Sean found himself wishing for a Bible as he dressed for the day. It had been a long time coming, but now with all his heart he’d love to read a few verses in God’s Word. Some verses from Proverbs 3 came to mind, and Sean repeated these to himself as he dressed.
They were verses about trusting in the Lord for everything, instead of following your own heart. Even as Sean committed his future to doing just that, he couldn’t help but wonder how different things might be if he’d done it five years ago. But no matter how he looked at the past, he was in Visalia now and married, and he’d best determine to follow God no matter what the future might bring.
He moved to the mirror and frowned at his reflection—he had no brush or comb. Before exiting his bedroom for breakfast, he finger-combed his hair and smoothed his beard, knowing it would have to do.
As he had expected, Charlie was already in the kitchen, and Sean approached slowly.
“Good morning.”
“Morning,” Charlie greeted him without turning from the stove. “You can sit down. I’ve got some pancakes near ready.”
Sean did as he was told and thought the breakfast smelled wonderful. His mouth began to water.
Charlie came to the table a moment later bearing two plates. There were two large pancakes with a drop of applesauce on the side of each plate. The moment Charlie’s body hit the chair she began to eat. She didn’t rush, but she didn’t take time for social amenities such as conversation or giving thanks for the food either.
Sean thanked God silently and began to eat. Since there didn’t appear to be any other food, he told himself to go slowly. But Charlie was a good cook, and the first bite was too much for him. Within the space of a few seconds, Sean’s plate was clean.
The pancakes did nothing toward appeasing Sean’s hunger; in fact, they had only whet his appetite. He was reaching for his coffee when his stomach growled so loudly that he thought it might have been heard on the street.
“Didn’t they feed you in jail?” Charlie asked softly.
“Yes.”
Sean was careful not to look at his wife as he answered. He could feel the heat in his cheeks and lifted his cup to his lips hoping she wouldn’t notice. He had been entertaining thoughts of shaving his beard if the opportunity presented itself, but if he was going to blush every time his wife looked at him, he just might reconsider.
Sean didn’t know that neither his beard nor his cup did anything to hide the heating of his face, and Charlie watched in fascination as he flushed. She could hardly believe what she was seeing.
Charlie simply did not know what to think of this man. He was certainly unlike any bank robber she’d ever envisioned. He removed his hat when he spoke to her or entered a room. And he had actually attempted to help her from the wagon. He also blushed like a schoolboy in a roomful of little girls.
“There’s more applesauce over there if you want it.”
Charlie didn’t know why she offered it to him, except that it felt funny to still be eating when the plate across the table was empty and the man behind the plate still hungry.
“Thank you,” Sean spoke softly and carried his plate to the stove. The jar was almost empty, but Sean scraped out what he could and returned to the table. He was almost seated when he noticed that Charlie’s coffee cup was empty, as was his own.
He didn’t see the way Charlie was staring at him as he filled both cups until he’d again taken his seat at the table.
“I’m sorry,” he said, gently contrite. “I saw your cup was empty and assumed you would want more.”
“How’d you get to be a bank robber? You sure don’t act like one.”
The question surprised Sean speechless, and then he realized that everything about him, except possibly his looks, belied the situation in which they had first met.
“It’s a long story,” Sean finally answered after a few awkward moments.
Charlie shrugged. “I don’t suppose it’s any of my business anyway. And speaking of business,” she stood abruptly, “we’ve got to get to work. Are you ready?”
“Sure,” Sean answered, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in his stomach.
Charlie picked up her gun and led the way to the livery. Once inside she threw both sets of double doors wide open. Sean stood and watched her, wondering again when he should mention his experience.
“You ever feed stock?” Charlie asked abruptly.
“Yes, I have,” Sean answered with relief, honestly wanting to help. “I’ve worked in a livery before.”
Charlie’s stance changed. “With a smithy?”
Sean nodded, and Charlie wanted to laugh at her good luck. She had been certain she was going to have to show this man everything.
“Good,” she said simply, looking pleased without smiling. “There are three horses that need shoes. Head on into the forge and get started. I’ll do the feeding.”
Sean stood for a moment inside the forge and let his eyes caress the familiar tools of the trade. A smithy’s job was long, backbreaking labor, but he had genuinely enjoyed the work and remembered it fondly as his gaze took in the anvil, forge, large bellows, drill bits, stocks and dies, and various hammers.
In the two years he had worked for the livery in Santa Rosa, he’d worked almost every aspect of the job from horse shoeing to wagon and halter repair. But never had the full weight of the job fallen on him before. Strangely enough, or perhaps not so strangely, he saw it as a challenge.
Hours later, Sean’s shirt was soaked beneath his leather apron and the sound of pounding metal could be heard through the building. Charlie had been in to check on him from time to time, but satisfied with what she saw, she said nothing.
It was nearing 1:00 when Sean felt he needed food to finish the day. He went in search of his wife. He found her talking to a customer, and stood back as she finished.
The breeze was heavenly on his heated skin, and Sean had leaned back against the building and let his eyes slide shut. Charlie stabled a beautiful mare, and then joined Sean by the rear doors. It took him a moment to realize that she had drawn near and stood watching him.
In a move as automatic as breathing, Sean straightened and removed his cap. “I know there is a lot of work to be done, Charlotte, but if I’m going to finish the day I need something more to eat.” Sean watched her brow lower, not understanding it was self-directed.
“You don’t have to fix it,” he quickly assured her, thinking she was angry. “I can get my own.”
Charlie’s last two smithies had never done anything but complain. When they weren’t whining about something, they were talking with the customers and not getting any work done. Sean had achieved more in one morning than her last man could do in a week. He was obviously a hard worker and Charlie felt badly about not stopping him at lunchtime.
“The hotel delivers lunch and supper. I’ve told them to make it two plates from now on. Go on to the house and eat.” None of this was spoken gently because Charlie was attempting to hide her dismay, but Sean didn’t try to understand. He only nodded gratefully and walked away. Maybe he’d been wrong to ask about food, but his limbs were trembling so violently that all he cared about was making the front door and staying on his feet.