instead of daydreaming about what could never be. Her brothers and sisters needed her. Pa did, too. Ty Walker would have to warm some other woman’s heart and feet.