Blacksmith Brides Page 4
“Never.” He knew she jested, but he meant it, from the bottom of his soul.
He dumped the wayward fish in his wicker basket with the others he’d caught and gathered his fishing gear while Mistress McCracken washed the worst of the mud off her sleeves and gloves in the river.
When they were finished, he extended his hand. “Let me assist you onto your horse.”
“I have not needed assistance to mount Gulliver since I was eight.” Her pert chin lifted a notch.
“Perhaps, but with all that mud on your—” Heat flooded his face. “The saddle—the mud—if you should slip …” He bit his tongue before he could say anything more foolish.
Pink the exact shade of his mam’s roses splashed across her cheeks. “Aye, well. Perhaps you have the right of it. One spill is quite enough for today.”
He heaved a sigh and resisted the urge to wipe his forehead before making a stirrup of his hands. Her dainty foot securely in his palms, he boosted her onto the fancy sidesaddle. When she was settled, he untied his horse and mounted, joining her on the path back to the city. To escort her home. His chest expanded at the thought and then deflated.
It would be just his luck if all four brothers and her father were home to see him return her in this condition.
Chapter 5
Meg straightened her hat as best she could and kept her chin high as they rode through the neighborhoods north of her home. What had seemed a lark on the banks of the river with just the two of them seemed less so under the stares of several matrons they passed. Matrons who were friends of her mother.
Although she’d gotten rather good at hiding her escapades with Robbie by sneaking in the back door and up the servants’ stairs, that wasn’t going to happen today. This was a bit more drastic than her normal larks. Her gown was ruined, she suspected her layers underneath as well, and her saddle would need a thorough scrubbing and oiling.
She flicked a glance at her silent companion. What must he think of her? She’d jested about being the hoyden, but in point of fact, she’d been too close to the truth. The only girl in a family of brothers, she’d grown up more rough and tumble than a girl ought. Perhaps, instead of laughing, she should have cried and wailed like the proper young miss she was supposed to be. Her lips twitched again, and she smothered a chuckle.
He rode closer to her, his fine bay’s shoulder practically rubbing against Gulliver’s. “Is something amiss?”
Either his hearing was exemplary, or she didn’t conceal her mirth well enough. “As good as can be expected, parading past my mother’s friends in a ruined gown with, I suspect, mud on my face.”
The poor man couldn’t look more stricken. His eyes brimmed with concern. For her. Not the smothering kind of concern she got from her brothers. Something more … unsettling. Her mirth melted away on a tide of warmth that blossomed somewhere deep inside. She shifted in her soggy dress on her now equally soggy saddle, but barely noticed either.
She looked at his hands, free of gloves and free of the black soot from the forge. Broad, capable hands that had lifted her onto her horse as if she weighed no more than the fish he’d flung through the air. His coat sleeves hugged arms sculpted by hours pounding iron into submission. No wonder the poor fish hadn’t stood a chance.
Gulliver turned to the left, and she realized they’d reached her street. She reined him to a halt. “This is my street. You needn’t escort me farther. ’Tis only a few houses down.”
“I shall see you all the way home.”
She bit the corner of her bottom lip and wondered if her father had left the house yet. While everything had a perfectly reasonable explanation, she was fairly certain he wouldn’t be of a mind to hear it after looking at his daughter.
“Really, I—”
“Which house is it?”
She must be ashamed to be seen with him. He didn’t blame her for that, but whatever she’d said, this was his fault. He wouldn’t leave her to face her family alone. He nudged Asa forward, and her horse followed.
“’Tisn’t necessary.”
He looked into those incredible blue eyes filled with emotions he couldn’t decipher. Exasperation? Concern? Uncertainty? Maybe an alloy of all three.
Before he could ask again which house was hers, a tall young man about his age with hair nearly as red as Mistress McCracken’s came across the lawn to their left.
“For the love of all that is holy, what have you done this time, Meg?”
“A fine morning to you too, Jamie.”
Her chin lifted higher as she rode past what could only be one of her brothers. Jamie snagged her rein and stopped the horse.
“I’m serious now. How did you come off Gulliver?” He eyed the sorrel gelding as though searching for any sign of injury to the beast. “Are you both well and sound?”
“Quite well.” Her mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed.
Alexander was relieved that look wasn’t aimed at him, but it didn’t seem to bother Jamie.
“Mother will have something to say about your gown.”
“Thank you for pointing out the obvious.” She twisted in her saddle. “And thank you, Mr. Ogilvie, for seeing me home.” She jerked the rein from Jamie’s hand, startling poor Gulliver into motion. They disappeared behind the house.
Jamie turned to Alexander and gave him the same cursory once-over he’d used on the horse. “You are not covered in mud, so am I to assume you simply found her in that condition?”
“Nay.”
Jamie’s eyebrows fell into a flat line over a hard stare any laird of Scotland would be proud to own.
“’Twas my fault she came unhorsed.”
Jamie crossed his arms over his chest and planted his booted feet wide on the lawn. “’Tis a story I should like to hear.” A man to be reckoned with.
Alexander drew in a deep breath. “I was fishing along the river.” He motioned to the fishing gear he had stashed behind his saddle. “Mistress McCracken came along just as I was battling a fish. I heard not her approach, and when she spoke …” He ran his finger around the collar of his shirt. “I overreacted.”
“In what manner?”
“The fish had jumped free of the river, and when I pulled on the line, she was right behind me.”
“Are you saying you flung a fish at my sister?”
Misery filled Alexander from his boots to his hat. As awful as it was, it sounded even worse when her brother said it aloud.
“I’m afraid so. The horse reared, and she lost her seat. With the recent rains …” He shrugged. “’Twas muddy.”
Jamie glared at him for a full minute.
Sweat gathered between Alexander’s shoulders and trickled down his spine.
Then Jamie bent double and howled with laughter.
Was the entire family daft?
“You should have seen her, Father. She looked like a salamander escaped from the creek. Enough mud on her to chink a cabin.”
Meg wanted to throttle Jamie. Slowly and painfully.
David and Andrew were out for the evening, so she was thankful to only be humiliated in front of half her brothers. Robbie’s grin promised more of the same when they were alone. She squeezed her hands into fists under the dining room table to keep from throwing something at him.
“And the man who saw her home, do we know him?” Father twisted off a bit of roll and popped it into his mouth, his attention on Jamie.
“I can tell this story.” She pinned Jamie with a stare meant to scorch his hair. “Without any exaggeration, since it happened to me.”
Father paused mid-chew and turned his attention to her. His brown eyes revealed a twinkle of humor. “Very well. Proceed.”
“When Gulliver and I arrived at the watering spot, Mr. Ogilvie was there fishing. He was battling a fighter. I saw it leap from the water and … I shouted.”
Jamie covered his face with one hand, but it did nothing to muffle the laughter. She wished they sat closer so she could kick him under the table.
One more gasp out of Jamie and she didn’t care what Mother said, she was going to fling the water in her glass at him.
“He jerked the line, and the fish, well, it shot straight back and struck Gulliver in the neck. He reared, poor old thing, and slipped in the mud. I lost my seat.” She muttered the last with her head bowed, waiting for the scorn from her father.
“He must be a strong man to have sent the fish flying like that.”
She looked at Father. Compassion filled his eyes beside their smile creases. Jamie started to speak, only to break off with a yelp. Mother raised an eyebrow at him. She was close enough to deliver the kick Meg had so wanted to send. Robbie’s mouth dropped open as he looked between Mother and Jamie.
Meg sat a little straighter in her chair. “He is a blacksmith.”
“That would explain it.” Father popped another twist of roll into his mouth, indicating he was satisfied that nothing untoward had happened.
“Is he not the one you placed our order with?” Mother cocked her head and leveled one of those looks only a mother can give straight at Meg.
“He is.” Meg pushed her potatoes around her plate, her face heating as she avoided her mother’s eyes.
So much for sneaking away without an escort. Meg shifted on the seat of the wagon next to Robbie. He flicked the reins over the backs of Father’s matched pair of black coach horses. They high-stepped down South Street after leaving Madam Richardson’s.
“You may as well stop sulking.” Robbie cast a glance toward her.
“I’m not sulking.” She sat straighter. “I just do not see why you must come with me.”
“You’ve never driven the team.”
“I could have ridden Gulliver.”
“That did not turn out so well for you the last time.” The lingering smirk in his voice brought heat to her face. “How would you have carried all five kits home behind the saddle anyway?”
She crossed her arms and clenched her teeth. It irked that he was right. But Mother’s careful watch over her these past two days had irked even more. Mother hadn’t even let her come to the herbalist’s by herself. Did she truly fear that Meg would run off with the soft-spoken blacksmith?
The smithy came into view and her pulse tripped.
A man walked into the smithy as Robbie halted the team out front and set the brake on the wagon. He wrapped the reins around the brake handle while she climbed down on the other side. They entered the smithy as the man spoke.
“Name is Boone. Daniel Boone.”
Robbie dropped the coin purse he’d been holding. The metal clink when it hit the dirt floor drew everyone’s attention. He scrambled to retrieve it, his mouth still agape.
Who was this man that Robbie should know his name?
Alexander’s eyes met hers for an instant before he looked back at the man in front of him. The fellow, Boone, had a long rifle in his hand and leaned on it like a staff. He was dressed head to toe in buckskins with fringes hanging long down his back and swinging from each sleeve.
He looked like a wild man.
Meg pulled her shawl tighter across her shoulders.
“I’m looking for Alexander Ogilvie,” Boone said.
Alexander wiped his hands on a rag. “I’m Alexander. This is my brother, William.” He nodded to another man near the forge, one with a similar strong build, but sharper features and a thatch of dark red hair. “How can we help you?”
“Talk is you have a hankerin’ to head west across the mountains.”
Alexander glanced at his brother then back toward Mr. Boone. “Aye.”
“Fact is, I’m headin’ that way myself come spring. I have been asked to open a road into the wilderness. I aim to choose a spot and start a settlement.”
“To stay?” Hope filled Alexander’s voice.
Robbie grabbed Meg’s arm in a grip that threatened her circulation.
“This country is about to burst its seams. There’s land across the mountains for those who can take it and tame it.”
William stepped forward. “What about the Indians?”
“Oh, there’s plenty of them. Cherokee and Shawnee mostly.”
“Are they friendly?” Robbie asked.
Daniel Boone turned and nodded at Robbie. “Depends on the day, son. But mostly you have to earn their respect. Injuns do not think like white people.”
“War is coming.” William crossed his arms, a stubborn angle to his jaw.
“There’s always a war comin’ or another one windin’ down. Man is a fightin’ critter for sure.” Daniel Boone cocked his head. “I fought my share of battles, some against the French and some against Injuns.”
William shook his head, skepticism written across the grooves of his forehead.
“What I’m lookin’ for is a blacksmith willin’ to settle in the Kentucke territory with me. If you reckon to go west, I would like to offer you a spot in my company.”
To Meg’s disbelief and dismay, Alexander extended his hand to Mr. Boone.
“I would be honored to travel with you, Mr. Boone.”
They clasped hands.
“’Tis Daniel. I have a mess of business to see to while I’m here. I shall return before I head south again to settle on a date and place to meet up come spring.”
With that, the buckskinned man touched his fur hat and left the smithy.
“You really going to leave with Mr. Boone?” Robbie asked in a reverent whisper.
William stripped off his leather apron and tossed it aside. Meg couldn’t hear what he said, but it was obvious he wasn’t happy as he stomped out the door.
Alexander watched him go then turned to her and Robbie. “You have come for your order?”
“We have.” Robbie looked over every piece Alexander handed him and asked questions about the pieces he didn’t recognize. They talked, but Meg couldn’t concentrate on what they said. The news that Alexander was leaving left her feeling abandoned … which was utterly ridiculous.
But the feeling wouldn’t go away.
Chapter 6
After Alexander had explained all the pieces of the soldier kits to Robbie and showed him how they worked, the young lad had peppered him with questions about Daniel Boone and Kentucke. Questions he mostly didn’t know the answers to. Questions he only half heard as he kept looking at Meg. Pale and silent, she avoided eye contact with him.
While he helped Robbie stow the kits in their wagon, she climbed aboard before he could offer his assistance, and then they drove away. Alexander stood beside the doorway watching until they turned a corner. She never looked back.
He returned to the horseshoes he’d been making when Daniel Boone arrived. It was easier to think while his hands were busy on a task he could do in his sleep.
The back door of the smithy squeaked open and then banged shut. He braced himself for William’s return. Instead, it was Da.
“William says there was a distinguished visitor to our humble smithy.”
“Aye.”
“He said you agreed to join Boone’s company in the spring.”
“Aye.”
Da scratched at his scalp over his left ear. “I know you have set your heart on leaving, laddie, but I must say, ’tis going to be hard to see you go.”
Alexander laid his tools on the table and pulled one of the tall wooden stools from underneath to sit upon. “Are you asking me not to?”
Da took a second stool and drew it close, so their knees almost touched when he sat. “Nay. My heart says to keep you here, but my head says you have your own life to lead.” He heaved a weary sigh. “’Tis only life’s justice, I suppose, for leaving my own mam and da when I was even younger than you.”
“Have you ever regretted it?”
“Nay. How could I? Your mam and I have lived a good life here.”
“It worries me to leave the work of the forge to you with Thoma
s moving to the foundry and William hot to join the fighters.”
Da smiled and leaned closer, as if to share a secret. “Mark my words, William will stay and work the smithy with me if you leave. He knows the war will need this smithy along with all the others. Why do you think he is so against your leaving?” He sat back and winked. “His Catherine will be thanking you, your mam will too, for keeping him out of the fighting.”
Alexander rubbed the back of his neck. That hadn’t occurred to him, but with Catherine expecting their third bairn in early summer, having William in Philadelphia working the forge would be a blessing to her as well as Da. A pressure eased in his chest.
“Have you given any more thought to taking a wife?”
He had barely admitted it to himself, but after the incident at the river two days ago, the possibility of approaching Mistress McCracken’s father and asking for permission to court her had plagued his mind. She’d shown herself to be no wilting hothouse flower, even if she was a young lady of the gentry. He admired both her spunk and her humor.
Her beauty didn’t hurt either.
But today she’d all but ignored him. Perhaps she hadn’t spoken to him because of her brother’s presence. For sure it would be awkward with a younger brother along. He couldn’t imagine speaking to someone with Janet or Isabel next to him. Certainly not.
“There is someone.”
“One of the lassies your mother mentioned from church?”
“Nay. Remember the skillets you teased me for?”
“Those with the fancy handles?” Da’s eyebrows drew down.
Alexander nodded.
“But did you not say they were for a McCracken?”
“Aye.”
“Och, laddie.”
“You said yourself that the war will change things.”
“I did, and ’tis my belief it will. But it has not even begun yet.” Da shook his head. “You cannot bend iron that has yet to see the fire.”
“She is different than you might think a high-born lady would be.” He fumbled for words to explain but gave up with a shrug. “I have met two of her brothers, and they seemed to approve of me.”