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Jackson turned the team to head out of town. He wondered if she realized her emotions flickered across her face much like a hummingbird flutters from flower to flower. The thought startled him. He flicked the reins across the horses’ backs. The sooner he got Eliza Kelly home, the better he’d feel.
She grabbed his arm. “Wait! We have to go by Sally’s Dress Shop. I have cloth, ribbons and other sewing things to pick up.”
The warmth of her fingers seeped into the sleeve of his shirt. Jackson eased back on the reins and pulled the animals to a stop. He nodded and turned the horses around.
“Sally’s is over one street and up one block,” Eliza instructed in a soft voice.
Jackson enjoyed the soft singsong way she spoke this morning. The day before she’d sounded breathless and overexcited. He found himself grinning as he guided the horses to Sally’s. Maybe getting to know Eliza Kelly wouldn’t be so bad.
* * *
Earlier she’d noticed that Jackson had worn a dark brown coat, but he’d taken it off while loading the wagon. Her gaze moved to his shirtsleeves, which were rolled up to the elbows. Eliza had admired the muscles that worked in his arms as he loaded her supplies into the wagon.
She smiled her thanks as Jackson finished arranging the last of her purchases in the wagon bed and climbed aboard the wagon ready to go. The air smelled of the light rain they’d received earlier in the morning. She prayed they wouldn’t get caught in another spring rainstorm. The water could ruin several of her fabrics.
Once they were out of town, Eliza turned to him with what she hoped was an encouraging smile in place. “Seth tells me you are a journeyman. Have you been one long?” She picked up her sewing project, a small cloth doll, and began stitching on its little dress.
He gently slapped the reins over the horses’ backs. “A few years now.”
“Uh-huh.” Eliza admired the tall trees they passed under. Jackson Hart didn’t seem as if he was in a talkative mood. But she wanted to know more about him. She asked, “How does one become a journeyman? Didn’t you say you were a blacksmith? Is a blacksmith the same as a journeyman?” She pulled the little dress over the rag doll’s head and tied the string around its neck.
“Journeymen travel from place to place helping other blacksmiths. So, yes, they are blacksmiths. And most blacksmiths start out as apprentices.”
Eliza placed the doll back on the bench. When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to say anything else, she looked at him. Large muscles bulged in his arms as he held the reins. “So, you’ve been traveling around? Were you very young when you became an apprentice?” she asked.
“I was ten.” He kept his gaze trained straight ahead.
“I see.” She wanted to ask more questions. Like how long had he apprenticed. And had he ever trained anyone else to be a blacksmith? But from the set of his jaw, Eliza decided she might be annoying him.
Since he wasn’t in a talkative mood and was looking straight ahead, she took the opportunity to study him. He was a big man with wide shoulders. As she thought about it, Eliza realized that Jackson Hart was probably the biggest man she’d ever met. The blacksmith in Cottonwood Springs, Dan Tucker, wasn’t as big as Jackson. He had muscles but not like Jackson.
Jackson had sandy-brown hair, cobalt-blue eyes and a cleft in his chin that she couldn’t seem to pull her gaze away from. His face seemed chiseled and strong. She decided she liked that in a man. Her eyes traveled up to his, and she found him staring back at her.
Eliza ignored the heated sensation that took over her face and said, “I was just thinking. If you are going to live in Cottonwood Springs, I should tell you a little about the people who live there.”
When he didn’t answer or say he wasn’t planning on living in Cottonwood Springs, Eliza took that as her cue that he was interested. She talked nonstop for the next few hours. Oh, she didn’t gossip about the townspeople; she simply told him that Mr. and Mrs. Miller owned one general store and Mrs. Walker and her husband owned another. Mrs. Velarde owned the diner; Mr. Browning ran the livery. And the list of businesses continued.
She told him that Dr. Clark had been the town doctor ever since she’d moved to Cottonwood Springs over five years ago. Then she’d continued by telling him about the circuit preacher, Reverend Griffin, who came through town once or twice a month unless the weather was bad. If the reverend wasn’t in town, then the local men took turns leading service.
Jackson nodded in all the right places. She decided he must have been interested in what she was saying. As soon as she finished with who lived in town, Eliza filled him in on who owned the local farms and ranches.
After a while, Eliza noted that rain seemed to be falling in the distance. Once more she worried about her fabrics and sent a swift prayer heavenward to keep the rain at bay at least until they got home.
Eliza picked up the doll. Jackson’s gaze fluttered to the toy, and she thought his eyes had been curious. Without him asking, Eliza began to tell him about the doll and the Parker family. “Little Bessie Parker is having her fourth birthday next week. Her pa died last spring and her ma has been having a hard time of it so I’m giving her ma, Georgia, this doll to give to Bessie.” She smoothed out the little dolls dress and then sat it back on the bench beside her. “I think she’ll like it.”
He grinned at her. “I believe you are right.”
Something in the grin tickled her tummy. In just a short amount of time she’d gotten used to looking into his stormy-blue eyes. She shook her head at such foolish thoughts. Eliza looked up into the sky, pretending his smile hadn’t affected her in any way.
Two colorful arches filled the heavens. “Look! Mr. Hart! A double rainbow.” She turned from the spectacular view and looked over at him. “You know what it means?” Eliza didn’t give him time to answer. “I love rainbows and believe they are promises. Promises from God that He will never destroy the entire world again by flooding. And I believe they are also a sign that no matter what we go through, He will be there for us. Those are the promises I hold fast to.”
* * *
Her awe-filled voice touched his heart. She was a widow who still believed in promises from God. He’d met a few widows in his life and the ones he’d met were bitter about the loss of their husbands. But Eliza Kelly didn’t strike him as a bitter woman. That was one of the things he liked about her. At that thought, Jackson turned from the rainbows and the pretty woman beside him.
Silence hung between them. The birds chirping in the trees and the sound of the horses’ hooves clomping through the mud were the only sounds filling the air.
Jackson felt her studying his profile and fought the urge to squirm. He lowered his hat to shade his eyes. Her brown gaze moved over his face and down his shoulder and continued until she came to his boots. Then he watched from the corner of his eye as she examined herself.
Eliza removed her sun hat. Her hands went to her hair. She released it from the knot she’d piled on top of her head. Next her fingers combed the locks until they hung shiny and soft about her shoulders. Then she began braiding it. He surreptitiously watched as she twisted the braid into a crown on the top of her head.
Realizing she must be preparing to enter town, he returned his focus to the road ahead. After a few minutes, the strong scent of smoke touched his nostrils.
Jackson’s gaze searched the tree line and surrounding area for the source of the smell. He searched the sky for signs of it in the air. Nothing.
“Smells like something is on fire,” Eliza said, raising her nose into the air.
It amazed him that she’d just seemed to notice. Had her mind been focused elsewhere or was Eliza Kelly one of those women who were unaware of their surroundings? He realized she was staring at him and decided to answer. “Yes, but I don’t detect the smoke. Do you see it?”
She’d replaced her hat. Eliza shook her head. “No, could be it’s an old fire. We’re getting closer to town. Maybe someone is burning his trash.”
Jackson saw the homestead Seth had said was standing just outside Cottonwood Springs. He could hear the river gurgling on each side of him and smiled, enjoying the soothing sound. “Maybe so.”
The wagon began the slow climb up the hill. “We’ll be home in just a few minutes,” Eliza told him. Excitement filled her voice at the prospect.
Home. The word sounded promising. Would he find a home in Cottonwood Springs? Or would it just be another town that he’d pass through? For years he’d been searching for his father who had abandoned him and his mother when he was a child. But the hope of finding his father and a home was simply that, a hope. Jackson only wanted to know why his father had left. Was that too much to ask?
Jackson took a deep breath to clear his mind. The acrid smell of smoke seemed stronger. His gaze moved to Eliza once more. He wondered if he and Eliza would become friends once they arrived in Cottonwood Springs or if she would go on with her life and forget all about him.
He found himself hoping she wouldn’t forget about him. Eliza Kelly had made him feel liked today. She’d shared about her hometown and friends as if she thought they’d be friends, too.
Eliza chose that moment to look over at him and give him a dazzling smile. Her smile disarmed him for a moment. It seemed as if all her wholesomeness was in that grin. He found his lips spreading and returning the smile. For a brief moment he wished he was Miles Thatcher and that they were two people in love, returning to their home in Cottonwood Springs. She faced forward once more and the spell was broken.
Jackson shook his head to clear it. It was only a dream. He had faced the truth a long time ago; no woman would ever love him.
His own mother despised him, mainly because he was a reminder that his father had deserted them. If his own mother didn’t love him, then Jackson felt sure no woman could.
They topped the hill, and he found himself looking down on the town below. Eliza gasped beside him. He turned to see shock on her face. His gaze followed hers.
A recent fire had claimed one of the businesses in the valley below. Smoke still drifted up into the air from the ruins. He turned to look at Eliza again. Tears rolled down her pale cheeks, and he knew without being told that the burned building was her dress shop.
Jackson stopped the team and tied the reins down. He reached across and pulled Eliza into his arms. Her tears wet his shoulder as they fell like rain. He looked at the town below and wondered what she would do now.
As if to confirm his thoughts, she cried, “Oh, Mr. Hart, what am I going to do?” She sniffled and then pulled a frilly white handkerchief from her sleeve. In defeat Eliza rested her head on his chest once more. A huge sigh lifted her shoulders, and then her body went still.
He knew with the words he was about to utter that he’d open a part of himself that he’d managed to protect for a long time. “I don’t know what you’ll do, but if you need me, I’m here. You are not alone.” Jackson had felt that sense of hopelessness all his life and could not stand to let Eliza endure it alone.
She straightened away from him and looked deeply into his eyes. Eliza took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She nodded and tried to offer him a wobbly smile. He studied every expression that crossed her features. Right now insecurity and fear fought with determination and acceptance.
“Thank you. I guess we should go down and see what happened.” She scooted over and twisted forward on the seat.
Jackson knew at that moment he would keep his promise to Seth. He would protect and care for Eliza for as long as she’d allow him to. By his own vow, he’d be there for her for as long as she needed him.
* * *
Eliza’s emotions were all over the place. She felt shocked that her home and business had burned to the ground, scared because she had no idea what she’d do now and confused as to why God would allow this to happen.
“Where do you want to go first? Home or to the store?”
Jackson asked as he guided the wagon down the hill.
She tried to control the shake in her voice. “The store was my home.” The pungent scent of burnt wood filled her nostrils and coated her tongue.
He nodded as if she’d told him where to go. The strong jaw she’d admired moments before was clenched, and his hands gripped the reins so tight that his knuckles were turning white.
What must he be thinking? Surely he didn’t think she’d want him to take her in. Jackson had said he’d be there for her, but surely he didn’t expect her to take him up on the kind offer.
Eliza would have laughed at the thought if her situation weren’t so bleak. When the wagon came to a stop in front of her store, she rose to get down.
For a big man, Jackson was fast. Before she could climb from the wagon, he stood beside it, waiting to help her down. He placed both big hands around her waist and lowered her to the ground.
He held her for just a moment longer than necessary and looked deeply into her eyes. Did he see the fear? The helplessness she felt?
“This too shall pass,” Jackson reminded her before releasing her and stepping away. A fresh tear slid unbidden down her cheek.
“Oh, Eliza! I am so sorry.”
Eliza turned to see Rebecca Billings hurrying to her. Her friend grabbed her and hugged her close. “We tried to save it, but, well, it was late last night and...” Her words drifted away on the afternoon breeze much like Eliza’s hope for ever having another shop.
“I’m sorry,” Rebecca offered again. She released her hold on Eliza and stepped back.
Others began gathering about them and presented their condolences, as well. Her gaze searched the crowd for Millie Hamilton. The girl was nowhere in sight. Fear and sorrow warred within her as Eliza continued to search the girl out.
“Rebecca, is Millie all right? Did she get out in time?” Eliza heard the panic in her voice begin to rise. She sent up a silent prayer. Lord, please don’t let her be hurt or worse. It would all be her fault.
Rebecca rubbed Eliza’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “Calm yourself, Eliza. Millie is fine. She wasn’t here when the fire started.”
Eliza exhaled and silently thanked the Lord. She would never have forgiven herself if something had happened to the seventeen-year-old girl.
Dan Tucker, the blacksmith, and his wife, Sally, stepped forward. Sally gathered Eliza’s hands in her own. The woman’s warm palms felt comforting. “Eliza, Dan and I talked about it last night and we have decided that you should use our house while yours is being replaced. We’re leaving in a couple of days to visit my parents until the baby comes. I don’t like the thought of our house standing empty. So, if that would be all right with you, we sure would be grateful.” She squeezed Eliza’s hands before releasing them and moving back to her husband’s side.
Eliza felt a sob begin to choke her at the Tuckers’ kindness. She swallowed the lump. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer.” Tears clouded her vision.
From the corner of her eye, Eliza watched as a short man in a brown suit stepped away from the growing crowd of people steadily pouring from storefronts and homes. She was surprised when he called her name. “Eliza Kelly?”
She nodded, wondering who he could be and how he knew her. Eliza rubbed the tears from her eyes so she could see him more clearly.
He walked up to her with a big grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m Miles Thatcher.” He swept a dark brown derby-type hat with short red feathers sticking out of the band on the side off his head, revealing light brown, thinning hair.
Inwardly Eliza groaned. Her mail-order groom was the last complication she needed right now. She didn’t know what to say, and even if she did, Eliza knew she didn’t want to say anything in front of her friends and neighbors.
“I realize you’ve had quite a shock, but I’ve been waiting for you and I don’t plan on waiting any longer.” He stepped even closer. “Since we are to be wed, I would like to discuss a few matters with you.”
What he planned to do Eliza had no idea, but she felt Jackson move up to stand next to her. She welcomed his presence much like a freezing man welcomed a fur-lined coat.
His baritone voice stopped Miles Thatcher. “I’m afraid your business with Mrs. Kelly will have to wait, Mr. Thatcher.” Jackson crossed his arms over his wide chest as if daring the other man to press the issue.
She wanted to hug Jackson. Thankfully, he seemed to understand that Mr. Thatcher was the last person she wanted to deal with at this moment. Eliza dismissed the little man by turning her gaze back to Rebecca.
With the loss of her home and shop, Eliza felt as if the weight of the world had been placed on her shoulders. The look in Rebecca’s eyes said she understood.
Rebecca took her hand and pulled slightly. “You’ve had quite a shock. Let’s go to my house for a hot cup of tea.”
The nasal voice of Miles Thatcher caused Eliza to pause. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Billings. Your wife has been most gracious in your absence.”
She turned around to see who he was speaking to. Eliza found him extending his hand out to Jackson and waiting for the other man to respond. Poor Mr. Hart, this was the second time in two days that he’d been mistaken for another man.
Jackson took the extended hand and gave it a firm shake. His voice carried a sharp edge to it. “I’m Jackson Hart. The marshal is still in Durango.” He released Miles’s hand.
A hard glint entered the scholar’s eyes. “It was my understanding that Mr. Billings would be escorting my future bride home. Isn’t that correct, Mrs. Billings?”
Eliza felt the change in Rebecca’s composure as the scholar turned his attention on her. Dislike seemed to radiate from her friend.
With her back straight and her shoulders squared, Rebecca’s voice hardened to match her accuser’s. “I can assure you, Mr. Thatcher, that is the truth as I knew it at the time. My husband’s plans must have changed.”
“I can see that,” he snarled back at her. His beady green eyes riveted back onto Jackson, reminding her of a snake about to strike out again. “What is going on here?”
Eliza sighed. She’d have to deal with Miles Thatcher now, but she didn’t want a public viewing of their situation. “Mr. Thatcher, if you would be so kind as to come with us to the Billingses’ home, we’ll explain everything.”
He stomped his foot and crossed his arms over his narrow chest much like Jackson had done a few moments earlier, only instead of looking like a force to be reckoned with, Miles Thatcher resembled an angry child. “I will not have this postponed, madam. I want to know who this man is and what he is to you.” His voice dripped poison.
The crowd around them gasped at the underlining implication. Eliza couldn’t believe her ears. Her gaze searched out Jackson’s. His blue eyes locked with hers. Then, without taking his gaze from Eliza, he stepped so close to Miles that their noses were almost touching. His jaw clenched as he answered the man. “I told you, my name is Jackson Hart. What I am or am not to this woman is none of your business.”
Eliza felt flames of embarrassment lick up her neck and into her face. She wanted to crawl into a hole and never return. Now the whole town was curious as to who he was and what his business was with her. She saw several of the older ladies standing off to one side. Their heads were together, and the whispering had commenced.
Miles’s thin face paled as if he’d just realized the danger he’d put himself in by confronting her in public. His shoulders squared and he lifted his head. In a steady voice he announced, “Mrs. Kelly, under the circumstances, I cannot marry a fallen woman.”
Chapter Four
If he lived to be a hundred, Jackson would never forget the gasps of surprise arising from the gathered group of people. He advanced on the little man once more. How dare he defile Eliza’s reputation in such a manner!
“Mr. Hart, wait.” Eliza’s cool voice stopped him in midstep. He looked at her face and saw rage in her molten-brown eyes.
He stepped away from the man when all he wanted to do was give him a good shake. Jackson watched in amazement as Eliza’s shoulders straightened, her chin came even farther up and she took a step toward Miles Thatcher.
“I’ll have you know, I have not now or ever planned on marrying you. I didn’t write those letters, and I am not obligated to stand behind any promises that might or might not have been made in them. Mr. Thatcher, I think your business here is done. I suggest you leave town the same way you arrived.” With that Eliza scooped up her skirt and walked away. Rebecca Billings trotted along after her.
Jackson glared at the little man with the beady eyes. “I suggest you do as the lady says,” he growled low in his throat.
